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whats-k-popping · 2 years

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I hope I'm not too late to send in some prompts for a drabble! I've been wanting to, but I was reluctant to send something from my account without anon. I'm so glad you turned on anon asks!

If you're still open to writing more drabbles, could you do something with number 11? I was thinking a carsickness scenario. Maybe JK as the sickie and he's confused because he doesn't usually get carsick? Any caretaker!

Thanks for the request, anon. I'm again so sorry that it took me so long to realize that my anon asks weren't on. Hope your not too disappointed that this isn't a drabble by my standards.

Pairing: Namkook - platonic intentions but open interpretation || feat. Yoongi and Jimin

Prompt: "No. I kind of feel like I'm going to throw up."

Words: 2051

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Illness || Motion Sickness || Vom!iting

Jungkook and Namjoon are in the same car on the way to an award show in the states. They are nominated in a few different categories and Jungkook is practicing his acceptance speech in English. He had written what he wanted to say in Korean and Namjoon had been kind enough to translate it for him. Now it's just a matter of memorizing it. His English has gotten better over the years, so reading it comes easily. Even though he doesn't fully understand what each word means, he trusts that Namjoon was able to capture his emotions in the translation.

"It is a hour," Jungkook reads.

"Honor," Namjoon corrects.

Jungkook scribbles a quick note in his notebook before starting over "It is a honor just to be invited. We are so grateful to ARMY, and to everyone who has supported…" he continues reading what's written.

Namjoon praises Jungkook once he gets the end of the speech, "sounds great, JK. Keep practicing."

So Jungkook goes again. Reading the speech as it's written on the paper. He wants it to sound fluid, not like a paragraph he's memorized in an hour. He wants it to sound authentic, because even though it's not his language, it's his words. It's his raw emotion he wants to share with the world, if they receive the award, anyway.

Jungkook is halfway through his fifth run through when the paper starts to swirl in front of him. The words are turning and rippling on the page. It's making his head spin and his eyes hurt. He clamps them shut, thinking that will make it stop.

"Jungkook, everything okay?" Namjoon's curiosity piqued when the younger stopped reading mid-sentence. He shifts to concern when he notices the maknae squinting.

"I'm fine, just got a little dizzy for a second." He keeps his eyes pinched shut.

Namjoon shoves a protein bar into the maknae's hand. Award shows are stressful times, especially in foreign countries. "Here, eat something." The leader assumes Jungkook's just hungry. They have been eating lighter meals throughout the week in preparation for tonight.

Jungkook leans back against the seat before he opens his eyes. He doesn't trust himself without support at the moment. When he finally opens his eyes, his vision isn't spinning. Everything seems normal. The rhythmic pulsing behind his eyes is gone too.

He's not really hungry, but he thinks the protein might help with the lightheadedness. So he opens it and takes a few bites. "Thanks, hyung." He's truly grateful to share a car with Namjoon. He feels better once he finishes the snack and goes back to memorizing his speech.

But when he looks back at the notebook, it starts again. The lines on the paper make him dizzy, his vision is blurring in and out. Dark spots float across his field of view. The pulsing in his head returns and it's accompanied by a rolling in his stomach.

He closes the notebook and belches, it leaves the familiar taste of the protein bar in his mouth. This has never happened to him before. He assumes he's getting sick. And it's absolutely the worst time for that.

"Hyung, do I have a fever?" Jungkook asks as he leans against the seat, curling an arm around his stomach. He tilts his head a bit toward Namjoon.

Namjoon presses his hand against Jungkook's forehead. It feels normal. "You feel fine to me. Are you okay?" He's again instantly concerned. They're only half an hour away from the venue with no time to make an official statement about anything. This is the worst possible time for Jungkook to fall sick.

Jungkook burps again, "No. I kind of feel like I'm going to throw up." He whimpers at the nausea settling in his stomach.

Namjoon scoots closer to the maknae. He can hear Jungkook's stomach gurgling as he settles himself closer. "You haven't been hiding this have you?" He accuses. Jungkook's not the type to get so sick so suddenly. There's usually a build-up period that the maknae tends to ignore until it's too late. He's been scolded multiple times for it.

But Jungkook shakes his head earnestly. He had been feeling fine. And as stubborn as he can be, he wouldn't risk anything that could taint their image at an American award show. They've worked too hard to be recognized on a global scale. He doesn't want to do anything that might embarrass them. "Honest, hyung. I felt fine until like 5 minutes ago." The maknae burps again followed by a whimper. He doesn't like feeling sick. "Now, I'm just feeling so sick."

Namjoon digs around for a sick bag. The group is full of members who get carsick. They have to have something on hand he can be sick into. He can't have Jungkook ruining his suit. As soon as they arrive, cameras will be pointed in their direction. They can't risk the bad press.

Thankfully, he finds some bags shoved into the pocket in the back of the passenger's seat. He readies it for Jungkook. "Did you eat something bad?"

"Only thing I've eaten today was that protein bar." The statement is punctuated by a sour hiccup. Jungkook holds his head over the bag in expectation. He can feel it won't be long.

And it's not. The car hits a particularly nasty pot hole and the jolt forces everything out of Jungkook. First comes the protein bar. Then it's watery and swirled with bile. A third heave is pure unsettled acid. Burning, putrid acid that stings his nose when he tries to breathe.

He spits out the chunks left in his mouth and rinses it as best as he can in the back of a moving vehicle. He ties off the bag and leans back in the seat, hands on his stomach.

"Feel better?" Namjoon asks tenderly, placing a hand on the maknae's knee and squeezing lightly.

He doesn't know if better is the right word. He feels empty. He feels his nausea with less urgency. But there's still a lingering unwellness. There's still the feeling that if he could throw up more, he would. And the vibrations of the vehicle are doing nothing to help it. So Jungkook just shrugs and closes his eyes. He wills the world to stop moving.

The leader just wants to know if Jungkook will be okay. He pulls out his phone, intending to call a manager. But by instinct he rings Yoongi. Thankfully, the older rapper answers quickly.

He doesn't let Yoongi get a word in, "Hyung, Jungkook's getting sick." He hurries out, "like he's throwing up. What should I do?"

"He seemed fine at the hotel," Jimin's worried voice fills his ear. It sounds distant. He assumes he's on speaker. So Namjoon puts his phone on speaker too. Maybe if Jungkook hears the comforting words of his hyungs, he'll feel better.

"He was fine earlier too. Then he started feeling dizzy and lightheaded while he was studying his speech." Namjoon explains. "Then he started puking."

"Does he have a fever or anything?" Yoongi asks, trying to narrow down the possibilities.

"None," Namjoon supplies quickly.

There's some whispering on the other line. Jungkook knows they're talking about him. Finally, Yoongi talks into the phone, "He might be carsick."

Jungkook's offended by the very idea. He doesn't want to join the conversation, still focused on calming his roiling stomach. But he won't stand for that diagnosis. He has a stomach of steel. Jeon Jungkook doesn't get sick from simple car rides. "I don't-" He's cut off by a particularly sour belch, "I don't get carsick."

"There's a first time for everything, Kookie." Jimin replies; Jungkook groans.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of." Yoongi adds, "Jimin and I get carsick sometimes, too."

"And Hobi-hyung too. He gets motion sick a lot." Jimin adds, trying to console the stubborn maknae.

Jungkook continues to fight the diagnosis. But cogs turn in Namjoon head and he doesn't disagree with the possibility that it is just a case of motion sickness. Thinking back, he realizes it all started when Jungkook was looking through his notebook. Namjoon knows he can't read in the car because it makes him dizzy. Maybe Jungkook has the same problem.

But he knows it's useless to argue with Jungkook. So he decides to test the theory. "Jungkook-ah," he addresses the maknae. Jungkook looks at him. He picks up the notebook and asks Jungkook to read his speech.

