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bbnibini · 3 years

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Oh, Brother! (Lucifer ft. Baby Beel)

Summary: Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. (based on a headcanon request on our old AO3 request box)

Accompanying HC for this fic can be read here. This was originally a request. The old version is poorly formatted so I decided to repost this now that I am sliiiightly better at using tumblr. Anyway, enjoy!

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I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances. You may also say that it is my inclination to exhibit such behaviour because of my personality. But while I make long-winded introductions that segues even further from the point I was making, let me, as my brothers say, "cut to the chase":

I have no idea what in Devildom is going on. Sets of eyes looked at me expectantly, and I did as I usually do when I am dragooned into unforeseen…problems.

"I see." I don't. But a white lie is what is required to quell the squall of chaos right now: debris of what looked like Leviathan's furnishings were strewn on the wet floor. Looking up from the living room where remnants of the ceiling were barely keeping itself intact, Henry freefell into my arms, a timely catch away from his imminent death. I turned to my pale brother, asking "Lotan?" in the calmest tone I can muster, and was only answered in more silence. I offered him Henry, which he took still looking down, and turned to problem #2.

"MC, may I have him?"

"I…"

I stopped and talked over them. "I'm not angry. Let me hold Beel."

"It's all my fault!"

Sigh. Why do they always do this? A surge of pain was felt on my temples, but I pretended not to feel it. "Why don't you help Levi clean up his room? Do you even know how to take care of a non-human child?"

"No, but!" they argued again. I listened. "You're not going to punish Mammon, aren't you?"

Punish is such a heavy word. I noticed how protective they were of my brother, almost to an extent where I feel like they perceive me in an unfavourable light. They were more carefree with them, but all yes and no's with me in comparison. I wouldn't say I'm envious. Rather, I'm baffled. Occasional pranks became the highlight (read: tragedy) of my day, often while I was poring over documents and settling political disputes on behalf of Diavolo. Partnered with Mammon and Satan, they were a force to be reckoned with; one I remembered being visibly annoyed by for interfering with my work. No one shall ever know that I might…have looked forward to those times. It was a puzzle to be pieced, an idle form of entertainment to guess which kind of tomfoolery they would attempt at me that they were foolish enough to think they would succeed in. Unfortunately, any victory they may have celebrated in the past were my fabrications that only the likes of someone as observant as Satan would notice.

"Procure a change of clothing and go while I'm still being merciful." I saw them share the same pallour as Leviathan, dragging him along while mouthing complaints under their breath. A curse perhaps, not bound by magic but of something else, directed at me, their usual villain. Such childishness that I let slide, as I was accustomed to being an enemy, especially when I know I was right.

Beel is finally in my arms, a docile child as cherubic as the little Beel in my memories. The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together as I look around.

"Belphegor, wake up this instant! You're sleeping on a wet floor." You'll catch a cold, I almost felt myself saying but was able to hold myself back. "Unless you would rather be carried like the old days? I don't mind."

"Fine, fine. I'm up." They stretched out their arms to retrieve their twin and I shook my head. "I wouldn't leave such a delicate child to someone who couldn't even coordinate themselves properly. Go to sleep, Belphegor.

...and Satan, if you have the time for hexes, you would also have the time to clean up this mess."

"Tsk."

"I would see all of you in my office once this is all fixed.

Not a spot should be left unattended. Understood?"

"Yes, Lucifer."

I don't have time for this. So many documents are left unsigned on my desk. A meeting with the Chancellor, a hearing from the House of Commons, a response to Michael's ridiculous letter…

"Wuchy, angy?"

Beelzebub's upturned eyes looked at me adorably.

"Wuchy…" I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw most of them are either absent or pre-occupied. Clearing my throat, I noticed my voice was shriller than usual. "Wuchy…" I repeated and sat Beel on the plush sofa. "Wuchy is NOT angy…"

"Bee hangu" he pulled at my sleeve, turning my attention to his rumbling stomach. "Wuchy…Bee hangu."

I nodded. "I see. Does Bee want to eat?"

"Peas!"

"You want to eat peas?"

"No! Bee Hangu! Peas!"

