#very nice space currently and i want to stay here in this moment forever kind of

[catxsnow]

LOST IN YESTERDAY J.T.

Request: Hi! The realisation that your requests are open are just the serotonin hit I needed while recovering from surgery! I'm a sucker for fluff, so if you don't mind I'd love to steal some from you. Could I please have Jason attending a Wayne Gala masquerade and falling in love with a person, only to not know their identity? Later, at another gala, he remeets them and figures out it was someone he used to live on the streets with. Does this make sense? I hope so; I love your writing. Tell me if not ♥

Warning: swearing, mentions of blood, alcoholic beverages being consumed

A/N: forever will be naming fics after Tame Impala songs and no one can stop me. Link to get on my taglist is at the bottom of this fic. 

Word count: 3,5k

Everyone knew that Jason hated the Gala's that Bruce held. The non-stop complaining that came from him occurred every time that it was brought up. Tim got annoyed, Dick was frustrated, Damian was threatening to punch Jason if he spoke another word about it. They were all tired of his antics.

Nonetheless, he went to these events - especially when there was an open bar. Jason spent his time avoiding people and (occasionally) hitting on some of the beautiful women that looked his way. It was easy to hold up the "son of a playboy act" even if he didn't care about any of the people he talked to.

To feel even more ridiculous, Bruce hosted a masquerade ball. Jason hated them to begin with, but to have a room full of strangers in masks, in Gotham? Bruce knew better, but it was what his company wanted. At least with Batman and every Robin that there was there, the people would be safe.

Jason took a sip out of the glass he was holding. Ice and whiskey sloshed around in it before meeting his lips. He leaned against the counter of the bar, eyes glazing over the crowd and not looking for anyone in particular. A red mask covered half his face. Gold decor lined around his eyes that matched the tie he was wearing.

There were a dozen other things that he could have been doing that night. Taking down criminals, getting one step closer to taking down the current biggest drug lord in town, hell he could have been saving a kitten from a tree and he would have been more content. Instead, he was stuck in a room full of rich people who couldn't care less about the people of Gotham.

Jason raised his glass to the bartender, indicating another drink. "Make that two more," a voice spoke beside him. They wore a mask similar to Jason's with the exception of silver. All black attire. Lack of a smile until looking over at him. "You looked lonely standing over here."

"That was kind of the point," Jason told them. Sarcasm was heavy in his voice, though it didn't seem to bother them. The bartender set both drinks in front of them. The stranger knocked the whiskey back in one go. Jason raised his eyebrows, shocked by the behaviour of someone attending an infamous Wayne Gala.

"(Y/N)," they stuck their hand out for him to shake. He accepted, still hesitant on what to think about this person. "What's someone like you doing at an event like this?"

"Someone like me?" Jason raised an eyebrow, though it couldn't be seen through the mask. This person clearly didn't know who he was or a thing about him. He was skeptical enough on how they were that quick to pick up on his lack of enthusiasm for being there, particularly hidden behind a mask.

Nonetheless, his curiosity piqued about them.

There was something about this person that made him feel nostalgic. Back before he was the son of Bruce Wayne and everyone knew his face, before he died, hell before he was Robin. Jason didn't get that feeling very often, but he enjoyed it all the same. For that reason alone he would entertain the idea of this person.

"Tense shoulders, wandering eyes, you don't wanna be here," they pointed out to him. He could see their face scrunch up with concentration, trying to figure out exactly where those beautiful blue eyes were from. "So why stay? Or more Importantly why come at all?"

"Call it a requirement," Jason vaguely replied.  He didn't know who this person was or why they were so interested in his reason for being there, but it was starting to get on his nerves. Sure, he was curious about her - but there was nothing more frustrating than someone trying to force a conversation.

Jason adjusted the uncomfortable mask that sat on the bridge of his nose. For someone who wore a mask half their life, he despised the one that he had on. The glitter and sequence dug into his skin and he wished for nothing more than to be able to wear the domino mask he usually had on instead.

Then again, he'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"Care to dance, Jason?" His whole body froze out the sound of his name. Sure, he was recognizable as a Wayne son, but the stranger spoke it so smoothly like they had said it a thousand times - as if they had known him. He didn't like the tone in their voice or the smile on their face as they spoke his name.

They noticed how he tensed - just as he noticed the devious smirk on their lips because of his reaction. He tried so hard to think about who this person was and what they wanted out of him. Money? Murder? Was it an old enemy of his that returned from the grave? He couldn't figure it out.

A song that Jason had grown up to, one that Bruce had gotten him to elegantly learn to dance to, began playing. As much as his mind was telling him to get out of there, to figure out what this person wanted, he offered a hand to them instead. His muscles were tense, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Jason effortlessly guided them through the dance floor. One hand rested on the small of their back, the other clasping theirs. Their bodies were flush together as they swayed to the music. Jason's eyes swept the dance floor but he could feel the gaze of the stranger's eyes on him.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" He asked suddenly.

"You're supposed to be the smart one," they remarked. Jason bit his tongue. He could have easily caused a scene, forced the name out of this person through intimidation but he knew he couldn't. Bruce would have a fit if he did anything out of line - especially anything related to being the Red Hood.

He didn't like being at a disadvantage, in fact, if there was one thing he despised it was just that. There was nothing worse than an enemy - or potential enemy- being two steps ahead of him. This person knew things about him, too many things for someone hiding behind a mask and too afraid to show their face.

Jason suddenly dipped the person, hoping to catch them off guard. The stranger was just as quick as him. They latched onto his shoulders, daring to go even lower than he had already dipped them. Their closeness had Jason completely allured by the fragrance rolling off of them. He felt himself get comfortable around them, just for a moment.

Quickly, he pulled them back up. A smile rested on their face like he had done exactly what they had wanted him to.

They pressed themselves into Jason. Hand going from his shoulder to the back of his neck. He felt a shiver run down his spine from her touch, cool hands making his baby hair stand prominent. They pressed into his skin, guiding him to lower his lips to just inches away from their own.

A sudden wave of trust filled him. He found himself wanting to lean in more until there was no space between. Before he succumbed to these desires, he sharply pulled away. The mystery person was twirled out of his chest, an arms-length apart and only held together by their fingertips.

Jason pressed his mask farther up his face as it slipped down. He pulled them back in, this time making sure to keep their hands nowhere near his bare skin.

As soon as the song was over, Jason broke apart from the mystery person. His eyes darted towards the exit. If they weren't going to leave, then he was. Jason had been there long enough to make Bruce happy and now it was time to get onto his evening with more important things.

"It was nice seeing you, Jason," The person reached up to leave a delicate kiss on his cheek. He wanted to pull away before they could connect with his skin but he was frozen to his spot. They winked at him once more from under their mask before leaving him alone on the dance floor.

He didn't know who it was, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

><

Bruce was surprised to see Jason come so willingly to a gala - especially considering that he had gone to one barely even a month ago. The gala that evening had been an extremely last minute but WE considered it necessary. So, Bruce reluctantly decided to host yet another, and Jason was on the ball to be willing to attend.

What the great Batman didn't know, was that Jason's detective work when trying to find who this mystery person was, completely failed. He couldn't find a single thing about them. They weren't on the guest list, facial recognition couldn't get a good picture of them, and he was running out of clues.

Jason was dying to know who this was and what they wanted with him to the point that he would gladly put on another suit and tie to discover the truth. Then again, it was a long shot to see if they were going to attend as well. Considering that they had just snuck in the first time, he was really pulling a hail mary that she was going to do the same again.

The most frustrating part was that this whole time he had been living on the edge. What if this person was trying to kill him? What if they had found a way to outsmart him and get to him with ease? It was agitating that he couldn't figure out how to get ahead of whoever was after him. If they were after him.

Bruce instilled it in him to be paranoid. Maybe this was just someone that knew him for being the son of Bruce Wayne or had seen him around town before. He couldn't be sure that they were even after him. Nonetheless, it was time to put an end to this relentless suffering on his own behalf.

Once again, Jason found himself planted at the open bar Bruce provided for his guests. This time, however, he was far more alert than he was last time. He could see everything happening behind him with the mirror behind the bar, his peripherals were wide open - no one could sneak up to him.

At least he thought so.

Dressed in all black, hair styled differently than the last time that he had seen them, they had sat beside him. A glass of champagne swirled around in their hands. Jason looked at them in the mirror in front of them both. Striking eyes stared back at him, a playful smirk on their face at the idea of leaving him wondering.

"You sneak in again?" Jason asked, taking a sip of his own drink. They shrugged, though the answer was clearly a yes. They leaned against the edge of the bar and faced him. It was surprising that he hadn't put the pieces together yet - usually, he was faster than this. Jason hesitated before mimicking her.

They were stunning, he could admit that.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, getting straight to the point. He was tired of being tense because of them. "How do you know me?"

They chuckled. As frustrating as it was for him - they had no idea how paranoid he really was. They didn't know about his life as Red Hood or that he was raised by Batman. They knew him as Jason Todd, the kid that persevered through everything, the kid that was lucky enough to be taken in by Bruce Wayne.

They reached out to his arm. Before they could even get close, Jason grabbed their wrist with a deathly tight grip. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Jason," They spoke calmly as if this had happened before. Hesitantly, he let go of their wrist. Gently, they pushed back the suit jacket sleeve he wore to expose his forearm.

His skin was always laced with scars and bruises - even more so since the last time that they had seen him. However, there was one thick, faint scar on his wrist that wasn't from being the Red Hood or Robin. It was from when he was a kid - a stupid accident that left him bleeding and crying.

Jason froze as the tip of their finger ran over the scar. He had gotten so many over the years that he had forgotten where most of them were from. This one, this was one of the first ones that he had gotten. One that he remembered clear as day. For this stranger to randomly pick one scar out of the dozens on his body that weren't from being a hero - it was slim. They would have had to know about it.

"It's fine, it was an accident."

"Jason! You're bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital!" Their voice was higher back then. Filled with worry and fear about the small cut that he had gotten. Jason was trying to be brave, to be strong for them. He knew how they didn't like to see him hurt in any way, especially when it had been their fault.

It was an accident. He wasn't mad, not at them. Never at them. However, the deep cut stung and he could barely stop the tears in his eyes from the pain. Maybe he did need a hospital, however, he knew he couldn't afford it - not for something that he could Maytag himself at home.

"I'm fine," Jason scowled. The cloth wrapped around his arm was becoming stained dark red. They had far more tears on their face than he had. Guilt, worry, all feelings that a kid shouldn't have run through them. Jason sighed, trying to compose himself before speaking again. "It's not your fault (Y/N). It's okay, I'm okay."

"But-"

"But nothing," Jason cut them off. "Accidents happen. Remember just last week I pushed into you and you scraped your knee. Did you blame me?" They shook their head. OF course not, they were running together when they finally stopped and Jason hadn't noticed in time. It wasn't his fault - it was theirs. Just like how this time it was his fault for not watching out. "Exactly. I gotta go home to try and fix this."

"At least let me come home with you to make sure you're alright?" They asked, wiping the salty tears off their cheeks. Jason nodded. (Y/N) was always the one to worry about him.

"What would I do without you (Y/N)?" Jason tried to heighten their mood. The boyish smile that they loved was on his face.

"I don't ever want to find out Jason Todd."

But they did. (Y/N) did have to find out what it was like to live without Jason. It was a couple of years after that incident did Catherine die, his father gone. Bruce Wayne took him in as his new ward and (Y/N) was completely forgotten about. They couldn't blame him, not really. Not when the life of his dreams was handed to him.

They always pictured Jason being happy in that big mansion. He'd get everything that he'd ever wanted, everything that they talked about as kids. He could go to a good school, use his big brains to go to college. Jason must have been happy living with Bruce, that was the only reason that he would have forgotten about his old life.

That was far from the truth.

"(Y/N)," Jason breathed out. He felt like a fool for not realizing this sooner. (Y/N) had been his closet friend growing up. They did everything together - getting away from home, being kids through all their hardships. They were inseparable until he fell off the face of the earth. Until Bruce took him in and he had to push himself away from everybody to keep them safe.

"You're getting slow with your old age," They joked. (Y/N) dropped his wrist and returned to their drink. It had to have been close to a decade since they had seen each other. Jason was far bigger than he was as a kid and it made him almost unrecognizable. "White hair and all, I guess being rich aged you."

"You..." Jason lost all trail of thought. He couldn't believe that it was really them sitting in front of him. More stunning than ever. They loved seeing him stuttering over himself, flustered that after all these years he realized that he never came back. Mostly, it was nice to see him with his cheeks flushed for the first time since they had known each other.

"It's okay Jay," They took another sip of their drink. "I figured living the high life as a Wayne would dull your street skills. I never expected you to recognize me last month." (Y/N) had gotten far more confident over the years. Never would they have acted like this when they were kids.

They were nowhere near the truth, but they were still right. He felt like a damn fool for not being to recognize them through a stupid masquerade mask. Jason stuttered out a few words before giving up altogether. He had so many things that he wanted to ask about, or even just to catch up. Instead, he just remained a flustered mess.

(Y/N) stood up from the bar stool. They leaned in to Jason, planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. He felt a warmth spread through his body, just like the last time they had kissed him.

"Keep an eye out, Jason. I'll be seeing you soon."  

"Wait," Jason grabbed onto their wrist before they could make a step out. (Y/N) looked down to him. The large man suddenly looked small with those big, pitiful eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry that I never came back for you. I wish I would have, I wish I wouldn't have been so selfish."

(Y/N) sighed. They sat back down in the chair that they once occupied. Jason looked pleased with the decision, though even more fear ran through him at the moment. What did he have to say that would make everything right? Why would they show back up now?

"You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong," there was sincerity in their voice. Jason was no longer the bold and brave that everyone knew him as. He was brought back to his childhood in a single moment and reminded of just how vulnerable he could be. "I'm here... I'm here because I saw you in the paper a while ago... I thought you died, Jason."

I did.

All he could hear was the worry in their voice. The worry that he had died and they never got to see them again. Never got to relieve their childhood just one more time, or tell him how far he got in their life. (Y/N) was scared that they would never get to tell him that they did everything that they promised as a kid.

He nearly lost his guard for a moment. The boyish grin that he had learned to fake from Bruce spread across his face. He gestured to himself, "as you can see I'm clearly not dead." Except he had been. Except that paper had been right and they had every right to be worried about him dying. Just as it had happened once, it would surely happen again.

(Y/N) (L/N), someone who hadn't seen Jason in years, worried to death about a rumour that spread in town. His heart ached for the first time in a long time.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Jason suddenly blurted out. "I hate these stupid galas, and I don't know about you but I'm starving." To be honest, he didn't care about where they went, he just didn't want to be under the watchful eyes of the public for such a vulnerable moment.

(Y/N)'s lips turned up at his words. "You paying, rich boy?"

"As long as you let me make up for all these years," he countered. If they wanted to, Jason fully intended to bring (Y/N) back into his life. He never realized this empty hole in his heard had been because of them. His whole childhood revolved around their times together. He craved that again.

"You drive a hard bargain." (Y/N) stuck their hand out for Jason to shake. He accepted it gladly. "You've got a deal Jason Todd. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

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[babybatscreationsv2]

if you’re taking prompts;

so; tony is the devil. Or hades? Although hades isn’t technically “evil” so idk. And peter’s very literally made a deal with the devil. Only he couldn’t keep up with his end of the deal and now his soul he belongs to tony. aND THEN, tony kinda likes pities him and it turns into a beauty and the beast sorta thing where tony has his undead servants make feasts n all that sorta stuff so peter feels comfortable. And then they fall in love. And then they screw 😌

Thank you for this because I've been looking for an excuse to write a Hades and Persephone story. This ended up so tender and romantic that you can't call it smut. These beeches be making love. Also this ended up full fic sized so here's the details.

Eat the Fruit

Summary: When Peter's lover dies in an accident, he offers his soul to the God of the Underworld to save him, but when he is unable to fulfill his end of the deal he finds himself in the Underworld. Now Peter is left tending to the pomegranate grove where the only balm for his loneliness is Hades (aka Tony), a god with a prickly edge.

Rating: Explicit

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed with gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

You must love him to offer your soul to me this way.

Please, you are lord of the dead. If anyone has this power, it's you.

I am not cruel, Peter. I will restore your lover's soul. In return, you must stay with him in life until he dies a natural death.

I promise.

So be it.

----------

The agony of heartbreak still echoed in his mind. His mind replayed the moment as Harry told him goodbye and turned away, closing the door as he went. He wished he could try again. Despite how he had pleaded with Harry not to leave, had promised him whatever he wished, he felt that maybe there was something he could have done. Harry did not love him anymore. He left him.

And so Peter fainted... and he awoke in a vast orchard.

He sat up in the grass and looked around at the low trees each baring heavy red fruit. Pomegranates. They looked beautiful, delicious. Peter stood and brushed himself off. He looked around feeling unsure how he had gotten here. Then he remembered and a sob escaped him. Not only had he lost the love of his life, he had broken his deal with Hades. This beautiful grove must have been a part of the Underworld.

"So soon," said a voice. Peter turned to catch sight of a man. He was handsome, a bit older than Peter, with wrinkles around his eyes, yet those eyes shined with livelihood. When he last saw Hades it had been a shadow of his true form, something massive and hulking and terrible. He seemed almost kind now. He had been kind enough to him then.

"Please, Lord Hades, send me back. Let me try again."

The god plucked a fruit from a tree and examined it. "Sorry, kid. That was a one time offer. No take backs." He looked Peter over, then he placed the pomegranate in his hands. He walked past him and Peter followed along, afraid to be left alone in such a place.

"Please. I'll give you anything. Lord Hades-"

The god huffed and turned on the spot. He held up a finger. "First of all, there's no need to call me that. Hades is more of a title and I'm over it. Call me Tony."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Tony. Now, listen up because I've got a short temper." Tony looked him in the eye. His hand held Peter's chin. "You will never leave the Underworld. Do you understand? Your soul belongs to me. You belong to me. This is where you will stay. Forever."

"Forever," Peter repeated. Not a question, but a realization. He had given everything for Harry. Everything.

The god took hold of his arm and turned him to look across the orchard. "Do you see the river there? You are never to attempt to cross it. If you try, its current will drag you under and you will drown in its waters until I see fit to retrieve you. The river Styx will not allow a soul to leave so easily."

Tony patted his shoulder. "Got it?"

Peter nodded. "I get it. Don't cross the river." It sure didn't sound fun to drown in a river until this oddly blase god decided to have mercy on him. "What happens now?"

Tony shrugged. "Tend the orchard or something. What do I care?"

Peter looked at him like he had grown a second head, which maybe he did have two heads, this probably wasn't his true form. "You let me sell my soul to you so I could just hang out?"

Tony's face shifted and Peter shrank back. His sudden anger was sharp and cold like a dagger made of ice. He encroached on Peter's space and with a clenched jaw he tried not to back away further. "Listen up, kid. You made the deal you wanted to make. You wanted to sacrifice yourself for what your heart desired and I gave you the opportunity. Life isn't the fairy tale you thought it was. Now, tend the trees and keep out of my hair."

Peter watched him go. He stared off in the direction that he went a while longer. Then cold began to seep into his bones. He sat down under a pomegranate tree. He wrapped his arms around his legs. Then he cried, wet tears staining the clothes he had died in. It could have been a lifetime that he cried, but when he finally got up he was numb.

Harry was gone and his life was over, but there was no going back. Peter turned in a circle, looking at the orchard. It was beautiful. If he had to spend the rest of eternity here it certainly wasn't the worst place to be. Sometimes when a breeze kicked up, he thought he heard screaming off in the direction he had decided to call south. There were certainly worse places to be even in the Underworld.

Peter walked to the edge of the pomegranate grove. Several feet from the edge, the ground began to slope down until it reached the edge of the Styx. A boat floated along the water. A man with a scraggly goatee and messy, curly, hair rowed along while a woman with red rimmed eyes sat in the seat. When she looked up, she looked right through him as if he were glass. A chill went through him. Once the feeling passed, he tried to wave at her, but she didn't respond. Was she in shock? Did she know yet that she was dead? Where was she being taken, he wondered. He hoped it was somewhere nice like his pomegranate grove and not the place where the screaming came from.

He kept walking, following the tree line, never passing the trees on the very edge. The orchard was vast, but not endless. On one side was the river Styx. On the next, the river Lethe. Or he assumed it was as the mist that came off of it made his head feel hazy. When he reached the third side is when the screaming grew louder. He walked faster until it grew distant again.

The fourth edge of the orchard stretched on into a garden. Peter stopped himself at the edge of the trees. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave the orchard or not. He hadn't been explicitly told not to. So he did.

He followed along low hedges and passed through clusters of hydrangea. Then the ground began to change from grass and plant life to cold gray stone. Peter looked back at the garden and the orchard beyond it. Was this allowed? He couldn't tend the trees without any tools. He'd need baskets if he were to collect the fruit and if they got sick he'd need medicines. He wasn't sure what else one could possibly do for trees. Perhaps Tony could tell him.

He found the god in question sitting a top a throne of slate. He looked far larger than he had before, but he still took the same form. He seemed bored, or perhaps indifferent was the word, as souls lined up at his feet. One soul grovelled on his knees.

"Please, my lord. I am meant for Elysium. I was a good man in life. An excellent one. I always gave to charity, I swear!"

Hades, for that's what he was a top this throne, waved his hand. "That does not make you special nor important by any means. You are not exceptional by any measure. To the fields with you." He snapped his fingers and two souls, each with hollow, black eyes and wrists wrapped in cuffs of slate, came forward and dragged the pleading soul away.

Another stepped forward and their plea was the same. They wished for Elysium and Hades waved them off.

"Won't you even listen to their stories?" Peter asked.

The god looked down at him. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was meant to do."

"The trees will tell you when they need," he said, but Peter noticed that he did not wave him away as he did the pleading soul so he assumed he was allowed to stay.

The next soul pleaded not for Elysium, but for their lover. They begged to be reunited with them in Asphodel.

"It is not my job to see that lovers unite. If you are soul mates you will find one another," Tony said with a terribly bored voice.

"Please, my lord. I has been a hundred years-"

"Be grateful I do not drop you in the River Lethe before you are returned!" he snapped. "Be gone with you."

"You are too harsh," Peter said as the soul was dragged away

Tony glared down at him. "You don't have to listen to the same nonsense for eternity."

"You are a god. You should be grateful for that."

"You should be grateful I don't sick my hound on you," Tony growled. "Now go."

Peter hesitated, not wishing to be alone again, but the look on Tony's face was far from kind. With a deep frown, Peter turned and walked back to the orchard.

The trees weren't much for company. Peter walked through the boughs, lonely and with too much time to reflect. He thought about the life he had lost and all of the things he had given up. He thought about Harry. Did he regret leaving him now that he was dead? Did he miss him? He wondered if Harry would go to his funeral and if he would ever bring flowers. After a long while of wandering, he couldn't take it any longer. He made his way back to the place where the grass died and became stone.

There were no souls there now, only a massive dog which sat at the foot of the throne. It opened one big eye as Peter came near. When he didn't stop it raised its head only for Peter to realize that it had not one, but three. A growl rumbled in its throat.

"Sorry to bother you, big guy. I was just looking for the other big guy." Peter reached out a hand inviting the dog to smell it. It lowered its heads suspiciously. Then it sniffed.

"It's okay. I'm not up to any mischief, I promise. I was just lonely. You look like you might be lonely, too."

Peter smiled as the dog allowed him to pet his hairy nose. It watched him curiously as he came closer so he could scratch behind his ears.

"You're sweet aren't you?" Peter cooed. "Sweet boy."

"Peter?" Tony's voice called. He turned his head to see him coming up the path. "I wouldn't bother him if I were you."

"He seems to like me," Peter shrugged. "I was just looking for some company."

Tony stopped and looked at them both. He tucked his hands behind his back, watching silently while Peter pet the happy dog. His giant tail wagged into the gray dirt.

"You were lonely?" Tony finally asked.

"Trees aren't the best company as it turns out. I'm not used to be alone. Harry and I..." Peter took a breath. Just mentioning his name made his chest burn. "Well, we were always together."

"I see..." Tony stared off toward the orchard. "Come and see me tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. It doesn't always get dark here, but night will fall in a few hours. Come back here then, but not before."

Peter looked at the man, but he didn't seem likely to divulge what he was up to. "Alright... I will see you then."

He gave the dog, Cerberus, one last pet. Then he turned away and walked back to the orchard.

As promised the sky above began to darken. Peter watched it with fascination for a moment. There were no stars in the Underworld. The sky was a deep navy, almost black. Yet, Peter could see perfectly fine. He walked back through the trees to where the ground became stone and there he found a grand table set with candles and silver platters.

"Peter, glad you could join me," Tony greeted. The look on his face was almost a smile.

"What is all this?"

"You said you were lonely so I thought we could share a meal together. If you'd like."

Peter smiled. "Of course! That sounds great."

Tony looked relived. He pulled out a chair for him. "I don't know what you like, but I had nearly everything I could think of prepared."

Peter sat down, offering his thanks as Tony pushed his seat up. He sat down on Peter's right. He flinched as Tony's dead soldiers melted from the shadows and began to serve him from the many plates and platters. When his plate and cup were full, they took a step back waiting to serve him again.

"This all looks amazing. I thought you couldn't eat the food in the Underworld."

Tony picked up his glass, the only thing in front of him. "If it is grown here, then it is true. Eating food grown in the Underworld can have undesired effects." He stared into his wine. Then he looked up and gave Peter a smile. "Eat," he said.

Every bite was divine. Sitting together with Tony helped chase the loneliness away. They talked about Peter's happy memories in life, his time in college, holidays with his Aunt May, being Uncle Peter to Gwen's twins. Harry wasn't there for most of the good parts. Peter couldn't help but find that strange. Harry had felt like such a big part of his life, but had he? Maybe the Underworld was making him forgetful.

After dinner, they stood together and watched the light return. Tony's odd little soldiers cleared everything away.

"Thank you, Peter," Tony said. He gave him a smile. Peter admired the way it made his eyes shine.

"No, thank you. That was a lovely dinner. I'm feeling a lot better, too."

"I'm glad." He paused for a moment and they stood simply looking at each other as the sky changed above them. "You're welcome to return here whenever you please."

Peter's smile widened. "Are you saying you enjoyed my company as well?"

Tony shrugged. "It's wasn't the worst dinner I've been to."

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked away. He returned to the orchard where the boughs were heavy with fruit. He spent hours, maybe days, picking the fruit and collecting it into baskets that he couldn't recalling seeing before. There was a pail and some tools as well.

He stuck to picking fruit for now. That is until his arms grew tired from reaching and legs grew tried from carrying him. He left the orchard to return to the throne. There was Hades, sat atop, looking terribly bored as he dealt with the unending line of souls.

"Please, Lord Hades-"

"Shoo," the god wave the soul away and they were dragged off. Peter went and took a seat, cross legged on the ground beside him. Tony spared him a glance.

"Come to watch the show?"

"I like being with you."

Tony stiffened, but said nothing in answer. Another soul stepped forward. A sort of gray tone clouded not only their skin, but their clothes as well. Peter wondered why he wasn't the same way. Was it because he Tony's soul, belonging to the orchard, while this soul belonged somewhere else? The souls from the Fields were all a bit gray.

"Please, Lord Hades, it has been one hundred and fifty years since my death. I wish to be united with my daughter. I walk the Fields endlessly and never find her," the soul pleaded.

Tony sighed. "Fine," he said. Peter blinked, sitting more upright. "When you return to the Fields, your daughter will await you at the gate."

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed wjth gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

"That was kind of you," Peter said.

Tony huffed in response, but he continued this way. Whenever a soul made, what seemed to Peter, a reasonable request Tony honored it. Souls were united with family, friends, and lovers so long as they walked the fields together. And when it was done, Tony walked with Peter back to the orchard.

They walked beneath the trees, the smell of pomegranate in the air.

"What changed your mind about the souls?"

Tony stood and examined one of the trees. He ignored Peter's question. "They seem happy with you here," he said.

"You were right. They do tell me what they need."

Tony smiled. "Of course I was." He turned and took Peter's hand. His heart fluttered. They kept walking until the Styx came into view. They watched the river pass by in silence. Then after a long while Tony said, "I have to go." Then he disappeared.

Peter turned in a circle, but the god was truly gone. He smiled to himself and turned back to watch the river pass. Tony left him feeling warm. He missed his company already, but he was glad to have had it in the first place.

He went back to his trees, tending them with a smile. Time as usual, without measure other than a weariness in his legs from standing. Then the trees began to ask for water.

It made sense. It never seemed to rain in the Underworld. Certainly trees would need water. He had a pail he could collect it in, but where would he get it from? The only water source nearby was the Styx. He looked around for Tony, but the god was not nearby. So he took it upon himself to get the water.

Peter carried his pail down to the riverside. He placed his feet carefully to keep from slipping into the water. Then he leaned out and scooped some water up with the pail. He set the full pail up on the bank, but its weight unbalanced him. His feet slid in the rocks and he was pulled under the water's surface.

While the Styx looked steady and calm, there was a current beneath its surface. It claimed him easy, dragging him under and pulling him far far away from the orchard. Peter tried to swim up, sometimes his hands breached the surface, but never his head. His lungs burned with lack of air, then with water. Then he was drowning. Drowning without dying.

There was never any telling how much time passed in the Underworld. But finally, finally... he was pulled from the river.

He vomited what felt like gallons of water, coughing the rest from his lungs. The pain faded quickly. Peter laid on his back and blinked wet eyes at the man standing over him. He was a shadow, blocking out the light above.

"Tony?" he rasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall in. The trees needed water and I slipped."

Tony knelt beside him. "I know. I saw the water pail by the river." He scooped Peter up and pulled him to his chest. Instantly, he was dry. "You're safe now."

"Thank you." Peter's body shook in fear and relief. "That was horrible."

Tony pet his hair and held him close. "Come and get me next time the trees need water. I will call the rain to water them."

Tony helped him stand. With slow steps they walked back together to the orchard. Tony seemed far more quiet than usual. Peter couldn't place just what was wrong. He'd been warned not to try to cross the river. Was he not allowed to go near it at all? Or did Tony think he had tried to leave. Why would it bother him so much if he did?

They passed under the first branches of the orchard. Without thinking, Peter plucked the first pomegranate he saw. He stopped and admired the round, red, fruit in his hands. Tony stopped and turned, looking back at him.

"I've never tasted one of these." Peter laughed softly. "All this time picking them and caring for them, but I never eat them."

"If you eat the fruit in the Underworld, you can never leave," Tony reminded him.

"You wouldn't let me leave anyway."

"Maybe I would." There was a vulnerable honesty there in his eyes. He was right, wasn't he? This time he was right. Harry had never loved him. He had been young and foolish and naive. Tony didn't just show him desire and adoration in the way that Harry had, no. From Tony he received respect, admiration, trust. Because Tony loved him, truly.

"You thought, even if it was only for a moment, that I had tried to cross the river. Were you relieved when you realized it was an accident?" Peter looked at his face. He said nothing, gave nothing away with his expression.