It hardly seems like the time to practice the speech. He's not even sure he'll be able to sit through the award show. But he does what he's told. He swipes the notebook and turns to the page his speech is written on. But when he looks down at the words, the various letters swim through his vision. He can't focus enough to see where one word ends and another begins. It makes his stomach flip and churn in a sickly way.

There's a wet belch that Jungkook tries to stifle. But Namjoon hears it and grabs a second sick bag. He hands it to Jungkook just in time for him to be sick. Jimin and Yoongi are still on speaker. They can hear every retch. Jimin's cooing in sympathy.

Namjoon is comforting him physically while the voices on the phone provide moral support. "It's the reading." Namjoon concludes, "you can't read in the car. It's making you nauseous."

There's nothing left in him to vomit. Every heave is dry and tight, squeezing his abdomen in the most uncomfortable way. When Jungkook lifts his head, he wipes away a tear of effort. "How do I make it stop?" He's not even fighting the diagnosis anymore.

"Put a window down," Jimin supplies his go to cure for motion sickness, "get some fresh air."

"Lay down, try to rest." Yoongi adds his, "and don't look at any words."

"I have some motion sickness medicine with me. I can give you some when we meet up." Jimin notes.

"Won't that be too late?" Namjoon adds, "he's already sick. And we won't be moving in the theater."

"It'll be better than nothing. We can get him something to eat too. But not until he's out of the car. Don't let him eat anything while he's still feeling sick." Yoongi advises, "how long until you guys arrive?"

"About 20 minutes probably." Namjoon checks the driver's GPS.

"Okay, have Jungkook rest until then. Call a manager and have the driver drop you off in the back. Jimin and I will meet you there and get his stomach settled. Then we can go back around for an official entrance." Yoongi plans. He's so good at it, so calm and collected. Namjoon sometimes wonders why he isn't the leader. Yoongi always excels in handling unexpected situations.

"Okay, hyung. Thanks." He disconnects the call. They can't put the windows all the way down; they are in a public city. But Namjoon cracks them just to circulate some fresh air. Then he maneuvers the maknae to rest his head on his lap.

Jungkook slips easily into his hyung's lap, keeping his eyes closed and smoothing a hand over his stomach. He's not reading anymore. He thinks it should stop hurting. He wants it to stop hurting.

Namjoon has his phone in one hand, working out arrangements with a manager. The other hand finds Jungkook's stomach and helps to rub out the new cramps. Jungkook lets out a grateful moan at Namjoon's efforts. He's starting to feel better already, steadily breathing in the cool air.

His nausea is almost gone by the time they make it to the venue. As promised, Jimin and Yoongi are waiting and ready to help him when he gets there. There's a quick meal and medicine and lots of support. He touches up his hair and make-up before the hour of them make an entrance. Taehyung, Seokjin, and Hoseok are waiting for them at the media wall for group photos. Namjoon will fill them later.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. Jungkook's back to 100% in time for them to accept their award. Unfortunately, all he can do is provide overused scripted responses that he has long since memorized and casual shout outs to ARMY. But he resolves to just post his speech on Weverse later. Once he's back at the hotel, of course.

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

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#bts #bts sickfic #sick!Jungkook #caretaker!Namjoon #slight caretaker!yoongi #slight caretaker!jimin #bts canonverse #namkook #bts emeto #bts carsickness #motion sickness #tw emeto #tw vomit #aki sickfic #aki writes #aki requests

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maverick-werewolf · 2 years

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Heya! I love your blog and would like to ask a question. Say I'm writing a werewolf story set in the German witch hunt craze period, where should I start my research?

Thank you for the kind words! I'm so glad you enjoy the blog! :D

Sorry for being a bit slow to get around to this one! Things have been very busy lately.

My answer to most any werewolf-related research question would be to start with the founding elements of werewolf folklore, the best books of which I've listed and detailed a bit here.

Since you're also looking at witch hunts and that time period, I also very highly recommend Montague Summers in general. He has a translation of the Malleus Maleficarum and many excellent books on witchcraft (and vampires!) aside, as well as his one werewolf book (which has its issues; more on that in my post as well as the bibliography of my own book).

And lastly, I would also recommend this particular werewolf fact, if you haven't read it already, as it covers quite a bit regarding things like the time period of when the witch and sorcerer fever was running really high and how that relates to werewolves.

Hope this helps!

#asks #anonymous #werewolf #werewolves #research #folklore

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laz-laz-ace-pilot · 2 years

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Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody, Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Original Characters, Commander Bly, Commander Cody Additional Tags: echo-centric, bad batch are in it very briefly, fives and rex are largely in flashbacks, more troopers when we get there, Angst with a Happy Ending, Echo is a badass, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo is a Little Shit, Fix-It of Sorts, echo loves his reg brothers, Separatist original characters, Canon-compliant violence, Mental Health Issues, They get better, Descriptions of Injury, Past Torture, Slavery, Echo kicks Sheev's wrinkly ass, Physical Disability, Disability, negative attitudes to disability, implied sex work, blink-and-you'll-miss-it transphobia, Nejj is a trans man btw, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, discussion of sexual violence Summary:

In the wake of Order 66, Echo decides to leave the Bad Batch and tries to save his other, forgotten brothers. While on the search for survivors, he must come to terms with the traumas of his past and the legacy of his lost brother Fives - and has to do so quickly if he is to secure a future for his clone brothers and avoid the wrath of the Empire.

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yesttoheaven · 3 years

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AMOR FATI

pairing – neil x female!reader

wc – 3.8k

warnings – mention of death, self-blame, anxious/intrusive thoughts, questioning reality, refusal of help, guns, stalking, but I swear there's a light at the end of the tunnel haha

a/n – The last time I suffered so hard for the death of a character, was when Newt died (Maze Runner) and now Neil has captured all my attention and his death has hit me in the same way 😩 I needed a happy ending so I decided to write this!

The Eternal Return and Amor Fati mentioned in this fic are one of the main ideas of Nietzsche's philosophy.

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

She approached the painting hanging on the wall, watching the details closely. Ouroboros. A serpent eating its own tail. Months ago, when Y/N was visiting an antique store in Mumbai, she saw that same symbol. The owner of the establishment approached when she realized her interest in the piece and explained that Ouroboros represents the ideas of movement, continuity and, in consequence, Eternal Return. A concept that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space.

"Max finally fell asleep." Kat returned to the living room, attracting Y/N's attention.

She walked away from the painting, taking back her seat on the sofa and asked:

"How is he after everything that happened?"

For a moment, Kat looked at the painting on the wall and then at the friend she won in the midst of confusion over the Algorithm. At that time, despite being fighting on the front lines to prevent a possible Third World War, Y/N seems complete. Happy. Today that happiness no longer exists in her eyes.

Letting out a sigh, the woman sat next to her, answering:

"Sator was never a present father. He was always busy... now i can see the kind of work he was involved in. Anyway, Max just got used to his absence."

"It's notable that he's happier at your side. When we first met Max was a bit of an introvert, but today he is radiant." Y/N confessed, showing a small smile and the blonde shook her head, agreeing with her words. "How's everything?"

"Perfectly well. It's weird sometimes... After years of being stuck in a failed relationship, freedom is good."

"It seems like life is good for one of us." The woman let out a bitter laugh, putting the latest events on a scale, but she didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t happy for her. She really was. "I'm sorry, I just..." The words remain stuck in her throat, while she covers her face with her hands. In addition to physical and mental fatigue, Y/N tried to hide her grief.

Kat touched her shoulder, showing that she was here.

"I know you're hurt, but it's been three months and you never talked about what happened that day... This is not good for you."

"What do I have to say, Kat? The guy I fell in love with was a fucking time traveler! And now he's dead and I don't know what to do. My life just... stopped without him."

"I can imagine how difficult it's for you to cross that line without Neil at your side, but giving up is not an option. Grief is consuming you little by little and you are just accepting it..."