"Ah, " I nodded again as I finally understood. "I apologise, Bee. You're trying to say please?"

I couldn't help but smile back when he did so in reply.

To my disappointment however, even the kitchen was destroyed, to the point that MC didn't want me to enter. It was admirable, I suppose that they were able to explain the situation to me while everything was still in a state of chaos.

It all started with a hexes assignment that failed miserably, turning Beel into an inconsolable toddler that caused Levi's room to be absolutely destroyed. Since nobody was capable of understanding Beel's speech, his childish tantrums got worse and caused the House of Lamentation to be in its current state. The only reason the situation subsided a bit was because of Belphie's interference. Where was Belphie in the first place? Was my question, and MC's shrug affirmed that he ignored my warning about sleeping in on the weekend. Again. I sighed.

"Sorry, Lucifer. Why don't you eat out with Beel for a while?"

"Bee hangu! Now!"

"....Bee, that's my glove."

"Bee?" (MC)

!!!!

"Beelzebub." I cleared my throat. "I shall heed your advice before Beel throws a bigger tantrum."

"Wuchy, hangu!"

"Yes, yes. Wuchy…heard you. MC, take care of the house while we're gone."

There was a ghost of a smile on their face, one they must have tried to hide from me earlier. "Yes," They snorted, and I silently warned them to open their mouth again. "Wuchy."

Ah. They still have the audacity to mock me. Me. Who was trying to turn a blind eye? Giving them a chance to fix their mess before anyone else finds out? I smirked back.

"If the house falls down…or if it gets destroyed any further…prepare to face your punishment . Alone."

Their silence was enough of a penitence…for now. Beel's stomach growled louder and louder each passing second, and my gloves are currently soiled with bite marks everywhere.

I bent down to meet Beel at eye level and pried my hands away from his nibbling. "What do you want to eat?"

His eyes sparkled at the question, and he started chanting something in gibberish that I pretended to understand. "Wook wook! Bee fawwit!"

Wook?

He...never said that before. Or did he? I decided to carry him in my arms once I noticed he was having difficulty keeping up with my strides. He shook his head several times as we passed every food stall and kiosk in the shopping district, contenting himself with chewing on the gloves I thought I had confiscated already.

It had been so long that I almost forgot that Beel was once a picky eater when he was little. Michael marveled on his "refined palate", telling me I should cherish my brother's talent (and consider giving Beel to him once he got older to train under his tutelage) but I vehemently refused. I was busy enough as a high-ranking angel and barely had the time to see my siblings, and the last thing I ever wanted was to part from them. I understood the difficulties of having an absent parent all too well, and I did not wish for my brothers to experience the same longing I had when I was the same age as them.

Beel was as docile and as sweet as I remembered him long ago, smiling and laughing in my arms, calling me Wuchy over and over, and seeking for his twin in adorable babbles of "Bewphie" and "Bwanky", which I responded in my usual way:

"Bewphie, sleep."

"Seepu?"

"Yes." I answered, prying away my damaged gloves from his mouth. "Bewphie told me you should eat so you won't wake him up." I pointed at his rumbling stomach, and little Beel automatically held it and felt the rumbling coming from it.

"Bee…wouwd (loud)?"

"Mhm. Bewphie can't sleep unless you eat something."

He must not have been able to distinguish his twin because of his current form, seeking perhaps a smaller counterpart of his brother just like the old days. After some more meandering around stalls, feeling full over the meals that Beel refused to eat, I racked my brain to figuring out the meaning behind his childish babble:

What on earth does wook mean?

I have never heard him say it before even in the Celestial Realm, nor did I ever recall teaching him the words.

"Wook! Wook!" Beel said excitedly again, grabbing my hair in his elation to turn to a man flipping Bat Wing pancakes in a stall. The line was atrocious, barely moving, arid and noisy.

"Does Bee want to eat that?"

I sighed in relief when he shook his head. "Wuchy, Wook! Wook Bee fawwit!"

Wait a moment. Does wook mean…

"Do you want me to look?" But look at what? At the elderly demon flipping pancakes? Beel shook his head again, seemingly lost at how to translate his thoughts and feelings into his limited toddler vocabulary.