Peter looked at the fruit in his hand. He dug his thumbs into the skin and pulled it apart. It bled pink onto his skin. Tony watched him in silence, seeming to hold his breath. Peter examined his face searching for one last reassure that he was truly wanted. Then he brought the fruit to his lips and bit into its seeds.

It was perfectly sweet. The taste of it coated his tongue. Juice dripped down his chin. When he swallowed, it was heavy in his stomach. He dropped the fruit and looked at the god.

His gaze was adoring, worshipful.

"Allow me a taste," Tony said. He reached for him, pulling him in. Their lips met and Peter moaned at a taste that was far sweeter than the fruit.

His hands held Tony's face, staining his cheeks pink. Strong hands held his back, guiding him to press in closer until they were flush. Peter moaned as a tongue slipped over his own, exploring and claiming his mouth. He felt high on him, willing and receptive to any of Tony's desires.

They stopped, only for a moment, and gazed at each other's faces. Then Tony took him and laid him back in the soft grass beneath the trees.

Tony stripped away his clothes. Each article was removed with gentle care and hot kisses pressed to his newly exposed skin. Every inch of him felt sensitive to the softness of his lips and the scratch of his beard. When he was naked, Tony returned above him to kiss his lips again. Peter let his hands roam over his chest and found that his clothes were gone, revealing a muscular and scarred chest. Tony caught his hand, holding it above his heart.

"Do you mind?" he said. His eyes shined.

Peter shook his head. "You're beautiful, Tony," he said. Tony caught his mouth in a kiss that was ripe with need.

Peter spread his legs apart and Tony settled between them. His kiss were soft and tender as he pushed slowly inside him. His mouth captured the high pitch whined that escaped Peter's lips. Slowly he was filled until Tony was fully inside him. His hands clung to Tony's shoulders and he stared up into gleaming brown eyes.

He dragged his fingers over his skin to cup his face in both hands. "I love you," Peter whispered.

Tony's smile was joyous. "I love you, Peter."

Peter gasped, head falling back into the grass as Tony moved inside him. The friction felt so intense that he could form words but that didn't stop him from whining and babbling. Tony kissed his lips, his bared neck, his chest. His lips sucked his nipples, tongue flicking and teasing over them. Peter's nails dug into Tony's shoulders. All he could do was hold on as his cock dragged over his prostate and Tony fucked him fast and deep. Frantic, like he was starving. When his mouth returned to Peter's, he held him tight, kissing his lips as if they dripped ambrosia. He refused to let, kissing him deeply and desperately until he could hold on no longer. His nails cut scratches into Tony's back as his body ached and shivered beneath him. His cum splattered, sticky and warm on his skin.

He panted hard, looking up at Tony again with nothing but adoration and love. He held Tony's beautiful face.

"Cum in me, please," Peter begged.

"Anything you want is yours," Tony pledged.

He moved him again, cock deep inside, body screaming with sensitivity. A tear rolled down Peter's cheek and he whimpered painfully, but he was euphoric. Tony kissed away his tears. Peter tasted the salt on his lips. Then Tony moaned, holding him tight. Peter covered his face in kisses. He felt him cum, making him sticky and wet inside.

Tony's cheeks were red and his smile was bright. Peter couldn't help but smile, too, and pulled him down into a deep unending kiss.

#marvel #starker #prompt fill #hades and persephone #fluff #romance #nff

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - When Lovely meets Angel

Summary: When the boyfriends are away, their partners try their best to be functioning members of society. Spoiler alert: they failed. 

Tw: [Mentions of Adam], [Profanity] and [Very, very brief mention of drugs. Like, half a sentence]

I shared this oneshot in the Discord server and I thought to share it here too before uploading it on AO3 later this weekend. 

-

You smile as your eyes do their best to track Vincent’s every move. Your head spins as your boyfriend flits from one room to another, never pausing for even a second. His duffel bag is lying beside you on the couch, gradually full of clothes, toiletries and other travelling necessities as he chucks them in Mach speed. 

You pick up the clothes that didn’t make it into the bag. You fold them nicely before placing them in with the rest. 

“Alright, I’ve stocked up the pantry to last at least for a few weeks, b-but I’ll be back by Sunday so don’t worry.” The blur that was Vincent said as he ran from their shared bedroom to the kitchen. With a fond shake of your head, you observe the Vampire made one last round. 

Letting Vincent fuss is your way of helping him calm down. And sure enough, it only takes a few minutes until your boyfriend is satisfied with the apartment - from the wards that he erected to the well-stocked kitchen and rows of laundry detergents. With the way he prepared for his departure, you couldn’t help but want to remind Vincent that he’ll only be leaving for three days; not three months. 

“Do you have Alexis’ number, Lovely? Sam’s?” Vincent asks - again - in concern as he pad towards you and the duffel bag. “Hang on, I’ll forward them to you now -” 

You grab his hand before he could reach for his phone and force him to sit beside you on the couch. You peck him on the cheek to startle him. No matter how many times you’ve done this; Vincent always reacts the same. Startled with a tinge of red dusting his pale cheeks. A simple kiss is enough to leave him speechless and it never fails to make your heart skip a beat at how precious he is. 

“Yes, you gave them to me this morning. I have their numbers on speed dial for any emergency of the Adam kind.” You easily assure him, only to backtrack quickly when you see how wide his eyes went. Oh yikes, bad move! Bad move! “N-Not that there will be any problem! Haha! I mean, you’re only going away with Will for three days, right? I can hold the fort, don’t worry!” 

Vincent bit his lower lip, still hesitant. “I wish I didn’t have to go, Lovely. It hurts to be away from you…” His head tilts down and holds your hand tight, yet always mindful of his Supernatural strength. “Sometimes… sometimes I could still see you in Adam’s arms, so pale and sick… your blood on his mouth - ”

“Hey, hey, Vince? Look at me please.” You gently tilt his chin using your hand that wasn’t captured by your worrisome boyfriend. You made sure to properly look him in the eyes before smiling softly. “You got me in time and for that? I’m forever grateful, but that’s in the past, OK? I’m here now with you! We both have been making good progress at D.A.M.N so that has to count for something, yeah? We’re both stronger than we were before.” 

That earns a tiny smile from Vincent and you mentally cheer in victory. “You always know what to say, huh, Lovely? And yeah, we’re pretty badass now, huh? A Vampire and an Electro Energetic? We’ll conquer this city in less than a month.” He joked. 

You try to picture it: you and Vincent - the King and Queen of Dahlia. The first thing you would do is declare PJ Friday - where everyone must wear PJs every Friday and those that wear the silliest PJs get brownie points. Collect enough of them and they’ll get a free meal in the most expensive restaurant Dahlia has to offer. Vincent can handle the boring stuff like, governing and health care. 

...Now that’s a thought; Vincent as a politician. 

Ah wait - Will would probably be disappointed in them if they tried to do a hostile takeover of this city and you couldn’t bear to disappoint him. After all, no one can pull off the perfect sad dad look other than Vincent’s Sire. Not even your own dad! 

“ - Lovely? Uh, Earth to Lovely? You there?” 

Vincent’s warm voice broke you off from your mad train of thoughts. You flash a sheepish grin when he realised that you haven’t paid a single word he said. Vincent wants to appear annoyed but his lips are twitching, as if he’s holding back from laughing at the dumbfounded expression on your face. 

“Sorry, babe. I spaced out because Will was disappointed in us.”  

“...What? Will? Lovely, what the - ”

“Anyway, don’t worry about me.” You quickly interject before you have to explain yourself. “You got me food, Alexis’ and Sam’s numbers are on my speed dial and my powers have been growing nicely over the last few classes. I got this; you got this.” To seal the deal you added, “And I promise to call you twice a day; in the morning and before I go to bed. Sounds good?” 

That finally assured Vincent. The tension melts away from his taunt shoulders and when he kisses you, it’s slow and sweet. You would’ve loved to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him on top of you and turn this into something more, but Will would surely call him if Vincent is late. 

Vincent moans when you pull away; disappointed and slightly frustrated. “Easy there, Vince. I’ll make sure to give you a very warm welcome when you get back.” You purr, loving how his eyes lid at your promise. 

But alas, as much as you love to drag Vincent to the bedroom, work comes first. So you allow Vincent to fuss around a little more before he slings the duffel bag over one shoulder, kisses you goodbye and leaves. 

Now, you planned this. You have a whole itinerary in your head for the days that Vincent is on a business trip with the King of the Solaire Clan. Assignments that need to be done, Despacito to learn on the piano (neither of them knew why Alexis dropped off an upright piano in their apartment on a random ass Wednesday night and when asked, she just cackled before pulling off a Batman and vanished into the night. So Vincent gave up trying to pester the answer out of her. You still think it’s some sort of an elaborate prank), boba pizza to cook for dinner tomorrow and a list of video games to pre-order so really, you would be so busy for the upcoming days that you wouldn’t even have the time to miss Vincent. 

If you repeat that long enough, you hope that’ll become true. 

Glancing at the clock hanging on the living room wall, you sigh at the time.10.30 PM. A little early to get ready for bed but hey, it’s not like there’s anything else that you want to do now. 

With little fanfare, you make sure that the apartment is locked and secure, switch off the lights before heading to the bedroom for your nightly ablutions.

-

Ok, that part about the itinerary? Yeah, that’s completely out of the window the moment you wake up missing Vincent’s arms around you. 

The gentle and warm sun rays pierce through the sheer curtains, promising a bright day ahead of you, but all you could think about is the space in this bedroom. Was the bed always this big? Was the bedroom always this quiet? Those questions rattled in your brain and it really doesn’t help that you can smell Vincent’s faint cologne lingered on the pillows. Soothing vanilla that never fails to clear your mind as opposed to sandalwood and bergamot. Vincent once claimed that the scent is too fancy for someone like him. 

Right now though? His cologne sends a pang of longing in your heart in his absence, and it’s only the first day! 

“I can’t stay here.” You decided out loud when the tangle of sleepiness ebbed away. Kicking the thick duvet off your body, you stomp to the bathroom to shower, dress up and quickly leave the apartment with nothing but your phone and backpack. 

You didn’t want to return to an empty apartment, so what better than walking around the city to distract yourself? Grab some breakfast at a new cafe, maybe do some window shopping afterwards… yeah, that sounds way better than anything you’ve planned before. 

Joggers pass you by as you walk through the park and the city slowly comes back to life. People are out and about, going through their monotonous day. Some are catching the bus, others are like her, eager to find something to eat. 

You recall that your classmate mentioned that they and someone named Damien found a Taiwanese bakery/cafe that recently opened up near the city’s library; a quaint little shop, squeezed between a hardware shop and a health & beauty care chain store. You can still remember how their eyes lit up as they excitedly described the brioche and the strawberry tiramisu they ate with vivid details. 

So that’s where you’re headed off to now. 

Apparently, the bakery is closer than you thought when you cut corners and jump through the shortcuts. Being born and raised here in Dahlia like so many others, you knew this city like the back of your hand. Though the existence of Shifters, Vampires, Daemons and more were a slap in the face to you.

Oh, that reminds you, be sure to ask Vincent if the Vampires have anything similar to Fangtasia here in this city. 

The bell above the door chimes when you enter the bakery. The sign outside says ‘OPEN’ but since it’s still quite early in the morning, you and a couple sitting at a table near the corner are the only customers currently. Manning behind the cashier is a young woman and her co-worker setting up freshly baked goods behind the display glass. 

You made a beeline to the counter. 

“Good morning. Uh, can I please have one sea salt coffee - regular size - one red bean mooncake and, umm…” You paused to scan the menu laid before you. “And a marble taro.” 

There. That's sort of a healthy breakfast, right? 

The young woman hardly bats an eye at your order. She drawl out the total amount of your food and drink to which you hand her some cash before choosing a table beside the large window so you could see the city and her people go about their lives. The scent of freshly baked pastries, hot chocolates and brewed coffees wash over you pleasantly. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if Vincent would love this place as much as you do… 

The cashier came over with a tray of your order before your musing could spiral down further. You thank her, snap a picture of your food and coffee for Vincent before enjoying your breakfast. It’s a perfect morning, well, almost a perfect morning… 

Halfway through your coffee, your phone vibrates. Vincent had texted back: 

‘Looks delish, Lovely! Make sure to finish your meal, OK? My flight was a nightmare - I’ll spare you the details - but Will and I reached the airport safely. I’ll call you soon, Lovely. I love you, always.’ 

Vincent’s text helps to fill his absence, somewhat. You polish off the last bit of your coffee and exhale loudly; there’s no use moping around. Adventure awaits! After all, there’s never a dull day here in Dahlia. For all you know, something is right around the corner just for you! 

Tummy warm and full, you bask in the morning light for a few more minutes before exiting the bakery. 

...And promptly collide with a walking furnace. Because seriously, the moment your chest hits them, it feels as if their body heat lunges at you.

“Ow!” You fell and landed hard on your ass. Whoever had the misfortune to collide against you, they were a tad taller and seemed to be in a rush to be able to hit you with an impact. 

“Oh fuck! I’m so so sorry! Are you alright!? I ran too fast because I always missed out on their marble taros! Oh gosh, oh gosh; can you hear me? Shit, I really hope I didn’t hurt you too badly…” The stranger rambled worriedly. 

“I-I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.” You assured them and gladly grabbed the offered hand. They gently pull you up from the pavement. 

“You sure? I can take you to the hospital right now if you want!” They pressed on, eyes checking for any sign of injuries on your body. “Just after I buy my pastries though.” 

You didn’t expect the blatant honesty; the idea that some loaves of bread are this person's top priorities crack you up. You couldn’t help it, so you burst out a giggle. 

“I’m good, I’m good; don’t worry.” You hiccup and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your right eye. You can’t believe this. “Go get your bread and oh, for the record? I totally get why you rush here. Their marble taro is really something else. You better hurry up; I heard the cashier said they’ll be making the last batch for the day.”

You smirk when the walking furnace’s eyes widen in horror. They darted into the bakery without a single word. The bell chimes loudly when they rush to yank the door and scramble towards the counter.

Just for the fuck of it, you lean against the window and decide to wait. Snippets of frantic conversation can be heard inside and it wasn’t long before the bell tinkle once more. 

The stranger that bumped into you pout, clutching a huge paper bag of pastries close to their chest as if they feared you would snatch it. “You lied.” 

“Shocker, I know.” You tease and then you feel your blood froze despite the warm morning. You suddenly recalled where and from whom you heard those words before and quickly stomped the image out of your head. 

“Uh, dude? Are you sure you’re alright? You look super pale.” The stranger narrowed their eyes on you. Despite the blatant concern on their face and how genuinely friendly and cheerful their voice is, you get the feeling that they’re trying to pull you apart by the seams to see if you would lie or not. 

So you opt for the honest option. “I will be.” You assured them. “Just some… bad memories pop up.” 

“Huh, well that sucks.” They glance at the bag of pastries for a moment, silent and contemplating. They then thrust it practically in your face before you could do so much as flinch. “You want some? Food always helps me feel good when I’m sad.” 

The loaves of bread smelled really good but for the second time, you giggled. “No, no, I’m full. Thank you though; that’s very kind of you to offer.” 

“It’s only the right thing to do.” They reply with an easy shrug. You get the feeling that the stranger’s kindness is something remarkable. “The name is -” 

Across the street, a truck driver pressed the horn when the car in front of him refused to budge despite the traffic lights having switched from red to green for ten minutes now.

“ - but you can call me Angel; all my friends do. Now that we’ve bumped into one another, your destiny just altered. Our fates will forever be intertwined once you give me your name.” 

Oh, you like where this is going.

“I’m - ” The driver in front of the truck kicked open his door and proceeded to shout at the truck driver. A line of cars gradually formed behind the vehicle and horns began to blare as a brawl broke out in the middle of the road. “ - nice to meet you!” 

“A lovely name…” Here your new friend - Angel - trailed off, their eyes appraising your body. “For a lovely soul. Lovely. Huh. Can I call you that?” 

Gorgeous, brimming with moxie mix with a spoonful of friendly flirting? Oh, you like them more and more by the second. 

Also, you idly wondered if there’s some weird magic attached to your name or else this is going to be a pattern every time you introduce yourself. 

“Sure.” You answered, and the two of you shook hands. 

“Say… who do you think would win? Godzilla or King Kong?” 

“Psh, is that even a question? Godzilla, obviously. He’s the king of monsters for a reason! And grandpa got his Atomic Breath; what does Kong even have?” 

“You. I like you. I have a feeling that this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.” 

When there’s no escaping from Angel’s octopus arm of love and friendship around your shoulders, you let yourself be swept away. 

-

“So you’re an Electro Energetic?” 

“Yup.” 

“Got any plans on what you’re going to be in the future?” 

“To shed my mortal body and transform into King Ghidorah.”

“...Can I be the left head?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that. We need the right head, though.” 

“I’ll give my friend a call; they’re a Freelancer studying at D.A.M.N too. Maybe you’ve seen them around?”

-

“Wait - you said your boyfriend is a Vampire?”

“He’s more of a dork than a Vampire, but yeah.”

“Cool, cool. Hey, my boyfriend is a Werewolf. Do you know what this means?” 

“...Twilight marathon?” 

“Twilight marathon! We have to do it. Let’s go, Lovely; you’re going to crash at my place for the best movie night of your life!” 

“I’ll grab some food and drinks from my place. Will be there in twenty minutes.” 

-

“This is the third time I’ve watched these movies and I think they just got worse over the years.” You complained, chugging down your fourth can of Red Bull. You don’t drink, so you wondered if this is how it feels like to slowly go drunk. Or high. 

You’re in your sleep wear - a simple black shorts and one of Vincent’s t-shirts. Exhausted, stomach bloated with snacks; you feel like shit. Your body is seconds away from saying fuck it and crash down. 

And yet you’ve never felt so alive before. 

The time on your phone says it's 3.23 AM; you and Angel slough through the first two movies and now finally, the end credits for Eclipse roll down on the TV screen. Angel lives with their boyfriend - who was on a business trip, coincidentally - in a very homely apartment. When you first entered, you could tell just what sort of couple they are. 

The place looks as if a small tornado tried to turn the apartment upside down but was fended off just barely - little knick knacks such as rainbow beaded bracelets were carelessly thrown on the kitchen counter behind a microwave, a crop top with printed bongo cats floating within a glittered galaxy is drape over a dining chair, three heart-shaped balloons knock against one another from the living room’s ceiling and for some reason, the USB stereo is on the floor playing Black Pink’s Pretty Savage. 

The other half of the apartment - the more organised side - are filled with neatly shelved books of all genres, an untouched bowl of fruits are on the coffee table and most of the expensive-looking dishes and silverwares are displayed behind a glass cabinet. Those were probably gifts from family and friends. 

You spend an entire day here, engaging in stupid but fun conversations with Angel, painted each others’ nails and even shop online for the sluttiest outfit that you two could find just for the hell of it before binge-watching the entire Twilight series. 

Unlike you, however, Angel is buzzing around like a hyperactive bunny on crackhead energy. Halfway through New Moon, she busted out stacks of colourful sticky notes, some thumbtacks and a huge yarn ball. You watch with utter fascination as they begin to furiously write down every little thing about the Vampires and Werewolves representations from the movies to your and their boyfriend. 

It’s 3.25 AM now. The entire living room wall looks like an abstract form of an art piece, made of common stationeries. 

Hair in a messy bun, a stick of strawberry pocky dangling from their lips like a lit cigarette, a black sharpie in one hand and dressed in black cat onesie, Angel tapped on the piece of red sticky note that wrote ‘culture appropriation or nah?’

“So what have we learned so far?” 

“Vampires don't sparkle.” You immediately piped up and this time, cracked open a can of black coffee. A brand name from Japan, but the bitter tang immediately zolt your already fried nerves to maximum level. You love it. “Period.” 

“Noted! Now, does this make Stephenie Meyer racist!?” 

You actually had to pause and consider that. “Will need to get you back on that one.” 

Angel hurried to scribble ‘remind Lovely for feedback’ inside the same note. “Very well. We shall move on to the Werewolves.” They start to list down the characteristics of the Werewolves portrayed in the movies and then compare them to their boyfriend; but the thing is, they didn’t realise that they verbally list down the quirks of their Shifter lover instead. 

You find it cute that Angel rambled on and on about someone named Davey, so you didn’t interrupt them. Hell, you’d be the same with Vincent. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you got sidetracked from comparing your lovers to spilling the tea about your relationships. 

“After we first slept together, I said to Davey, “Thanks for the sex, bro” complete with a peace sign and a wink. He got so mad that he refused to let me off the bed until I promised to stay.” Angel laughs fondly. They tear open a bag of Cheetos Puffs and throw one into your open mouth. The two of you celebrate with a high-five. 

“Vince freaked out when I told him he was my first.” You chewed, swallowed and washed the after taste of the junk food with even more coffee. Who needs sleep when you could reach divinity with cans of Red Bulls, Kirin Fire coffees and junk foods. “He was extra sweet to me the next day as if he was trying to make up for how rough he was. You could totally see how precious he is from Pluto.” 

“That’s so cute!” Angel cooed. “You’ve landed the golden D, dude. Congrats.” 

“Sounds like you’re the same. To us!” 

You clink your can of coffee with Angel’s bottle of Mountain Dew. 

Eventually, the night made way to the rising sun and the final scene of Breaking Dawn came to a close. The living room is a total mess - blankets and pillows are strewn all over the floor, empty bags of chips, cans and bottles are underneath the coffee table and you swore that one rolled underneath the couch and the wall is still a sad, modern version of cubism with strings. 

“So…” You tilt your head to stare at a wide-eyed Angel, still buzzing with energy. “Want to play Mario Kart? Loser has to let the winner dress them for the day.” 

“You’re on! I hope you like crop tops” 

-

Vincent couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. The airport is bustling with people rushing for their early morning flights despite dawn barely peeking from the horizon. Like most of the humans around them, Vincent and Will are waiting for their boarding gate to open. 

Speaking of Will, he had wandered off to inquire about their time of arrival to one of the help counters somewhere near the vending machines that they passed. 

These past three days felt like three years without Lovely at his side. Vincent was an idiot to think that a few simple phone calls were enough to chase the yearning of his undead heart for his lover. His sweet and strong, Lovely. 

How are they right now? Judging from the different time zones, Vincent reckoned that it’s nearly midnight where the city of Dahlia is right now. Is Lovely getting ready for bed? What did they have for dinner? How was their day? 

An amused chuckle startled Vincent from his musing. “Oh Vincent, did your phone somehow insult you? You’ve been glaring at it for at least five minutes since I’ve returned.” 

“G-Geez! Don’t sneak up on me like that, old man.” Vincent mumbled, he nearly dropped his phone from his Sire’s sudden and silent appearance. 

“Apologies. Perhaps you should give them a call?” Will suggested as he took a seat beside him. He offers a warm, knowing smile at Vincent’s confused expression. “You wore a lovelorn expression when you stared at your phone. Do us both a favour and call your Lovely, hmm?” 

“...I shouldn’t. They’re probably sleeping - ”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. For all you know, they might still be up, waiting for you to call them.” 

Vincent gave in. He desperately needed to hear Lovely's voice. Besides, their sleepy whines are so adorable and he misses them terribly. 

Will occupied himself with a John Grisham book while Vincent pressed familiar numbers and held his phone up to his ear. Lovely answered in less than a minute. 

“Hey, Lovely.” Vincent greets, feeling the uneasiness and longing untangled themselves from his chest. He can’t wait to return home and have them in his arms again. The next time he has to go on a business trip again, he’ll bring Lovely along. If Will has a problem with it, he could take Alexis. “Sorry for calling you again so late at night. I… I just need to hear your voice again. Anyway, are you on the bed - ”

“Oh my god, did you just throw your underwear at me!?” 

“Uh, Lovely?” 

Vincent immediately pull the phone away when his ear is assaulted by a cacophony of K-pop music blaring in the background, accompanied by an obnoxious laugh of glee and Lovely’s mutterings of “That slut is going to get it now”, “300% sugar in your boba tea? Dude, just do cocaine instead!” and “Oh, Dilf alert! He has a French accent too? A solid 8/10 from me, definitely.” 

Beside him, Will snorts. He happily ignores the glare Vincent threw at him and flips a page. 

But for a brief, crazy moment, Vincent was struck with fear at the thought of his lover harbouring a secret crush on his Sire. He still remembers how freely Lovely blush and giggle whenever Will was around.

“Lovely? Is everything alright?” Vincent tries again, straining to hear through the music and someone’s chattering. Who is with his Lovely past midnight? He starts to worry and feel… a little uncomfortable. 

“Vincent? What’s up, baby? You don’t usually call me so late.” Lovely reply, sounding a bit distracted. Suddenly, Vincent heard a crash, followed by a, “It’s not broken! It’s all good!” 

“Where are you? What’s going on? Are you at a party?” Vincent didn’t demand, he inquired as firmly as possible. Flashes of his Lovely dancing at a club or hanging out with some faceless man and woman keep popping in his mind. It stirs his bloodlust. 

Will idly pat his hand to calm Vincent down, eyes still glued to his book. 

“I’m at home; had a friend over for the night. The apartment is just… too quiet without you.” 

Lovely’s easy and genuine admittance settled something feral inside of Vincent. He guessed that his lover and their friend must be having a sleepover. 

“I’m sorry that I had to leave, Lovely.” Vincent murmurs. “Will and I are at the airport right now. We should be boarding in thirty minutes.” Here, he paused and continued in a quieter tone, “I’ve missed you so much, Lovely. I’ve left my heart with you and… well, it’s just not the same without you.”

“See!? Prime example of a golden D there, Lovely!” Someone - Vincent assumed is his lover’s friend - shriek in the background. 

Their sudden shriek didn’t surprise him. What did, however, was another, stranger’s voice joining in their conversation. 

From a couple of seats, right in front of Vincent. Right here in the airport. 

“Don’t shriek into the phone, Angel! Are you trying to make me go deaf in one ear!?” 

The man - no, Shifter, grumbled. Vincent could smell the scent of lush forest and dirt around him; a Werewolf, then. But his nature wasn’t the reason why Vincent’s jaw is hanging open. 

Will, who had given up the pretence of reading his book, couldn’t hold himself back from grinning widely. He already connected the dots, unlike Vincent. “Oh my, isn’t that Alpha Shaw? He must be on a business trip as well! What a small world.” 

Luckily Vincent was clutching his phone tightly or not he would’ve dropped it in shock. Alpha Shaw? No way… David Shaw!? The Alpha of the Werewolf’s pack in Dahlia!? What the fuck - 

“Turn down the volume, Angel, before the neighbours call the police!” Lovely shouted back. 

In front of him, Vincent and Will watch the impressive scowl on David Shaw’s - the Werewolf King of Dahlia, himself - face. “Uh, excuse me? The fuck? It’s way past midnight, Angel. Where are you; who are you with?” 

“Looks like your lover made a new friend.” Will said in mock-whisper. Even though both of them knew full well that the Shifter wouldn’t be able to hear them from where they are in his human form. “I have a feeling that the Shaw pack and the Solaire clan will be closely in touch in the coming days.” 

Vincent shakes his head; truly, his Lovely is something else. Without hesitation, the Vampire Prince got up to introduce himself to the annoyed Werewolf. He didn’t take it personally when the Shifter shot him a glare for interrupting his phone call. If looks could kill, well, let’s just say that Vincent is thankful that being a Vampire means that he’s not about to be a Werewolf’s chew toy anytime soon. 

“Hi. I’m Vincent Solaire - yes, you heard that right - and before you ask, I’m pretty sure our lovers are currently hanging out at my place right now.” 

That got the Alpha to do a wonderful imitation of a statue. He wouldn’t look out of place at the Louvre, Vincent thought.

David exhales loudly - as if he damn close to being done with everything that this world has to offer - before addressing his lover on the other side of the phone. “The things you got yourself into, you damn troublemaker.” No doubt that David probably isn’t too keen to know that his mate is friends with a Vampire’s lover, but Will has a knack for turning enemies to allies; he’ll let his Sire deal with the politics once they get back to Dahlia. 

“You love me!” Angel smugly replied. “Oh and guess what? We binge watched the entire Twilight movie series and we got some questions!” 

“And uh, just a heads up.” Lovely’s voice hesitantly chimes through Vincent’s phone. “We haven’t slept since you guys left. I mean, I slept the day you left Vince, but, uh...” 

Vincent winces and politely ignores David’s flow of cursing under his breath. 

They left home for only three days, surely their apartments are still standing and their lovers aren’t drunk, high or planning to commit anarchy!

...Right? 

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #lovely (listener) #angel (listener) #vincent solaire #will solaire #david shaw

[writersrealmbts]

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 5

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/11/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff/Angst: 3,846 words

A/N: Okay, I told you guys that I would be alternating between DTLW and Clearwater Springs, so here’s the proof. Anyway, two more parts after this!

Your fourth home in five years is what they told you this was. But you couldn’t remember any but this one.

So your heart was aching, and you always wanted to cry, but you never dared to do so. Something, someone’s, words, telling you that crying in front of strangers was dangerous kept echoing in your head. So you blinked away any tears that came, hugged your stuffed animal, and studied the area you would lived in.

It was a little cold, so you hugged your coat tighter to you. You’d been told by the other fairies that your coat was special, because it appeared to be designed exactly for your wings, which was rare. But none of them seemed to have any idea why you would have such a special coat, excepting the fact that maybe in the country you came from it was more normalized to have custom wing-slits.

It was completely normal to come away from a home with a stuffed animal, and clothing and jewelry that could shrink down. People liked dressing up fairies.

You played with your bracelet as you examined the cement floor, and the plain white walls, and the windows that weren’t quiet fully insulated but were full east and full west, respectively, and provided quite a bit of natural lighting. You had your own bathroom and kitchen area, and the laundry room was in the basement. The bed was a bit creaky, but the mattress seemed decent. You had a cute lamp on the side table, and they had a few books for you on a bookshelf that had the bottom shelf broken beside the side table.

There was shoebox bedroom on one of the shelves as well, very simple, with just a bed in it, but it was decorated carefully—though perhaps by their daughter. There was felt covering the floor and back wall, which would provide a little insulation for you. The outside was colored on, but you didn’t have a problem with that.

There was an old rug rolled off to one side that they said you could use, and a bar with some hangers already hanging on it and plastic drawers they said you could used for your clothing.

You looked at your suitcase, which was resting on the bed, then set your dog on top of it while you got the rug, unrolling it and placing it near your bed.

Your job there was to do their laundry and take care of the cat that their daughter wouldn’t let them get rid of, and to entertain their daughter now and then, and when you weren’t delivering the clean laundry or entertaining their daughter you were to stay in the basement bedroom. Simple enough.

The cat was a sweetheart and the laundry was quite simple with only three people to wash for. Laundry was tossed down the shoot daily and every Monday and Thursday you were to deliver their clean laundry before they awoke.

They weren’t cruel, or strict, just very structured and busy.