"We are trained to contain our emotions and deal with death in the best possible way. It used to be easy for me, but then he came and turned my life upside down." Y/N put her hands on her knees and stood up, walking without an exact destination. "Neil was always one step ahead of us all..." She stepped forward too and found the painting again, but her mind was lost in thoughts about him. Neil knew her so well. And he had a charming smile, but completely arrogant at the same time. "I was sent to Mumbai to help two agents and when I arrived at Priya's penthouse that night, there he was. When he saw me, that was the first and only time that he let his guard down. I'll never forget how he looked at me, it was one of those breathtaking moments... Completely cliché, I know."

On the sofa, Kat was impressed. When Y/N turned towards her, there was a bright smile on her face. The simple memory brought her a breath of happiness and Kat enjoyed seeing her friend like that, but unfortunately that moment did not last long. Memories aren't enough. Neil is dead and nothing can change that.

"I miss him so much, Kat." The smile disappeared as soon as tears appeared in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks.

"My dear..." Worried about her, the woman got up quickly and approached Y/N, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I'm really sorry."

"I spent the last three months locked up in my a-apartment because I thought I could handle this situation on my own. At times I b-believed it was just a fever dream... Maybe I was losing my mind, but this is proof that everything was real." Through tears blurring her vision, she looked at the watch on her wrist, remembering that night.

Y/N was in a private cabin on the ship. The others were with Ives and Wheeler, going over the mission in search of any loose ends. A standard procedure. Y/N knew she should be with them, but she needed a moment alone to organize her thoughts. And that moment is now. The past few weeks had been a real mess. The inversion was difficult to explain and mainly to understand. She was used to field missions, but being an inverted soldier on the battlefield was not in her plans. Either way, she agreed to be a part of it and running away with biased assumptions was not going to help. Humanity depends on them.

Three knocking on the door caught Y/N's attention, but she remained silent, waiting for the person to give up and leave, but when it didn't, she just murmured 'Come in'.

"So, here you are." The man used a surprised tone of voice and closed the door behind him. "What will our superior think when he learns that you are running away from the briefing?"

She let out a laugh before answering in the same mood:

"Don't worry, I know this mission like the back of my hand. I just needed a moment."

"There's something wrong? Are you ok?" Neil spilled the questions quickly, visibly concerned for her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Neil." Y/N smiled at him, but looked away just seconds later, confessing: "Maybe I'm a little surprised by the situation. I have spent years dealing with terrorists, but the inversion is really not my point."

"I'm not good with advice, but someone once said to me: Don't try to understand. Certain things in the world do not need an explanation."

"It's wise advice, but I'm a methodical person. Logic has always been my ally in missions."

"A methodical person, huh?" He asked with an arrogant smile playing on his lips and she just rolled her eyes. "I know how worried you were when Sator shot Kat, but we are using the inversion to save the world and you're one of the most brilliant agents I have ever seen. Everything will be fine."

"Are you praising me?"

"What's that? Can't I praise my partner's talent?" Neil pulled up a chair to sit across from her, crossing his arms.

"In that case, thank you. Remind me to put this on my resume." Those words made him laugh and that sound could easily be compared to music in her ears.

Touching her knee, Neil added:

"We are very confident with the mission. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I cannot say that unforeseen events do not happen, but we are prepared for that." Y/N knew he was right, but this mission is the biggest one so far. It's not about saving a country. It's about saving the entire world. This was arousing insecurities in her and it was like walking in a minefield. Ironically, she was familiar with this, but not in such catastrophic proportions. "I want you to have this." The man took his watch off his wrist and handed it to her.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" The question came out as a whisper from between her lips.

It didn't make sense. Why does everything in this conversation look like a farewell?

"We will be on opposite sides tomorrow, but i want you to know... I will always be with you, Y/N."

"I saw the way he looked at you... That's how I used to look at Sator before he became a monster in my life." Kat started, running a hand through Y/N's hair. "When I was lying on that stretcher and partially drugged with the medicines, I saw him beside you... watching you sleep. There was so much love in his eyes. Love for a lifetime, Y/N. So don't do this to yourself. The way he left hurt us all, but there was nothing you or any other agent could do to change what happened at Stalask-12. Neil saved the world. This gave us a second chance. You cannot give up now. This organization needs you. And keeping your mind busy at that moment is the first step towards a fresh start."

"N-No, I can't..." She broke the hug, shaking her head in denial. "I left the organization."

"What? Don't you work for Tenet anymore? But when we first met you told me that you can't imagine working in another area... And that this is your life's work."

"Being an agent is my life's work. I was in Yemen when Tenet found me and assigned me to this mission. My only job is to make this world a less hostile place, but the motto of this organization is not what I believe, Kat. What's happened's happened. Really? It doesn't work for me." Y/N ended the sentence with drops of anger in her voice and Kat did not say a single word.

Through the newspapers, Max's mother followed what was happening in Yemen over the years – a real endless war – and knowing that Y/N was in the middle of it, makes the situation unquestionable. People died in front of her eyes. Friends of the corporation. And then some time later, Tenet arrived with a fresh start, but in the end everything remained the same. She lost Neil. It is as if her life's work never had a happy ending because the world will never stop being a hostile place.

"He knows?" It was easy for Y/N to identify who she was talking about. The Protagonist. Or just TP.

"Here's another problem. I worked with him and indirectly worked for him at the same time! God, that man created this organization! And his name remains a mystery to us all!" She pinched the tip of her nose, feeling frustrated with all the secrets that haunt this organization. "And answering your question, yes, he knows, but he did not argue about it. I was a complete mess and he was not doing very well either... He stayed in my apartment for the first month, probably to make sure I didn't do anything stupid." And Y/N would be forever grateful for that. She likes him. Just as friends, of course. TP was a reserved man, but it was he who held her when everything was falling apart. "But we've had a fight. I blamed him for what happened at Stalask-12 and since then we haven't spoken anymore."

It was easy to see that they carried more pain than they could actually bear. Y/N lost her great love and the man lost his best friend. The situation just turned into a conflict between them and that was the result.

Realizing the sadness reflected in Y/N's eyes, Kat decided to change the subject of the conversation. Keeping that thought, she smiled and pointed to the painting on the wall. Maybe that could help.

"You seemed interested in this one."

"Oh yes, in my spare time I am a lover of art and its meanings. It is really attractive the way Ouroboros is connected to the Eternal Return..."

"And Amor Fati too." Kat completed, piquing Y/N's curiosity. This part was new to her. "It's impossible to affirm the Eternal Return without loving life. We need to learn that things happen as they do. Sometimes seemingly good. Sometimes seemingly bad. We don’t always get it our way... Unless we choose that whatever way it is, is our way. When we choose to Amor Fati, to love everything that happens, to love our fate, then we will always get it our way. Because the way it is, is the way it is. Unchangable. And therefore it must be good, even if it sucks."

These words touched Y/N's heart. This was a contradiction to what she is experiencing right now. Love your fate. She would like to understand and accept what happened, she really wanted, but why is it so difficult to move on?

Because Neil is dead.

That was the only explanation for her. The end of a relationship would be more acceptable. If he were alive, things would be completely different now. However, grief is overwhelming. How could she just accept what happened?

"I... I gotta go." That was all she managed to say before picking up her bag and leave the penthouse, ignoring Kat's protests.

When the elevator doors closed, an exhausted sigh left her mouth and the instant she saw her reflection in the mirror, Y/N wanted to cry again. After three months alone, she thought visiting her friend would be a good idea. Kat was willing to help, but the problem was that Y/N is not allowing herself to be helped. As soon as the doors opened, she left the metal box and found the hotel lobby partially empty. Her watch showed it was 3:13 AM, this explains the absence of people on the street as well. In front of her car, she searched the bag for the key and coincidentally her cell phone started to vibrate. Probably the text messages were from Kat, but confusion hit Y/N the instant she looked at the identifier and saw that the messages did not belong to any of her contacts.