"Wook...wook fuu fo Bee…" he squinted his googly eyes at me and made exaggerated hand gestures. "Wuchy….wook fuu fo Bee! Bee fawwit!"

The proverbial cogs in my brain started to turn as I came across an epiphany. Before I knew it, I was already holding my DDD.

It pains me to do this, but I cannot let Diavolo know.

"Hello, Simeon?"

Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. It was evident with Simeon's jovial expressions as he opened the door.

"It really is a baby! Can I hold him?"

Simeon's smile never disappeared, rather, his eyes narrowed as he turned to me to speak. "Luke is good with kids. He volunteers taking care of cherubs in Heaven."

"Mhm! I have Raphael's seal of approval!"

Sighing, I surrendered my brother to Luke, my traitorous brother who did not even cry or protest when a complete…stranger is now holding him in his arms.

"Meemwon!"

"Oh! I haven't heard that in ages! This sure brings back memories!~" Simeon planted a kiss on Beel's cheek and I couldn't help but frown. "Hello, Bee! It's big bro Meemwon!" Beel giggled in reply as Simeon planted smaller kisses at him, clearly enjoying the attention.

"You're getting into this, way too much don't you think so?"

"He's adorable!" Simeon reasoned. "But, isn't his stomach growling?"

"That's why we're here." I tried to maintain an aura of composure. "I need to borrow your kitchen. Is Solomon around?"

Simeon's eyes widened for a bit in understanding…then I heard manic laughter. Is this really how he should conduct himself in front of the children? I kept that opinion to myself and didn't say a word. "No, he isn't. Don't worry." He looked at me again and smiled reassuringly. "Feel free to use the kitchen. We'll take care of Beel~"

"Solomon--"

"...won't feed Beel anything even if he does come back. Just go before he throws another tantrum!" Simeon shooed me away from the living room, pushing my back to Purgatory Hall's fully furnished kitchen. It certainly had better equipment compared to Lamentation, which I can only attribute to Michael's influence.

Cooking was one thing, but feeding Beel another. He continued rejecting meal after meal after meal of my best dishes. His stomach only growled louder, and his mood became irritable even with Simeon's and Luke's aid. The ingredients I have purchased were almost gone, left only with a half-used bag of flour, milk and eggs.

"The best I can do with these are pancakes…

Pancakes?"

A memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to the Celestial Realm and our former residence there. Assuring the house help that I wanted to try cooking for my brothers for a change, I begrudgingly followed the recipe book Michael had given me and started with its easiest dish.

I attributed my failed attempts to Michael's unique, archaic wordings in his cook book and tried again. And again. And again. Numerous ruined frying pans and ingredients later, I was left with a shabby excuse of a pancake---charred at the sides, eggshells at the other. I waved my white flag in surrender and called for a food delivery instead, deflated. Some Morning Star I was. It was an hour before dinner and my siblings were peeking at the kitchen with their blinking, doe eyes.

"Wuchy...huwt?" Lilith looked up to me, looking like she was about to cry and I took her in my arms to comfort her.

"Lucy…" I corrected myself. "Wuchy isn't hurt. Just tired."

"Seepu?" Belphegor offered me his cow pillow and I shook my head. "Later after we eat."

"Fuu?!" I managed to catch Beelzebub with my free hand before he faceplanted on the floor as he rushed to me in excitement.

"I'm sorry, Bee. As you can see, Wuchy doesn't have anything edible he can feed you." I carried him in my free arm and showed him my culinary failures.

"Wuchy…fuu." Beel pouted at me. "Wuchy, whie. Fuu deww! (Lucy lied. There's food over there!)" He tugged my hair and glared. "Bee, eat!"

"Eat!" Lilith mimicked.

"Bewphie, eat?" Belphegor followed.

"No, children. As you can see-- Mammon, wash your hands first!--"

I couldn't believe my eyes.

Everyone was gathered at the table, eating my failures with smiles on their faces. Beel, who had been sitting next to me this whole time tugged me on the sleeve to ask for seconds. "Dis...Bee fawitt! Cwunch!"