She was very kind and brought you groceries, even getting you exactly what you requested. You just had to leave a list with her laundry on Mondays, because Mondays were grocery days. She even spontaneously bought you a cake, and when you told her that the basement was a little cold for you, she found a nice heater for you that greatly improved things, and found some more blankets around the house for you. They were generally gone over the weekends, visiting a different set of grandparents each weekend, which left you and Cupcake, the cat, alone in the house to do as you pleased.

Those were the days you ventured down to the fairy market, which was a safe space for fairies and since you did get an allowance for doing the laundry, you could sometimes buy some special treats or things that you needed.

You weren’t a fan of the husband, which was fine, because he only seemed to come downstairs if he needed to check the water-heater (they were having issues with it and he was too stubborn to call whoever it was that professionally dealt with those things), or to ask you to do an emergency clean on a shirt or tie or slacks. It wasn’t that he was mean, or sleazy, or that he gave you bad vibes, he was just very grumpy and brisk. Cold.

And he hated the cat.

Plus you had the distinct feeling that if he found out about your diamond tears it would be a very bad thing. He was a greedy man, raising a greedy daughter.

But you had a CD player now, and you could find CD’s now and then at the fairy market, and the wife said you could use any CD’s you found in the basement.

Which was how you found your current favorite CD. You weren’t certain who the artists were because the disc hadn’t been in it’s proper case, but their songs were so nice. And you loved the one song.

So some days, when you had nothing to do but give the cat all the love it wanted, you just listened to that CD on repeat, singing words as though you’d known them before.

You did different crafts, and solved some of the abandoned puzzles from the storage room.

You improved your shoe-box, replacing the bed (it was a sponge, hard and weird to lay on) with a carefully arranged nest of fabrics and stuffing. Sometimes you stuck your stuffed dog into the shoebox and snuggled into that. The smells on it so familiar and foreign that it made you cry.

Which meant you had to find a place to hide your tears. Normally you just saved them and exchanged them at the fairy market—where the currency exchange fairy, Heidrun, just discretely nodded and added their value to your shopping card balance.

But one day she stopped you before you could leave, holding your hands. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“Fourth home,” You told her simply, shrugging. “It’s more of a job than a home. But I’m not…I’m not suffering. She always makes sure I have what I need and allows me a lot of freedom. I have the whole basement to myself, and I’m allowed in the side-yard at all times. She even encourages me to come here. And I have music to listen to. Actually, I found a CD I really like, but I don’t know what band they are because it doesn’t say on the disc.”

“Try Magnus, he knows everything going on in the music scene,” She told you, squeezing your hands. “And trying to hold onto whatever love you’ve got and are getting. It’s not healthy for our kind to go unloved.”

You nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Magnus did help you, granted, you had to sing a couple of the songs for him to find the right group, but once he did, he sent to you over to Frida with a request for BTS albums.

Frida nodded, pulling out several book-like things. “They’re super popular, but they’re also in a ton a magazines right now. They lost their fairy because of some scandal, and now they’re in a slump, but they’re also going on a world tour, so it can’t be that much of a slump. They’re actually coming to our stadium for a concert, which is cool. They’ve started putting up the posters already.”

You looked at the books, confused. “I thought you said they were albums?”

“They are. The CD’s are accompanied by a booklet of photos and the lyrics, photocards, and usually a poster.”

You blinked then picked up the biggest one, concerned and confused. “It’s…huge…and a box?”

She just snorted. “You want that one? It’s one of their more recent ones. Don’t have their newest yet, but I can see if I can get one for you.”

You nodded. “That’d be nice, but sure, I’ll…take this one for now.”

She nodded and swiped your card. “All yours, sweet-cheeks. Now, tell me how you get your hair that shiny.”

You grabbed your hair and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wash it.”

“Not even fair,” She muttered, then turned to a new customer.

You went home after hitting a few more stalls, getting more craft things and some stuff for the kitty, hugging the album and wondering what awaited you inside.

Cupcake was waiting for you on your bed, sitting up and meowing loudly, stretching out a paw for you to take (which you did because why else teach him that trick) and then purring and arching into your hand.

“I know, I was gone for forever,” You scooped him up after successfully setting everything else down. “I bought some new music for us. You need a better name. A masculine name. You don’t respond to Cupcake anyway—not that I blame you. It’s a rather poor choice of a name for a cat, much less a tom.”

He just purred, climbing up onto your shoulders and riding there while you put away the few food items you had purchased and hopping onto the fridge while you started cooking your dinner.

You hummed as you tried to think of a different name for him, but after a moment you paused, wondering what song it was you were humming and why it was so familiar and yet so distant. So easy, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the moment you stopped singing what the words were or how the song went, despite having reached the chorus. You could only remember the last words you sang.

You shook your head and went over, quickly opening the box to where the disc was in the album without seeing any sign of the pictures (Maybe a poster?) and then popping it into the player.

But it was worse than the first one, because you swore you knew each song. You had vague images in your head of people performing the songs. It hurt. It hurt to hear these songs because they were too familiar. Too familiar and yet so completely foreign that it was unfair.

The first one wasn’t too bad, but the second started really getting to you.

By the third song you were in tears.

By the chorus of the fourth song you were full-on sobbing on the bed.

The fifth song clashed so much with the sentiments of the previous two that it just broke you down further, and you had to turn it off before you started screaming at the empty space where the music should have come from.

You grabbed the photos from the album box after you had calmed down enough. Not bothering to try and remove the sticker, you slide the photos out and started flipping through the pages, horrified at the fact that they looked so achingly familiar and yet you had no idea who they were.

You tossed them back in the box and slammed it shut, eyes filled with tears.

But you must not have woken when someone came into the basement, because three days later the man was demanding to know where you got so many diamonds.

And fairies can’t lie.

Five days later you were staring out the window, a place you couldn’t go until you filled the box on your small counter space with diamonds. It wasn’t too large, but it was large enough that you were worried about whether you would ever fill it.

So you turned on the disc again, and cried. Cried until you were sick, and then collapsed into your bed. Exhaustedly petting the cat until you fell asleep, only to repeat it the next day. And the next.

When you finally filled it, you went straight to the market just to get some time away from the basement.

The shopkeepers from your regular stops came rushing up when they saw you, even Heidrun, all asking where you’d been and if you were okay and before you knew it you were sitting at one of the picnic tables with some soup and some tea and a bunch of worried fairies fussing over you.

Frida sat silently across from you, looking concerned but ultimately staring at the table.

Or so you thought, because she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed your bracelet. “Where did you get this?”

You blinked and tried to recoil, but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I just figured it was from one of my previous homes.

Magnus frowned, looking at it. “It looks a lot like the one that…”

She nodded. “There’s something etched onto them. Fairy craftsmanship. Come over to my shop. Come on.”

You followed her, curious, and not wanting to let something you had a very strong attachment to out of your sight.

First she tried a jeweler’s eye loupe, then she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a flashlight, shining it through the gems and onto the table.

You stared down at it, confused.

“Something tells me your family didn’t give you up willingly,” Magnus said, voice a little tense.

Frida looked at you, as though she couldn’t believe it. “You’re the fairy that was taken away from BTS?”

You just looked back at her. “Um…is that what all of that means?”

“How did you like that album you bought?” She asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

You shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about how much you had used it to make yourself cry, because if you did then you knew she was right. And if she was right, then it would be even sadder.

“Weren’t the one that said that they couldn’t have been too sad about losing their fairy to be going on a world tour? Why would I want to be her?”

“No, they talked about it…it’s because they’re trying to find her. Find you. They didn’t say it explicitly because they could get in trouble for that, but they’ve hinted at it and there are tons of reports and pictures of them visiting every fairy sanctuary they could without compromising their performances. It just took a while for it to hit the news for us. Y/n, they’re looking for you. And if this is any proof, I think they love you and you need love. You look like a skeleton with skin.”

Heidrun gently pulled you into her arms. “What changed? You were doing alright and then you were gone and you come back looking like a ghost.”

“They found my tears,” You whispered.

She inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and held you tighter. “You can’t stay there.”

“I can’t leave there either. Where would I go? I would just get arrested and brought back to them.”

Frida folded her arms. “Leave it to me. You go back, lay low. Maybe try to appeal to the lady of the house. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I can. In the meantime….”

“I’ve still got a backlog of your diamonds, come get them just in case he asks again.” Your arm was gently pulled toward the currency exchange station.

You took the bag, and the treats most of them packed up for you. If the love of other fairies was enough to sustain you, you never would have been in this mess. But fairies, while kind and caring, didn’t have enough love for other fairies to keep them alive, especially once exposed to the love of a family. Fairies were good, and kind, and helpful, but also emotionally unstable which made it hard to focus enough love into one another without a consistent source of outside love.

It was a miracle your species had survived as long as it had.

Cupcake greeted you, meowing pathetically and hopping into your arms.

You sat down on your bed with him. “Let’s think of a new name for you.”

Eventually you settled on Keyowo, which was close to his current name but meant friend and was just…it was better.

You then set to deep cleaning over the next week, shrinking your things and tucking them into your suitcase to keep them out of sight.

On Tuesday he beat you to tears because you weren’t producing tears fast enough.

The album caught your eye again on the next Friday.

You picked up, tracing the seven on the cover, and then opening it. You pulled out the poster and unfolded it.

They were in white, with feathers floating down and a hole in the floor. They all looked so good.

You touched the one on the far left, wearing the sweater. Slightly cat-like facial features. You felt like you knew what his hands looked like, even though you couldn’t see much of them in the picture. Slightly calloused, bony, but gentle and careful. Caring for everyone.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, choking up. Tearing up.

Your fingers traced over each of them, names a whisper in your mind. A whisper that turned into shouts, memories flooding your mind of each and every one of them. Your mind screaming for them because your throat was too tight to even whisper.

They were your boys.

They had to let you go.

You weren’t supposed to remember them.

They weren’t supposed to try and find you.

The next day you shoved everything into your bag, tucked the cat into your coat, left a note for the missus and headed straight back to the fairy market.

Frida looked surprised when she saw you. “Whoa, what happened? Is this the kitty your were telling me about?”

“They’re gone for the weekend, that means even if I stay nearby they’ll think I’ve had two days to run out on them. I need you to help me get me back to my family.” You teared up. “I need to find them.”

Frida nodded, glancing around and closing her shop. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

Frida’s family consisted of a pair of siblings.

The sister, Alena, was a fairy rights activist in her spare time, which is why Frida had so much freedom, and a huge music fan. She had a whole wall of CD’s and albums and posters. Stacks of magazines featuring musicians.

The brother, Agnar, was quiet, “just an accountant”, and very kind. And very affectionate toward Frida.

Frida was equally affectionate toward him, bringing a fake gag from Alena.

They helped you find an outfit that hid your fairy-ness, and he got you tickets to the concert, all of you hoping that it would get you close enough for them to see you and recognize that you were there. Also, it would help you health-wise to see them in person and the rush from the concert would be overwhelming, but also might revitalize you.

Then Alena forced you to sit in the bathroom with her while she applied a cloth to your face with epsom salts to try and reduce the bruising and swelling on your face. She told you about the fairy abuse responders, and how she would call them in the morning and tell them about your family.

Agnar totally stole your cat.

Frida let you sleep in her fairy-home (because it definitely wasn’t a dollhouse and it was awesome, of course).

Four days later, you were at the concert venue with Alena, taking a seat and soaking in the atmosphere. People were talking all around and some people were chanting the boys’ names. Another group was starting to sing the songs.

You listened nervously, wondering whether it was true or not that they were looking for you. What if they were just making a fuss to get back at the company a bit? What if the media was making things up? It wouldn’t be the first time a story was fabricated for magazines.

Then the concert started and you and Alena were cheering for your boys, but you wondered why you ever thought they’d be able to see you in this mess.

It wasn’t until the second half of the concert that you had hope.

The boys were in more casual outfits, having more fun.

And they were all wearing the jewelry that Namjoon had made from your diamonds.

Jimin was the one who saw you first, though he looked right over you and then seemed to try and pinpoint you again, but was unable to in the crowd. He stood there with a smile plastered on his face, acting as though he was studying each Army’s face when you knew he was searching for you.

So you stood still in the writhing mass that of the crowd, and studied him.

He had lost weight, and if it hadn’t been for the makeup, you bet he’d look fairly wrung-out.

All of them looked like they’d been sick enough to lose weight.

Taehyung came over and practically dragged him away (making it look playful).

But Jimin said something to Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook was over there as casually as he could, totally looking at the camera and doing ‘fanservice’. But he obviously didn’t spot you.

Jin didn’t either.

But Yoongi did during the very last song and he stopped, staring, then he was crouched, hand over his mouth, just staring in your direction.

You waved, wondering if he actually was staring at you.

He smiled, but it also looked like he wanted to cry. He waved as well, then cautiously moved off, still keeping an eye on you.

You bit your lip, smiling.

Alena squealed and grabbed onto you, and the two of you did your best to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

Both of you lingered as long as you could afterward, her extremely hyped from the whole concert and talking a mile a minute, while you were feeling…exhausted? All of the emotions around you and finally seeing your boys again….

But you had no idea how you were going to get to them, or how they were going to get to you.

Until you saw Sejin, scanning the crowd.

The likelihood of him being on the side of the boys was pretty good.

You tugged on Alena’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

Sejin locked onto you and started moving, coming your way, waiting until the straggling fans that had been around you were gone before telling security to let you through.

You dipped your head to the security guards, then bowed slightly to Sejin. “Hello.”

Sejin smiled. “Hello, y/n.”

You bit your lip. “I remembered.”

He nodded. “I figured. We all figured. They’re waiting. They’re all waiting.”

You were practically vibrating.

“Come on, let’s get you back to them. Your friend can come but she needs to wait in the hallway for…security purposes.”

You nodded and relayed the information to Alena, then both of you were following back to the waiting room.

Sejin stopped by the waiting room. “Go on in.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the doorknob and then turning it and going in.

–

Previous  Next

Masterlist  -  ot7 Masterpost

Tagging: @alex–awesome–22, @bryvada, @missmoxxiesworld​  @subzerobts​     @forvever-ddaeng​  @vividwoosan   @mischiefmakerliesmith5  @beach-bitch-bitch-beach  @minmeowmeowcuddles  @kpopfictrash @castlewolfsbane  @scatkpoptrash​  @knjhe​  @i-dont-even-know-fck @soulphoenix1618 @kerikaaria @sea-nevermind-enthusiast @reinaxans ​

If you would like to be tagged: DTLW Taglist (please make sure you can be tagged, I’m no longer hunting people down)

#fairy au #bts fic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 #ot7 x reader #fairy!reader #namjoon #jin #seokjin #yoongi #suga #hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #v #jungkook

[spookyboywhump]

Third part, after This

Not really whumpy but poor Gabriel is drugged up for, well, all of it. A bit of a timeskip from the last part

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, drugged whumpee

***

The young man’s time there in the shelter was almost entirely a blur to him. A hazy, numb, monotonous blur, he often wasn’t sure when he was awake and when he was dreaming.

In the back of his mind he knew the name Gabriel. He wasn’t sure if it was his, or somebody he knew, or something he heard, but he knew the name, and he held onto that. Nobody he saw called him that though, so he had doubts of it belonging to him. For the most part it was always “mutt” or “V-132”, somebody had once carded a hand through his hair and called him “puppy”, but never was he called Gabriel.

In some of his clearer moments he’d feel like their names for him were wrong, but then again, he didn’t really know who they were, who he was, even where he was. As far as he knew he never had a name, and he’d been here forever, and he’d stay here forever. Nearly every day was repetitive, he got fed once a day, every now and then he’d be taken out of his cell to be given a shower- not like the “nice” one he had before, by himself with those two men, instead in a different bathroom with several showers, aside several men he assumed to be in the same situation as him. A lot of them were louder. Some were happier, some were angrier. He didn’t feel happy or sad or angry though, just tired, his thoughts slow and foggy, confusion constantly making his head hurt.

There had once been a brief moment, hours of clarity he didn’t normally have where he had acted out. The memory was fuzzy and faded now, but he had yelled at them, demanding to be let out. One of them left for a while but came back soon enough, shoving a document in his face.

“You wanted to be here!” The man had snapped. “You signed this yourself! You’re here because you want to be, stop blaming it on anybody else!” He could see a signature on the paper, and at the time he felt it was his, it felt familiar to him, like he remembered writing those words, but he didn’t remember signing any papers, he didn’t know when that happened, but he didn’t get a better look at it or a chance to ask questions, he quieted down enough for them and soon his days returned to a blur.

Now he spent most of his time curled up in the corner of his cell, staring blankly out the bars. He watched people come and go, well dressed people would sometimes leave with one of them, sometimes they’d even stop to look at him. He felt as though he were waiting for something, maybe waiting for his chance to leave with one of them, sometimes they would say something about that. It sounded like a good thing, like leaving with someone like that would make things better, and he wanted things to be better, he knew that much.

So he sat quietly, and he waited patiently for his person to take him out of there, waiting for the day this would get “better”.

***

Anastasia didn’t particularly care for this shelter. Frankly, she thought it was poorly run and her facility was much better at producing a perfect pet, but clearly they didn’t particularly care for quality around here. She had only been there to speak with Cain, as much as it irritated her to answer to a child, he was fairly competent, and willing to comply with simple requests. Unlike his father, asking nicely actually worked on him. She was running out of space for her trainees and he had open cells for them here, they’d likely be brought in within the next week.

Despite not really caring for the quality of the products, she still took a look around on her way out. Her friend had recently gotten a guard dog and she just adored him, she decided she had to have one of her own but so far none of her trainees were meeting her standards. She didn’t expect any of these to either, but she figured she could train one on her personal time if she found one she liked enough. She was just thinking of giving up and leaving when she passed by a cell with one young man in it that caught her eye.

He was curled up in the corner of his cell, his jet black hair was a mess and there was a blank look in his blue eyes. He didn’t move when she approached the cell door, in fact he didn’t seem to even realize she was there for a moment, and when he did look up at her, it still felt as though he wasn’t really seeing her. It was strange, but he was a very handsome young man, and with some work she thought he could easily be trained to her standards. She just had to know what was wrong with him. She had her suspicions, but she still flagged down a worker who was leaving one of the cells down the row, who instantly rushed over to her, a clipboard in hand.

“Yes ma’am?” The girl asked, looking nervous just to be near her. That didn’t bother Anastasia, she was used to it.

“This one- what’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” She asked, and the girl made a face when she looked at him.

“He’s fine. He’s sedated every morning to keep him calm. He was too disruptive before, he’d just yell all the time and attack anyone who got near him. Instead of keeping him muzzled or restrained all the time, I guess they just chose to keep him drugged up.” She shrugged. “He’s certainly more tolerable this way.”

“How long has he been here?” She asked, and the girl flipped through a few papers till she found his, looking it over.

“Roughly a month or so now. I can give you his information if you’d like, I can just grab another copy later.” She offered.

“Yes, please, that would be perfect.” She said, thanking her as she handed her the paper containing his basic information. Anastasia told her she’d find her or somebody else if she needed any more help, she didn’t need to distract the girl while she thought this over.

The photo of the man used looked far different than his current state. He had an angry snarl on his face, it was clear somebody had to hold him by the hair to get that image. His name had been Gabriel Ashford, his number V-132. He was a week away from turning twenty, she was surprised that slipped by Cain given how strict he was about that. He hadn’t been given any specific training, instead he’d just spent his days in a drugged up daze, for nearly a month straight. She knew that couldn’t have been easy on his mind, getting through to him may be a challenge… but she did always enjoy a challenge.

She didn’t feel bad for the products often, but something about this man did pull at her heart. He likely had potential, but it had been buried under constant sedation, and he looked just pathetic curled up in the corner. She would give him a good home, the kind of care that he would need, even attention to keep him close to her.

Well, she would- so long as he survived his training.

#whump #my writing #my oc’s #Jet #Anastasia #pet whump #dehumanization #drugged whumpee #she feels bad for the pubby :(

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Rough Night

Bucky Barnes x (f)werewolf reader

Summary: Your life is already so weird, thankfully Bucky loves you through it all.

Warning: fluff, reader being a sass master w/ no filter

side note: couldn’t think of any cool avenger powers and then brain went werewolf so here we are

Masterlist

If you had a dollar for every time you’d ended up in the woods with ripped clothes and no shoes, well, let’s just say you could probably afford a real nice two bedroom apartment in some real pleasantly fancy building with a great view and all. Too bad green doesn’t just rain down from the sky every time the full moon comes round to knock you back into another world of blurry confusion.

You won’t lie to yourself, being what you are is strange and not very common in the slightest, obviously. It’s even weirder that you weren’t bitten one night and turned just like that, oh no, all passed down through the bloodline of other strange relatives. So you’re gifted with the curse, forced to inevitably change into a furry beast every single full moon, so what you’re still a mostly pleasant individual.

Well luckily for you, being born with the gift does happen to have its perks which do come in handy. For instance, you’re incredibly strong, quick on your feet, and have heightened senses, plus the ability to shift on command. It’s not all bad, well......most of the time.

Honestly you truly thought life couldn’t get much stranger for you and your whole hidden secretive situation, until low and behold some random red head found your little hideaway in a remote mountain side village far off in the Himalayas.

Everything was completely fine and under control and then BAM, she showed up with some important documents and something called an Avengers initiative and well shit, guess some time spent with the real world couldn’t hurt. I mean come on, some more friends seemed like a nice idea and uh, somehow they knew who you were so too late to run and hide.

Also at the time, considering you lived like a recluse on the edge of the village and of course for good reason, but damn if the red head didn’t just hand you an open invitation for some real adventure. Who were you to say no?

Fortunately for you, all seemed to go in your favor and fantastically enough, they had a nice big strong cell for you on nights when the wolf was inevitably bound to come out. A fridge full of plentiful snacks, a training room to lay off some steam, and a big safe and secure room all your own. It was perfect. Only problem was, there happened to be a very attractive and very wary of you super soldier who undoubtedly caught your attention.

How could you not, he smelled divine, muscles for days, thick thighs that could make a girl swoon, and he just seemed like the best goddamn hugger alive. Okay listen, maybe you were touch starved and deprived of human affection but dammit if your little monster heart didn’t skip a beat every time he was near you.

And yes, the few months it took to get him to crack was just down right torturous. But with some coaxing from Steve and encouragement from Sam, the winter soldier at long last did talk to you. Turned out he thought you were scared of him all along, how hilariously ironic you thought when he told you that.

But as time progressed and you both opened up more and more, a blossoming relationship sprouted forth, eventually evolving and manifesting into a big beautiful flower called love. Cheesy yes, but you couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.

And seriously, he wasn’t freaked out about your whole hidden hush hush secretive gift that usually either goes in your favor or ends up causing you major legal trouble. The man himself, Bucky Barnes, thought you were a marvel to behold, so odd and fantastic that he couldn’t stay away even if he tried.

And for that you could love him forever, especially now after a full moon while you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Hoping that the team will send your hundred year old boyfriend out to find you in the brisk dark morning after a grand unrememberable adventure. Which would be very nice of course, considering you have not a damn clue what you’ve done.....or where you are.

Cracking your back, you stretch your hands up to the dawning sky as a tired yawn escapes you. It’s been a long night and you look like a wild woman with your hear a fluffy nest and your clothes ripped in various unrevealing places thankfully.

Your surroundings are simply trees and small scraggly bushes, green grass underneath your bare feet and a small stream flowing in the near distance. With a second to listen, you can hear a highway a couple miles away to the east, guess that’s a start.

Rubbing your eyes you set out in that direction for about twenty minutes before a blue and gold Mercedes comes into view from the side of a country back road, it stops when you guess the driver spotted you from the tree line. Keeping a wary eye on the fancy sports car, you keep walking towards it until a figure gets out and leans against the passengers side door all cool and casual, then on further inspection you realize the driver is Bucky.

Yes! My knight in shining armor is here!

Trudging through the grassy field in the dewy morning light, he watches your every move, eyes crinkling in amusement as you come to stand a couple feet in front of him. Undoubtedly looking a bit wild, and very tired as you fold your arms underneath each other, giving your dark haired lover a shy almost fangy smile.

“I know I look like a hot mess.” You mutter with a shrug, biting your lip as you dart your eyes to the fields behind him, slightly embarrassed of the current disheveled state you’re in.

Bucky smirks before pushing himself off the car and engulfing you into a big Bucky bear hug to your pleasant surprise, “Y/N I’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you.” He mumbles into your shoulder as you press yourself closer to him, letting yourself have this wonderful moment to relax and feel at ease.

Slowly pulling back to look up at him, you smile, “Aww Buck you were worried about me?”

He returns the grin, leaning down to press his head flush against yours, “We all were, me more then anyone else of course...and maybe for the general civilians nearby.”

You laugh nervously, “Oh right, yeah. Well hey, I didn’t destroy anyone's car this time. I think I’ve made progress.”

He pauses for a brief moment indicating he’s not sure if he should tell you something and this does make you nervous before Bucky finally lets out a little laugh, “You ate a whole cow Y/N.”

Snorting in surprise you quickly pull your head from Bucky’s, “What? Did I? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yeah, uh I wish.” He admits with a casual reassuring squeeze to your arm, “We tracked you with Sam’s suit tech, yunno Red Wing, and uh....you seemed to be having fun.”

Mentally and just about physically cringing at yourself, you purse your lips together in slight embarrassment, “Shit. Was it gross?” You ask, making a face that causes him to chuckle.

“A little.” Adds Bucky with another casual shrug to make you feel less terrible.

“Is the farmer going to see everything, I mean shit they’re gonna be so pissed.” You worry, biting your lip anxiously as you break eye contact from him. “Why am I like this.”

“Uh, that’s not going to be a problem.” Inquires Bucky causing you to find his blue eyes once again.

Eying him up suspiciously you raise a brow, “And why’s that.....Bucky what did I do?”

Taking a breath he gives you a small apprehensive smile, “Y/N...you uh, kind of ate......everything.”

“I what?” I did not! No way, right?

Giving you a quick kiss on the cheek he smiles affectionately, “I’m going to be honest with you here it looked like a kid with a piece of cake who has no impulse control, and loves cake....like a lot.....Rodney almost puked.”

Rolling your eyes you fake glare at him, “Oh god who all watched my little horror show?”

“Mostly everyone.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s like a car crash Y/N, we don’t want to watch but we can’t look away. Sorry doll.” He confesses apprehensively, though honest and sincere knowing you do feel bad for what you do when out of it.

“No.” You say honestly, pausing for a moment, “It’s fine. Seriously Buck, I’m just relieved you guys keep taps on me while I’m out, god knows I can’t help what I do and where I go. It’s nice to have people making sure I don’t injure any innocent bystander.”

“Yeah I guess so huh...alright Y/N/N,” Chirps Bucky with a beaming grin as he attempts to shift the mood to a less dull one, “let’s get out of here, I mean unless you want to sniff around the place for awhile...it is a nice forest over there and all but I guess we can stay and I’ll let you...”

“Alright Barnes, can-it or maybe I’ll bite you.” You tease with a playful squeeze of his bicep before breaking out of his strong grasp.

“Depends on the context maybe I’d enjoy it.” Adds Bucky sarcastically, side eying you with a half smile as you move to open the car door.

Shaking your head in playful disapproval you lightly shove him aside, “Believe me you wouldn’t.”

——

The ride back to the Avengers base or headquarters or facility, who the hell knows at this point, was actually quite smooth and peaceful. Then again you fell asleep as soon as Bucky made it onto the highway, and continued to catch a much needed nap for the next hour ride home.

No one ever said you were easy alright, but let’s be real, Bucky would let you put him through anything and he’d be happy about it.

After parking and walking down the sidewalk past some early morning trainees catching a run, the two of you made it into the Avengers official HQ where all your rooms and other luxury’s are located. But of course not before walking past the facilities giant living space and huge kitchen.

Just keep looking forward, keep walking, walk faster you idiot!

“Y/N!” Shouts Sam in that stupidly peppy obnoxious early morning voice of his, no doubt gaining the attentions of Steve and Natasha who are seated at the kitchens bar talking about some mission report.

Pausing in the large doorway that’s not giving you or Bucky a whole lot of hiding space, you take a deep breath before turning to acknowledge him, “You’d think people would be sleeping considering it’s only six in the morning.”

Chuckling, Sam raises his protein shake, “Weird,” He says while giving you a knowing smirk, “we missed you during training this morning.”

Nat and Steve conceal their amusement as you simply roll your eyes, “Yeah well it was a long night.” You mutter unenthusiastically, earning the tiniest laugh from Bucky which causes you to throw him a glare. Knocking that smile right off of his handsome stubbly face.

“Well we got all these shakes here if you two love birds want one. Hate to have em go to waste.” Adds the smiling man with a nod, if he doesn’t just love seeing you looking like shit. No Sam I do not accept this invitation for you to tell me how crazy I look.

Sam means well of course, but damn he loves teasing you in front of Bucky for a fun reaction out of him. And it’s kind of working, but not on Bucky.

“It’s fine Y/N, you don’t have to have one if you don’t want to.” Calls Natasha before taking a sip from her mug. “Just ignore Sam, he’s been annoying since the gym.”

Before Sam’s even able to speak you quickly narrow your eyes at him, holding up a finger before making hasty steps across the room. Stopping right in front of him, “Give it.” You deadpan.

Brows raised in surprise he glances from a confused Bucky, then back to you again, “Listen I only made so much, Y/N this is my breakfast okay you can’t just...”

Ignoring his rushed rambling you pull out the whole glass blender full of protein shake before taking a step back as the whole room goes quiet, then never breaking eye contact you heartily drink up the whole entirety of its cold contents without missing a beat. Yeah, definitely needed that.

After you’re finished you lick your lips in satisfaction, taking a step closer towards a speechless Sam as you set the blender back in its place. Giving him a satisfied smirk before walking back over to Bucky where you tug on his jacket to follow you down the hall and away from everyone else.

Sometimes you can’t help but be a little dramatic.

——

Laying sprawled out on yours and Bucky’s giant mattress, you stare up at the ceiling as he folds your clean and freshly scented laundry, your mind swirling with thoughts of what duties you have to be apart of today. Blah, work.

Sighing gently you glance at Bucky to see if he heard you, not getting anything from him you sigh again with more grandeur this time. Nothing. Rolling your eyes you suck in a deep breath before practically soft yelling out your exhale like the dramatic little beast you are.

Glancing over to Bucky, you watch as he turns around to put some of your pants away in a drawer. Okay then, that’s how it’s gonna be. Quickly sitting up, you smirk a devilish grin before silently reaching over to pick up a small pillow, once in hand you don’t think twice before launching it at full speed directly headed for the back of his head.

But before your decently soft projectile can smack his precious flowing locks does a metal arm swiftly reach up to catch it mid flight. Oh, shit. Bucky’s head turns to you, brow raised at you before tucking the pillow underneath his arm, and going back to his usual domestic duties for the day.

Okay, killer of fun Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frustrated from lack of a reaction out of him, you stand up on the bed like a warrior about to give a great battle cry. Eyeing his cute butt up for a moment, you smirk once again before launching a sneak attack pillow right for his head. It sails magnificently across the room before a metal hand stops it in its place. 

Well, shit.