Stay away from the car

They put a bomb

I'm on my way

Her first reaction was to take a few steps back and look around, trying to understand what’s going on and find the person responsible for these texts, but Y/N was alone in the dark street. When she thought it might be an unnecessary prank, a black SUV approached at high speed. The car stopped just a few meters away from where she was, but that was enough to make her body freeze.

"Y/N, come on!" The man exclaimed, the urgency in his voice would have made her run immediately, but she didn't move. Her feet had frozen on the floor. This cannot be real. "Come on, get in the car! We don't have much time!" He tried again, it was possible to hear the sound of the other cars approaching.

Y/N watched in slow motion the moment he left the car and ran towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"How is this possible?" She asked in a whisper, completely lost in his blue eyes.

"It's good to see you too." Neil admitted, feeling his heart race. She looked so fragile in his arms. Very different from the last time he saw her. "We have to go." He accompanied her to the car and as soon as Y/N took the passenger seat, he returned to his seat.

For her this moment was like a fever dream, so she just looked down and started counting her fingers. One, two, three, four, five... Neil noticed, but said nothing, just kept driving. The cars were fast approaching, but he would do everything possible and impossible to get Y/N away from these people.

"Give me your cell phone." He looked at her for a brief moment, but when Y/N didn’t react, he wasn't sure if she heard it, so he just took the phone from her hand and threw it out the window. That was enough to get her out of the numbness:

"What the fuck, Neil?!"

Despite the adrenaline rushing through his body, the man laughed.

"If I found you because of your cell phone, they can too." After that, he crossed the red light and made a risky turn, trying to end this chase. "Before you ask, no, this is not a dream. Unfortunately this is very real..." Neil didn't like what he saw when he adjusted the rearview mirror. "And now they are getting ready to shoot us."

That observation put Y/N on alert and she looked back, seeing a man with an AKS-74U and another with a Beretta M12.

"If you knew it wasn't a dream, why didn't you bring an armored car?" She ran her tongue between her lips, smiling at the man beside her. Neil tried to argue, but she just took off her seat belt and picked up the Glock 19 stuck in the vest he was wearing.

Y/N crawled out of the car and sat at the window opening. This encouraged the men in the two cars to start shooting, trying desperately to hit her. Neil shouted something that she couldn't understand and then she felt one of his hands on her thigh, giving her stability to continue with the plan. With her arm resting on the roof of the vehicle, Y/N aimed the gun at the car that was closest to them. Her intention was not to start a firefight in the middle of one of the main avenues in the city, but she had no other option. Holding her breath, she fired the first shot and the bullet hit the tire, taking the car out of circulation. Y/N celebrated while preparing for the second car, but dealing with this one was not an easy task. Now they were in a tunnel and, consequently, losing speed because of the other cars that came along the way. Neil left two pats on her leg, indicating that she had better get back in the car and that is what she did. Screams, honks and gunshots echoed through the tunnel, turning the place into a war zone. Whoever these men were, Y/N knew they weren't going to give up.

Tired of playing cat and mouse, she went to the back seat, getting on her knees. Through the broken glass above the trunk, Y/N adjusted the aim of her gun, ignoring the sniper and focusing on the driver. With another accurate shot, the bullet hit the man's chest and he lost control of the vehicle. The car overturned for a while, streaking the asphalt, but no other car was involved in the accident. Y/N sighed in relief and looked for another possible threat, just checking, but when she realized that the area was clean, she returned to the passenger seat, leaving the gun on the dashboard in front of her.

"Next time I'm going to get an armored car." Neil comments, stepping on the gas. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Anytime." Y/N smiled, trying to control her breathing.

With the adrenaline disappearing from her body, it was hard for her to believe that this was really happening. For many nights she cried, wondering what it would be like if Neil just came back to her, but now she was afraid to wake up and realize that it was just another vivid dream.

The sun was rising when they arrived in a shed away from the city. Seen from the outside, the place was a little scary, but the interior wasn't that bad. There was some equipment like trackers, walkie-talkie, bulletproof vests, weapons, ammunition; a table with a mess of papers and on the other side two beds and something that Y/N supposed to be a private bathroom.

"Where we are?"

We. That simple word echoed in her mind. Y/N thought that "we" didn't exist anymore.

"For now in a safe place. It's dangerous for you out there." He answered the question and took a bottle of water, handing it to her after taking a generous sip.

"Who are these people, Neil?" She wanted answers, lots of answers, and that frustrated the british spy because for the first time he didn't know what could happen.

Neil had a mission and that mission ended with him dying in Stalask-12, but after what TP did, everything changed.

"We have a name..." He wanted to say more, he wanted to reassure her, but that was all he had at the moment.

Y/N drank some water and left the bottle on the table, looking at some reports and photos. All photos were of the same man.

Lenard Vaher

"But apparently they don't just want you..."

It took a few seconds and when the realization hit Y/N, concern appeared on her face.

No, not him.

"Where's TP? He's safe, right?"

"He was going to see you when Lenard's men kidnapped him. This happened three weeks ago." And considering the anger in Neil's voice, finding TP was proving an almost impossible task, but in the midst of so much concern, one point attracted Y/N's attention.

"You said he was going to see me..."

"There was something he needed to tell you." Neil sighed, resting his hands on the table. A few strands of blond hair fell over his forehead, but he quickly shook his head back, as he always did. "He returned to Stalask-12, Y/N."

After that statement, the only sound that could be heard was Neil's footsteps closing the distance between them and the first thing she did was put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Neil smiled. And that was not one of his famous smiles. That was a shy smile. His heart was beating like a drum and it was all because of her. Loving Y/N was something so special and pure, that Neil accepted his fate without a second thought. Saving the world, he was giving her a second chance to live, but now he is the one who received a second chance.

"I missed you every day." Before she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of thought.

She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his arms. Neil caught her bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound by deepening the kiss, giving her everything she desired. His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. A lush, decadent pleasure unfolded within them, snaking through their veins as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years.

Just waiting for this moment.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

a/n – really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ;)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet #neil #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #tenet fanfic #tenet imagine #ives tenet #tenet #neil tenet one shot #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson one shot #neil tenet x y/n #x y/n #amor fati #eternal return

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

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#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #prompt fill #500 followers aaaah!!!#reggie peters #bobby shaw #bobby wilson #luke patterson #rebuke #peterpatter #lukebobby #boggie #angst #sickfic #hurt/comfort

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under-sedationnn · 3 years

Text

asra week 2021: celebration

me? writing and posting the day one prompt for asra week on day three? more likely than you think haha work has been keeping me super duper busy, but i really want to be able to participate in something so cool and genuine :) harnessing creativity takes time and effort, but it is so worth and it! i am so so proud of all of the work that has been posted for asra week so far and am honored to be a part of it, even if i am a little late on posts :) hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1465

@sweetalnazar

"Asra, not to whine or anything, but how much longer until we reach where we're going?"

Chuckling, he turned to me, his face mischievous and bright in the warm sun of the afternoon. He grabbed my hand, and laid a small kiss on my knuckles.

"Not too much longer, Y/n, I promise."

After traveling on foot for hours at this point, my mind reeled with the question: Where is he taking me? He had avoided the question with relative ease all day, only indulging me in the detail that I would love it, and that it would be worth the journey. My calves burned and sweat trickled down my back. I yearned for the cool breeze that set in after sundown; luckily, night was near.

Steeling myself for another taxing hour of aching feet, I suddenly noticed a bright gathering of lights up ahead. Although sunset drowned out the glory of candles and lanterns on the horizon, it was clear that upon nightfall, the place would be alive with heat and fire.

Stopping in my tracks, I asked, "Is this where you're taking me?"