"It must be the eggshells."

"Mhm! Wuv it! Wuchy?"

I felt him wrap his arms around my side. With a wide grin, he said. "I wuv you!"

Only to be followed by a barrage of hugs from the others, talking over each other as they gathered around me with their syrup-stained faces.

"Asmo wuvs Wuchy disssss much!"

"Bewphie...wuv!"

"Wiwi, wuv Wuchy moww! (Lilith loves Lucy more!)"

"I guess you're okay…but the Great Me is better!"

"...Levi l-loves Lucy too…"

I couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I do recall telling the delivery man that he can have my order for himself. After that, I strived to become better at cooking so I can serve my siblings better meals.

Anyone would strive to try harder if they are ever subjected to that much smothering, I suppose. Still, I do think that after that, Beel began to eat everything happily, much to Michael's dismay.

"This looks horrifying." The plating of the pancake itself was one or two burns shy of Solomon's best attempts at cooking…I could not believe that out of every dish there is in this world, this horrible disaster is my brother's favourite food. I never really asked him about it. Perhaps I have forgotten and he happily ate everything I cooked because he had no choice. Still, it was no time to mull over such nonsense, especially if Beel's stomach is now resembling Cerberus' growls.

"Wook!" Beel's eyes sparkled as I placed the cooled pancakes down at the table, munching on the sweet treat happily despite the…eggshells. I tried my best to emulate my failed attempts from before, and judging from the elated look on Beel's face, I must have gotten his approval.

"Is that--" (Simeon)

"Don't ask." I shut him up before he could even speak a word. "And please don't ever say this to Michael. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

Simeon smiled impishly in reply. "Would you cook here again--"

"No.

But I suppose I owe you some hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies for letting me use your kitchen."

"Anytime~"

"I was talking to the chihuahua, not you."

"I'm not a chihuahua!"

Beel was sleeping peacefully in my arms on the way home. While still baffled at a startling discovery about Beelzebub, I hadn't much time to think about it as I was covered in confetti the moment I opened the door.

"Happy birthday, Lucifer!" (MC)

"Simeon took too much time! The ice cream's meltin'!"

"Lolololol I told you he forgot his own birthday! Beel was the perfect distraction!"

What. On. Earth. Is going on?

"Sorry, Lucifer!" MC bowed her head and looked up to me, looking apologetic. "We were trying to throw you a surprise party but…things got…well...wrong. But, everything's okay now!" They pulled me inside and showed me the feast they have prepared for me.

It was a smorgasbord of my favourites. From the appetisers to the desserts and wines, I recalled some of these dishes as my specialties. Satan's familiar handwriting was drawn over a buttercream cake with my name on it, along with a small drawing of me in a party hat along with everyone else. Everyone else was seated at the dining table including Diavolo and Barbatos, both of which I was trying to avoid the entire day.

Were they involved in this ridiculous plan as well?

MC seemed to read my mind and nodded at me shyly. "I did mess up with my homework, that much is true, but Solomon helped in undoing the spell! He was the one who suggested to turn Beel back into a toddler so we have enough time to prepare for everything!"

Solomon waved a hand at me and smiled. "They still didn't let me cook anything though☆"

"So all of the chaos…"

"...is us cleaning up our first attempts of party preparations." Satan begrudgingly replied. "Until of course, you came back earlier than expected."

"Now, now~" Asmo interjected. "What's important is that he's here and Beel's spell is about to wear off!♡ Now, Lucifer dear, why don't you join us and blow your candles?"

I have completely forgotten about my birthday.

I didn't see the point of celebrating it anymore, I suppose. Thousands of years of repetitions can bring ennui upon you. However, things have changed.

The House of Lamentation had a warmer atmosphere thanks to MC, and everyone was closer than ever before. The loss of a family and an inclusion of a new one opened up our hearts enough to heal and perhaps forgive ourselves a little for the years we have ignored its value.

Who knew such a fleeting human could be the catalyst of such unimaginable developments?

"Oh! Beel's back!"

"Yay~! Your seat's over there, Beel!"