This time he gives you a proper look, full of mischief and a new profound playfulness that sends an excited thrill throughout your entire being. As fast as one of Thor’s lightening bolts does the pillow soar in your direction, but conveniently for you he’s forgotten just how quick you can really be. This is just what you wanted.

Dodging to the left you watch in almost slow motion as the fluffy cloth just misses your face, instead opting to smack against the back wall with a loud thud. Snapping your attention back to Bucky he narrows his blue eyes at you suspiciously while you let out an admittedly scary villainous chuckle.

Let’s party my love.

He hands you a smirk right before shifting his body to the right, arm cocked back and thrust forward just as quickly, launching his second pillow attack without an ounce of mercy. You see it coming a mile away and as graceful as a dancer do you flip off the bed, landing perfectly on the carpeted floor just as the pillow smacks hard against the door. Thwack!

Slowly standing, eyeing him up like a lioness to her prey, you give him a satisfied smile, “Missed.” You tease.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Bucky takes a cautious step in your direction as he tests the waters, “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Getting your attention you ass.”

Chuckling he takes another step forward, “Was I ignoring you?” Duh, that’s why I, oh wait he’s playing you.

“Well you certainly weren’t doing anything interesting.” You sass as he steps again closer, this time about an arms length away.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, “Okay that’s fair, but was the pillow really necessary?” He asks, though his tone is still humorous.

Not falling for his alluring charm you tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile breaking out across your face as he tries to register what your true intentions are. “Yes, and so is this.” You quip before dropping to the floor for a side sweep of his legs, in an instant he’s on the ground and looking wide eyed up at you.

God he looks beautiful. No, focus.

“Y/N!” He whines breathlessly, brows furrowed as he holds himself up by his elbows, “Now you’re gonna get it!”

Taking a quick step back you snort, “Oh really now?”

And he’s fallen for the plan.

“Yes, and when I get you, you won’t be laughing anymore.” He grumbles, trying to keep himself from laughing as well.

“Alright then hot stuff try and bring me down.” You snap back playfully as he rises to his feet, “First one pinned has to run with Sam later, and we both know how much fun he is to run with.”

Bringing his arms up into a defensive position he readies himself for an attack, “Yeah, I’d rather not be his jogging buddy today. I mean it is raining outside, but I know you’d look real nice after a wet run.” Teases Bucky with a smirk.

“Touché you smartass.” His lips twitch into a grin as you ready your own stance. “Now let’s dance.”

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #The Avengers #the avengers imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x you

[gumnut-logic]

Air

This is pure fluff. Marks & Wings AU. After writing Callisto all weekend, I needed some self indulgence (well, there was plenty of that in Callisto as well, but that was all planned :D). I needed to fly free for a little while. So I did, with Scotty :D

Thank you to @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ @tsarinatorment​ and @godsliltippy​ for both reading and encouragement :D It has been a lovely few hours to end my weekend. Thank you ::hugs::

I hope you enjoy this, I certainly did :D

-o-o-o-

The air was brisk and startlingly cold on his face, but he revelled in it nonetheless.

It was late afternoon on a lazy day on Tracy Island. Lazy because Virgil had thrown a fit and demanded IR be shut down for twenty-four hours.

Alan was in bed with a broken arm sleeping off a rescue from hell the day before. Gordon wasn’t much better with his back, having over done it pulling Virgil out of sinking ship. Virgil himself had enough bruises to transform him into a groaning hulk of a man no-one wanted to go near. Even Johnny had been yanked from orbit to help corral the three injured operatives.

Not that Scott didn’t have other reasons for grounding his space brother. The man didn’t know what the word ‘stop’ meant after all.

This, of course, caused a rebellious backlash from said brother and Grandma had stepped in, banning both of them from any Tracy Industries work as well.

Scott had literally been sent to his room.

But his room was a boring place. He didn’t want to sleep and the thought of sitting by himself and staring at the holoprojector was just depressing.

He wanted out.

It wasn’t long before he had drifted onto the residential balcony and, with a single word to Eos, lifted his silver-grey wings and leapt into the air.

The air was his comfort zone, his escape, his reassurance. It flowed over his body and his wings in predictable patterns. Bare chested, he could feel its caress as it supported him.

Far below the ocean stretched out before him, the afternoon sun an angled glare scattering sparkles on the blue, not unlike the blue on his wings.

He folded them and dove directly down, revelling in the exhilarating speed. Moments before he would hit the water surface, he edged his wings open again, catching just enough lift to shift his angle, enabling him to spread to his full width and swoop with an eager whoop over the waves.

This close the water blurred into solid blue reflecting the sky above him. His shadowed reflection blurred with it.

A single stoke and he was climbing again, wing muscles grabbing at the air, pulling him higher, high enough to tip sideways and dive again, this time in an arc that saw him closer to the water than before.

Another swoop and he was hollering at the sky.

Stroke after stroke he climbed higher and the air grew that touch colder, chilling his skin even more. He gained enough momentum to stop and hold in the air, wings still, for just that split second before he let himself flip and dive again.

This time he curled one wing and set himself spinning before pulling both wings in tight and spiralling faster and faster, daring the ocean to reach up and slap him out of the sky.

But he was Scott Tracy.

He played the currents as if they were his own and just as if he was in his ‘bird, the fastest aircraft on this planet, he manoeuvred at the last moment and was once again skimming across the surface of the water.

A sudden shadow passed over him and a familiar voice danced on the wind. “If you caught us doing that, we’d be dead.”

Despite the words, Scott let out a laugh and arched back on his flight path, flipping himself upside down and over his younger brother and his gliding span of black feathers.

“Show off.”

Scott grinned like a madman. He’d shown Virgil a lot of his tricks, but not this one and he had no intention of sharing any time soon.

It was far too amusing to watch his expression every time Scott caught him with it.

Virgil was calmly gliding a decent height above the water, just keeping pace with Scott. He was as bare chested as his eldest brother and yesterday’s bruises were well on show. It was sobering, but Scott was happy to see him nonetheless. It had been some time since they had last just flown together.

And as always, it was very fast becoming the usual, almost an echo of their flying styles in the Thunderbirds. Virgil calmly gliding through the sky stroke after long stroke while Scott darted about him, faster and a little too eager to be out with his brother.

The air regressed Scott in age. It gave him freedom.

It was home.

And he was happy to have his brother as a guest to entertain.

Just to stir him a little more, Scott threw himself into a curve that encircled his brother at a safe but still daring distance.

“You tangle with my feathers, and I’ll kick your ass.” But it was said with amusement and Scott didn’t miss the smirk on Virgil’s face. His brother trusted him, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here.

A smile on his face, Scott broke off in an arc and turn to the east, wings climbing fast. He didn’t look back.

He knew Virgil would follow him.

It was a law of physics he was ever so grateful for.

But then a shadow suddenly over took him and Virgil was climbing faster than Scott.

And snickering.

Now that broke the laws of physics.

He couldn’t let a younger brother beat him at his own game, could he?

He threw more energy into his climb. Virgil’s greater wingspan could claw more air and his brother physically had more strength, so much like his ‘bird it was damned scary. So technically, Virgil could outpace Scott on a vertical climb.

But that was if Scott kept to the rules.

Which he didn’t and since he was high enough to do what he wanted, he did exactly that and flipped himself backwards into another plummeting dive.

Air rushed past his ears and he let out another yell as he played dodge with the planet.

Of course, his big brother radar was running the entire time, keeping an eye on exactly where Virgil was. His little brother was strong in the air, but far from as agile as Scott was and with that bruising likely not at his best anyway.

 The squawk of protest as Scott dropped away, was proof enough of that.

A tiny flash of guilt at teasing his brother flickered through Scott’s mind, but he dismissed it. Virgil knew what to expect and he also knew Scott was out here to have fun.

To let loose and shake the dull off his feathers.

As Scott swooped into a glide, Virgil broke from his plummet towards the ocean, his huge wings spreading to their full span quite impressively and braking mid-air. A stubborn flap, a glare shot in Scott’s direction and he eased into a simple dive that brought him alongside.

“You won’t give an inch, will you?”

“Do you expect me to?” Scott grinned at his brother.

A grunt was all he received for that. Virgil wouldn’t expect him to be anything other than his best. Certainly not out here.

Wouldn’t stop him from grumbling about it though.

“C’mon, Virg, fly with me.” He smiled at his brother, just happy to have him out here with him.

A flicker of a smile in return that lit up those dark eyes.

Scott’s smile became a grin and he banked, shifting the wind currents around him enough to turn back towards the sun.

Virgil followed, his turn not as sharp but as equally as graceful.

For a while they just flew together, Scott leading, Virgil following his every move, calmly and quietly. Scott didn’t push it. There was consideration for Virgil, but honestly, it was comforting for him as well to just rest on the wind.

Sometimes he wished he could sleep in the air. It was so relaxing.

The sun began to dip towards the horizon eventually and Scott knew his freedom was coming towards an end.

He rebelled at the thought. He just wanted to stay out here forever.

Virgil had moved a little closer, their wings almost touching. A glance in his direction and his brother pointed down towards the ocean.

A frown and Scott looked down just as an orca breached the surface and flung itself into the air at a considerable velocity before arching backwards and hitting the water with a huge splash.

Scott didn’t need his brother’s empathic connection to know that was no ordinary whale.

“He’s supposed to be resting.”

“So are you.” A different but ever so familiar voice answered him as a pair of artificial wings swooped in to join them.

John’s span made just that slightly different sound to natural feathers that set them apart from the rest of their brothers’, but Scott was determined to not let it affect him.

The Hood had taken far too much from them already.

John levelled off on the other side of Scott from Virgil and it felt ever so right to have a brother either side.

Virgil had slowed their progress, likely for the eager orca below, but Scott didn’t mind.

There was only one missing…

As if he had some kind of telepathic link with is youngest brother, Alan suddenly swooped over the top of all of them, dipping into a glide just below them.

Probably in an attempt to hide the arm he had strapped up. “Alan! What the hell are you doing out here? You have a broken arm.”

“Arm, not wing! I am quite capable of flying, Scott. Besides, you’ve been flying with Virg for hours and he has a bruised rib.”

“What?!” He glared at the engineer. “Why didn’t you tell me? And why the hell are you out here?”

“Goddamnit, Alan!”

“How did he know and I didn’t?”

“Because he doesn’t mind his own business.” The glare sent Alan’s way promised so many words in the teenager’s future Scott might have to intervene. “I’m okay, Scott. I promise. Spending this afternoon out here with you was worth it anyway.” Virgil looked over at the sunset. “It has been so long since we’ve done something like this.”

As if in emphasis, their brother orca exhaled in a fountain of water below.

Scott glanced over at John to find his brother staring at the sunset just as much as Virgil.

Below them Alan’s golden wings shone even more gold in that light and Scott had to admit it was just nice to have all his brothers out here with him.

Out in his element.

Out where he was free of everything…except perhaps the antics of a rapscallion brother or four.

But he could live with that.

The air was cool against his face as it lit up gold with the setting sun, but he had four brothers with him and that was enough to keep him warm.

-o-o-o-

FIN

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #marks and wings #Wing!fic

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air-Hawthorne!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 7162

Summary: Michael will be staying at Miss Robichaux’s for a few months leading up to competing against the Reader in the Seven Wonders Test. 

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, reader blacks out, also there’s a snake, if you’re scared of snakes maybe skip down to the last section bc pretty much all the others involve a snake, and a snake bite, Hawthorne!Michael deserves his own warning, yeah, also this is very much not proofread so, be prepared for that

A/N: This is written in honor of @guiltyfiend bc, you right, I think everyone wants to dom Hawthorne!Michael a little bit. This took me forever to write and is stupidly long (we love waxing poetic for no reason) but I hope y’all like it! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something strange in the air. 

There was always something strange in the air, of course. Strange was probably too subjective, anyway. You’d never quite managed to find a place where the air was simply air, and in a city as electric as New Orleans, at a school as volatile as Miss Robichaux’s, there was always something prickling you, needling its way through your veins. It was why you took the time to meditate in the first place, to give you a chance to sort through it all, when you didn’t have to deal with physical world interrupting, when it was simply you and your mind and the universe playing a game of chicken, seeing which would bow to which, in the end. 

But there was something that was a different kind of strange today, something that you hadn’t ever felt before.

No, you’d felt it before, you certainly had, but something you’d never felt quite so strongly, that was it. 

It was a deep, poignant, throat catching sense of doom. 

A hum rippled through the air, someone was taking a deep breath, and you knew in your mind that they were about to call out to you. 

“Y/N,” It was Zoe, and there was a grit in her voice hidden so deep she probably wasn’t even aware that she was already annoyed, “The warlocks are here!” 

Yes, that was it. That was the presence. The warlocks were here, and more importantly, Michael Langdon. The others had known the sense of doom too, the Supreme Cordelia had even had a vision about it. Cordelia was in fact probably the only person who felt the doom in a similar way to how you did, with her prophetic powers. The others felt it because it was so strong, but you were doubtful that it overwhelmed them like it did you, that they felt it so deeply they could practically taste it. 

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that now, you needed to go meet this mysterious Boy Wonder that had made some of the women you respected most in the world, leaders in your coven, shake in their boots. 

You opened your eyes, finally, your head tilted back to look at the sky. After a moment, you slid down the steepled roof of the school, leaping nimbly to the nearest tree, scampering to the ground as quickly as you could. You took a step, but something squishy was under your foot, and you jumped slightly as you heard a loud hiss. 

“Fuck,” You muttered to yourself, kneeling down, coming face to face with a snake, coiled back in preparation to strike, white mouth opened wide. You waved your hand in front of it, once, and as you watched your magic flow a sense of calm through the snake, you reached out to let it sniff you, smiling at it gently, “Hello, little friend. What are you doing so far from the water?” 

The animal flicked its tongue out twice, slowly bringing its head back down, touching its face to your hand gently.

“I like you,” Moving slowly, you picked the snake up, looking levelly into the slitted eyes, “You wanna stay with me for a bit?” 

The cottonmouth raised and lowered its head, and you pulled your hood back to rest it gently inside, the snake nestling instantly into the fabric. 

With that, you hurried to the front of the school, where you saw four men and  five women waiting for you. 

The women, you knew. Cordelia, the Supreme, stood at the head of the line, her shoulders rolled back. Next to her was Myrtle Snow, then Zoe, and next to her were Madison and Queenie, the witches that Michael had rescued. 

The men, you didn’t know, but in an instant you recognized which one was Michael Langdon. 

He was beautiful, with fluffed, golden curls, piercing blue eyes, a cherubic face that held a smile so lovely most people would probably miss the sneer holding it up. He wore the Hawthorne uniform, which you’d only seen in photos, a black bow tied at his throat, his jacket thrown over his shoulder. 

They had already made introductions, it seemed, all turning to watch you approach. 

“There you are,” Cordelia gave you a small, reassuring smile as you moved to stand beside her, “Gentlemen, this is Y/N Y/L/N, one of our brightest witches, who we believe may be the next Supreme. Y/N, this is John Henry Moore, Behold Chablis, Grand Chancellor Ariel Augustus, and Michael Langdon.” 

You nodded confidently, smiling  at John Henry Moore as you shook his hand, a slightly smaller smile at Behold Chablis, your face dropping all emotion as you shook hands with Ariel Augustus, almost coughing as you were hit with a rush of negative energy. 

“Did you just fall from a tree?” Ariel questioned, gripping your hand tightly. 

You concentrated on making yourself smile again, and once you had a grin securely in place you shrugged, “I jumped, actually. I was on the roof, but jumping straight off the roof seems like a good way to end up injured, and I don’t like to transmutate immediately before and after I meditate.” 

“Why were you on the roof?” John Henry Moore asked, looking amused. 

You almost responded, but Behold spoke before you could, “Didn’t she just say? She was meditating.” 

Myrtle moved behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “Our dear Y/N is very sensitive to the vibrations of the universe. I believe it’s what makes her so good at playing my theremin. She meditates to sort the different callings that pull at her.” 

Nodding, you turned to the mysterious Michael Langdon, watching him. He stared back, cocking his head to the side, and after a moment he extended his hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” He said coolly, his voice strangely melodic. 

You shook firmly, not releasing when the shake was done, not intending to fully end the shake until he moved to end it himself, “Hello, Boy Wonder. It’s nice to- no, actually it’s not particularly nice to meet you. But I’m happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots of stories, and I’m grateful for what you’ve done for our coven by returning Madison and Queenie to us.”

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth as if to object before suddenly jerking his hand back, frowning, “I’m sorry, but what is that?”

What was he talking about?

A slight hiss next to your ear explained it. The snake had crawled up to your shoulder, and you glanced to see that it was looking at the Grand Chancellor. It seemed that the snake didn’t trust Ariel Augustus either. 

Ariel jumped, staring, his hand raising up and mouth opening, and you could tell that some type of spell was on the tip of his tongue.

“No,” You snapped, reaching a hand up to the snakes head, and Ariel stumbled backwards, pushed back by magic that you hadn’t even meant to send out, “Sorry. It’s a snake. A cottonmouth, although I’ve never seen one this far from water. I just found him. Stepped on him, actually, although he didn’t take it too personally. I mean, he almost bit me, but I wouldn’t have particularly blamed him if he did, and after I calmed him down with a little charm he seemed happy to come with me. I’d like to keep him,” You turned away from the warlocks, glancing at Cordelia, “May I? I’ve already thought of a name for him.”

Madison, Queenie, and Zoe had all stepped away from you, anxiety thrumming through the air from their direction, but Myrtle chuckled, and Cordelia nodded, something inquisitive just behind her eyes, “You may, so long as you take good care of him, and so long as your new roommate doesn’t mind.” 

You whipped back around to Michael, beaming, “What do you think, Boy Wonder? Can Richard stay with us?” 

A deep frown etched into his features, which he looked annoyingly pretty in spite of, and he turned to Cordelia and the warlocks, “What does she mean?” 

“We’re happy to have you staying with us for the next few months leading up to the Seven Wonders test, but there is currently an overflow of witches. Every room is currently occupied, some by multiple girls,” Zoe stepped in to explain, “Y/N had space for a roommate. I’m surprised that the Grand Chancellor didn’t tell you.” 

Ariel shrugged, mumbling something about it not seeming important, and Michael looked at you, horrified, as you slung an arm around his shoulder, “I probably could’ve swapped around with someone, but I thought it’d be fun if we bunked together. Give us a chance to get to know each other better, y’know? So c’mon, Mikey, can we keep the snake?”

“Do not call me that,” He snapped, shrugging you off of him and adjusting his collar, “I don’t care about the snake. I don’t like you.” 

“The feeling is mutual, don’t worry,” Blowing a kiss in his direction, you whispered a celebration to the snake before turning back to your sister witches, “Let’s give them a tour!” 

You were pleased with this interaction. He was taken aback by you, and you could tell just from a single glance that Michael was not one who was easily taken aback. His energy shifted, something hard to determine just under the surface. You were curious to see what you could learn about him, before the two of you competed against each other during the test of the Seven Wonders. 

Alongside that was the strong feeling that at some point you would either fuck him or beat him up, and you found that you were also curious to see which it would be. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael Langdon was an asshole. 

You’d managed to catch him by surprise the day you’d first met him, to get him to stumble, but by the time you’d walked through the front door of the school he had found his composure, and you hadn’t managed to see him without it since then. He was always well put together. 

Alongside being an asshole.

The other witches in your coven were finding themselves swayed by him, you could tell. They didn’t want a male Supreme, but they were fading into his easy charm and good looks. Most spent their time flirting with him, and he seemed incredibly smug at all the attention. They didn’t seem to mind how clearly indifferent he was to them, not particularly harsh, but also never making an  effort to be nice, either. 

The only person he actively disliked? You. 

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but he was a huge pain in the ass. 

For example, he was stealing your study room. 

There were several areas in the school where students could study, of course. Most of the girls just did it in their rooms, and there was one room at the back of the house that was your favorite, holding a large table with bookshelves on either side and a large picture window opposite the door. You were the only one who used it, because there were nicer ones with tables that didn’t have splinters and light bulbs that weren’t constantly flickering no matter how often they were changed. 

And then Michael Langdon showed up, and started hogging the room.

It wasn’t as though you really needed the full study room to yourself, of course. But he took up so much space. 

He spread books along the entire table, and he always used his magic to adjust the lighting and change the temperature. 

“Boy Wonder,” You sighed one day, about a week and a half after his arrival, “Can you please give me some space on the table?” 

Michael glanced up at you, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips although he kept the rest of his face neutral, “What’s wrong, little witch? Are you mad that I beat you in here for once?”

“I’m mad that you take up all the room,” You snapped, “And that you’ve made it fucking freezing in here.” 

“I can make it snow, too. Wanna see?”

You kinda did, actually, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

“No, I want you to put the temperature back so it’s warm enough that I can’t see my own breath. I can literally see the heat waves rolling off of you, Boy Wonder,” And you could, and it was really fucking weird, in a very interesting sort of way.

 Still not bothering to turn to you, Michael shuffled his books around until there was a new one in front of him, “Little witch, why do you think I’d give a fuck what temperature you want it to be?”

“Because, Boy Wonder,  Richard can’t handle this cold,” You gestured to the snake who was wrapped around your shoulders, shivering along with you. 

Shrugging, Michael stood up finally, walking over to you and reaching a hand out. You stared for a moment, slowly reaching your own out and pressing your palm to his, and the two of you stared at each other for a solid minute and a half, his hand searing hot against your own cold palm, and when he finally pulled away he raised a curious eyebrow at you, “I was reaching for the snake.” 

He still wore that ridiculous fucking Hawthorne uniform, and looking at him in it made you wonder once again how well you would fare in beating him up. 

“Oh. Shit, sorry,” You said hurriedly, pulling Richard off your shoulders and down around your arm, but then you paused and looked at Michael, your voice heavy with suspicion, “Why do you want him?” 

“I’m warmer than you. He can hang out with me and you can go study in our room. Or you can take him back to the room and study with in there with him. Either way,” He said simply, as though you were a bit stupid for not knowing that already.

Glaring, you took a step closer to him, trying your best to be intimidating, “I can’t go study in our room, actually, because your shit is all over my desk, too. And I don’t want Richard to spend all day stuck in the room. He likes going other places. Just make some damn space.” 

Michael took two steps forward and suddenly your back was against the wall. He looked closely at you for a minute, and then he reached his hand out again, drawing his thumb across your lower lip, “Why do you always wear lipstick?” 

“What?” You stared up at him, dumbfounded. 

“You wear lipstick a lot,” Michael pulled his hand away, glancing at the residue left behind on his thumb, and then turned it back to you, “I’m curious why. Can you get this for me?”

“What?”

Rolling his eyes, Michael gripped your chin, pushing his thumb against your lips until they parted. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and you closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to concentrate on what the actual hell was happening. 

It wasn’t even lipstick, it was tinted lip balm. 

His energy had reached a point that was especially strange, still dark and angry like always, but with a type of curiosity to it as well. He was wondering something, and that made you wonder what he was wondering, and there was such a loop of wondering going on that you didn’t even realize that your tongue was swirling around him, didn’t even notice the slight shift in his demeanor as he pushed the two more of his fingers into your mouth, shoving them down your throat. 

What the fuck?

You shifted, trying to reach up and push him away, but his magic pinned your hands at your sides and all you could do was gag around him, frantically struggling. Magic, magic, do something with your magic to get him to stop, but you couldn’t get it to work, couldn’t get anything to happen. You bit down, desperate, and he hissed as he raised his other hand to your chin, holding it pulled down so you couldn’t bite anymore, scratching his nails gently across your jaw as he did so. 

“You look good like this, do you know that? Gagging. I think you were made for it. It’s interesting, how aware you are of energies, of vibrations in the universe, and yet I don’t think you’re even conscious of the energy you send out. How desperate you are for me. You aren’t aware of it because you don’t want to be. I can read your mind, little witch. You may not like me, but you do want to fuck me. You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself, like you’re empowered, but you’re not. You act high and mighty, as though you’re wise and powerful, but really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

What the fuck was he talking about? That wasn’t true!

Was it? 

He was pretty fucking hot, you had to admit, but you didn’t want to get dicked down by Michael Langdon. 

You couldn’t want that.

Fuck. 

Finally, finally, when you thought you were going to pass out or puke or maybe both, he pulled completely away from you, stepping back.

You doubled over, catching your breath, and when you straightened up your magic was finally working again, sending Michael flying across the room until he was pressed against the window, and you gasped, “What the fuck, Langdon? What the actual fucking fuck?”

Michael tried to shrug, but his shoulders wouldn’t move, and after a moment you released him, wishing that he would maybe fall over, but he just smoothly stepped forward, making his way back to you, “I’ll raise the temperature back to normal. And here,” He waved his hand in the air and the books in front of one of the seats at the table flew to other spots, clearing you an area, “I suppose there’s room for us to share the table. No promises on my kindness extending to tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll beat you here tomorrow,” You said, thinking through each of your words carefully as you spoke, “And you can suck my Dick, Langdon.”

Richard raised his head up and down as you set him on the table, slithering closer to Michael as if in emphasis to your point.

“Good one, little witch. That’s very clever, for you,” He chuckled, taking the seat next to the one he had cleared space for you at and sliding his fingers into his own mouth, tilting his head back as he cleaned them off and then pulling them back out with a flourish, shooting you a condescending look, “Are you going to sit? If you’re just here to stare, I’d prefer it if you’d leave. You can be very distracting sometimes.

Numbly, you took a seat next to him, trying hard to ignore his cocky grin, and pulled a book out of your bag. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a bedroom with Michael Langdon presented its own challenges. He was an asshole in private just as much as he was in front of others, and it was pretty fucking annoying. 

“Are you ever gonna go to fucking sleep?” Michael snapped at you, pulling his pillow over his eyes. 

“There’s too much noise,” Sighing, you cracked your knuckles, letting Richard the snake trail across your legs, “And not enough noise, at the same time. Am I really bothering you that much? I turned the lights out and everything.” 

He growled, removing the pillow from his head and squinting across the room at you through the darkness, “Doesn’t matter, does it, little witch bitch? You’re still a pain in the ass whether the light is on or off. Can’t you just ignore the noise?” 

“Fuck you, Langdon, you don’t know shit. I can’t just-shit! Ow, motherfucker,” You hissed,  jumping, as Richard bit your finger, “Why the fuck would you do that you dick?”

“What happened?” Michael straightened up, “Y/N?”

The snake was slithering away already, and as he did you were flooded with a strange feeling, the metallic taste of magic in the air. Richard hadn’t bitten you of his own accord, someone had made it happen, and that someone was probably Michael. 

“Y/N,” He repeated, “Come over here.”

Your feet carried you to his bed without your brain guiding them, and you dropped to the mattress next to him, holding out a shaky hand, “Richard bit me.”

Michael wrapped his fingers around your wrist, his large hand engulfing yours as he brought it closer to his face, examining carefully, “Yeah, you did. Weird. You feeling okay?”

You weren’t. Your mind was hazy, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t the snakebite that did it, you could just tell, it was something deep in your chest and spreading through your body, making you feel like you were in a great fog, and you stared at him, “I don’t feel great, actually.” 

“Would you like me to fix it?” Pressing a kiss to your palm, Michael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I, uh, I don’t know what you, what you mean by-” You cut off, closing your eyes to concentrate, rather than letting yourself get lost looking at Michael.

Dammit, why did he have to be so fucking pretty? It was such a pain. 

Night was the only time you saw him looking casual, too. Night and early morning, when he was in bed. 

Seeing him unbuttoned like this made a strange flip turn in the pit of your stomach.

“I can make the pain go away, little witch,” His voice was hoarse and whispery, “Just say the word.”

“Okay,” You breathed, even though you probably shouldn’t, you should say no, should pull away, should find a way to fix it yourself or maybe go to Cordelia or one of the other witches for help, you didn’t trust Michael, you shouldn’t trust Michael, but the word came out and you were making eye contact with him and fuck, fuck, fuck what were you doing with your life? 

Michael pulled your finger into his mouth, wrapping his lips just below the bite wound, and began sucking gently. 

“What... what are you doing?” You asked blearily, unable to break your eyes away from his, “I don’t... I don’t think you can really suck out the venom. I don’t even know if there is venom? He bit so quick, it was more of a nip than anything, I don’t-”

Pulling his head away for a moment, Michael frowned, “Are you ever quiet, little witch? Just hush, for once, and let me make you feel better.” 

Why was he being so nice? It wasn’t nice, you knew it wasn’t really, there was some type of trick to this, some type of trick to everything he did, and yet you felt swept away, some how. Overwhelmed, intoxicated, by Michael Langdon. 

You nodded, and his lips were around you again, and it was working, you could feel it. The strange pain in your body, that had started to cloud your chest, your throat, stomach, everything, it was fading away. 

You weren’t quite sure what was replacing it, as it certainly wasn’t anything you were used to, but it was mostly calming. There was a thrill of adrenaline spiking through you, but something else. Something deeper. There were few emotions that you couldn’t identify, but this was perhaps one of them. Whatever you were feeling, it was not something that you were used to. 

When the pain was gone and your head was a bit clearer, you tried to pull your hand away. Michael held firm to your wrist, although he let you ball your fingers into a fist, releasing you from his mouth. “How does that feel?” He cooed, tapping his fingers along your veins.

“Better,” You said slowly, and then, “Weird, though. I feel weird. I want... I’m tired, I think.” 

“What do you want?” Michael asked, and there was a smirk on his face that made you want to slap him, and then because your head was still not altogether there, you did slap him. 

Your hand, the one he wasn’t holding in place, hit his cheek at an astounding speed, leaving an angry red mark, and before you could even process that you had done so, you threw your leg across his lap, straddling him, and pressed your lips to his. 

Releasing your wrist finally, Michael pressed his hands into the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you stroked your thumb over the mark on his face, listening to Michael’s growl as you pressed down. 

You pulled away after a moment, cupping his face in your hands, panting, “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Which part?” Michael nipped at your bottom lip, smiling a smile that did not soften his eyes at all, “Slapping me? Or kissing me? Because I’ll be honest, I wasn’t fully expecting either of them, little witch bitch.”

“You’ve done something to me,” You mused, beginning to kiss along his throat, “I don’t know what, or how, or why, but there’s something you’ve done. There are a lot of things I want right now.”

“Tell me,” Michael commanded, but then he let out a groan as you brushed your lips over the spot where his jaw met his neck, and his usual suave, intimidating demeanor dropped as you began sucking furiously at the spot. He spoke again, more softly this time, “Stop, tell me.” 

Leaning back to glance at him, you smiled sweetly, “Make me, Boy Wonder,” and then you were at it again, leaving a large clump of bruises near his ear. 

“Seems like you have feelings for me, little bitch,” With mocking laughter, Michael trailed his hands to your hips, giving a harsh squeeze, “What would your sister witches think?” 

“The only feeling I have for you is loathing, Langdon,” You snarled, and in a moment your lips were connected once again, teeth clacking against each other, and when you both paused to catch your breath, you pressed your forehead to his, “Fuck, I really want to suck your cock.”

Michael snorted, “Everyone thinks you’re the future Supreme? You’re just a pathetic little cockslut.” 