He only smiled, and in our excitement we nearly ran the rest of the way. Arriving, I noticed booths, tents, and a small stage. Foreign spices tickled at my nose and my mouth watered at the thought of what kinds of food I would find here.

Although, there was a presence of something else, as well. Something familiar, ghosting past me. Seeping into my skin, gliding across my arms and legs and filling my clothes with fever and chill and adventure.

Gesturing widely to the array of people and small shops in front of us, Asra said, "Welcome to the Celebration of the Magician."

Understanding, I asked, "So you feel it too? It's magic in the air?"

"Quite literally."

Walking through one of the small aisles, he explained, "We'll run into many drifters here. Many that are not actual magicians, like the fortune tellers in Vesuvia. However," he stopped in front of a sealed tent, smoke drifting slowly out of the cracked seam, "there are some like us."

"There's another magician in there?"

He simply nodded, asking, "Would you like to meet her?"

Nodding vigorously, I took his hand and led us into the large space. Despite the presence of the tent outside, the inside seemed to stretch out into a grand entrance. The walls made out of black fabric, the floor smoothly shifted from patchy grass and sand into ebony marble. Smoke laced the roof of the tent, swirling down to trace our skin.

The smell of ash and tobacco grew stronger as we approached a door at the end of the long, wide hall. Sealed shut, there was no handle. Foreign symbols were etched around the door frame, and I assumed they were protective charms.

"Asra, what are these?" I asked, tracing my fingers over the carved lines.

Leaning closer to the door, he mimicked my actions, “They keep the door sealed to unwanted visitors, non-magicians.”

“Okay, but there’s not even a handle, how do we get in?”

Backing away, he said, “We need to figure out what the symbols say. If I know anything about Aislinn, it’s that she loves riddles.”

Rooting through his satchel, he pulled out a small book of symbols and incantations, searching for matching words or characters that could aid us. As the minutes passed, I began to grow slightly frustrated at the seemingly impossible riddle, though Asra kept a calm demeanor.

Turn around. A voice whispered, the words floating around my head for moments after.

Turn around. It repeated, and this time I obliged.

A mirror had appeared, embellished with fiery jewels set into bright gold. Quite the juxtaposition against the cold and murky decor of the room.

Peering into the reflection, I began to read the symbols along the door. The once foreign words had transformed into a language I could not only understand with ease, but ones that felt completely familiar to me.

Translating, I carefully said, “You may enter when the waves crash and the seas part, when two bodies become one.”

Turning around abruptly, Asra made his way over to the mirror, only noticing its appearance after hearing me speak. “You can read it?”

“Yeah, if you look in the mirror, it shows you what it says, look!” I pointed to all of the words along the doorframe within the reflection, and still found Asra dumbfounded at the symbols across the door.

“Y/n, they just look like backwards symbols to me,” he chuckled, looking proudly at my face. “I suppose your magic has connected to Aislinn’s somehow, she must like you.”

Though feeling proud, I still found myself confused at the riddle that was presented to us.

“That’s great, but that still doesn’t take care of this riddle. You know I have never been very good at them.”

“Which must be why you love visiting the Magician’s realm so much, hm?” he teased, earning a poke in the side from me.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said, chuckling all the while, “but seriously, what does it mean oh great riddle solver?”

“Well let’s see,” he began, “we know that it’s not literal, so she’s not actually talking about the sea or two bodies of water crashing into each other.”

“Oh,” I said, “I think I understand.”

He gave me a small smirk, leaning closer, “Me too, should we test the theory?”

Giving him a small nod, he pulled me close and placed a small kiss on my lips. Though not lasting long, after we pulled away, the feeling of his lips on mine lingered. His eyes shined and a blush faded across the bridge of his nose. I remembered then how much I care about him, and everything he has done to help me.

As I dared to pull him in again, the door swung open with a small creek, and we were pulled in with an imaginary force. Colors swirled around us until everything faded to a muggy hue of red and black and gold.

I found myself sitting on a plush couch, next to Asra, while surrounded by other magicians. Some were sitting in the same area as we were, sipping on drinks and telling each others’ fortune, while others danced slowly and sultry. Their bodies moved in synced rhythm to low drums, cellos, violas. The smoke was thick within this room as well, and it had a dreamlike quality to it.

Looking at Asra, I felt relaxed, at ease, and as though I could take a long nap. He obviously felt similarly, the same sleepy expression playing across his face, as well.

“I thought you two would never make it.” I deep, slow voice drawled, “Honestly, Asra, you’ve lost your touch.”

Moving my gaze upwards, I found a tall and aged woman towering over us. Although she showed her age, her aura was timeless and she seemed to radiate youth, passion, and a sense of risk. A large, black panther roamed aimlessly around the room, eventually finding a seat at her feet.

“It’s nice to see you again, Aislinn,” standing, he took one of her ringed hands and placed a small kiss on the back of it, “you look fantastic.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, young magician.”

Turning to meet my eyes, she gestured for me to stand. I stood to meet her gaze, and found myself having to look up at her statuesque figure.

“And this one, where did you find them?” She ran her nails along my jaw, seemingly scrutinizing the intricacies of my face.

“They found me, Aislinn, and I am lucky for it.”

“Well they’re just beautiful aren’t they, and so very powerful.”

She smiled at me, and placed kisses across my cheeks. Stepping back, she spoke to the both of us.

“Please do enjoy yourselves, and don’t be strangers.”

Gliding away, her familiar followed after her, vanishing into the misty crowd ahead.

“Would you like to dance?” Asra asked, bringing my attention back to him.

Blushing, I answered, “With you, always.”

Walking over toward the other dancers, he found my hips and brought them to his own. Wrapping my hands around his neck, he buried his face into my shoulder and began to sway. A slow pace, soft, with small kisses along my shoulder blades and neck. Our hips moved into synchronicity, and mouths followed the beat of the drums, and rhythm of the strings, the heat of the room.

The Celebration of the Magician was meant to represent the honoring of magic itself, as well as all of the people who harness its powers. However, in this moment, Asra and I celebrated one another, the power we possessed, as well as what we meant to each other.

#asra #asra the magician #asra the arcana #the arcana imagines #asra week 2021

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick.

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here.

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business.

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning.

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay.

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one.

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable.

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan.

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways.

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.”

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch.

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous, “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth.

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away.

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?”

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?”

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth.

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.”

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

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

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start.

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth.

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him.

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits.

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure.

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same.

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away.

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread.

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs.

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat.

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip.

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed.

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes.

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable.

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers.

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust.

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him.

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck.

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him.

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed.

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs.

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be.

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit”

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.”

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster.

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg.

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations.

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened.

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye.

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would.

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #reverse!AU #reverse AU #monster march

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whumpandcomfort · 3 years

Text

Wumpmas in July: Day 12

Well hello there! Sorry for my absence, I was away on a little vacation. More like summer camp with kids aged 7 and 8, I was one of the "animators" (I don't know a better translation for the word than this, basically I am trying to give the kids a good time there). But here we are again and ready to keep going with whumpmas in July!

This one is a bit shorter. Ethan and Thomas are two of my own charaters. I use them to write my stories.

Prompt: warmth

A short walk, Thomas had said. Ethan should have known that "short" was an understatement. Thomas is a seasoned walker, Ethan is not. The biggest walk he takes every working day is the 500m walk to the bus stop and back. He was not prepared for Thomas' 25km walk. Not to say he wasn't athletic. He did run once a week and went for the occasional swim, but that was it.

He didn't feel like going either, he had been feeling a bit flu-ridden all week, but he had promised to go with him. So this morning they left together. They were halfway there, had just rested for half an hour and then set off again. "Come on, keep up the pace a bit," Thomas said, laughing and looking back at his smartphone to see if they were still on the right track. He was slightly ahead of Ethan.