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances.

However…nothing can ever prepare me for this moment.

"Lucifer?"

I turned to Beelzebub, now back to his normal form and he offered me a smile. "The pancake you cooked was really good. Can you make it again for me next time?"

I smiled back.

"With or without the eggshells?"

#obey me #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me drabble #obey me oneshot #shall we date obey me #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me mc #family fluff #first person pov

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dawninlatin · 4 years

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Haste

A Feysand Modern AU One Shot

Words: 4433

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Feyre comes back home after quitting college and breaking up with her boyfriend. During a night out, she starts seeing her friend Rhys in a new light. (Warning: There is some smut by the end)

The title comes from the song “Haste” by RY X, and if you wanna vibe, I suggest you go listen to it:)

A/N: Sorry for how long this note is, guess I had a lot to say, lol. This is actually the first fic I ever wrote, but I wanted to repost it, because I had only posted the AO3 link before, and wasn’t happy with that format. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my amazing followers and readers!<3

When reading through this fic, there were so many things I wanted to change, (like, why did I think it was a good idea to have every other word written in italics?? And I’m so sorry for the cheesy dialogue and suuuuper long paragraphs...), but I decided to keep it as it was, because it shows how far I’ve come from that day in February where I sat up half the night writing, thinking that no one would ever read this, because my English wasn’t good enough, and my writing wasn’t good enough.

Yet I still posted it, and the response I got was more than I ever expected! This, along with all the other response I’ve gotten on all my other fics, has helped me so much with my writing, but more importantly, has helped me become the person I am today. So thank you so much, to everyone who takes the time to read, to everyone who likes, and reblogs, and leaves comments, and keep encouraging me! Thank you to all you wonderful people I have gotten to know on this app, tumblr has become a second home for me! From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all!<3<3<3

This was not how Feyre had pictured her night. Had she been the one to decide, it would consist of greasy pizza, a bottle of tequila and some crappy rom-com. Feyre had gotten as far as scrolling through Netflix in search for one, when her best friend Mor walked in the door of the apartment and declared that Feyre better get her ass of that couch, take a fucking shower and put on some decent clothing, because they were going out.

Feyre hadn’t felt like she was in the right position to protest; it was Mor’s couch she’d been occupying for the past week after all. Had it been a week already? she wondered. A week since Feyre had finally broken up with her asshole boyfriend Tamlin and then jumped on a bus to California, because the only person in the world she wanted to be with then was Mor. She had felt the need to share this victory with the only person that could always make her feel better. Of course, the high had ended as soon as she stood on Mor’s doorstep, where she had taken one look at her best friend and turned into a sobbing mess. That was about how she had spent the following week as well. She didn’t want to cry over the bastard, but he had been part of her life for the past two years, and she had loved him. Once.

So instead of spending the night on Mor's couch, wallowing in self pity, Feyre now found herself standing in the middle of a dance club crowded with drunk, sweaty people, playing way too loud music - the blinking lights making her dizzy. She had borrowed one of Mor’s dresses - and though this was considered modest in Mor’s eyes - she found herself constantly pulling at the black fabric, not comfortable with how much thigh it showed off.

Feyre scanned the room, trying to find her friend, and as she was about to declare the task impossible, she eyed a red dress and a head of blond curls. Mor was elbowing her way through the crowd, drinks in hand, accompanied by two men Feyre recognized. The tall, muscular one with shoulder-length, dark hair and a cocky smirk was Cassian, and the slightly shorter one with a shy smile was Azriel.

As they approached her, Cassian went in for a one-armed hug. «It’s good to see you Feyre!» He grinned at her, and she found herself grinning back despite her unhappy mood earlier. She really had missed these people.

«Hi Feyre, you look well!» Feyre looked up to see Azriel smiling at her, accompanied by an awkward wave. He was more of the quiet, observing type of guy, but that was exactly what Feyre liked so much about him. He was quiet, yes, but the silence was never uncomfortable.

«You as well, Azriel.» She smiled back at him, then turned towards Mor, who handed her a drink.