You ground your hips down against him and reared your hand back, but this time he caught your wrist, glaring, although he bucked slightly against you. “Fuck you, you’re the one who’s all marked up. You’re the one who’s fucking dry humping me. Look at you. You’re the pathetic one.” 

“Sure I am,” Michael had a low, snarly chuckle that made a bolt of need shoot through you, and also made you very desperately want to hit him again, but seeming to know what you were thinking, he captured your other hand as well, “Such a fiery thing you are, little witch.”

Scowling, you bit his bottom lip and tugged, licking up the blood that beaded up and began to trickle down his chin. Smiling at the bitter taste, a yawn made its way through you before you could stop it. You felt yourself blushing a little at that, muttering quickly, “Sorry about that. I’m more tired than I thought, I guess. Being this close to you kinda blocks out a lot of the other energy, makes it all a lot quieter.” 

“Then let’s sleep.”

You had started to kiss along his collarbones, but you paused at that, murmuring against his skin, “What?” 

Michael wrapped his hand around your jaw, pulling you back so that he could look you in the eye, “You heard me, little witch. You’re tired. I am too. As much as I would love to see you gagging on my cock right now, I’d also enjoy getting some sleep. I’m planning to get up relatively early tomorrow to study.”

“I call the study room,” You said quickly, and you hadn’t even realized that Michael had shifted the two of you so that you were laying down, one hand still cupping your jaw, making it a bit difficult to speak, “What are you doing?” 

“You really are quite dim, little witch. I’m going to sleep. You should do the same,” His voice was softening, although not in a kind way. It was soft, yes, but commanding, dangerous,and you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Straining against his arms, you tried to stand, “I’ll go back to my bed.”

“You can’t sleep in your bed,” Michael said simply, rolling onto his back, one arm still flung across your waist, holding you in place.

Frowning, you turned your body towards him, curling into his side. He was warm. You didn’t even have a blanket covering you, and already you could feel yourself starting to overheat. You didn’t voice this though, not yet, too confused by the entire interaction to focus on that, “Why do you care so much how I sleep?”

 “I don’t,” He said simply, “I care about my sleep. And I’m not going to lose my sleep just because you can’t grasp your own. Now, stop squirming around so much. Are you that worked up?” 

“I’m hot,” You snapped.

“And bothered, apparently.”

“Langdon, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You jabbed your elbow into his side, “That’s not the hot I meant and you know it. I’m warm. You’re like a fucking furnace.” 

Sighing, getting grumpier by the second, Michael hooked his arm around you and pulled you onto his chest so that you were straddling him once again, arms on either side of his body, head hovering over his chest.

He laughed at the way you yelped, being pulled so suddenly, and his hands rested on your back, bringing one up to guide your head down to rest against his chest, “Did I scare you, little witch?”

“No,” You answered quickly, and then, “Just, this is a weird position.”

“It should be a little cooler for you this way. Just sleep, yeah? Get comfortable, and let’s go to sleep,” Michael’s hand stroked up and down your back, probably unconsciously, and you nodded sleepily.

“Goodnight, Mikey,” You murmured, still largely unable to control your impulses.

“Don’t call me that,” He replied, and then, after a moment, he added gently, “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you always here?” Michael sighed the next morning, setting his books down on your table.

“Why are you always such a dick?” You retorted, shuffling your own books to the side. 

He shrugged, stiffening a little as you rested your hand on his thigh, “Because it’s fun. Listen, about last night, I don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think anything,” You reassured him quickly. 

“Well that’s obvious,” Michael snorted, “You’re far prettier than you are smart, and far more annoying than you are pretty. I’d be surprised if you used that little head of yours for much more than deciding what color lipstick you should wear and fantasizing about getting fucked.” 

Pulling your hand away, you scowled at him, “That’s not what I meant, asshole. I was going to thank you for helping me fall asleep, but now I’d rather just give you another hickey or something, so everyone who looks at you like you’re a god will see what a little bitch their Boy Wonder actually is.” 

“I would take that back, if I were you,” He said coolly, his voice deadly calm. 

You stood, though only for a moment, and pushed his chair back enough for you to be able to sit, straddling his lap much like you had the night before. Hooking your arms around his neck, you looked at him with a smile, “I have no intention of taking anything back. I said what I said, and I fucking meant it.” 

Faster than you knew he could move, Michael stood and slammed your back against the table, knocking the wind out of you. His hands reached under the fabric of your dress and he ripped your underwear off quickly, stuffing them into the pocket of his dress pants as he looked at you, “You have no power here, do you understand that? You may have felt like you were in charge last night, but that’s only because I fucking let you. You’re feisty, and I like that, but you need to learn your fucking place, little witch bitch. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me to teach you your place, and I will. If you don’t, I’ll leave. But I think we both know which option you prefer.” 

You nodded, swallowing thickly, and at his raised eyebrow you spoke, “I do. I mean, I, uh, I want you to show me my place. Whatever. Just fucking do something, Michael.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” He growled, sitting back down in his chair, and he tugged at you, pulling both your legs over his shoulders, your hips lifting off the table, so that his face was level with your pussy, “I’m the one in charge. Get it? I want you to sit there and-fuck, you’re already so fucking wet. You think you want to be in charge, but clearly you know that you’re meant to be at my mercy. I want you to sit there and melt underneath me, and you’re gonna keep melting until there’s nothing left of you. Get it?” 

“I get it,” You agreed quickly, although you really weren’t quite sure what he meant by that, and your hips bucked weakly forward at the feeling of his hot breath against you, “Please, Michael.” 

“So fucking desperate. You’re fucking dripping for me, and I’ve barely even touched you,” Chuckling, Michael placed a tiny, barely there, ghost of a kiss against your clit, and even though he wasn’t touching you anymore you could feel his wolfish grin at the way you whined when he pulled away. 

Michael dragged his teeth against the soft skin of your thighs, nipping at the junction of your pelvis, and you knew as he continued that there were dark flowers blossoming along after his teeth. You squirmed underneath him, and when he finally finished with your thighs he placed his palms against them, holding them open, his long fingers pressed against your hips so they stayed down. 

You sat up as well as you could to look at him, and you watched as he stared intently at your pussy, leaning forward after far, far too long to lick a slow, languid stripe up your clit. You moaned weakly, giving a flick of your hand to slam the study room door shut and lock it, and after a moment you dug your hands into his hair, “Michael, wait, the window.”

He leaned back for a moment to glance at the large picture window that took over the wall to your left, and then he beamed up at you, “It’s fine, little witch. No one will walk by, and if they do, it won’t embarrass me, so it doesn’t matter much. That reminds me, if being noisy is gonna make you embarrassed, you might wanna find some way to be fucking quiet for once. I know that’s not your strong suit, but it’s the best you’re gonna get.” 

What a dick. 

You were about to voice this thought, tell him what a dick he was, but then Michael clamped his teeth down gently on your clit, giving a playful tug, and you let out a shriek at that, bringing one hand up to stop yourself from making too much noise. 

Suddenly his tongue was inside you, tracing along the walls of your cunt, exploring, searching for something, and when he found the spot he was looking for you bit sharply into the palm of your hand. 

He was masterful in the way he ate you out, his nose still brushing your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. 

It didn’t take long until you felt your stomach tightening, ready to burst, and you tugged at Michael’s thick golden curls, whimpering, “Fuck, Michael, I’m gonna-”

“Do it, little witch,” He spoke against your skin, and you shuddered at the vibrations it sent through you, “Melt for me. Let yourself dissolve for me.” 

Your orgasm washed over you, Michael attacking your g-spot with a ferocity that you probably should’ve expect but didn’t.  He kept going, and you gasped, pulling harder at his hair, “Michael! Stop, you gotta stop, give me a minute.”

He pulled away for just a moment and you gasped, but then his lips were around your clit and sucking furiously. You cursed loudly, another orgasm already approaching, or maybe the first one extending, you couldn’t tell, couldn’t think about it, you were overwhelmed. 

For the first time in your life, you could only feel one sense of energy coming at you. Everything else was blocked out, hidden away behind the deep, angry lust that rolled through the air between you and Michael. 

He moved back down and began lapping furiously at your folds. Pulling back for a moment, Michael spat on your pussy and then buried his face against you once more, shaking his head furiously, and you struggled to hold back your moans. 

You weren’t intending to give him the damn satisfaction.

Michael seemed to realize you were holding back as he started speaking again, his voice muffled against you but bringing another orgasm bubbling to the surface of your skin, electrifying you, “You taste delicious, do you know that, little witch? So sweet. Maybe a little bitter, but so sugary. I could eat you for hours. You know what? I think I will.” 

“Fuck,” You let out a hiss as he dove back in, tongue delving into you once more, and you did your best to act smug, like he wasn’t sending shockwaves through your very being, “Is this the best you’ve got, Boy Wonder? You’re supposed to be teaching me my place, right? But I’m kind of-dammit to fuck, holy hell-kind of the one in charge here, huh? I’m the one above you right now.”

You couldn’t even be sure why exactly you were saying this, why you were egging him on when it was becoming painful how much pleasure was running through you, but he didn’t respond. At least, not out loud. 

Leaping to his feet, Michael pulled you up closer to him, so that only your shoulders were still laying down. You adjusted your position frantically, scrabbling to grip onto the edge of the table. You were upside down and practically vertical, and he dug into you as though he were indeed starving for you, snarling and slobbering, glaring down the length of your body at you. Your body had started to spasm, and you bit your hand until you tasted blood. 

There were explosions going off in your mind, and not just metaphorical orgasmic explosions, but actual ones too, nuclear blasts dancing across your hazy thoughts. 

You couldn’t be sure how long this went on, how many times you came, it was all a blur. You’d given up on keeping your sounds under control and were now openly sobbing, shuddering as he continued to devour you. 

“Stop, Michael, please, I can’t take it,” You were blubbering, straining hard against him and desperately trying to pull away, but Michael held you firmly in place, chuckling at your desperation. 

He pulled your clit into his mouth once more, the suction almost unbearable, and you were smashed with your final orgasm, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he moved to lick at your folds again, a dark glint in his eyes as he watched you pant, watched your own eyes rolling back in your head, and the sight of him smiling against you was the last thing you see before a dark haze overtook you.  

You were surrounded by darkness, everything you saw misted in a painful, prickling fog. The air smelled like sulfur, and you looked down to see that you were covered in blood. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A familiar voice rang in your ear, and you swiveled slowly, sluggishly, to see Michael standing just to your right, an admiring grin on his face, “We did very well, my little witch.” 

You tried to respond, but your words stuck in your throat, and you simply stared at Michael. He was wearing something other than pajamas or the Hawthorne uniform for the first time you had ever seen. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, but as you stared at him he reached one arm out and entangled your fingers in his. 

The sky was thick with grey and black clouds, and Michael’s hand was searing hot against your own. When he pulled away, moving to examine a piece of rubble not far from you, you looked at your palm to see that it was bright shade of pinkish red, as though it had been sunburned. 

Michael turned back around to look at you expectantly, and you saw that the piece of rubble he was leaning against had a large sign on it, with a large chunk missing from one of the top corners. 

--Miss Robichaux’s Academy For Exceptional Young Ladies--

Holy shit. 

When your eyes fluttered back open, Michael was sitting in his chair once more and had adjusted you so that your back was resting on the table again, although your legs were still splayed over his shoulders.

You gasped when you caught sight of his face, your mind still tumbling at the...dream? vision? mirage? You weren’t sure what it was, but you were scrambling to reconcile what you had seen with what was happening now. 

Michael merely raised an eyebrow at you, pulling your legs off of his shoulders, “Are you back with me now, little witch?”

“Fucking hell,” You breathed, trying to sit up.

Placing a hand on your stomach, Michael tutted, “Stay down. At least for a few moments. You blacked out and you’re gonna do it again if you’re not careful.”

“I’m okay,” You reassured him, sitting up again after a few moments, swinging your legs down and frowning, “Fuck, I can’t feel my legs.” 

“That makes sense,” Michael stood, looking down at you coolly, “I think I’ll go study elsewhere. See you around, little witch.”

“What? You can’t just leave,” You couldn’t believe it, and you tried to stand but fell back immediately, your entire lower body trembling. 

Michael didn’t bother to respond, just turned away from you with that ridiculous smirk on his face, and walked out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something strange in the air, but this time you knew what it was. 

Desire.

Michael Langdon was an asshole, but you knew from everything that had happened that you two were destined to meet, although you weren’t sure why.

It seemed that you were going to have to figure it out.   

#hawthorne!michael langdon #hawthorne!michael langdon smut #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x reader smut #hawthorne!michael langdon x reader #hawthorne!michael langdon x reader smut #hawthorne!michael #hawthorne!michael smut #god these tags are so boring rip #ahs smut #ahs fic #oneshot #ahs #god i don't proofread anything #it's an issue #oh well #hope y'all enjoy #<3 #ahs oneshot

[tenspontaneite]

Beyond the Moon Gardens - Extracts (1)

For lack of anything else to post today, I’m releasing some extracts from one of my non-public fanfictions – Beyond the Moon Gardens – as my participation in the @raayllum valentine’s event.

Information on and context of the story itself is below the cut. The 10k of snippets are also below the cut.

(General overview of the content of the snippets: established rayllum, fluff, domesticity, horn care, silliness, cuddling.)

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Story information:

‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is a successor to ‘In the Moon Gardens’. The former was written in a month in late 2020, and has been worked on sporadically since. The latter was written in approximately three weeks between December 2019 and January 2020. Both are currently incomplete. I do not intend to publish either to the public in full, but may well post further extracts in time.

‘In the Moon Gardens’ is a story about Callum and Rayla getting married; however, the circumstances are deeply unpleasant and the experience is traumatic. ‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is considerably longer, and is focused on trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, relationship development, and fluff. The story is structured around a plotline involving rescue and disaster relief efforts in a Sunfire elf city called Lux Marea.

All snippets presented below take place on day 7 of the story’s timeline. They have been carefully curated for fluffiness for the purposes of Valentine’s day, and do not contain any of the hurt/comfort or post-traumatic scenes prevalent in the story at large. Some extracts have been edited to slot together and minimise empty space.

I may potentially post further snippets throughout the week if people are interested.

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The extracts:

(Snippet 1: domesticity, fluff, city descriptions. Context: Callum and Rayla are staying in fancy diplomatic quarters in the city, where they arrived somewhat earlier in the day.)

Rayla turned away from her reflection and went for the door.

She glanced around, and found Callum in his own robe sat at the sofa in front of the window. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drawing. He was just staring out across the city, looking pensive.

“Not drawing?” She asked, and he startled, looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He said sheepishly as she approached.

She snorted, and moved around the sofa’s edge to plant herself down beside him. “So I noticed.”

Callum smiled at her, looking for all the world like the best thing that had happened to him today was her sitting down next to him, eyes settling on her like he’d be perfectly happy to do nothing but look at her forever. She withstood that expression for only a single second before she had to lean in and kiss him. He made a pleased sound, reaching out to rest a hand on her back, fingers stroking reflexively over the thick wool of the robe. “You smell nice.” He said happily, turning his face sideways to tuck his nose behind her ear. He was undoubtedly getting a face full of wet hair that way, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Fruity, sort of.”

“They’ve got a lot of soaps in there.” She said, and her voice came out more soft than amused. Stars, but she loved him. “It’s nice. There’s all these soaps, and towels, and I think bath oils too.”

“You think?” He inquired, curious, still with his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to her damp skin.

“Didn’t check them out properly or anything, but there was a drawer full of some fancy stuff. Bottles and the like. Looked like it might be bath oils.”

With a final kiss to the edge of her jaw, he pulled back to resume staring at her contentedly. “We’ll have to have a look later.” He said, and paused to give her an appreciative once-over. “That dressing gown looks nice on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about literally everything I wear.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” He claimed staunchly, and honestly, he wasn’t looking half-bad in his dressing-gown either. The colour was familiar on him, but the casual comfortableness of it was weirdly pleasing to look at. Made him look cosy and cuddlable.

Rayla shook her head, then leaned in to kiss briefly along his jaw. It prickled a little. “You might want to see if they’ve got razors in there.” She said dryly. “You’re starting to prickle.”

He blinked, startled, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling along it. Mercifully, he grew facial hair extremely slowly, making it less of an issue on the move, but it did still grow. He’d last made an attempt at shaving some two weeks ago, and that had sufficed up to now. “Elves don’t grow beards, though.” He said, after a moment. “I’d probably better just stick with mine.”

Once or twice, they’d made an attempt at shaving his bristles with Rayla’s swords, which had been kind of nerve-wracking, and plenty memorable. For lack of proper razors to be found in Xadia, they’d eventually ended up getting him a small knife that he claimed was alike enough to a ‘straight razor’ to work, though it periodically needed to be sharpened to an absurd degree. It was all very strange to her, even after a good half year of living with him. “Maybe.” She agreed at last, and gave him a sniff. Fresh from bathing, his state of uncleanliness was far more obvious to her nose than it had been before. “You should be getting washed up first though. You’ll make your dressing gown stink.”

He snickered. “Bet I reek to you now that you’re clean.”

“Just a tad.” She prodded him in the side until he started moving. “Off with you. Wash up.”

Evading her hands, he leaned in and planted a final kiss on her forehead before leaving, disappearing into the bathroom while she shook her head at him. She heard the water start up quite soon after, and eventually ended up staring out of the window like he had.

The city was still bright, both with sunlight and with the ongoing glory of the temple’s radiance. Settling into a sort of quiet lassitude, she watched it with eyes half-lidded, following the patterns of steaming light as though the smoke from a fire.

It was a striking city. Unlike Lux Aurea, which was so much gold it hurt to look at, Lux Marea was a thing of contrasts. The buildings were all built from the same dark stone as the bathroom had been done in, a grey that cast deep black shadows behind the gaze of the sun. And yet – every building was lined with gold. Accents on the corners, or moulding between the bricks, or running in thick channels up the walls…it gleamed, rich and distinct against the stone. Some of the largest, richest buildings had elaborate golden murals on their sides, luridly metallic and shining in the sun. All of that gold was glowing with magic now.

Rayla wasn’t much for aesthetics. But even she could appreciate the beauty in that view. She watched it for a while longer, lulled a little by the twisting patterns of glowing haze rising from the buildings, then stood and went to find something to do.

 -

 (Snippet 2: Calum and Rayla investigate the supplies their fancy bathroom is stocked with, discover bath bombs and are confused, Rayla points out various horn-care items, and Callum makes her very flustered by offering to use said items)

  After that, they went through and classified each of the mysterious drawer goodies a little faster. They found more varieties of lotion, some weird nearly liquid soaps, and a pot of some mysterious mini chalky spheres whose purpose neither of them managed to guess until Callum’s hair dripped on one and it sizzled. “Is it supposed to go in water?” Rayla wondered, befuddled.

“No idea. Try it.” He suggested, and they took the rinsing pot, filled it with water, and dropped the thing in. It fizzed and foamed magnificently, releasing pleasant odours and bits of dried flower as it dissolved, and both of them stared at it with fascinated consternation.

“Is that for baths?” She asked him, befuddled. “What’s the point?”

“…Fun, maybe?” He offered, reaching out to swirl a finger in the foam. “It looked pretty cool, after all. Maybe you’re supposed to throw them in the bath for the fun of it?”

“Fun foam and nice smells?” With a huff, she put that pot aside as something to maybe experiment with if she felt like it. “Well, maybe.” She snorted, and in the last unexplored corner, found something highly important. “Oh thank god.” She said, in that way she’d absolutely picked up from Callum, and he looked over with interest.

“What did you find?”

She brandished it triumphantly. “Toothbrushes.”

“Oh thank god.” He echoed instantly, peering over. “My teeth feel disgusting.”

“You’re not the only one.” She withdrew both toothbrushes from the drawer and set them aside. “Well, at least we know what everything in there is now. Mystery solved.” She went to close it, but was stopped with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, but what about those?” he asked, indicating the small collection of things she’d already set to one side of the drawer with the horn-scrub.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten he wouldn’t know those on sight. “Right. Well, this thing here-“ She plucked up a narrow, vaguely curved implement with a soft-smooth coating. “-is a horn buffer. For making horns smoother once you’ve already scrubbed all the rough bits out with a proper scrub.” She planted it in his hands, since he seemed fascinated by it, and withdrew a sort of soft spongey thing with a texture like felt. “Horn polisher. Same thing, kind of.” He took that as well, and she pulled out a pot of thick paste that turned out to be exactly what she thought it was when she uncapped it. This one had obviously attempted to smell as pleasant as possible, but it still had a very strong and distinctive edge to it. She wrinkled her nose. “Horn polish.” She said, closing it up again. “To be applied and used with the polisher. And lastly-“ She picked up one of the remaining bottles, “horn oil.”

He looked weirdly interested. “What’s the oil for?” He asked, leaning in. “I mean, I guess the rest of it’s to make your horns smooth and shiny, right? So what about this?”

“It’s kind of fancy and unnecessary, and expensive, so not everyone uses it, but usually you put it on after scrubbing or polishing.” She explained, withdrawing the bottles one at a time. “They smell nice, which is good after the polish, and letting it sink into the horns is supposed to make them healthier and glossier-looking. You can technically put it on multiple times a day if you’re really into your horn presentation, but pretty much no one bothers.”

“Because it’s expensive?” Callum guessed, and she made a so-so noise.

“Well, there’s that.” She said dryly. “But it’s just kind of a lot of hassle, you know? If you’re already washing and doing your hair and keeping your horns not-gross, it’s just extra fuss you don’t really need.” She shook her head. “It’s less effort than full on polishing, I suppose, but I’ve never been bothered about polishing my horns except on special occasions anyway. It’s a lot of work.”

“Huh.” He said, in a sort of weird tone of voice. Rayla turned to him, and found his expression similarly strange. Thoughtful, interested, and a little bit furtive.

She eyed him suspiciously, picked up an armful of the supplies they’d set aside, and stood up with them. “What’s that look for?” She asked archly, setting things onto the broad side of the bath. He followed her lead, picking up the rest of it and standing, looking a little shifty.

“What’s what look for?” he asked innocently, putting it all out in neat rows.

“I know that face.” She told him, unimpressed. “I’ve told you so many times I know that face. That’s your dumb idea face. So out with it.”

For a moment, Callum looked sheepish. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at her, and she reflexively fell silent. “I…was wondering if you’d let me do your horns.” He said at last, and she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

  -

 (Snippet 3: tail end of the horn-care discussion, domesticity, Rayla bemused by the concept of room service, Callum pestering Rayla for details on how horn care works, and discussion of one of Rayla’s newer hobbies)

 “That’ll be nice, then.” He said, sounding very at peace with the idea. “I can wash and comb out your hair, maybe. Give you some hornrubs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Callum.” She complained. “That’s so sappy.”

He pressed his face close alongside hers, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Treat you real good.” He said, very contentedly. “I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

Rayla managed a strangled, deeply embarrassed sound in the back of her throat. A little indignant, she protested “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can, and I did.” Callum grinned against her skin, and leaned in further to kiss her near the corner of her lips. “Love you.” He lifted a hand from around her waist, fingers settling at her jaw with a gentle suggestion of movement. Feeling near to bursting with mortification and adoration, she grumbled wordlessly but followed his hand, allowing him to lead her face around so he could kiss her on the mouth.

“You,” she muttered, into his lips, “need to get dressed.”

He paused, then huffed a surprised breath over her skin. “That’s right, I’m still just wearing a towel.” He remembered, ruefully. “At least I’m drier now.”

“It’s been ages, of course you’re drier.” Rayla shook her head at him, then nudged at his arms until he let her go, extricating herself from his embrace. She had difficulty looking him in the eye when she turned, after all of that. “…Get dressed.” She repeated, softer, and shoved the dressing gown he’d hung nearby into his arms. She leaned in, kissed him once on the lips, and then turned away to leave the bathroom.

She settled on the sofa, ensconcing herself beneath the soft blanket she’d found, and stared out at the city while her heart recovered. Sometimes, she loved Callum enough that it was a little hard to cope with, like she was afraid that the emotion in her would rupture if it built too far. He was used to her retreating a little at times like that, just long enough to breathe and feel slightly less overwhelmed.

He took long enough in the bathroom that, eventually, she guessed that he was shaving. That disappointed her, a little. She liked to watch him when he shaved. It was always so strange to her, something quintessentially human; a bizarre banal grooming ritual that reminded her again and again that he wasn’t an elf, he really was a whole different kind of being to her, and his humanity was made of so many little things. He never failed to chuckle at her for how she watched him shaving, but had grown very used to her keeping him company for it.

She sighed, and looked out on the city under the sun, and regained her emotional footing. By the time he emerged, clad once again in the dark red dressing gown, she had her equilibrium back and looked up gladly at his return.

“Where’d this blanket come from?” He asked, bemused, coming over to join her. She held one end up so he could sit down under it with her.

“One of the drawers. There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” She informed, and once he was seated she didn’t waste any time in reaching out to run her fingers along his still-damp jaw. It was so smooth. She murmured, pleased, cupping his face between both hands.

He coloured a little, looking across at her with soft eyes. “You’re so weird.” He told her, sounding utterly besotted, and she leaned in to kiss him lightly along that jawline.

“Love you.” Rayla said contentedly, and drew back just enough to nestle firmly against his side. He wove an arm around her back and turned his head to kiss her at the brow.

“Love you too.”

After a good bit of cuddling and watching the city together, Callum admitted to wanting a drink and Rayla to not knowing whether their waterskins were still filled. They were, as it happened, but-

“You know, if you wanted fresher water, or moonberry juice, we could just ask for it.” He pointed out. “All we’d have to do is open the door and ring a bell and someone would come up, and we’d ask for a drink, and they’d have it up for us just like that.”

She shook her head, utterly exasperated at the idea. “That’s so weird.” She said, and then actually considered it. “…Let’s do it.”

He laughed, and obligingly got up and went to the receiving room to fetch the bell. He mostly-closed the intervening door for her sake, so that when a servant responded to the ring she didn’t feel particularly on edge about it. They couldn’t see her. It was fine.

After a short conversation with the servant, they were off, and Callum shut the outer door before returning. “Five minutes.” He said, and true to his words, there was a knock at the door not too much later. He went to answer it and brought back an actual platter, balancing an entire jug of moonberry juice, an entire jug of water, and two glasses.

“Did you ask for a whole jug?” She asked, disbelievingly, as he set it down on the low table ahead of the sofa. “Or the water?”

“Nope. Actually, they passed along their apologies for not leaving a jug of water in here in the first place. Apparently that’s their usual thing to do, but since they were hurrying for us it got forgot.” He poured her a glass of juice, and then some for himself, and sat back.

She snorted. “What a terrible standard of service.” She said, mockingly. “I mean really, forgetting to leave us wee little glasses and chilled water, what is this place coming to?”

He snickered at an inopportune moment, very nearly making a mess with the glass he’d been in the process of drinking from. “Don’t say that around Vervain, I think she’d actually explode.”

“Right there on the spot.” Rayla agreed. “It’d make a terrible mess.”

They traded a few light-hearted quips on the subject of the accommodations while they had a drink, then they set it all aside for later. Callum, who was clearly angling for it, managed to get her onto the topic of how exactly a proper horn care-and-polish was supposed to go, and she spent pretty much the entirety of that torn between being increasingly embarrassed and increasingly amused. He was so interested, like she was sharing arcane magical knowledge instead of stupid basic grooming tips.

“I mean, I’ve seen you using your horn-scrub on the road sometimes, to file away rough or flaky bits, right?” He was saying, while she leaned over to lay against his chest. He reflexively put an arm around her even while gesturing with the other one. “You kind of go…with the sort of curvy lines in your horns? Like one at a time?”

“They’re called ridges, Callum.” She informed him, incredibly amused. “And yes. You need to file along them all one by one, and be careful to keep the shape too. If you do it badly you’ll flatten out the tops of the ridges and it looks really stupid.”

He stared down at her horns with fascination, and lowered his gesturing hand to trace the shape of – she presumed – one of her horn-ridges in detail. She made a flustered sort of murmur at him, but he seemed too busy to notice. “Right, so, hm.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Yeah, if you just file it from the top it’d all flatten out. So you have to sort of work around each one? Following the curve?”

“That’s why Moonshadow horn-scrubs are so much more complicated.” She informed him. “We need the wee fiddly parts to get between all the ridges and file it right without losing the shapes. Takes forever. Our horns are more of a pain than almost any other kind of elf’s.” She grinned up at him. “Unlucky for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, incredulously. “This is great. Means I get so much longer to spend on you. You never let me spoil you enough.”

She processed that, and groaned, burrowing her face into the wool gown over his chest. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.” She muttered, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Callum really was an incredible sap when it came to doing things for her. “It takes so stupidly long.”

“I’m counting on it.” He declared happily, and she huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” She informed him, and after nearly ten more minutes of him trying to wrangle intricately detailed horn-polishing knowledge out of her, just rolled her eyes and said with exasperation “It’s like polishing armour, Callum. Or boots. You just buff it up, then go at it with polish on the polisher for ages. There’s not much of a trick to it.” She paused, but did add “Gets kind of messy though. The filing stage puts horn dust and bits everywhere, and once you start polishing you get like…murky polish liquid all over your hands. Better put a towel down.”

Eventually, after enough sitting around that the cuddling alone wasn’t engrossing enough anymore, Callum did go and get his sketchbook and immediately sat down to begin producing what Rayla was certain would be the first of many, many drawings of the city. He drew it as seen from above first, and Rayla settled in to watch with half-lidded eyes.

She’d grown very used to spending time watching Callum draw. In large part, this was because he tended to spend a lot of his free time doing it, and she was often around when that happened. It was quite satisfying, to sit there and observe as the shapes on the page took form. But even so…

There was only so much of watching him draw that she could do before she started getting bored. Throughout their journeying, it had rarely got to that point. What with the time constraints of camp-craft and travelling, there’d been little enough spare time that Rayla hadn’t felt compelled to find anything else to do. Now, though, she found with surprise that her fingers were itching for her knives.

“Huh.” She said to herself, with interest, and Callum turned his head to peer at her.

“Hm?”

“My knives.” She said, and then realised this wasn’t especially helpful. “My carving knives. Just realised I’m hankering for them a bit. That’s never really happened before.”

“Oh.” He thought, then looked pleased. “Looks like you’re starting to make a habit of it after all. That’s really nice.”

“Less nice when I don’t actually have the knives.” She snorted, and considered her empty hands.

Rayla, on the whole, tended towards active ways of passing the time. She liked to train, and she liked to exercise, and if Callum was free she always liked to go flying with him. But inevitably, after half a year spent together, there had been plenty of afternoons and evenings in their off-time when she was too tired to go out for training, or Callum was spending time drawing and she wanted to be around him, and she ended up with nothing to do.

He’d been the one to gently pester her into taking up some sort of hobby. At first she’d just grumpily sharpened her weapons over and over again, but with enough work he’d got her to try other things. He’d suggested either knitting or whittling, on the basis that both involved the use of stabby implements, and she was a fan of those. Knitting she hadn’t taken to. But whittling…

At first, she’d just done it because he’d prodded her into it, and she didn’t hate it, and there was nothing better to do, so she might as well. But now, considering her empty hands with consternation, Rayla realised for the first time that she actually kind of wanted to be doing it. When had that happened?