"Yes, I'm coming," said Ethan, but actually he just wanted to lie down in the soft grass and sleep. There seemed to be someone knocking on his head with a hammer, his nose was running and he also felt a bit warm even though it felt like he was freezing. We're halfway there, it can't get any worse, he thought to himself. He took another sip of his waterbottle and tried to catch up with his friend.

After about 5 hours of walking and two 30-minute breaks, they were back at the car. "Well, that was a good walk! We can go again next we..." Thomas stopped talking when he saw his friend. Ethan was looking very pale, his cheeks were flushed and he was looking vaguely in front of him. He leaned against the car to keep himself upright. "Are you all right?" Thomas asked worried, and rushed over to his walking companion. He put his hand on his forehead and felt the unsettling heat. "I'm so cold," said Ethan with chattering teeth. Thomas looked at him with concern, his mind racing with questions. Had he been like this the whole walk? He couldn't remember looking like that this morning or during the walk. He had to admit that Thomas was a bit quiet and also a bit behind, but he hadn't questioned that too much. Should he have paid more attention?

"E, I'm going to take you home ok?" he helped his friend into the back seat and took a blanket he had in the trunk and tucked him in. "Mhm, it's so soft," Ethan said as he hold the blanket. Thomas closed the door and crawled behind the wheel. Fortunately, Ethan's house wasn't that far away, but even so, he had fallen asleep on the back seat. Once they arrived, Thomas quietly woke him up, helped him get inside and set him down on the sofa. "Hey buddy, first I'm going to see what your temperature is. Do you have a thermometer here?" Ethan looked at him with glassy eyes, "Uhm, I think in the first aid kit in the bathroom. Can I lie down for a while?" "No stay upright for a while," Thomas said and draped a blanket over his friend's shoulders. "I'll be right back."

He quickly found the first aid kit and some painkillers. He went back to Ethan, who was still staring hazily ahead, and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. After 10 seconds the thing beeped: 39.6° C, solid fever. Ok clothes off, put on something comfortable and give him something against the fever. Thomas tapped Ethan on his shoulder, his friend looked at him a bit confused. "E, we're going to get you in something more comfortable ok? I know you're cold but I'm going to help you change your clothes," he said in a soft voice. Ethan shook his head violently. "No I'm so cold, I don't want to change," the fevered boy said back with tears in his eyes. "Hey hey, it'll be over soon I promise. Where can I find your clothes?"

After some convincing, a incoherent explanation and some searching he had found everything. He helped Ethan out of his clothes and put on a t-shirt and some training trousers. He gave him a painkiller and some water, after his friend had taken these he helped him to his room where he tucked him in. The fevered boy nestled into his sheet. "Yes, this is nice and warm," he said with a small smile on his face. It wasn't long before he dozed off, Thomas sitting down on the other part of the bed next to him. I am not leaving until he is better, maybe later I can bring him some tea and toast, Thomas thought.

A few hours later Ethan woke up for a moment, his head was fluffy but he felt warmth and something- no someone next to him. He turned his head and saw the blond-haired boy lying next to him with his arm over him. Thomas' breathing was deep and calm. Ethan crept a little closer to him and took in all the warmth. With a small smile on his face, he fell back asleep.

(06/08 did some editing)

#whumpmas in july #wij2021 #feverish #fever whump #prompt #hello i am back

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threemoonsareshining · 6 years

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i think you're such a cool person can you do as many as you'd like of the get to know you asks? i couldn't choose! i'm just desperate to know you lol

Hi anon! There are a lot of asks and I’m not that cool but I’m sad and bored again so I’ll do as many as I can.

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? I don’t think I’ve ever really held hands for real with anyone but I’m pretty sure the last time was about a week ago with one of my best friends bc we were in a place with lots of people and we didn’t want to get lost 2. Are you outgoing or shy? I’m the shyest person I know (actually no, I know a girl who is even shyer than me but I’m pretty close)3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? Not to sound cheesy or anything but I really want to see this guy I had something weird going on with not because of any special reason I just want to know where things are going4. Are you easy to get along with? I’d like to say I am but actually it’s really really hard to keep in touch with me and I’m not good at making conversation at all6. What kind of people are you attracted to? First of all, I’m not usually attracted to people at all, I don’t know why and when I am I always ask myself “girl why this one exactly?” and honestly, I don’t know. There are just some persons I feel comfortable with in a specific way and then attraction grows from there idk I’m really not used to being attracted to anyone9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Extremely10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? A friend of mine when I was really drunk at his house waiting for my parents to pick me up. I don’t really remember what we talked about but it felt very nice.11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? it says “no da miedo hihihi” which translates to “it’s not scary hihihi”12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? right now I can’t stop listening to Fiji Water by Owl City (i’m so excited he’s releasing new music!), Your Mother’s Eyes, Rythm and Blues and Take a Walk by The head and the heart and It’s only life by The Shins.13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? I like it because it feels so so relaxing but at the same time it makes me anxious because I think that the more people touch it the dirtier and more damaged it gets and as a person who spends a considerable amount of time on my hair, that is not so nice15. What good thing happened this summer? I went to a festival in the town next to mine and I got to see all my friends after a long time and I had such a good time my heart hurts every time I think about it16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Yess (idk if it’s bc I really like him or I just want to kiss someone)18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No! Actually I saw him a few months ago after… 6 years and we looked at each other like “are you who I think you are?”. I never really talked to him, he treated me like shit and he’s responsible for many of my insecurities so I believe it’s better this way hah21. What are you bad habits? I don’t sleep, I don’t pay as much attention as I should to my loved ones, I forget to eat and shower and I scratch my face like there’s no tomorrow my friend23. Do you have trust issues? Hell yeah I do. Literally everyone I knew left me when I was like 15 or so which is, you know, a crucial stage of your emotional development and stuff so since then I’ve never got close to anyone because what better strategy than not to be invested enough in a relationship so if it ends you don’t feel so bad about it!25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My ears for sure. They stick out so that’s why I never wear my hair up in public. I thought about getting surgery but I want to stay true to myself and stuff.28. Who are you most comfortable around? I’m not 100% comfortable with anyone but I guess my best friend is a strong candidate.30. Do you ever want to get married? I never think about that because my brain always tells me “first find someone who is actually willing to marry you and then we’ll think about it”31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? It’s long enough for 6 ponytails if you put your mind into it34. Do you play sports? What sports? Sports are bad and I hate them36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? I liked this guy for like 6 years and I literally never spoke a word to him but I think the way I looked at him made it pretty obvious (I guess that’s why he avoided me all the time)37. What do you say during awkward silences? I’m the Queen of awkward silences and I’ve learnt that it’s ok to not say anything. Or I’ll just sigh a lot.39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Don’t make me think about shops rn bc I spent the whole afternoon trying to find something to wear to the 5 million Christmas dinners I have and everything was either too expensive, too ugly or just looked terrible on me so yeah I’m pretty mad40. What do you want to do after high school? I wanted to study something arts-related like filmmaking, music or dance, you know, the only things I actually used to enjoy but instead of that I decided to study economics because I hate myself41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I think this depends on the circumstances but in my opinion and taking into account my own experience I’ll always give a second chance, maybe not immediately but eventually, I will.42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? It means I’m being me haha43. Do you smile at strangers? I try to but it’s scary45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? I have no reason to get out of bed in the morning besides the fact that if I stop doing the things I should do I’ll never be able to catch up and everyone will go on with their lives while I stay the same and become mediocre and that’s just inconceivable to me. So basically I don’t live for myself but for the expectations people have of me.48. Have you ever been drunk? Yes and I wish I was rn honestly49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Yes and since I don’t want to tell anyone I won’t say what it is52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? I wish I wasn’t worried about literally everything because it’s so tiring and it keeps me from thinking about more important stuff64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? About a month ago I was at this party and everyone was telling me one of my friends I had been talking to for a while wanted to hook up with me and I kinda wanted to too but I’m too shy and anxious to make any moves so I got drunk, and after avoiding him like 6546 times (bc I was really worried I would look stupid not bc I didn’t want to) I finally kissed him in front of an entire crowd of strangers and all my friends found out about it right afterwards so it was like a public event and I felt really exposed so yeah it wan’t ideal~ but also not the worst (I cringed so much while writing this, it was so awkward my god)69. Are you watching tv right now? Not right now but I’m about to watch the new episode of Crazy ex-girlfriend 72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2, one for my head and other by my side to keep me some company (I’m so lonely oh my god)73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? A shar-pei puppy dog I have since I was born (it’s so so cute I love it his name is wrinkles)75. Favourite animal? Cats are not only my favourite animals but one of my favourite things on earth78. Favourite ice cream flavour? since ice cream is my favourite food I can’t really choose one flavour (anything but banana flavour tho)81. Favourite tv show? GoT and Mr Robot I can’t choose but there are so many82. Favourite movie? Billy Elliot86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Bruce the shark, he deserves more recognition94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? I own lots of sweaters because you can never own enough sweaters (until you run out of space in your closet which is what’s happening to me)95. Last movie you watched? Tulip Fever. Not one of my favourites but last night I felt like watching some historic drama and romance shit (love it every once in a while). Alicia Vikander and Dane Dehaan tho98. Do you tan a lot? I used to but since I rarely leave my room during the summer I’ve become The Pale Friend™ 99. Have any pets? Two cats and I used to have fish but they weren’t my thing and I decided that no more fish would die because of me (I really tried but they just didn’t survive idk why)100. How are you feeling? I’m feeling really anxious right now and I can’t sleep. Partly it’s because I’ve got a lot of papers to write and a presentation on Monday and none of them are going especially well tbh, but there’s something else that is making me feel extremely uneasy and bad about myself and idk what it is but I’d like it to stop thank you very much102. Do you regret anything from your past? I regret not being able to enjoy these last 3 or 4 years of my life because they could’ve been some of the best years of my life but I was so full of sadness and hatred I just couldn’t pay attention to anything else108. What should you be doing? sleeping since 1 am but it’s 4 am and here we are115. Do you play the Wii? Who would I be without Just dance and Animal Crossing 116. Are you listening to music right now? yes, Rainbow Veins by Owl City (how unexpected)117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I had that for dinner and it was beautiful118. Do you like Chinese food? The other day I cried tears of happiness because my mom ordered Chinese food for lunch119. Favourite book? Memorias the Idhún120. Are you afraid of the dark? Not so much now but not so long ago I would get what now I can consider almost panic attacks because the dark made me feel so anxious. I’d stay paralysed in my bed, feeling my arms numb and I can swear I heard stuff in my head and I got the feeling that I was literally dying.126. Are you currently bored? A little (these are a lot of questions but I want to finish them now)129. What your zodiac sign? Taurus131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? This is happening right now and I don’t like him that way so I just try to keep everything the same but also I try to keep the distances so he doesn’t misinterpret things (this makes me feel so bad for him sometimes but I’m trying to make him see that not liking him romantically doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being with him). Let’s hope it works.133. Favourite lyrics right now? “I’ve been down the very road you’re walking now / It doesn’t have to be so dark and lonesome / It takes a while but we can figure this thing out / And turn it back around” from It’s only life by The Shins.137. How tall are you? 164cm which I think is 5,3 feet138. Curly or Straight hair? My hair is curly af and it’s very inconvenient for… life you know140. Summer or Winter? Summer because of the holidays winter because of the feeling141. Night or Day? Night145. Tea or Coffee? Tea but coffee has been saving my life these past weeks146. Was today a good day? Today was a wasted and disappointing day.150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “Con Elodin nunca se sabe —dije—. Si no está loco, es el mejor actor que he conocido jamás” from The Wise Man’s Fear. It translates to something like “’Who can say with Elodin?’ I said. ‘If he isn’t crazy, he’s the best actor I’ve ever met.’”