«Don’t look so shy Feyre. You look amazing tonight!» Mor winked at her, then gestured to the rest of the club. «You should have seen all the guys eyeing you when we walked in. Actually…if you hadn’t been my best friend, and straight-» she made a disappointed face at that, which made their whole group laugh, including Feyre, «-I totally would have slept with you.» Feyre laughed even more at that, but Mor was right. She felt good tonight. Sexy, even. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long way. She was excited for what the night - the future - would bring.

«I might not wanna sleep with you, but I think that brunette at the bar wants to.» Feyre nodded her head towards the young woman ogling her friend.

«Hell yes!» Mor exclaimed. She put her arms around Feyre and Azriel’s shoulders. «Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna get laid!»

«Cheers to that!» Cassian laughed, lifting his drink. As Feyre sipped hers, she felt light, almost giddy, with excitement and joy. At the same moment, she noticed someone was missing from their small gathering. Rhys.

She couldn’t fathom how she hadn’t noticed before. Mor’s annoying cousin was difficult to ignore whenever he was present. The prick always teased, always came with innuendos, or witty remarks. He had the biggest ego Feyre had ever encountered. Still, Feyre found herself to be missing Rhysand’s snarky comments and their never-ending banter. Before she had time to stop herself, she spoke the sentence: «Hey guys, where’s Rhys?»

Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at her, but she chose to ignore him. «He’s coming later. Had to work overtime» Mor answered. Feyre nodded, before quickly switching the subject over to their plans for the rest of the summer.

As soon as they had some alcohol in their blood, Feyre and her small group of friends moved on to the dance floor. Feyre was jumping around, singing along to whatever song they were blasting, joking and laughing with Mor and Cassian, teasing Azriel for not wanting to join them. They looked like idiots, but they were happy idiots. She could feel the heavy bass in her whole body, along with her beating heart. She was so, so happy . Happier than all of last year combined. Hell, she hadn’t been this happy since high school, when she, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, even Rhys, had been together almost every day. Always laughing, joking. But that had been before Tamlin, and before she had been stupid enough to move halfway across the country for college.

Feyre scolded herself for thinking about Tamlin again. The point of tonight was to forget him. To have fun. And she was having fun, and she was happy. So happy that at any moment she could grow wings and disappear into the night. She had no worries. No worries of the home she had left behind, or college, or her ex-boyfriend, or what tomorrow would bring. She was here, now, and she felt fucking amazing.

Feyre heard Cassian greet someone, and turned just in time to meet a pair of shockingly blue eyes. Rhys. Her breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest, and she found herself not being able to look away. He held her gaze, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Feyre didn’t know if it was the lights, the music, the alcohol, the warm summer night, still young and full of possibilities, or the feeling of finally being free, but it was as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Had he always been this handsome? she asked herself, taking in his lean, muscular form, his tight-fitting jeans, the white shirt opened just enough to show off the tattoos swirling across his chest. She stared at his sharp jawline, his soft lips, his eyes, so blue they were practically glowing, his dark, messy hair. Oh, how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair.

A cough from Mor made Feyre tear her eyes away at last. I must be drunker than I thought , she mused. This was Rhys she was thinking about. The man who annoyed her to no end. The man who was known for his many hook-ups and one night stands and flirts and just- argh.

«How nice of you to finally show up,» Cassian said as he threw an arm around Rhys’ shoulder and handed him a drink. Rhys made a comment that had Cassian roaring with laughter, but Feyre didn’t hear what it was, because Rhys was looking at her with such an intensity that it made her insides tingle. Stop it, she thought. You had a boyfriend just a week ago.

«Hey Feyre. It’s good to see you again.» Rhys smiled at her, but it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. It almost looked a little sad. Feyre suddenly found the floor very interesting, not being able to keep herself from blushing or biting her lip. She could feel his eyes on her. Burning. Then Mor shouted «Who wants shots?», and the moment was over.

The night went on. They drank, they danced, they talked about college and hook-ups and high school. Feyre almost wanted to cry at the feeling of how familiar it all was. She had been afraid that her moving to Boston would change everything - and it had, for a little while - but she was back now, and everything was normal. Except for Rhys, maybe. Something had definitely changed between the two of them.