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pick up some things in the city tomorrow, maybe.” He suggested, and turned back to his drawing.

“Bit of a waste, when I’ve got a plenty good enough set of knives at home.”

“You don’t need to get a full set. But it could be nice to have a couple of the main ones around, for travelling with.” He shrugged. “You can practice on any random bits of wood, right? So it’s mainly the knives you need.”

She snorted. She’d learned enough to know that the type of wood one chose was, in fact, very important. But…yeah, for messing around like she did, random wood was usually fine. If splintery. “Maybe.” She said in the end, already thinking of the knife she used most. “It’s not a bad idea. Clothes and supplies are the priority, though. So maybe if there’s anything left after that.”

“We’ll need cold-weather gear, if we’re going through the Shiverthorns in winter.” He remarked, and huddled into the blanket like the mere thought was making him cold. “Thick cloaks and stuff.”

“Which are expensive.” She reminded. “And also heavy. It’ll slow you down.”

He shrugged. “I figure that’s okay. We won’t be in a huge hurry to get back, after all.”

  -

 (Snippet 4: Callum and Rayla discuss dinner options, watch the sunset, and investigate the light fixtures. Context: in this story, I worldbuild Sunfire elves as some weird blend of French and Roman.)

  He hummed by way of agreement, and pulled her tighter in to his side. “For now, let’s try not to worry about that.” He said, determinedly. “Today our job is to relax and rest up, and that’s it.”

Rayla sighed, and shifted around to lay part-way across his front, face half into the red wool at his chest. “I can probably do that.”

They cuddled for what actually didn’t end up being that long, because there was a knock at the door. It echoed sharply through the polished wood, even with the intervening door closed. Rayla, who’d heard no footsteps of any kind due to the ostensible soundproofing, stiffened immediately.

Callum blinked, then carefully extricated himself from her. “I’ll go get it.” He said, and she didn’t object. She didn’t relish the thought of being seen by strangers when she was in her bathrobe. That was private.

He unlocked and opened the receiving room door, closed it behind him, and then unlocked and opened the outer door. There was actually a decent degree of sound loss between there and Rayla’s current spot, so she couldn’t hear what was being said beyond stray words. After a while, Callum said something in a distinctly goodbye-ish sort of voice and the encounter ended. He considerately locked both doors for her on his way in.

Over his arm, he was holding a neat stack of clothing and armour. “Already?” She asked, startled, and watched as he set it all down on the bed.

“Already.” He agreed, seemingly pleased. “I guess their drying spells really are useful. Look, they’ve cleaned your armour. And our boots.”

Rayla lifted herself from beneath the blanket to go over and look. All of their things looked fresh and new, bereft of the dull beige hues imbued by travel and sleeping in dust and dirt. It half looked like they’d re-dyed some of it, honestly, to get the clean colours back. She lifted Callum’s scarf from the pile, sniffed it, and hummed at it.

“Laundry smell?” He asked, amused, and she shrugged.

“Unsurprisingly.” She considered putting it on him, but in the end decided she was enjoying the look of him in the bathrobe, all cosy and comfy-looking. “What else were you talking about?”

“Hm?”

“With the servant.”

“Oh.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Dinner stuff. He wanted to tell me the options they’ve got, so we can order ahead of time.”

Rayla made a thoughtful noise, and drew him by the wrist back over to the sofa again. “And?”

“You want me to list it all off?” She nodded, and obligingly he went off listing the various items on the menu, many of which were evidently examples of bizarre Sunfire ideas about cooking. Snails, really? Frog legs? Her nose wrinkled at that one, and Callum’s lips quirked. “They serve glow toad too.” He admitted ruefully. “I mean, I guess I heard they were delicious, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to have it on the menu, you know?”

She made a face. “Ez would never forgive us.”

“Bait would never forgive us.” He agreed, snickering.

“And besides – ew.” Rayla shook her head, and waved her hand. “What else?”

He went through all of the selections, drinks and desserts included, and then finished up by saying “He left a sort of booklet thing behind with it all written down, if you want to look over it.”

She stared at him with exasperation. “Callum. You really just stood there and said it all when you could have just handed me the bloody menu?”

“Well, you did ask.” He said, like this was reasonable, and she sighed fondly at him.

“You dumb prince.” She told him, affectionate, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before going to look for the menu.

By this point, it was around four in the afternoon, and the sun seemed to be making a very definite bid for descent. She retrieved the Booklet of Food Options and retreated to the sofa with it, where Callum had already planted himself to watch the city. There was a hint of yellow-green in the bright clear sky, and the angle of light from the sinking sun was casting some particularly dramatic shadows. The temple was still gleaming with light off to the side, and the golden circuitry through the city still exhaling. She stared at it for a moment, certain that tonight’s sunset really was going to be spectacular, and then opened the menu to start looking.

It had been long enough since lunch that the sight of so many food options was plenty enough to make her start considering the idea of an early dinner. In an hour or two, maybe. Some of it was too weird or too exotic to consider, but there was a lot that wasn’t.

She passed the booklet over when she was done making selections, but Callum seemed too occupied with the burgeoning sunset to want to look at it. She snorted, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then leaned comfortably into his side to watch the city.

The sun fell over a period of around half an hour, sinking lower and lower, until the sky filled with such intense yellows and deep reds that it seemed almost to have caught fire. The grey slate of the city turned bloody red in the light, every golden trace lit up and shining in the growing dark. The few wispy clouds left in the sky were shining too, until the sun began to pass beneath the lip of the sea on the horizon, and the blue-green edges of the dusk glittered with stars.

“That,” He said, very softly, when dusk was ebbing into twilight, “was a really incredible view.”

Rayla had little artistry in her heart, but she’d appreciated that sunset. She knew that by contrast it must have touched Callum deeply. She looked at him, taking in his expression, finding it every bit as amazed and awed and happy as she could have hoped for. Her heart fluttered, happy for that he was happy, and in the warmth of that contentment she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand.

He looked at her, leaning into the hand, and offered her a small and very soft smile. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek as he lifted his hand to settle atop hers. Wordless, she leaned in to kiss him, warm and brief, and lingered there close by his face for a long while after their lips parted. He sighed very quietly, entirely happy and entirely at ease. It was peaceful in a way she’d dearly missed.

Feeling utterly suffused with warmth, Rayla nestled in beside him, fingers hooking lightly in the soft red wool of his robe. His arm came around her, and both of them sighed, and both of them settled, and it was quiet.

Neither of them felt the inclination to move or speak for quite a while. The sky was dark and full of stars by the time she shifted, and the city’s golden circuitry shining boldly through the shadow. The Moon, ascendant in the sky, was very nearly full.

“Might not be so bad after all, staying here a while.” She said, finally, and pressed her lips to his neck. “Comfy, nice bathroom, nice views…and the food options look kind of incredible, honestly.”

He chuckled, soft and fond. “Bit of a weird honeymoon.” He murmured into her hair. “But I’ll take it.”

She huffed. “Honeymoon.” She repeated, shaking her head.

Well. She supposed if they’d had to go through that whole forced marriage ordeal, they did at least deserve to get a nice holiday out of it. Even if most of that holiday was going to be spent working, the not-working parts of the day looked to be a lot fancier and more luxurious than they were back home.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Was her conclusion, in the end. “Did you decide what you’ll be eating?”

“Pretty much.” He kissed her brow. “You ready to order? It’s still kind of early.”

“Eh. It’ll do.” She shrugged, and listed off her selections. He kissed her again, then gently untangled himself from her limbs to go off and summon a servant.

The room had gone darker while the sun set, and the soft yellow glow of the fireless light fixtures along the walls had grown more prominent. Now a little curious, Rayla took the opportunity to investigate one, and on closer inspection found it to be some sort of…weird bioluminescent plant. Or maybe animal? It had long rigid tube-like structures that had plainly been cultivated into ornamental shapes, that looked almost like some sort of stone, though it had obviously been painted or dyed the usual deep red. It exuded a number of softly glowing yellow-orange tendrils from the openings at the end of the tubes, short and blunt but weirdly pretty.

She reached out cautiously to touch one, and at once the tendrils retracted inside the tube, the light dimming. Startled, she drew back to watch it, but the tendrils didn’t start to tentatively reappear again for another minute, during which she heard the light murmurs of Callum conversing with whatever servant he’d summoned.

When Moonshadow elves wanted light after dark, they just used enchantments, or glowstone, like normal people. Fancy Sunfire elves, however, apparently favoured plants. Or animals. She honestly wasn’t sure which this one was. Some sort of land-coral?

“I ordered the food.” Callum said, when he returned. “They said it’ll be about half an hour. And they’ll bring it all up at the same time so we don’t get disturbed twice.”

“Perfect.” She pronounced, with satisfaction, and then dragged him over to meet the light fixtures. Predictably, he spent a good ten fascinated minutes investigating the weird glowing polyps, and then a while longer sketching one out, and was half-way through that when the food arrived.

 -

(Snippet 5: after dinner, Callum and Rayla engage in some silliness, then cuddle. Domesticity.)

 “I’m so full I’m not going to move for a week.” Rayla announced, after staggering her way back through to their sofa, followed by an amused Callum. “It’s going to take at least that long to digest all of that.”

“That might make it tricky to get supplies.” He said, pretend-thoughtful. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

She snorted, patted him on the shoulder, and then promptly pulled him into her side when he started looking at her in the imminent-cuddles sort of way. He hummed contentedly, turning his face into her shoulder, breath warming the wool over her collarbone.

“This bathrobe is so comfy.” He said happily, words muffled by wool. “It’s so nice.”

Having had very similar sentiments about his bathrobe earlier, she quite agreed. “Shame they didn’t include wool pyjamas, really.”

He didn’t offer any response for that, just snuggled, putting an arm around her waist. It was almost a little uncomfortable, really, what with how full she was, but she didn’t protest. She just held him close, smoothed her free hand over his hair, and looked out over the city. In the dark, watching the vaporous light rise felt very much like watching fire. It was very entrancing.

Some time later, Callum started to show signs of beginning to fall asleep on her. She looked down at him, snorted, and then nudged him until he stirred. “If you fall asleep now you’ll be up too late.” She informed him as he made plaintive noises at her. “I’m not having you exhausted and useless for your magic channelling nonsense tomorrow.”

“But you’re too comfy.” He complained, and she smirked.

“That sounds like an invitation to be less comfy.”

He opened an eye to peer at her suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘that sounds’ – hrk!” His words cut off as, unceremoniously, she swept him up with an arm under his back and another under his knees, on her feet with a quick shift of her weight and his. She grinned down at him, finding him instantly and distinctly awake. “….Honestly this is still pretty comfy.” He said, weakly, when he’d spent enough time staring wide-eyed at her to recover his words.

Rayla pretended at thoughtfulness. “That sounds like a challenge.” She said, and he looked alarmed.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t!” He protested, to no avail; she stepped around the sofa, judged her angle, and tossed Callum at the bed.

He wasn’t particularly aerodynamic, but her aim had been good enough anyway; he sailed neatly between the posts at the corners and impacted decadent Sunfire quilting with a muffled oof. She was laughing at him outright when he turned, staring at her with a sort of red-faced stupefaction that told her exactly what he thought of the whole experience. “Your face right now,” she managed, doubling over to snicker in his direction. Hilarious.

“You know, there’s a saying,” he began, a little dazed. “About trusting someone as far as you could throw them.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You could probably trust someone a lot, is what I’m getting at.”

“…I actually do sort of know how far I could throw you, now that I think about it.” Rayla said, thinking back. “It comes up in assassin training sometimes. Throwing teammates at walls and the like, to give them a leg up. I lobbed someone about your size around six, seven metres once.” She paused, and added “Lengthways, I mean. Throwing someone upwards is a lot harder.”

This did not make him any less wide-eyed. “That’s like, over twenty feet,” he marvelled, looking at her with plain admiration. “You’re amazing.”

She huffed, reflexively bashful at the praise, and shook her head. “Amazing at throwing people, at least.” She said dryly, and went over to stare down at him from the foot of the bed. “How’s the bed?”

“…Very nice, actually.” He said, after a pause for consideration. “You’re pretty bad at making things less comfy.”

“You’re definitely awake now though.” She pointed out smugly. “So my work here is done.”

He snorted, sitting up fully to beckon to her. Obligingly, she bent forwards to meet him with a brief kiss. “Hard not to wake up when someone throws you half-way across the room.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was not that far.” She said, and after a moment made the executive decision to fall forwards onto the bed, face impacting the plush duvet and sinking in. Her feet hung from the edge, and Callum giggled.

“Hehehe toes.” He said, and reached out to poke one. He found her four-toed feet amusingly charming every time he was reminded of them, which would have been funnier, except her feet were pretty ticklish and she twitched every time he prodded like this.

“I will kick you.” She warned, and he subsided with another snicker. Instead of messing with her any further, he shuffled over and started playing with her hair. “Mm. Better.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head forwards, face smooshing deeper into the bed. His fingers carded through her hair, nails trailing lightly at her scalp.

“You didn’t brush it.” He noted, carefully working out a couple of tangles, and she shrugged.

“Couldn’t be bothered. ‘Sides, it only tangles again when we cuddle, anyway.”

He hummed, and went through it again more purposefully, parting it carefully around her horns as he looked for and eliminated a few knots. He brushed around her hornbeds and she shivered. Apparently noticing the reaction, he did it again, more deliberately, chuckling at the way she murmured and pushed her head into his hand. “You look like a shadowpaw when you do that.” He said, affectionately, scritching gently around her horns. “Headbutting people’s hands when they pet you.”

“Anyone else and I’d be cutting off their hands, trust me.” She mumbled at him, already a little indistinct and fuzzy around the edges of her thoughts. Hornbed-scritches did that. “…Suppose the shadowpaw’d do that too. Except they’d bite the hand off instead, if they didn’t like you.”

“What I’m hearing is that if you were an animal you’d probably be a shadowpaw.” He sounded very fond.

“Mm. Guess so.” What would he be? Something doggish, probably. Friendly and playful and loyal, and then all teeth and fierceness when threatened. That sounded about right…

She drifted, a little. It was hard not to, when collapsed onto a comfy surface with one’s hornbeds being rubbed. He stopped after a while though, evidently noticing her drowsiness, and stroked a hand over her head between the horns as he chuckled. “Now who’s falling asleep?” He teased, and she made a half-hearted rude noise at him.

“’s your fault.” She muttered at him, indistinct around the duvet in her face.

“Uhuh.” He sounded amused, and stroked the back of her head again.

 -

(Snippet 6: very detailed depiction of horn care, which in-setting is considered intimate)

 She was suddenly very glad he’d interrogated her so persistently on the procedure earlier, because she wasn’t at all certain she’d have been able to tell him anything more sophisticated than ‘um’ when he was literally about to do her horns for her.

“You’re so cute.” He told her affectionately, obviously very aware of her current emotional state, and then finally set soapy hands onto her horns.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, cheeks flaming, feeling the weight of his hands, the subtle pull at the rest of her skull. She had never been quite so aware of her horns as when he started soaping them up and washing them, and it didn’t take long at all for the warmth of his skin to soak far enough through the keratin so that she could feel it in the living horn. A little while later, he applied the coarse-bristled-brush-side of the horn-scrub to her left horn, and she made a tiny embarrassed sound at the ceiling. “You should scrub them harder than that.” She managed after a moment, since he really was being too gentle about it. “Horns are tough, you know.”

He hummed with interest, and obliged, scrubbing hard enough that it pulled at her head a little. The towel-pillow had been a very good idea of his, really. “How much horn care do you normally do?” He asked, curious, getting the washcloth to rinse her horn before scrubbing again. “I’ve seen you file them, but…”

“…Usually just this. A good scrub to make sure they’re clean, and then filing down the rough bits.” Rayla offered a mortified noise. “But it’s been weeks and I’ve not even done that. They’re probably so dirty…”

“Shush, they’re fine.” He huffed at her, and kept on at her left horn until he was satisfied with it, moving over to the other one. Rayla regarded the ceiling with a persistently red face the whole while, cheeks feeling nearly as warm as the half of her body that was still in bathwater. “I wonder if your face is going to be this red the whole time.” He remarked, when he’d apparently finished with the washing.

“Probably.” She muttered, self-consciously, and felt her gut squirm when she felt the first experimental scrape of the fine filing parts on her horn.

Callum laughed softly, and started setting to work with the file. “If you say so.”

For all that he’d never done this before, the muted sensory feedback Rayla gleaned from her inner-horns and her ears suggested that he seemed to be doing fine with it. He readjusted the file enough that she could be relatively sure he was respecting the curve of the ridges, and worked slowly along the shape of each one, from the hornbed to the pointed tip, over and over again.

As she’d told him, it was a long process. It took a long time. Long enough that, contrary to her words, her embarrassment did start to burn out a bit, the red of her cheeks easing until she only felt a little flushed, a little flustered.

“I see why you thought the cloak would be a good idea.” Callum said ruefully, a while in. She could only imagine how much horn-dust and flaky bits of keratin must be littering it. “This does get kind of messy.”

“Told you.”

“For now this is just making your horns go sort of…pale, and scratched-looking.” He commented, working the file around one of the ridges on the underside. “I guess it goes dark again once you start buffing it?”

She made a small despairing noise, but agreed “Yeah, basically. Honestly all you really need to do is wipe it over with a wet cloth and it’ll stop looking like that. But…”

“But I’m not stopping there.” He said, with evident satisfaction, and a little more heat rose in her cheeks.

He was slow and meticulous about the filing, but got through it a lot more quickly than she could have if she’d done it herself. It was hard to work on your own horns – the angle was bad, you couldn’t see what you were doing, and adjusting to get the undersides was a huge pain in the arms. By contrast, doing it for someone else was just…a lot easier.

Finally, he set the scrub down and went for the washcloth again, soaping up and rubbing her horns clear of dust, poring over them for any spots he’d missed. When he was finally satisfied, he said “and now I buff them?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed, bringing her hands up to hide her face for a moment. So, at her confirmation, he started on that part next. He evidently hadn’t expected how vigorous the buffing and polishing stages of horns were, because she kept telling him to press the buffer harder, and he kept making worried noises about it, and she had to keep assuring him that no that’s how it’s supposed to be, and eventually she start started laughing helplessly at him.

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your neck,” he complained at her, when the strength of the requisite motions pulled at her head. “Or like, hurt your hornbeds, or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Callum.” She assured him, still laughing, mirth and embarrassment squirming in her chest. “This is just how it goes, you know.”

“At least I brought you a pillow.” He sighed, and obligingly kept on. A fair while later, when he was done with the buffing and had washed her horns again, he leaned back a bit to admire his work. “That really is looking a lot smoother and shinier.”

“And you’ve not even done the polishing yet.” Rayla felt very weird then, laying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She’d been through embarrassment, and then amusement, and now…now, there was something else. She felt almost calm. Almost settled, like she’d finally started to grow used to this. Like the novelty of his hands on her horns had worn through.

Now, she felt kind of comfortable. At ease, in a way. Her mind was drifting in the way it did when Ethari or Runaan had helped her with her horns before, like this was just a normal thing. A normal thing that took ages, and that one had to daydream through to pass the time.

“I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what they look like when I’m done.” He was saying, as he put the buffing things down and went to get the bottle of polish and the polishing tool. “I’ve never seen your horns all done up before.”

“Maybe now you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say my horns have gone gross.” She pondered, and he laughed. “Finally you’ll know what well-kept horns are supposed to look like.”

“I have seen other Moonshadow elves’ horns, you know.” He informed her, obviously amused, and she heard the cap of the polish opening. A moment later, she smelled it, because there was really no mistaking that smell. “Yours still look nice no matter how long it’s been since you scrubbed them.”

Rayla made a disagreeable noise at him, and he snickered back, and then finally set about the polishing.

She’d told him, earlier, that horn-polish was pretty potent stuff, and that’s why you applied it to a sort of spongy cloth attached to a handle, rather than scrubbing with it by hand. At full strength, it actually melted the outer surface of the horn – just a little, just enough to meld it all down into a smooth, gleaming, perfect surface. Diluted polish was fine if you did it regularly, but with how long it had been for her…she’d told him to keep it undiluted. And it stank.

Her nose wrinkled, even with all the pleasant soap smells competing, and held her neck lax as Callum worked on her horns vigorously enough to pull her head back with every other movement. That was just how it went, so she wasn’t bothered. The towel was enough padding that it didn’t hurt, so she just laid there and let him work.

“Think I might actually nearly be done.” He pronounced at last, sounding genuinely a little out of breath. She’d told him it was hard work, and evidently he’d found that out for himself. He sounded very pleased, though. Like he’d done a good job and knew it, and was plenty proud about it. “Just got to wash all this polish muck off, right? Soap your horns up again.”

“That is the last stage.” She agreed, trying to glance up at him, but all she could really see was the top of his head. “Aside from oiling, I suppose.”

 -

 (Snippet 7: aftermath of horn care, domesticity)

 It was then, by the sink, that Rayla finally removed the towel from her head, and Callum made a loud noise of pure joy at her. She stared at him, alarmed, and then noticed where he was actually looking. Oh.

“Shiny!” He exclaimed, gleeful, and reached out to stroke her horns. “Oh my god.”

“Callum!” She complained, but she was already laughing, because honestly she should have predicted this reaction. He practically groped at her horns, bright-faced and beaming, and she flushed all the while she stood still and let him. “Are you going to let me see them any time soon?” She asked him, dry. “Or are you just going to stand there groping them?” He subsided at that with a very high-pitched giggle.

“Hehehe,” he offered, and then “yes, go look! You need to tell me how well I did.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror, his face lingering by her shoulder in her reflection with the enormous grin still very much in residence there. He was such a dork, honestly.

Finally, Rayla tipped her head forwards and inspected her horns. They were…shiny. Very shiny. Every ridge had been filed and buffed and polished to a gleam, and when she turned her head, the light glimmered off of them like they’d been waxed. Her eyebrows went up, and she lifted her own hand to feel along one. It was smooth. Entirely dry, but as she ran her finger along one ridge, it felt so smooth. Their dark colour was actually glossy. “…Wow.” She said, a little admiringly, and tilted her head to watch the light move. “That is shiny.”

He looked absolutely delighted by that response, as if he’d needed her go-ahead to be certain that, yes, that was definitely impressively shiny. She smiled, helpless to stop it, and turned her head to kiss him on the cheek; her reflection mirrored her.

“You did a great job, Callum.” She told him fondly, her cheeks pink at having seen exactly how great a job he’d done. Stars, but the second anyone saw her they’d know exactly who was responsible for those horns. “My horns haven’t been this shiny in years.”

Callum looked at her like she’d hung the Moon, like this praise was enough to render him utterly overjoyed. He tugged her around enough to kiss her, deep and excited and full of energy, so much so that she made a muffled noise of surprise into his lips. It caught her off-guard, and she was feeling a little breathless and a little dazed when he drew away a few moments later. “You have to let me do this again.” He told her, beaming. “I’m going to keep your horns this shiny, just you wait.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head, suddenly flustered. “You can’t just say things like that.” She complained at him, and of course he looked utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved and kissed her on one cheek, and then on the other cheek, and his hands were already up and stroking along the wide bases of her horns again.

“Smooth,” he commented, gleefully, fingers warm around her horns. His face was very, very close to hers. “They’re so nice.”

The heat in her face decidedly didn’t abate. “Oh my god, Callum.” She mumbled, shaking her head, and he just kissed her again. Feeling increasingly dazed, she said into his lips “you know, it’s a lot faster if you’re doing it regularly. You can skip the filing and just buff and polish instead.”

He considered this excellent news, if the way he kissed her was any indication.

Finally, she summoned the force of will to reach up and peel his hands from her horns, stepping away. It was not easy, because – because when he looked like that, so elated and alive and full of delight, when he kissed her so enthusiastically, it was hard to think of pretty much anything. She looked across at him, incredibly flustered, and couldn’t see anything except how beautiful he was. “You, calm down.” She ordered him, gruffly, and led him by the shoulder to the basin. “We came in here to brush our teeth, you numpty. Not fondle Rayla’s horns.”

“But Rayla’s horns are really really pretty.” Callum pointed out cheerfully, and she made an involuntary noise half-way between embarrassment and pleasure.

“Be that as it may, Rayla and her horns want you to brush your teeth now so we can go to bed.” She said, and she shuffled over to the basin to make good on her words.

 -

 (Snippet 8: Callum and Rayla go to bed finally. Cuddling, fluff.)

 It proved as magnificently soft and comfy as she might have expected, when she peeled back the covers and climbed in. Callum meanwhile was perusing the canopy with consideration.

“Curtains or no curtains?” He asked her, and she considered it.

“Curtains.” She decided, and watched with satisfaction as he reached out and unhooked the bed’s attendant drapery. She reached to the one closest to her, and he got the rest; it all fell into place, a rich dark red that blocked out the light from the room around them and cast their bed into soothing shadow. Something settled in her then, that hadn’t quite been at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings, or the openness of the room. She sighed, and burrowed down under the duvet, laying her head back on the pillows.

He joined her, lifting the covers and slipping in, closing his eyes for a second in obvious profound enjoyment. “This is so much better than hard cold floor.” He murmured happily, and she smiled, tugging him to her with a hand at his shoulder. He went gladly, and within moments they were pressed close, legs tangling, the warmth of his skin comforting against her own.

“Been a long few weeks.” She sighed, resting her forehead against his, and he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Kind of an understatement.” He murmured back. “I’m glad we’ve got a chance to rest now.” A pause. “Sort of, anyway. Aside from the work.”

She understood his meaning, though. There was something strangely safe about the idea of the time they’d spend here, whether it would be a week or longer than that. This wasn’t home, where there’d be people to explain things to, or where they’d have to adapt their old life to fit around what had happened. This was a new place – unfamiliar, but easier to cope with for that unfamiliarity, in its own way.

Here, she thought, they’d be able to find their footing a little. Settle a little more into their new normal, before the vagaries of travel and normal life needed intrude again.

“Me too.” She agreed, at last, and reached a hand across to press lightly around the back of his neck. He made a soft, pleased sound, then shuffled to give her better access, face smooshed into the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, and he peered at her with one green eye, a smile fluttering on his lips.

“…Thanks for letting me do your horns.” He mumbled back, eventually. “I liked it.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll repay you sometime.” She promised, and moved her hand to smooth down along his upper back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Tomorrow, maybe. Give you a nice backrub or something.”

“Sounds great.” He shifted closer, tucking his face against her shoulder with a sigh. She kissed him at the top of his forehead, stroking him gently from the nape of his neck to his shoulders and back. He made quiet contented noises at her, drowsier and drowsier, and steadily began to drift off.

She lingered there, holding him, trailing fingertips over his neck as he settled into sleep. It really had been a long day for him, for all that they’d spent the latter half of it indoors and resting. Now, finally, he’d be able to sleep properly, in a bed comfortable enough to ease the ache of his overworn muscles. Now, finally, without the city’s doom hanging over them, they could rest a little.

Rayla smiled into his hair, nestled against him, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but it took her anyway; almost between one moment and the next, she was gone.

#rayllum #rayllumvalentines #moon gardens #these snippets will probably not get posted to ao3 #i'd like to reiterate that I have no intention of posting the entire story either #but i hope you can enjoy these extracts regardless #i adore this fic tbh #it's a delight to write #which is probably how i managed to write 120k of it in one month #still proud of that #one heck of a personal record really

[darkeninganon]

So, you know this (Trigger warnings at the top, I’m sorry) post? Well, I made a... nice? version? A version with a good end for Dream. Trigger warning: Gore, cursing, violence, torture, and implied trauma. Read at your own risk.

Dream jolted, the lava falling once more. He cowered. Fuck, why did he have to cower each time? Why couldn't he just fucking control himself like he used to? He shook his head, trying to clear the negativity from his mind and shake off his fear. He could do this. He had been doing this. He was strong. He was the monster everyone feared. He was God.

Quackity stepped into the cell, smug smile spread a cross his face as he stared at Dream. "hey there Dream! You ready to give me what I want?"

Dream shook his head again. "Just... Stay over there! I'm not..."

"Okay, you're doing this again?" Quackity took out an axe, slowly pacing towards Dream.

"No! No, no, no, no! I...I just- I'll die if you keep this up! You don't have to visit! Please!" Dream pressed himself against the wall, feet kicking out in an effort to put nonexistent space between him and his tormentor.

Quackity paused for a moment, his smile falling. He seemed to think before putting the axe away, and taking out a potion. "Alright, let's make a deal: I won't visit you anymore, but only if you drink this potion without complaint." Quackity stated, producing a potion from his shirt pocket.

Dream stared at the strange vial. It didn't look like any potion he had seen before. "That's... That's all? Nothing else?" Dream asked, slowly moving towards Quackity and the vial.

"That's it! Just drink it without fighting me and-"

Dream snatched the vial from Quackity, pulling away from his tormentor before popping the cork off and chugging down the liquid. It tasted sickeningly sweet, like sugar and honey mixed with flowers and grass. God it was weird. He threw the vial away, aiming for the lava.

Dream glared at Quackity. He had done it. "why are you still here?"

Quackity sauntered closer. "Waiting to see it work."

Dream was about to ask what he meant when a wave of dizziness hit him. The room seemed to spin, making Dream groan and shut his eyes, turning away from Quackity to cling to the wall, waiting for it to pass. Dream slowly opened his eyes, focusing on his hands.

"Wow! That worked great!"

Something massive suddenly closed around Dream, causing the prisoner to yell. Whatever it was kept him held tightly, cramping him into an uncomfortable position and moved fast. In and instant the light of the lava returned, allowing Dream to look around and see what had happened. Oh how he wished he didn't.

Dream was confronted face-to-face with a giant Quackity, and what had grabbed him was his tormentor's hand. "what... What the fuck did you do to me?!" Dream's voice cracked as he stood, stumbling around is disbelief. "You... Why... What... No... No, no, no,no!" Dream was near crying, the hand he was standing on shaking as the now giant man laughed. "Sam! Sam help! SA-" The wind was knocked out of Dream as wind rushed past him and he slammed into a wall, his body falling to the ground with a sickening crunch. He slowly lifted his upper body off the floor, shaking with the effort; Quackity stepping closer once again. A shoe suddenly slammed down right next to Dream, landing with enough force to knock the now tiny prisoner over.

"Quackity stop! Please!" Dream yelled, trying to crawl away. He heard Quackity laugh, then his leg exploded in pain with a sickening grinding-crunching noise. Dream screamed, trying to pull away from his trapped limb, and only succeeding in seeing what had actually happened. Quackity had stepped forward, carefully, and was currently standing where one of Dream's legs was supposed to be.

Quackity pulled his leg back, dragging his shoe across the floor. Dream grit his teeth at the small trail of blood left behind, leaving a bloody void where his leg had been. "Fuck... Fuck you Quackity..." Dream hissed, claws scrabbling against the obsidian in vain.