Congrats if you’ve managed to read all this without unfollowing me 🍃🍃🍃⛄️⛄️⛄️

#ask #long post #bless u anon #sorry for the grammar mistakes #i'm just tired

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fanfiction-and-coffee · 7 years

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"No way - I can’t have TWO soulmates." with Lance/Shiro/Keith? Only if you're still taking soulmate prompts! ^^

okay disclaimer, I don’t really know much about polyamory, so rather than potentially spreading incorrect information about how polyamorous relationships work, I left this open enough that you can interpret it as romantic or platonic or a combination of the two, it’s totally up to you as the reader. (personally, I really love the idea of platonic soulmates tbh.) (and if any of my followers is poly and wants to educate me, that would be amazing!) I went with the good ol’ “soulmate’s name appears on your body as a tattoo” au because it’s a classic and I think it fits this prompt well.

and for the record, in writing this I’m assuming keith and lance are the same age and that shiro is like two years older so please don’t harass me about age gaps I just write what people tell me to okay

prompt is from this list

Keith knows that the soulmate system is complicated. He knows that there are sometimes flukes, complications. He knows that some soulmates are lovers, while some instead share a deep, unbreakable friendship. He knows that some soulmates are born on opposite sides of the world, and that a lot of those couples never meet. He knows that some people get their marks early in their teens, while some don’t get them until their twenties. He knows that some people never get a mark at all.

But he’s never heard of someone having two marks before.

The first name appeared a few days after his fifteenth birthday, a single Japanese character inked into the skin on the inside of his left forearm. The lines are thick and smooth and almost look like brush strokes, and a few hours on a translater app revealed that the character is “shiro,” the Japanese word for the color white. Keith wonders if this is his soulmate’s real name, or if it’s a nickname. He wonders if the fact that his soulmate is Japanese means that they’ll never meet each other, spending their entire lives on opposite sides of an ocean.

He signed up for Japanese classes the semester after it appeared, just in case.

He’s sixteen now, and he’s almost definitely going to be late for his first class because he’s spent the last fifteen minutes staring into his bathroom mirror, studying the new mark that has appeared on his right shoulder while he was sleeping. This one, at least, requires no translation. The letters are phonetic, a sloppy cursive, like his soulmate had scribbled down their signature in a hurry. L-a-n-c-e.

“No way - I can’t have TWO soulmates.” He runs careful fingers over the letters, as if he expects them to rub off like paint, but they’re inked just as deeply and permanently as the character on his opposite wrist. He wonders if this is some kind of cosmic screw-up, or if it means that something has happened to his other soulmate. His chest tightens at the thought.

He skips class that day, opting instead to wade through dozens of online forums dedicated to “unusual” soulmate situations. After several hours, he does find a few other cases of people with multiple marks, although apparently it’s incredibly rare, even more so than someone being born without any. One anonymous forum user claims that they have two marks, as does each of their soulmates, and that the three of them have been in a healthy romantic relationship for years. Another user tells the story of how one of their soulmates is their lover, the other their best friend.

He spends quite a while just staring at the names on his skin, wondering who they are and what connection they’ll have to him if or when he finds them.

Keith doesn’t find his first soulmate until it’s too late.

Stories of the Kerberos mission are everywhere, from television to the Internet to the conversations of strangers on the street.

Three people missing, presumed dead. Sam and Matt Holt, father and son, and their pilot.

The pilot’s name was Takashi Shirogane, but a few of the news networks mention that he was better known as “Shiro” to his family and friends.

Keith pauses the news story when he hears that, and spends what feels like hours staring at the face on the screen. They’ve used his Garrison graduation photo, and that’s what kills Keith the most, knowing that they were at the same damn school for two whole years and never noticed each other. He even remembers the seeing him in the halls, a tall, attractive boy with black hair and an easy smile. It had never occurred to him to check the names of the people in other classes, that his soulmate might have been in the same building as him, just a year or two older.

And now one of his soulmates is gone.