"Ew. God, you're as gross as a bug now." Quackity hissed, kneeling down to look at the shrunken prisoner, who was hyperventilating and glaring.

"Sam... won't let you-" Dream yelped as he was grabbed again, hoisted into the air by his tormentor. "Sam! Sam please! Quackity's going to kill me! SAM!" Quackity tilted Dream around, much like a child would when inspecting a new toy. Quackity grabbed Dream's undamaged leg, holding it just below the knee. "Quackity? What are you-" Dream screamed as his leg was bent backwards, knee snapping in a small shower of blood as the bones broke the skin.

"Holy shit! You're so fragile like this!" Quackity laughed as Dream grit his teeth in an effort to not scream anymore than he already had.

Tears fell from Dream's eyes, black dots floating across his vision as his face burned.

"Let's see here..."

Dream felt a slight breeze dart across his face before it began to burn again. He was still hyperventilating, eyes now darting in and effort to see what had changed. His vision cleared enough to see Quackity holding his mask, inspecting it. Dream muttered, wanting it back.

"What?"

"Give... give it back... please... Please Quackity... Give it back..." Dream watched helplessly as Quackity threw the mask away, staring sadly at the little flame that signaled it burning in the lava. Dream lamely reached out for it, whimpering as his last line of defense now burned away. Dream looked to Qauckity; "Why... isn't the torture enough? You said... all I had to do was drink the potion... all I had to do was drink the potion."

Quackity laughed. "Oh Dream, I said I wouldn't visit anymore... Well, I can't visit if I never leave!"

Dream's eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned on him. Quackity- emotional, unstable, cruel, follower Quackity had tricked him. "You... You're a monster..."

Quackity barked out a laugh again. "Look who's talking! A monster calling me a monster!" Quackity grinned, all teeth and malice. "Oh you have no idea."  Quackity grabbed one of Dream's arms only to freeze. He looked to the lava, head tilting. "Sam?"

Sam, the warden, tripped out of the lava, wearing his netherite and looking more than a little pissed. "We have got a serious problem. Techno..." Sam paused, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Techno, Niki, Phil, and... and fucking Ranboo are trying to break into the prison."

"What?!" Quackity glared down at Dream, tightening his hold on the tiny prisoner. "I should have executed that fucker as soon as we all split up. FUCK!" He threw Dream in rage.

Dream slammed against the wall, hard, something else was broken, or more broken. He had no idea. But falling to the floor behind the lectern didn't help at all. Dream dragged himself into the tiny space behind the chest, desperate to get out of Quackity's reach.

He stared in horror as Quackity tried to reach behind the lectern, clawing at the obsidian to find where Dream had gone. "Get out here now!"

"No! Go away!”

"Leave him Quackity! I need help, alright?! If anyone sees you here we are both dead, and I have no idea-"

"I'm on my last life Sam! Fuck!" Quackity kicked the lectern. "Get fucking crushed you piece of shit green bastard!"

Dream heard a potion bottle break, then silence. He was finally alone again. He was alone. Forever now. He was small, and alone forever, and severely injured. Dream curled in on himself, breaking down now that he was finally alone. He froze as he heard something- someone- come through the lava.

"Dream?"

The shrunken prisoner gasped, "I'm here! I'm here..." tears fell from his eyes again as the chest was moved, a green and red eye peering down at him from a black and white face.

"Oh..." Ranboo stared at Dream, shocked into silence. He had planned to kill the prisoner while Sam fought with the rest of the syndicate, but... Ranboo reached down, being as gentle as he could while picking up Dream. Ranboo produced a health potion, dropping some onto the tiny man before putting it away.

"Hey! Lethe! Hurry up! There are more guards than we thought!"

"Shoot." Ranboo looked to the small man in his palm. One leg was bent at a horribly wrong angle right at the knee, while the other was completely gone. Ranboo sighed, taking out a splash potion and throwing it to the ground. "Hold on. We'll be right out." With that the half enderman dove into the wall of lava, holding onto the prisoner so he wouldn't sink and burn.

Ranboo broke through to the other side, taking off running, cradling Dream to his chest. Dream closed his eyes, curling into himself before passing out.

Dream stirred awake, dragged from his sleep by the murmur of various voices all around him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking around; his leg was still broken at the knee, with the other gone, but neither was bleeding anymore. Looks like that potion from Ranboo did its job. If only the potion Quackity gave him had run out while he was asleep.

"No! I'm not helping the bastard!"

"Tommy, he's the size of... He's tiny! He couldn't hurt you if he wanted to!"

"No! And that's final! That man deserves death for all he's done!"

Dream cringed. Tommy was going to get his way, Dream was probably going to die right here and now. The slamming of doors getting closer only made Dream's dread grow. Then  they saw each other. Tommy was staring down at Dream, silent for a minute.

"Holy shit you are tiny."

Dream glared at the teen. "Fuck you!"

"Here. Have some milk. Then I'll hate you again." Tommy dropped a few drops of milk into the box, near enough that Dream could reach them. "You'll owe me for destroying my model." The teen hissed.

At Tommy's words, Dream looked around again, realizing he was in a cobblestone house. A very small Cobblestone house. "Whatever. You have enough stone to build it again." Dream grumbled, taking one drop of milk and drinking it down.

Dream and Tommy sat there, waiting. Dream took another sip of milk. Then another.

"Okay, what the fuck kind of potion is this?" Tommy growled, removing a wall to kneel next to the table. "Ranboo, Tubbo! I think we have a problem!" Dream cringed as Tommy yelled right next to him, the two being yelled for running into the room.

"What's wrong boss man?!"

Tommy pointed to Dream as the shrunken man took another desperate sip of milk, glancing at himself before staring at Tommy in horror. "you... Why?"

"How should I know? Who even-" Tommy fell quiet as Dream was consumed by rage, slamming his fist against the floor and yelling.

"No! This cannot be! For Fuck's sake!"

"Dream, Dream don't yell, please-"

"Shut the fuck up Tommy! You're not the size of a fucking bug! You may act like one with how annoying you are, but it's not like you can actually be stepped on!" Dream hissed, curling in on himself. "Just... Fucking go away, okay? Leave me alone and let me die."

Tommy stared at his tormentor before glancing quickly at Tubbo and Ranboo. "I... Dream, who did this to you?"

"Why do you care?"

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I care because if that person did this to you, then they can do it to other people. Like Tubbo."

Dream sat up. Tommy was right. For once Tommy was right. Dream sighed. "I'll tell you, on one condition."

"If you say the disks I swear-"

"Do not put me back in the prison! Don't let anyone know about me, okay? Okay?! No one! No one can know that I'm out, or-or-or that I'm..." Dream motioned to himself. "Alright?"

"That's a lot Dream."

"I know, but it's important! Sapnap... Sapnap will kill me if he find out I got out... Sam... Fuck I don't even know what he'd do. Just... please Tommy. Please?"

Tommy sighed, nodding. "Alright. You got it. No one will know you're here, and you can stay. Now tell me who-"

"Quackity did this. Ranboo, Techno, Phil, and apparently Niki got me out before Quackity could do anything else." Dream supplied, staring at Tommy.

"Quackity... It started out as him wanted the knowledge from the book, but... But then- I don't know! He visits every day, and he knows I won't tell him, but he just visits every day, and he said if I drank that stupid potion he'd never come back. But, but-fuck!- he lied because then... then he didn't want to leave! He... he fucking... He decided that it wasn't an issue if he never left-"

Tommy placed his hand over Dream, ignoring they way the small man yelped. "Relax Dream. We got this. You just... Stay here and rest. We'll take care of everything." Tommy removed his hand, placing the wall back up as he stood, then placing a roof over the whole thing.

Dream stared at the roof, breathing heavy.

"Ranboo, Tubbo-"

"Quackity has gone mad. I... I never said anything but..." Tubbo fell quiet, shifting around. "He wanted to execute you big man... after the festival, and I-"

"Oh, okay. We'll see how Techno feels about Quackity after learning that." Ranboo spun around, getting ready to leave. "And Phil, and Niki." Once again Ranboo paused by the door, perking up. "And... I think it's about time to call in a favor..." Ranboo smirked with a chuckle, leaving.

Tubbo looked at Tommy. "Don't ask me what he's talking about. He's got his own things going on."

"Tubbo." Tommy slammed his hands down on his friend's shoulders, staring intently at him. "I'm going to need your help to stay sane with this, okay?" Tubbo nodded, raising a brow in curiosity. "You need to make sure I don't go mad with power over this. Quackity is our enemy now, along with Wilbur. You need to make sure I focus on that."

"You can count on me Boss man!"

#Trigger Warning #Content Warning #cw gore #tw gore #cw blood #tw blood #giant/tiny #Giant!Quackity #tiny!dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Tommyinnit #Ranboo #Tubbo_ #They show up at the end #yes Tommy is being nice #Mostly because Dream can't do anything #My writing

[ussjellyfish]

Fic Writer Review

(I’m doing the Star Trek edition and just focusing on my Trek fics, for fun).

Thanks for tagging me, @curator-on-ao3! I tag @aleksandrachaev and @justanalto, @holdouttrout , @meanderings0ul, @lorcaswhisky @pixiedane @rikerssexblouse if you fancy it, and anyone who feels like it. (scroll to the end to copy paste the questions)

how many works do you have on AO3?

354 total, 166 if I just count Star Trek and crossovers with Star Trek

what’s your total AO3 word count?

2,194,290 (I am wordy and badass!)

Behind a cut for length.

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I’ve written for 38 fandoms total. I have fic from Star Trek TOS, TNG, DS9, VOY, DSC, PIC and AOS. I sadly have no Lower Decks fic. (I feel like that would be hard to get write, I’m not that funny)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? (only Trek fics)

354 kudos, Village Building (Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) 87925 words which I cowrote with Jacks, who is not on tumblr (she’s from LJ days though we’re still facebook friends!) and a lovely lovely human. It’s Janeway/Chakotay season 5 babyfic and it’s very gentle and sweet and is a really lovely piece about how the crew would look after Kathryn and make space for her to live her life while being captain. Has some very excellent Tom and Kathryn, Kathryn and B’Elanna scenes.

250 kudos, Stellar Entanglement (Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) 29979 words, which is oddly enough a gift for someone who hated one line of it and we didn’t talk for years. We got over it eventually, but it was rough. (the thing we fought about? how long parental leave would be and I, being an american, thought 6 weeks was normal because my country is evil for parents)

The fic itself is lovely! Kathryn gets pregnant after a one night stand with Chakotay , but he’s on a long distance mission, so they’re separated for most of it, then she goes on an excellent space road trip with Seven. There’s a nice scene in here I like with Nechayev and Kathryn and I had a great time writing Seven trying to find her place in the Alpha Quadrant.

217 kudos, Mending (Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay) 15155 words

This is a classic Opal fic because it’s 100% “but what if this wild thing happened and she was pregnant”. Kathryn time travels instead of Chakotay in the episode “Shattered” and she’s very very pregnant, and her crew that she doesn’t know well get her home. Has some of my favorite B’Elanna & Kathryn scenes I’ve ever written.

189 kudos, For the Asking, TNG Beverly Crusher & Deanna Troi, background Beverly/Jean-Luc, Deanna/Will 2138 words

Deanna reads Beverly’s thoughts about sex in a staff meeting and they tease each other it and have a very good discussion. It’s sweet and friendly and I reread it when I want to feel that brilliantly good friend feeling.

154 kudos, Firefly (Discovery, Philippa Georgiou (Mirror) & Michael & Tilly & like..Disco crew. Philippa Georgiou & making friends

This fic is my beloved and I am giddy it’s on this top five. It’s so fun (for me). The Guardian of Forever gives Philippa the choice to stay in the 31st century with Michael and Discovery, in exchange for a very tiny minor cellular change, which is a baby. (she and Chris had some confusingly nice sex before she left).

It’s one of my least commented fic and the one where I feel like it’s just going out into the void (but it has a lot of kudos! good work little fic).  I have so much fun with it though. Philippa and conversations where she is mildly human is a blast. The fight scenes turned out well (even though they’re really hard to write) and Philippa and Tilly is brilliant. I love it. I love them. This is so my favorite right now and I’m so happy it’s on the list.

This is the best part of the meme, right here.

(side note, 4 of my top 5 are babyfic, so at least I’m on brand).

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to. I feel like I ought too. Sometimes I’m so busy behind exhausted embarrassed (how to I reply when people are nice to me! gah) that I don’t. Often it’s simply because I want to write more fic and my free time is so limited. I love them, I really really love them. It is so kind of people to comment. I short circuit often with replying to praise.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh it’s definitely When I the Starry Courses Know, which is Janeway/Borg Queen and she makes a deal to go with Queen if the Queen will save the ship, and she goes. It’s full of depression and self-doubt. It’s one of the best dark things I’ve ever written.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Archaic Diseases, TNG/Battlestar Galactica.  I have a very sweet crossover where Beverly Crusher saves Laura Roslin from cancer and Laura has a bit of a crush. It’s rather lovely. 

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Sure, there’s a few people who just seem to get angry about things, or willfully miss the point. Sometimes I just get weird weird comments that leave me feeling angry or uncomfortable (I have a current string on a Beverly/Kathryn fic that I might just stop reading, because I don’t really need to know.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Lazily, far less often than I used to. I like feelings more than detail and I’ve gotten much less interested in sex lately in fic. I’ve written f/f and m/f and some threesomes (one foursome). Keeping track of hands is hard. I write a lot of women receiving oral sex, I think that’s easiest for me to write.

have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! the one up above with Jacks, and a few others. It’s a very different and fulfilling experience. I like being surprised. It’s full of surprises.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Discovery!  Ummmm, wait no the romantic kind. Right this second? Beverly/Kathryn, because it’s so comfortable for me and brings to gether so many things I like about the characters.

(Philippa Georgiou/Kat Cornwell gets a nod though, because I’m thinking about them often lately)

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Captain Tilly’s Gambit - Tilly plays war games against Saru and has Philippa (imperial varietal) as her first officer. It’s one chapter, and I thought it was a one shot but I guess I have to write the fighting? space fighting is hard...It’s a very good fic though. I’d like to finish it. (Maybe after Fortnight of Kat/Pippa?)

what are your writing strengths?

world building, little details that make it feel Star Trek, dialogue, Sylvia Tilly, she is the best POV character for me and I just adore writing her.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Vagueness, I tend to write in a void without much description, I nearly always write 3rd person limited. I’m not very exact with typos and often things I’ve posted will still have errors.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If I can find someone who speaks the language, great, otherwise I usually have the gist of it or “A spoke Vulcan, which sounded great but B had no idea what it meant.” I try to avoid it.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

It was Star Trek the Next Generation!! It was a big time travelling confusing messy wonderful First Contact AU. It’s not as bad as it being 20+ years old makes it sound.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Firefly! It’s gen babyfic and I feel like it’s in the intersection of so many things that aren’t what people want to read and it definitely feels like the thing I just write and post and out into the void. There are chapters of it that don’t have comments at all.

I am fortunate that I have people willing to read it while I’m working on it, which is lovely, and it’s so important to me.  I adore it. I love the process, I love thinking about it. It’s just important to me. The character arcs and moments and conversations I get to write for that mean so much to me.

I feel like the number of people I talk about it with fits on a hand, but you’re all lovely and I adore you too.

Uncharted (VOY/TNG) Kathryn Janeway/Beverly Crusher, Words: 56,764, kudos 137.

It’s the one thing I’ve written that’s most like a novel, has the tightest plot, the most research and characters and is most like a Trek episode, I think because there’s so much going on and often I write things that have very little going on. This is very different, and sometimes rereading it makes me cry.  It has all the best heroic parts of Star Trek.

The questions!!

   Fic Writer Review

how many works do you have on AO3?

what’s your total AO3 word count?

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

have you ever received hate on a fic?

do you write smut? if so what kind?

have you ever had a fic stolen?

have you ever had a fic translated?

have you ever co-written a fic before?

what’s your all time favorite ship?

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

what are your writing strengths?

what are your writing weaknesses?

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

#writer meme #all about my trek fics #it was fun to narrow it down to one fandom universe #firefly my beloved

[tossawary]

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

-

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

- 

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either. 

-

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

- 

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. 

- 

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

- 

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples. 

- 

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

- 

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages! 

- 

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?” 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here. 

- 

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

-

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?” 

- 

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

- 

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here. 

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!” 

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.” 

SQH: “Oh, yeah.” 

- 

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

- 

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny). 

- 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so. 

- 

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later. 

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system. 

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore. 

- 

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

- 

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.” 

- 

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

- 

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now. 

- 

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

- 

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy. 

- 

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

- 

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably. 

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

#tossawary svsss #pride is not the word #tossawary commentary

[tallycraven]

A small continuation of “brainwashed” 👀 a small moment where Scylla helps to calm down Raelle, the first time Raelle attempts to touch her. But her hands start to shake uncontrollably with a bad headache. Scylla comforts her by being forehead to forhead with Raelle and telling her to concentrate on her smell to get her to relax.

haha oops my finger slipped here’s a 1.8k word addendum to this (; 

(pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

also available on ao3!

Raelle still feels like a monster sometimes, Scylla knows. She’s seen moments where Raelle flinches at her own reflection or adamantly avoids looking at it. She’s watched Raelle double and triple-check her pockets and make lists for the smallest of tasks. All things to help herself stay stable; all things recommended to her by her therapist. 

Scylla also knows that Raelle tiptoes around her. She treats Scylla like the most delicate of snowflakes on a bright sunny winter day and almost never lets herself touch Scylla the way she wants to. And Scylla understands. She gets that it’s hard and painful and takes time. It’s not like she doesn’t have scars from what happened. 

So, she survives on grazing touches and brief hugs, prolonged contact through clothes when they sit close to each other. She lets herself miss Raelle’s kisses and imagines the day that Raelle will finally let herself touch Scylla again. She remembers and relives their first time together, their second time, all the times after that, waking up in the same bed and feeling Raelle’s fingers press hard into her hips. 

It’s nothing close to reality, but it’s enough to keep Scylla grounded. 

Healing takes time, Tally said once, when she and Scylla were waiting for Izadora to finish helping Raelle with her weekly fixing session. No matter how much you want her to give it to ya. 

Scylla giggles at the memory; remembers the way Tally had wiggled her eyebrows and shifted her hips in an attempt to entertain her. 

“What’re you laughing at?” Raelle asks, head perking up from looking at the comics in the newspaper in front of her. 

They’re settled on the couch in the Bellweather beach estate— a house that’s become a home for the four of them over the past few months. Scylla’s been spacing out, repeatedly reading the same paragraph in some book Abigail gave her for the past ten minutes and intaking none of it, while Raelle’s been going over the Sunday paper. 

(Keeping up with current events is a good way to stay present, according to some Fort Salem-assigned brain fixer; but Raelle only ever reads the comics and half-asses the crossword.)

They’re sat by each other’s sides, like usual. Close enough that Raelle’s knee can bump into Scylla’s thigh whenever she shifts.

“Oh, nothing.” Scylla smiles, moving so she’s sitting with her legs crossed and facing Raelle, choosing to give her a tiny bit more distance between them. “Just remembered something Tally said.” 

The crinkle the forms between Raelle’s brows is downright endearing. 

“What’d she say?” Raelle turns to mirror Scylla’s posture until they’re both facing each other on the couch with their legs crossed.

Scylla weighs her options briefly before remembering that truth is a virtue that she’s been learning to master. Especially when it comes to Raelle. 

She takes a small breath and smiles. “Uh. Said that you’re gonna need time and I should be patient about wanting you to touch me until then. Which is absolutely true and I’m willing to wait forev–”

“I do want to touch you.” Raelle says, quickly and all in one breath so that it comes out sounding more like ‘Idowannatouchyou.’

It takes Scylla’s mind a little bit to catch up, deciphering the words that sounded for a brief moment like another language and then unraveling the bundle of emotions that said words have given life to in her chest.

Scylla must spend too long looking at Raelle in wonder, because Raelle’s suddenly beet red and staring down at her hands. They’re trembling, but it’s not the worst that they’ve seen. She’s made a lot of progress.

Raelle presses her palms against her thighs and takes a deep breath. 

“I do want to touch you.” She repeats, this time slower. “It’s just. M’nervous.” 

The emotions in Scylla’s chest melt into something soft and sad and full of love. She scoots herself a little closer to Raelle —slowly, of course— and holds a hand out, palm up, and waits. 

Raelle looks from Scylla’s face to her palm, recognizes the offer and places her own palm by it. 

Scylla traces a familiar ‘S’ and watches its twin bloom in Raelle’s palm. She lets it fade slowly before grazing her pinky along the side of Raelle’s hand and very slowly brings her own hand against Raelle’s. 

The tremors are smaller now, but Scylla’s focusing on the touch of Raelle’s hand against hers. The pads of her fingers pressed against the base of Scylla’s palm and the warmth of Raelle’s own palm radiating against her fingers.

Scylla shifts ever closer until their knees bump and stay touching. She’s watching Raelle’s face to tell for any telltale signs of the need to run and finds only concentration.

Raelle’s taking slow but shaky breaths, eyebrows furrowed with her jaw tensing and untensing. For a moment, Scylla considers pulling back. But she knows that would upset Raelle; it would launch her into a cycle of blaming herself for not healing fast enough.

“Is this okay?” She asks instead.

Raelle’s nod is hurried. “Yeah, it’s good.”

She presses forward some more, leaning so that her forehead bumps lightly against Raelle’s. She can feel Raelle’s unsteady breaths and the tension in her temples. Her hands are starting to shake more despite how hard Raelle is staring at them.

“Hey, focus on me, yeah?”  

Raelle swallows and stays silent, clenches her eyes closed in that way she does when the headaches start to pick up.

Scylla takes her hands in her own, fully now, lacing their fingers together and letting Raelle manage the tightness of the grasp. It’s slow and careful, but Raelle holds on tightly while Scylla rubs gentle circles against Raelle’s thumb with her own.

“I love you.” Scylla whispers. “I love you and I’m real and you won’t hurt me.”

Raelle’s breath catches at that and her eyes open for a split second before slamming shut again, tighter as she tries to push away memories of cold bodies and betrayal and violence unbecoming.

Scylla backtracks. She brings Raelle’s hands up to her lips and presses soft kisses to her fingers.

“Stay with me.”

Raelle swallows and nods, eyes closed and hands clenched around Scylla’s.

“Do you hear the ocean?”

A nod.

There’s a window open somewhere, letting in the sound of the Atlantic’s waves crashing against the shore.

“Can you feel my hands?”

Another nod, hesitant.

They sit in silence like that, hands together and pressed as close as Raelle’s nerves will let them. Minutes tick by and Scylla’s lost in the warmth of being so close to Raelle. She finds that she’d be okay if they just stayed like this for the rest of forever.

Raelle’s voice is quiet when she finally speaks. “You smell nice.”

Scylla can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of her; can’t explain the tears that spring forth from her eyes or the way her chest tightens with incomprehensible affection.

“New shampoo.” She supplies in what she hopes to be an easy fashion.

Another minute passes and Raelle’s hands have stilled and her breathing is slower, calmer.

When Raelle speaks again, it’s with a new kind of nervousness. Something more innocent, less rooted in fear.

“Can I kiss you?”

Scylla would scold herself for nodding like an eager teenager if she weren’t already tilting her lips and catching Raelle’s between them.

It’s slow and careful, like Raelle’s learning how to kiss Scylla for the first time. It’s so polarizing and different from the first time they ever kissed that Scylla’s brain is doing looping circles. She’s trying to remember this moment, seal the way Raelle’s breath catches when their lips meet as a gasping rush of hot breath pushes itself past her own. Just in case Raelle needs to pull away for space again.

Scylla tries to memorize every push and pull; to be slow and careful instead of giving in to the base need for Raelle that lives inside of her. Of course, her body wins out—like it always does—to the feeling of Raelle against her, dropping her hands to pull Scylla onto her lap with a whispered, “Is this okay?”

Which, yes, yes it very much is okay for Scylla but she just has to check with, “Is this okay for you?”

Raelle’s hasty nod bumps her nose against Scylla’s and draws twin laughter from both of them before they meet in another kiss. Still slow and careful, but deeper this time as Raelle’s fingers spread across the small of Scylla’s back and press firmly while she gives an exploratory lick into Scylla’s mouth.

And gods after months of grazing touches and second-long hugs, Scylla thinks she might melt under the heat of Raelle’s kiss.

Slow and shy has given way to greedy want; Raelle’s hands grasp tightly against the back of Scylla’s shirt and they’re properly pressed together now. Scylla can feel the hard lines of Raelle’s muscles through her shirt, lean and lithe and so fucking unfair.  

She can’t stop the borderline-sinful groan that escapes her when Raelle cants her hips up instinctively to press deeper into the kiss. She’s humming. Her body’s pounding in time with her heart in a way that she can feel the desperate beat in her fingertips.

And then Raelle pulls away, eyes clouded but worried and careful.

“Are you okay?”

Scylla’s breathless, confounded at how kisses could render her body into a mess of pulses and need. But she manages the nod and smiles, drawing slow breaths of oxygen into her grateful lungs.

“Sorry, that…” she huffs a small laugh, “wasn’t what I was planning, I promise.”

Raelle has fallen quiet again, pulling her bottom lip (kiss-swollen and so so tempting) between her teeth and sucking on it for a second.

“I’m sorry if I rushed—” Raelle starts.

“No!” Scylla cuts her off, hands coming to rest on Raelle’s shoulders as she shakes her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m okay. Are you?”

Raelle draws her lip back between her teeth and bites, her brows furrow but her eyes never leave Scylla’s.

Scylla immediately shifts when Raelle doesn’t answer, already moving to climb off her lap, but is stopped when Raelle’s hands grip and pull her back against her.

“No, I’m—” Raelle husks, “Please stay?”

All Scylla can do is nod, eyes scanning Raelle’s face for signs, anything that’ll tell her what to do.

She smiles softly, brings one of Raelle’s hands up from her hip to her lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her other hand finds its way to Raelle’s face, brushes carefully along the jagged scar on her cheek while Raelle leans into it.

“Slower?” Scylla asks.

Raelle nods, eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you.”

Their calm is disturbed by the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by the footsteps of the only two people it could be approaching the living room.

Scylla can’t even bring herself to move off of Raelle, it’s too warm and comfy, so she just braces for what comes next.

“It’s about damn time.” Comes Abigail’s voice as she falls backwards onto an armchair opposite them.

“Abigail!” Tally scolds, trailing in after her while shedding her jacket. She turns to Scylla and Raelle (who’s adamantly staring at Scylla’s collarbones instead of paying attention to her unit mates) with a smile, “Congrats, you two.”

#raylla #jenn writes #brainwashed au #not me procrastinating on the fics i'm SUPPOSED to be working on by spitting this out in a night #(; i hope you guys like it and thank you for reading! 💕 #time to slink back into hiding until i finish an actual fic wahoo #asks #Anonymous

[yoursinfulurges]

Toxin and Venom

Slight Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!Reader

Description:

In which a seemingly loving relationship appears greater than it is...

There was something rather terrible about this young man's naive exterior. Though nobody could pinpoint where exactly the dreadfulness laid. His eyes shined a little too brightly, and his words were coated in thick sugar, enough to appear disingenuous to the skillfully trained ears. But there hidden behind is smile concealed the sinister morals of a true manipulator.

Oh' but she was no better herself, twisting words to favour her narrative. Playing as if she was nothing more than a meek little prey.

Warnings: pure angst with an underlining layer of toxicity.

Disclaimer: This is a REWRITE of one of my old stories dated back to a year ago, so if it sounds familiar that is why. This story was originally written for Jung Jaehyun from NCT but seeing as though I've fallen out of love with kpop at the moment, I wanted to repurpose it for my new followers that I've harbored since The Venom Within, as I'm very proud of the way it was written and concluded that I wanted to share with you all. I did improve and change quite a lot so you won't be reading the exact same story and I decided to add a twist to it.

Note: This is more so a college au so the fact that Peter is Spiderman is insignificant...

Word Count: 4.k

_____________

Your boyfriend, Peter, had always been the most kind and caring person you knew. Ever since you met him, and even after months of dating, he still acted like the bashful, kind Disney prince you took him for. Only treating you with nothing but respect and admiration; you often wondered if this boy was even capable of making an insult, or had a bad bone in his body. Fore he acts way too nice and sweet for his own good. Controlling at times but it was with all good intentions...

Originally, you thought the kind gestures and lovely sweet talking was his way of subtly flirting, but after years of dating him, you came to the realization that it was just simply him. Peter didn't need to pretend to be kind and sweet like other guys; given that it was like second nature for him. You loved the boy to death. He showered you with so much love, spoiled you with affection. Treated you like his queen; His shining jewel. Out of the two years that you'd been together, not once has he wronged you.

    That is, up until this exact moment...

You stand there in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down your cheeks. At this point you had stopped listening to what he was saying. In fear that if you continued to listen to his harsh words, more of your love would begin to fleet away, and you couldn't afford to lose any more. Despite of all your excessive yelling, you loved Peter. And he meant so much to you. But seeing him in this state, angry and hostile, attacking you viciously with his words, you began to question your future with him.

You couldn't quite fathom what brought on this newfound aggression in your relationship. Though, you had a slight seeking suspicion that it was from all the post-exam stress you both had to endure. Weeks upon weeks of studying and sleepless nights finally took its toll on the both of you. Thus bringing you to this exact moment in time. The once loving home corrupted by the harsh spoken words that fell from both of your lips. Anger and aggression filling the room, space welcoming the negativity with open arms. You had both tainted it...

That was not the boy you fell in love with, but instead somebody meaner, a-kind to venom...

Then again, you weren't a saint yourself either, words you wouldn't have ever thought of saying spilled out of your mouth like toxin. You needed to do something fast to mend your relationship back together...

The mere thought of breaking up with the man hurts you so dearly. You just wanted your loving boyfriend back from what ever abyss he dissapeared off to. Typically your fights never lasted this long, but this one proved to be quite challenging. You just wanted him to stop yelling. But in fear of the unthinkable outcome of your protest, you kept shut and held onto the remaining pieces of your heart. You knew for a fact that Peter would never dear to lay a hand on you, so you tried very desperately to push those thoughts aside. However, his following statements made both tasks very difficult. It was as if he was challenging your composure. Like he wanted the flood gates broken.

Like he wanted you to cave in to the malicious voice whispering in your ear...

His words could've very well be from all the stress, ..or pent up insults and remarks that he'd been silently keeping in. You had no way of telling. You prayed and hoped that it was the first one rather than the assuming latter. Because maybe then, you would consider forgiving him. Even though the words punctured you like bullets, penetrating your inner layers and hurting you in more ways than one. This was not your Peter... You questioned the morals behind his words, were they intended to hurt you, or was it just in the heat of the moment. Regardless, you knew that his words would be something that lingered on forever in your head.

"I don't even know why I stayed this long with you, honestly! What do I even see in you! Stop being so unreasonable! You're easily replaceable, so i don't see why you're acting so high and mighty. News flash y/n, i could do a lot better!"

         And there it was...

His current state and demeanor rivalled that of which the one you used to know. The soft spoken, kind, sweet, shy Peter. The one that still plays with legos despite being nineteen years old. You'd give anything to have him back...

You always knew that Peter could do better, but hearing this from him was a lot different than you saying it to yourself in your head. Before you had started dating you knew he had a chance with Michelle. She was a very pretty girl that went to your university, she was also Peter's chem partner... Michelle was nice, smart, and talented. You were very aware of the little 'thing' they had going on. So to your surprise, when you heard rumors of a certain Peter Parker, looking to ask you out, you almost didn't believe. Hell, you laughed straight into Brad's face and told him he was delusional. If only a hesitant, blush faced Peter wasn't stood right behind you to prove you wrong.

Ever since that day, you questioned Peter's choice. Why did he choose you, when he could've had a chance with Michelle? Someone he was more compatible with... You figured that he saw something special in you that nobody else did. Though, his previous statement proves you wrong and tells you that he doesn't even know why he gave you a chance. You're at a drift, not knowing where this relationship is headed, or where to stand. Knowing that you were replaceable to Peter weakens you. Were you really that insignificant to him? Were you a chore to be around? If so then why did he stay for two years? All these questions ran through your mind as you're frozen in a state of shock. How do you follow such a thing?

You stand silently, wails threatening to break free from your lips, as you shake. Instantly covering your mouth with your palm. You watch as he screamed at you more, words blocked out by the ringing in your ears. Truthfully, you were glad you couldn't hear his words, not knowing how to reciprocate to any more of his personal attacks.

The familiar feeling of despair began to conjure in the pit of your stomach. The tightness in your chest began to focus on your beating heart, constricting you like a boa preying on its meal. Everything around you became a hazy blur as the non stop ringing became more prominent. The cause being your angry boyfriend and his heart-wrenching words. Jolts of anxiety began to climb up from your figure tips, like a thousand spiders crawling on your skin. A feeling you know all too well crept up from behind you. You were beginning to feel frantic and scared, as your breathing became unstable.

You were becoming erratic, desperate to end the fight and be in his arms again.

"What!? Huh, not gonna clap back with some snarky remark. Admit it, you know im right!"

Peter's face was a striking shade of scarlet while he paced back and forth, hands finding themselves tangled in his hair as he mumbled inaudible words. His hair, you remember running your hands through his curly, brown locks this morning when you woke up. Oh, how happy and blissful you both were twelve hours prior to this moment. You both were so content and hopeful with the prospect of your relationship. Being able to finally spend time with each other after a stressful week. Originally, you had planned a date night with Peter. But things began to make a turn for the worse when he began to insult every little thing you did. Now here you were, an hour and forty-five minutes late for your reservations.

A taste for bitterness began to fill your mouth, as your insides churned. Waves of sadness and despair hit you like a tsunami. You suddenly couldn't stand the thought of staying in the same room as Peter. Let alone sleeping in one. Fore his words had impacted you like an arrow through the heart. You felt sick, disgusted, vulnerable, and above all else, hurt.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" Peter spat, but soon after stopped, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. Your once, fuming and aggressive facade was replaced with a much more subdued, fragile, hurt exterior, mirroring how you felt inside. You had given up. The bandage that held your heart together snapped.

You looked up at him, hurt written all over your face. Instantly, Peter rushed your way. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, apologize for calling you a bitch. But stopped when you held your hand out and shook your head, a sob erupting from your mouth. Suddenly, all the hurtful things Peter said rang through his own head.

Oh...

Shit!

"Baby, I-" He started, not knowing how to follow. His mouth suddenly became dry, letting out a sigh of regret. Voice coming out weak and pained. His chest tightening at the sight of what he has done to you. No no no no no no.... Peter knew you weren't the type to forgive and forget. Even if you both manage to somehow recover from this, he knew that his words would always be in your head. You would constantly doubt yourself and his transparency, thinking if it was all an act.

Regret began to eat away at him once again when he noticed your uneven breathing. Another punch in his gut when he took note of your shaking. Peter's eyes quickly darted to yours, his heart breaking when he saw the amount of fear in them. He was uncertain if you were scared of him or your emotions. He wanted it to be the second one. Peter never wanted you to see him in that light. Yet here you were, having an anxiety attack because of him...

He knew that feeling all too well, having suffered from anxiety of his own, but the fact that he was the one to force you into that state shattered him..

"Don't call me that...." You spat coldy, backing away slowly into your shared bedroom. Making sure he didn't follow and locking the door. Once in the cozy room, you sob like la llorona conveying grief. You couldn't bear to see all the happy pictures of you two, when he said so himself, you're nothing special to him. Without thinking, you began to rip off every Polaroid, framed pictures, and drawings from the walls. Not caring of ripping them. You threw them all on the floor. Your vision becoming clouded by tears as you sob. Ruining the white fabric of your oversized sweater with your makeup contaminated tears.

Your body halts, the last remaining picture was of the both of you on your first date. You always considered that day as the happiest moment of your life. But now knowing that you're just a pit stop in Peter's life, the memory manifests into something much darker than obsidian.

You inhale as you looked at the picture one more time. It was you kissing Peter on the cheek. He donned a beautiful cheshire smile, his freckles displaying proudly under the sunlight. He wore a red, hooded sweatshirt with his hero, Iron man's logo depicted on the top right corner. You always love it when he wore sweaters, especially that one. You remembered every emotion you felt as the picture was being taken. Even if you didn't, your expression held it all. You radiated happiness as the butterflies in your stomach became restless. You were so happy...

You sob lightly, your thumb caressing his face as you looked fondly at the picture. Suddenly, words that fell from his mouth earlier replayed in your head. He had purposely attacked your deepest insecurities. Jabbed and taunted you. The Peter you knew would never result to something so cruel and petty. Without putting much thought into it, you began to take the picture out of its frame.

Your ears perking up when you hear the familiar sound of the lock being picked. The jiggling of the doorknob was something you grew accustomed to. Having locked yourselves out of the bedroom on more than one occasion....

Taking one final breath, you rip the picture in two and retreated into the master bathroom. Once the door was slammed shut and locked, all hell broke loose. As if it couldn't have gotten worse alright. Your wails grew louder and more repetitive that you were being to sound like a banshee, mourning for her decaying heart. Eventually, you found yourself curled up in the bathtub, suppressing your cries into your knees as you lowered your head.

Peter finally succeeds in picking the lock, after what seemed like hours, and once he creaked opened the door of your shared bedroom, his heart broke in two. Parts of him began to deteriorate, he wished he had never said those hurtful things. He felt numb and out of touch with reality, sensing his anxiety looming over his shoulder. Peter knew that one of your biggest insecurities was never meaning much to somebody. And that weren't fond of feeling worthless and neglected. He knew your background and upbringing well enough to know just how much you disliked being treated as such.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. A pool of sadness brimmed his eyes as he evaluates the damage. From one corner of the room to the other, pictures were left scattered and discarded. The framed drawings of him that you illustrated, sat on the floor of your bedroom, frame cracked and shattered. The Polaroids he held ever so dearly to his heart, littered the bed and floor. He broke down in tears when he sees the torn picture of you both.

How could you vandalize such a treasured memory. But then again, how could he hurt the most precious thing in his life. Seeing the picture ripped apart like this, he knew that somehow he affected your perspective on this whole relationship. His previous words had tainted such beloved memories, and twisted them to seem like nothing more than a one-sided love. He made you question whether he truly loved you or not. Suddenly the realization kicked in, and it kicked in hard. A tsunami of guilt and regret pierced through is heart. His insides churned and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He suddenly became really aware of how dire this situation was. His following actions may break your relationship if he didn't act wisely.

Peter bends down to hold your piece of the puzzle, a river flow of heart ache cascading down his cheeks, wetting the captured image of you. Your sobs, which had begun to sound like cries of help, due to lack of air, rang threw Peter's ears. Suddenly he grew extremely concerned and rushed to the door, dropping your image.

Immediately, you stop when you heard soft knocks coming from the other end of the door, which was soon followed by cries and sniffling sounds.

"Baby, open the door!" You don't comply with his words and stayed seated in your place, hugging your knees tighter.

"W-what are you gonna do if i don't? Pick the lock and violate my privacy! Just go away P-peter! W-why don't you go find another girl to replace me, because apparently, i-i mean nothing to you!" Screaming at the inanimate door, or more so the person behind it, as you let out a cut short wail. You hated yourself for how weak and broken you sounded. Wishing, you could drown out his stupid words that had already engraved itself deep in your brain.

"Y-you said s-so yourself! I'm easily replaceable! I-if i had known that this relationship was just gonna be one sided then i would've never wasted my time!" Apparent in your tone and words how truly distraught you were, Peter cried harder, cold sweats engulfing his body. He winced at the thought of how broken you were. It only lead him to wonder, what exactly happened and what brought on this fight. Sounding more so a statement rather than a question in his head.

He parted his lips softly, a small whimpering sigh rolling off his tongue.

"Please y/n, just open the door. I-i just want to see you. Please... I-I need to know that you're okay...." his words laced with mixed emotions, such as sorrow and remorse. Despite his current emotional state, Peter's stature looked anything else but composed. God, he was freaking out..

Incoherently mumbling a soft 'please' as he laid his forehead onto the wood door. His hand resting above his head, fist balled tightly, as if ready to start pounding. He was desperate, eyes screwing shut tightly causing a flow of tears to glide down his cheeks. Peter's jaw clenched tightly in frustration, as he beat himself over and over again for saying such things.

After much hesitance, you stood up and made your way to the door. Peter hears the small shuffle and quickly straightens himself out. After seconds of hovering your hand over the knob, you twist it open, instantly unlocking itself and setting free all the pent up emotions. You crack open the door, almost immediately, Peter rushes in and hugs you.

You don't return the hug, silently stiffening in his arms. At that moment, the last few bits of composure you had built back up snaps loose. You become a crying mess in Peter's arms. Feelings of unmeasurable sadness cascade down your cheeks, onto his black long sleeve shirt. You try and push him away, but fail due to his strength. His muscular arms constricting you as if you would fade away.

"Listen to me please." He says softly, tears lightly streaming down his cheeks, though, not to the caliber of yours.

You sniffle lightly, thrashing in his arms. Though, it was no use, his hold was so secure that no amount of resistance would break you free. So, you could do nothing else but endure what he has to say.

"I'm sorry-

Sorry doesn't fix anything Peter, it's just a word!" The teary-eyed male hissed at your words. The amount of hurt and venom your tone held was enough to make his jaw clench and his hold to tighten.

"I know it doesn't, but it's a start. L-look, i didn't mean to say that. I don't know what came over me, or what caused me to say those things. But what i do know is that they were a hundred percent untrue. And i want you to know that..." He pauses briefly to wipe away your tears with his thumb. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your floral scent, hoping it would help him regain composure. You feel a tug on your heart at how utterly hurt and small he sounded.

"I love you with all my heart, and that you are the most unique girl I've ever met... If anything i don't know how i even managed to get a girlfriend as beautiful and amazing as you..... Wanna know why I'm with you?" You nod lightly into his chest. His hold readjust itself as he lays his head above yours. Almost content with your slight gesture, but he needed to be sure you were happy.

"It's because you accept me for who i am. You don't pressure me to be perfect all the time, you welcome my flaws with open arms; don't expect anything from me and shower me with so much love everyday... I want you to know that i could never replace you, not that i would ever want to. How did i ever get so lucky... Please y/n, you are one of the most important people in my life.... I-i can't loose you too..." Peter couldn't fathom a future with out you in it. He grew frantic, thinking that this day could be the last together. And that there would be a slight chance that you didn't want to forgive him again. He couldn't let that happen...

"Please say something...." He sighed whilst tears brimmed his eyes, taking your tightening hold on his shirt to keep moving forward.

"Do you remember when we first started dating, that night i texted you that i was frustrated and my anxiety was acting up... And you came over in a heart beat, even though you lived fifteen minutes away... Y-you told me to let it all out, and i cried in your arms for an hour, complaining about everything. I felt so ashamed for crying in front of you, but you told me that i was so brave for accepting my feelings... I know what i said must've hurt you a lot, but I'll do better... I'm sorry for triggering you like that." Peter's tone was barely above whisper, and if he hadn't have said it directly above your ear, you would've missed it. There he was... your Peter....

You thought back to the said memory and smiled fondly, that was the night you both realized that you wanted a more serious title on your relationship. Finally labeling each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. You thought back to all the happy memories you both shared and confirmed that a silly little fight wouldn't get the best of you. Yes, his words might've hurt, but his actions now out ways all of his petty insults. You give into your flourishing heart and forgive him.

Backing away from his chest lightly, you look up at him, gasping slightly at his blood shot eyes. You hesitatly reach up to cup both of his cheeks. Wiping away the remaining tears that streamed down his face. He smiled lightly and leaned into your touch, taking one of your hands in his and place a soft, delicate kiss on it.

"We'll be okay...." You smiled at his comforting words before planting a passionate, loving kiss on his lips. Peter smiled lightly before taking your wrist on his hold and guiding them to wrap around his neck. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer by your waist.

It was then that he realized that he wanted you to be the only women in his life. And that he wanted nobody else. Suddenly feeling an overly compelling urge in his heart to make up for his actions overcomes him. He was determined to trap you in his web of love again. He couldn't loose you too...

You smile in content, 

          portraying the victim always worked...

'Indeed, we'll be just fine.....'

Perhaps they were both awful people, fooling each other with the reality they both created. But it was done with the intent of love, sick twisted love... He was possessive and she was insecure. And together they were toxin and venom... God forbid anything that tries to get in between them...

_____________

End Note:

For those that don't understand, take notice in Peter's words and how drastically different they are from when he was mad to when he was apologizing. Sweet at first glance but if you really dig deep you'd notice how sugar coated everything seemed, like he's saying what you want to hear. And as for the Reader, I purposely left out how much she contributed to the fight in the beginning to make it seem as though she was the victim, when in reality she was also at fault. The anxiety aspect of this story was very much 'real' since I described what it felt like for me and I wanted her to suffer from anxiety yet have something be a little off. Now, I'm not claiming that the bedroom part was a whole scene to feed her victim persona, but that's up to how you want to view it. This story is subjective and can be taken however way you want to.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker scenarios #dark!marvel #dark!mcu #dark!peter #dark!peter parker #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel avengers #marvel angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spider man: far from home #spiderman angst #yandere peter parker #toxic love #toxic friends #toxic people #toxic relationship #venom x spiderman #spiderman smut

[scarletwinterxx]

Coming Home pt. 2

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here. 

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

 PART ONE || TWO || THREE || FOUR || FIVE || FINALE ||  BONUS

“This place looks nice” Mark said for the third time since we got to Jaehyun’s apartment building

We’re waiting for Jaehyun to answer the door, deciding to drop by early since Mark wanted to see Chae Yoon.

“Hyung can you please hurry up” Mark said through the intercom, the door opening with a Jaehyun wearing a bright red polka-dot apron and a smile

“Why do you look like that?” Mark asked the older one

“I’m cooking breakfast for Chae, hey” he said nodding my way, “She’s up already?” I said as we enter his apartment

Apart from the furniture he needs there weren’t a lot of stuff in his place. The only thing that makes this place look likes it’s Jaehyun’s is the electric keyboard in his living room.

It’s his hobby; he likes to play when he’s not that busy or just to relieve some stress. It was one of the few things he took from our then shared apartment

“Wow hyung, your place looks great”

I chuckled at my younger brother who is happily looking around like a puppy exploring a new place, “He’s been saying that since we rode the elevator” I told Jaehyun making him laugh at the younger one

“It’s okay, you want some pancakes?” he asked us, Mark nodding his head in agreement.

At the same time the baby monitor went off, signalling that Chae woke up

“I’ll go get her” Mark said before neither Jaehyun or I say something

“The door on the left” Jaehyun said with a chuckle, my brother already skipping away

“Is he really in college? He looks like a kid” Jaehyun said from where we has standing, infront of the stove flipping some pancakes

“He’s my baby forever, let him be” I say then sat on the stool by the counter

“You baby proofed the place?” I asked, noticing little details around the room. The electric sockets were covered, sharp corners were covered and no stuff was laying around where Chae Yoon could reach it

“Yea, tried as best as I could. The landlord was planning to give me a bigger place with stairs but I told her I have a baby that just learned how to crawl so it’s a big no no”

“She’s starting to stand up too” I said, making Jaehyun smile a bit

“Don’t remind me, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad she’s growing up too fast” he answered, setting the cooked pancakes on a plate before putting them infront of me. I took them to the table, while he gathers utensils

“Next thing you know she’s telling us she’s going on a date” I teased him, the smile was replaced with a frown

“She’s not allowed to date until she’s 30” I turned to look at him with a raised brow

“So you’re that kind of parent”

“I mean she can date when she can make a decision for herself and make the right judgements, there that sounds better. But you best believe I will be there on her first date” his statement making me bust out a laugh

“If she’s anything like you then you’d be in trouble”

“I’m not that bad, I’ve dated like one girl. And that was you incase you forget” he said, pointing the spatula at me. I rolled my eyes at him, 

“She’ll be breaking hearts left and right”

“I wasn’t like that! what are you talking about?” I can’t help but laugh at his reaction

“Yea right, I can’t even count how many confession you turned down. Do you even remember all those letters they leave in your locker during valentines day” I stated, recalling the old memories

“All those cards and only one says happy birthday”

It was from me, it was no secret that people leave gifts by Jaehyun’s locker every year during valentines. No one just ever left birthday gifts from him. 

“You’re welcome” it was now his turn to roll his eyes

“At least tell me you’ll choose a seat four spaces away from Chae and her date” I said, enjoying the conversation we were having

“Three, and they’re sitting on opposite sides”

“What are you two laughing about?” Mark asked from behind us, making us turn to him. Our daughter already reaching out for Jaehyun

“We were talking about Chae going to her first date” I said taking a seat on the table while Mark sat beside me and Jaehyun across from us and Chae Yoon on her high chair

“Does hyung know her little crush over Jeno?” Mark asked no one in particular, I looked over at Jaehyun who has a confused look on his face.

“What crush? She’s a baby, she doesn’t know what that even is” Jaehyun defensively said making me chuckle

“He’s talking about how whenever Jeno is around, her eyes just follows him, quite literally too. One time she swatted Mark away from Jeno” I told him as I cut up the pancake into smaller pieces to give to my daughter

“Maybe she finds him cute, that adorably eye smile and all” Mark mumbled, the frown on Jaehyun’s face getting more prominent

“Stop saying that, you’re going to give Jae wrinkles if he keeps on frowning like that” I pointed to the guy sitting across from us

“I was joking! Kind of, I mean she does look at him like he’s the most fascinating thing” Mark said inbetween chuckles

“Okay enough talks of that, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there” Jaehyun mumbled, pushing a pancake in Mark’s direction to shut him up.

After hanging out at Jaehyun’s place for a couple more hours, Mark needed to go back to university. His friends on their way to pick him up, they all decided to go home for the weekend and carpool together since they’re roommates anyways.

“Nice place hyung, definitely will hang out when I get back” Mark said as Jaehyun walk us out. Chae Yoon in her stroller hugging the bear given by her dad when she was born

“Sure, give me a call when you visit. You already know, call me when you need anything” he said directing the second half of his statement to me.

“Will do, come on you still need to pack” I told Mark, saying my goodbye to Jaehyun.

This has been the set up we’ve been doing for the past five months, Chae Yoon spends the weekends with him when he doesn’t have any work to do. He either drive over to pick her up or I go over to take her.

It’s been a good system for us. If we’re being honest, we did it for the both of us.

It was hard trying to make something work when we both knew we were already on the edge. Jaehyun wasn’t the type to give up, but his actions told me otherwise. That’s how I knew we had to call it off.

I can’t be the selfish one and ask him to stay when he didn’t want to. I knew it was nothing against being a father to Chae Yoon but entirely about being my fiancé. So I made the decision to break it off. It did break my heart, I still have a hard time reminding myself the once promised future of us being together is not there anymore.

But my daughter comes first, above anything. I didn’t have a doubt that he’s trying to be the best father to our daughter, and he is. There is no one in this world that loves her the way Jaehyun does.

The moment she was born in this world he was a goner. The way he cried and said a silent thank you to me when they laid tiny Chae Yoon in his arms, I knew she would have someone to love her for the rest of her life.

I also realized I love Jaehyun too much to tie him down like that, it was always a push and pull with him. Back in our high school years, he was the popular but down to Earth kid. He knew people talked about him, he also knew almost no one was immune to his charms. I took pride in the way his eyes light up when he see me in the crowd or the way he always shoots a salute my way before his game starts or the way he can’t let go of me after a very long tiring day because he needed cuddles or the way he whispered I love you in my ear in the middle of a party just because he felt like saying it.

I’ve seen Jaehyun in lights that no one ever has, I was with him through the ups and downs. I always tried to catch up with him, I just realized now that I probably never will. I also realized how I never ask why he once never asked me if I was keeping up or was I okay with the steps he was hurriedly taking.

I’m not mad.

Deep in my mind I’ve always known I loved him more that he loved me.  

After what felt like the longest weekend ever, I was back at the office. Buried in piles of paper work that needed approval and signatures.

“Hey Y/N, the digital artist from Japan is here. You have a meeting with him?” my co-worker, Wendy said. I looked up from the drafts I was currently reading

 “Oh he’s here? I thought the design department said they will have an on-boarding meeting with him first?”

“They said they’ll do it after you” she shrugged then passed me the folder

“Okay, I’ll be there give me a minute”

I stood up from my chair and made my way to the meeting room Wendy told me where the new hire was waiting, “Hi, sorry for the wait. I wasn’t expecting you” I told him when I enter the room.

He immediately stood up shaking his head, “It’s fine, I wasn’t waiting long”

“Right well take a seat, the head of our design department recommend you himself so he must trust your work. We’re glad you could make it here”

“Yes, well I actually live here I just visited my hometown for a while. I’m Nakamoto Yuta by the way” he said then extended his hand out which I gladly shook

“Lee Y/N, Taeyong has told me a lot about your work. We’re very happy to have you in our team”

After the meeting, I was back in my desk tied down to a bunch of paperwork.

I do love my job, I have enough time to focus on my daughter and also grow my career. I was lucky to be given this chance and I wasn’t going to let it pass.

After a long a couple of weeks of the same routine: go to work, go home to Chae, take Chae to her dad.

One weekend Jaehyun called that he was on his way up to the apartment, taking Chae back to me after his weekend with her.

“Hey Y/N” He greeted me with a smile when I opened the door,

“Hi”

“and hello to you beautiful girl, how was your weekend?” I said to the excited little lady who was reaching out for me

“She was trying to walk all over the place. I bolted every furniture I had in my apartment just to be safe” Jaehyun answered as he put her stuff in the living room with me following behind him

“Oh right I still need to do that”

“Do you need help? I can come over some time next next week maybe”

“Next next week?” I asked

“I have a business trip to Japan this Friday until Tuesday next week. Too bad I can’t be with her next weekend” he explained, I nodded along completely understanding his work schedule

“By the way is my box of documents still here, I’ve been meaning to get it” he asked, “It’s probably in the office, I haven’t really touched anything there so things are the way you left it” just as I say it an emotion crossed his face, it went quickly as it came. I almost wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t looking at him

“Thanks, can I?” he asked gesturing to the office at the end of the hall “you lived here too, go” I chuckled. He shot me a quick smile before walking in the direction of his old home office.

I was playing with Chae Yoon when I hear Jaehyun call out my name

“What is it? You didn’t find it?” I asked him when he walked back to the living room

“I did, I was just going to say we have this company party tomorrow. I know it’s very short notice and it’s a Monday but if it’s okay with you, will you come with me?” he asked, eyes staring straight into mine

“Me?” I asked back, I sounded stupid I know but I was just confused why he wanted me to come with him

“Yes, you” he said with a small smile on, a dimple showing slightly. I almost agreed then and there.

“Why?” I asked sceptically

“Well who else would I ask? I mean you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I absolutely understand. And I know you can’t leave Chae-“

“I’ll come”

Even I was surprised by my answer, he looked like he was too.

“Okay, that’s great. I’ll come pick you up at six?”

“Sure”

We both didn’t know where the conversation was going, but suddenly Jaehyun looked behind me. I thought something bad happened but when I turned Chae Yoon was standing up by herself, about to take her very first steps

“Oh my god, Jae” I whispered, careful not to scare her

“That’s it baby girl, want to walk here?” Jaehyun calmly told our daughter, kneeling beside me so he could look at her eye to eye

A determined look was etched on Chae Yoon’s face, she put up one foot infront of the other. Still a bit wobbly

“Careful there” I mumbled, feeling a bit anxious. Jaehyun must have sensed it because he shot me an assuring smile before looking at our daughter again

“She’s fine, she can do it. Right, baby?” she squealed then suddenly took many steps straight to where Jaehyun was. She stumbled a bit but Jae had his arms waiting for her ready to catch her if she falls.

The little laughter’s she was letting out was worth everything.  

“You did it!” I told her, giving her cheek a little squish. The proudest look on my face, I didn’t notice Jaehyun was just staring at me

When our eyes met, a small smile was on his lips

“Thank you” he whispered.

I didn’t need an explanation, I already knew what he was saying thank you for.

It was for this little girl who had become the center of both our universe the moment we knew of her existence. The late night drives to the convenient stores when I was craving something, the early morning sickness and terrible nausea, the sudden outburst of tears I had because of hormones, the back pains, the tears, all of that was worth it.

We had a silent agreement, even after all of the things we went through we would gladly do it again if it means we’ll end up in this moment right here.

Chae Yoon was, is and forever will be worth all of it. 

 “Oooh how about this dress?” Wendy asked while holding out a yellow flowy dress

“It’s a company dinner, not a picnic. Cute dress though” I said then continued to browse through my closet

“I know, can I borrow this?” chuckling at her question I looked around the row of clothes in front of me

“Maybe I should just cancel, I don’t have anything to wear”

“You’re standing in the middle of your walk-in closet, what are you talking about?”

Okay maybe I was just looking for an excuse not to come. After thinking about it all night, it just dawned on me now that this will be the first event Jae and I will be attending since we broke up.

I tried so hard to get some sleep but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Also Chae Yoon decided to wake up at 5am, I didn’t have the time to put her back to sleep before I needed to go to the office.

And now I’m here, I asked Wendy for some help to pick out my clothes and look after Chae Yoon while I get ready

“Chae Yoon-ah, look at your mommy getting all nervous about her date with your dad” she told the baby playing with her blocks on the carpeted floor

“It’s not a date”

“He asked you to be his date, Y/N” she deadpanned, I was trying to think of an excuse but she had be backed up on a corner with her statement

“Not to sound rude, but why did he ask you?”

“I asked him the same thing” I mumbled, picking out a long fitted dress with straps and a slit on the leg

“How about this one?” I asked holding out the dress to show her

“Yes that one, perfect. So back to my question”

I sighed, putting the dress on the lounge chair, picking out shoes to match with the dress

“He didn’t say why, he just said why not”

“That’s a lame answer” she muttered, making faces at Chae Yoon. The little one giggled, holding her hands to her face.

“It’s just a friendly invitation, he didn’t have anyone to ask that’s probably why”

“Are you two sure you’re done?”

Her question made me stop on my spot, for a moment I wasn’t sure.

“Of course. We’ve talked about it. He moved out”

“That’s not what I mean though, yes he moved out and yes you literally called the engagement off so why are you two acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Are you serious? Like you two are still together, Y/N. The getting him dinner, driving you home, asking you to be his date”

“He’s Chae’s father. I can’t just completely erase him from my life, whether we mean it or not we’ll always be in each other’s life so we could be there for her”

“I know that, and you two are doing such a great job at being her parents. But it’s not your job to care for him anymore”

“I can’t just stop caring about him”

“You can’t but you don’t have to give so much to him when you don’t have to anymore. I love you I really do, but don’t you think it’s about time to live a life that didn’t revolve around him?”

I knew she had a point, what was the use of being broken up when we still do things like this. In my mind I keep repeating that I’m doing this as a friend.

But I don’t really know how to be just his friend.

“I don’t mean to pry in your business, I just want you to be happy and guard your heart”

I shot her a grateful smile, fully understanding that she meant well.

Her words where ringing in my head for the rest of the night, even after Wendy bid goodbye after helping me get ready.

I was just reading a book to Chae when the door bell rang, “Looks like you have a visitor, little lady” I mumbled, putting her down. She immediately stood up and tried to walk to the door on her own. Of course I was close behind her, ready to catch her just in case. 

I opened the door, I swear I doesn’t matter how long I’ve known Jaehyun because he can still steal my breath away. 

He looked good, wearing an all black suit with a white dress shirt. His hair did differently from its everyday style. And of course his most attractive accessory couldn’t be forgotten, his smile. 

“Hey” he said when I opened the door, he looked down at the baby who is now holding onto his leg

“Hey you, are causing trouble running around like that?” he playfully asked Chae then took her in his arms peppering kisses all over her face.

“I think I have to put cushions all over the house at this point, come in” I told him, holding the door open for him

“I have a few more of those covers you can put on corners of table and stuff like that, I’ll bring it over when I get back”

“Thanks, I’ll just get her bag so we can leave” I was leaving her to my neighbor while we go to the party. I packed an over night bag just in case I stay out too late, and in case of any emergency

We walked over the apartment across from mine, waiting for Unnie to open the door

“Is that Chae Yoonie?” she called out from the other side of the door before opening it

“Hi- Oh hi Jaehyun, I haven’t seen you in a while” she said when she saw it was Jaehyun holding Chae Yoon

“Nice to see you too, Noona. You sure you can handle her, she can walk now” he jokingly said

“I heard! I’m so excited to see her run around, and you already know I love having her around. Don’t worry about it, go enjoy your night” She said with a smile on

“Here, all of her stuff is in there. Can’t forget about her favorite bear” I said while handing over her the bag and Chae’s favorite stuffed toy

“You’ll be good for Unnie, right Chae? I’ll see you later” I told my daughter giving her a quick kiss. Jaehyun did the same before passing her to Unnie. 

“You two have fun, okay? Bye” we bid goodbye then made our way to the elevator

We didn’t say much, a comfortable silence while we make our way to his car. 

“Thanks by the way, for coming tonight” he said when we started to exit the parking area and out into the streets

“No problem” I answered,a small smile on my face. 

“You look great, by the way” I just chuckled at his statement, already seeing the redness starting to show on his ears. One thing he can never hide. 

“Thank you, I see you decided to go with the bangs up hairstyle”

“The what?”

“You know, that hairstyle. The I’m the boss here kind of hairstyle” I said pointing at his styled hair, he was just smiling at me. probably finding my statement weird, 

“Oh yea? Do I look cute?” he asked making me roll my eyes

“You’re a dork” i muttered, making him laugh out loud

“I’ll take that as a yes” he said then we were back to the comfortable silence. 

In that moment I realized just what Wendy meant when she asked me are we really done being together

This night so far is not helping me clarify the blurred questions I’ve been thinking about. 

I just knew I was in it for a long night. 

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