He skips school again, spends most of his day thinking about Shiro, about whether he was scared when he died. He briefly considers looking for Shiro’s family, reaching out to them, but he decides against it. He never knew their son – he has no claim to their grief, no right to feel the aching sense of loss that eats away at him and makes his chest feel hollow.

He runs his fingers over the mark on his shoulder, wondering if his other soulmate was Shiro’s as well. Wondering if maybe, somewhere in the big wide world, someone knows what he’s feeling, shares his peculiar kind of grief.

He drops out of the Garrison a few weeks later.

Lance is pretty sure that the universe is determined to make his life difficult, especially where soulmates are involved. He realized the whole thing was a cosmic joke the second he went through his yearbook and realized that the only Keith at the Garrison was the emo kid with the mullet.

Okay, so there’s no way of knowing for sure that this guy is his Keith. Hunk, ever the supportive best friend, encourages Lance to reach out to him, points out that the very worst thing that can happen is that Lance’s soulmate is a different Keith, in which case Lance doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life trying to convince him to cut his hair.

But Lance doesn’t reach out to him, doesn’t even talk to him. He tells Hunk that it’s because he doesn’t have time for soulmates right now, that he needs to focus on improving his flying skills if he’s going to make it into the fighter class. And that’s part of it, but not the whole truth. Lance keeps the truth to himself, because explaining the whole thing would mean telling Hunk about his second mark, which no one but his parents know about.

Lance wasn’t surprised when it was a guy’s name that showed up on his skin when he was fourteen. The handwriting was messy and cramped, the five letters positioned on the left side of his chest, just over his heart. K-e-i-t-h. He’d assumed that this was a future boyfriend, maybe a future husband. He knew platonic soulmates did happen, of course, but he’d always seen himself as more of a romantic type.

And then the second mark appeared on the other half of his chest and ruined everything. This one was more ambiguous. “Shiro” could be a guy or a girl, although at least he can be pretty sure that his second soulmate is Japanese. Although the fact that he has a second soulmate at all raises questions that he’s not sure he wants answers to.

And the thing that really scares him, the thing that keeps him from telling Hunk or his siblings or anyone about the second mark, is the idea that just because these people are his soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s theirs. He lays awake some nights, wondering if maybe Keith and Shiro only have each other’s names, if maybe he’s destined to be an outsider in their dynamic. And it’s that fear that keeps him from approaching the Keith at the Garrison.

He doesn’t give up completely, though. He still holds out some hope that maybe Keith will take notice of him and make the first move. He constantly works on his flying, half to improve his rank and half because he hopes that if he and Keith end up competing with each other, it will force whatever confrontation needs to happen.

The longer Keith goes without giving him any notice, the more he starts to believe that he isn’t the one. Or maybe that dark, quiet part of his mind is right, maybe his fears were justified, and maybe Keith only has one mark, one soulmate to look for. And maybe it isn’t him.

After a man named Shiro disappears on one of Pluto’s moons and Keith drops out of the Garrison, Lance decides that he’s definitely meant to spend his life alone.

Most days, Takashi Shirogane doesn’t know what is real and what is his broken, fevered brain trying desperately to give him a bit of relief.

He’s pretty sure that the gladiator fights are real. The adrenaline, the rush, the blood, the pain – it’s all too vivid, too dreadfully clear, to be anything but reality. After every fight, when he’s staring down at his own bloodstained hands, at the broken body of his opponent, he thinks that this is the only thing that has ever been real. Whoever he was before, whatever life he had, is gone. There is only the arena. There is only fighting and death.

He can’t decide if the names on his skin are real or a hallucination. Sometimes he runs a fingertip over the “Keith” etched along his ribs on his left side, or the “Lance” on his right wrist, and thinks that they’re the only real thing he has left. Other times, he stares down at the letters and thinks that they must be just another empty dream.

When they take his arm, he decides it doesn’t matter whether his soulmates are real or not. He’s never going to find them anyway, because he knows now that he isn’t going to get off this prison ship alive.

Keith thinks his hands might be shaking a little as he goes through his clothes (he doesn’t really have a closet, just a couple of boxes that he digs through whenever he needs an outfit), trying to find something big enough for Shiro. He’s still reeling, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Shiro is here, next to him. Not dead, but… changed. His black hair is streaked with white, much of the skin that isn’t covered by his clothes marred by scars. He looks… older. Tired. And he keeps glancing around with wide eyes, like he expects Keith’s room to melt away, leaving him back in whatever hell he just escaped from.

And there’s a guy named Lance sitting in the next room, loudly arguing with that Pidge kid. Keith is trying to decide whether that’s too weird to be a coincidence.

Once he’s found a shirt that’s always been far too big on him, but that he thinks will work for Shiro, he turns around the hand it over. He clears his throat, not sure if he should offer his guest some privacy or if it’s a bad idea to leave the guy who just escaped from an alien super-prison alone.

Shiro makes the decision for him when he shrugs and removes the dirty, torn shirt he’s wearing, too tired or in too much shock to care about his audience.

Keith barely manages to keep himself from audibly gasping.

Shiro’s torso is completely covered with scars, some of them raised lines, some puckered skin, some pink and raw as if they’re more recent than the others. But that isn’t what catches Keith’s attention. His gaze goes straight to Shiro’s left side, where he finds his own name, the black ink a sharp contrast against the white scar tissue surrounding it.

Lance has a feeling that it’s going to be several nights before he gets used to sleeping in the castle. It’s too quiet, too empty, and too… well, too alien. He can somehow feel that he’s a very, very long way from home. And besides that, so much has happened in the last twenty-four hours that he’s not sure he’ll ever fully process it.

Aliens. Robot lions. Paladins. Voltron. It would all sound ridiculous if he hadn’t just lived through it.

So when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door, it only takes a few seconds for him to jump out of bed and answer it.

When he sees Shiro and Keith standing in his doorway, a glimmer of hope washes over him, followed immediately by a jolt of unease. He glances between the two of them, as if the reason for their visit might be written on one of their faces. Shiro, who looks much better now that he’s clean and rested, is wearing an expression that’s difficult to read. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d say he looked shy. Keith, on the other hand, just looks incredibly uncomfortable. And pissed.

It’s Keith who speaks first. “Dude. We were in the same year at the Garrison for three years. Why didn’t you tell me?”

And Lance knows that he should be relieved, or grateful, or even happy, but instead all he can manage to feel is annoyance. “What about you? You ignored me for all three of those years!”

“You could have introduced yourself.” Keith huffs, crossing his arms. “You’re just as much at fault here as I am.”

“At least I was actually looking for you.” Lance hisses, “Instead of just waiting around for my soulmate to fall from the sky or–” He cuts himself off when he realizes that, technically, Shiro did fall from the sky just the night before, albeit inside an escape pod.

“I figured after…” Keith glances at Shiro, like he’s not sure how to breach his next subject without being insensitive. “… after the Kerberos mission made the news, I figured I wasn’t meant to find my other soulmate. It seemed like I was meant to be alone.”

Lance doesn’t want to admit that he felt the same way, that he still feels that way. So instead, he narrows in on the other piece of information Keith has just revealed. “Wait, so you… you have two names, right?” He turns to Shiro. “Both of you?”

Shiro nods, a small smile breaking across his face. “I do. Although I’ll admit, this isn’t quite how I imagined meeting you.”

“Yeah.” Lance leans against his doorframe, suddenly feeling very tired. “So… what does this mean? That there’s three of us, I mean. I’ve never known anyone with more than one soulmate before.”

“I guess we’ll figure it out?” Keith sounds as unsure as Lance feels.

Shiro nods. “We’ve got a lot to figure out. And not just between the three of us. But we’ll be okay.” He claps a hand on each of the other boys’ shoulders, the gesture so easy that it feels natural.

Lance steps back, holding his door open for them. “You guys better come in, then. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

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