Gone was the teasing and never-ending banter. In its place was something brand new. They hadn’t said anything to one another except for pleasantries for the entirety of the evening, but Feyre caught him staring at her constantly, with this sad, longing look in his eyes. And to be honest, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of him either.

Right now, they were all sitting at the bar, watching Cassian stick his tongue down the throat of some random blonde on the dance floor. Mor suddenly stood up, announcing she was gonna go try her luck with the woman she had been flirting with all night.

«Come on, Azriel. You’re gonna be my wingman.» His protest died on his lips as More pulled him after her.

All there was left, was Feyre and Rhys. Not able to meet each others eyes.

But Feyre was feeling brave this night. It might have been the alcohol, or the still-lingering high of having broken up with the asshole that had made her life miserable for the past year. She muttered a quiet «fuck it», downed her drink, stood up, and looked her friend straight in the eyes. «Do you wanna dance?»

Rhys’s face was lit up by a bright smile. «I thought you’d never ask, Feyre darling.» Her insides warmed at the familiar nickname, and she found herself smiling just as brightly. Rhys took her hand, leading her to the dance floor, where some old EDM shit was playing.

Feyre didn’t care about the bad music, or the bright lights, or the sweat coating her body. She was here with Rhys. His body was so close now, and she could smell his all-familiar scent of citrus and sea.

She lost track of how long they danced. None of them were any good at it, but they were laughing and having fun. Feyre felt 17 again, jumping around, sweaty and drunk, but happy. «God, I missed this!» she exclaimed, grinning at Rhys, just as the fast rhythms and heavy bass switched over to a slow ballad.

Hesitantly, Feyre glanced at Rhys, suddenly feeling shy and unsure. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She understood what he meant immediately, and nodded, biting her lip. Rhys stepped closer, and put his arms around her waist. She placed hers around his neck, swaying along with the music.

She looked at the man in front of her. Really looked at him this time. How had she not noticed before, how strikingly beautiful he was? His sharp angles, kissable lips, silky hair, the blue eyes she could get lost in if she stared for too long. Said eyes were taking in her just as intensely at the moment.

«You are so beautiful tonight, Feyre.» His voice was hoarse, laced with restraint. Feyre felt a longing, deep within herself. She wanted to tell him he was beautiful too, wanted to kiss him, wanted to cry, wanted to just leave, wanted to stay in his arms forever. She wanted to be his. She did neither, couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Instead, she stepped closer, and pressed her forehead against his, feeling his strained breath against her lips. Everything around them disappeared. The world narrowing down to the two of them, together, forehead against forehead, in the midst of a warm night in June.

Then the song ended, and the moment was over. Feyre stepped back, but she continued to hold his gaze. Rhys looked towards the exit. «Come, I wanna show you something.» He grabbed her hand, and then he was leading her through the crowd. They walked past Mor, who muttered a «fucking finally!» that made them both chuckle.

Outside, they were surrounded by warm, summer air, a chill breeze running over their exposed skin. Rhys looked at Feyre with mischief in his eyes. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

«What exactly was it that you wanted to show me?» she asked, not being able to hide her curiosity.

«You’ll see, just trust me.» Rhys looked giddy with excitement. He was bouncing on his feet now. «Follow me, we don’t wanna miss it.» Then he started walking. Fast.

«Miss what?» Feyre shouted after him, but he didn’t answer. Rhys just kept on walking, and she struggled to keep up with him. «I have shorter legs than you, remember? And I’m currently in heals, which puts me at an unfair disadvantage.» He stopped a few steps ahead, an amused look on his face.

«We have to wait a few minutes now,» he announced, all serious. Feyre looked around where they were standing, a few blocks away from the club. The whole city was sleeping. The sight of the quiet, empty streets bewitching.

Then a bright, yellow bus stopped in front of them. Also empty. She followed Rhys onto it, confusion growing more and more. «The bus? Where exactly are we going?»

The puzzled look on Feyre's face made him chuckle. «I swear, the mystery will be worth it once we get there. Now, we could have walked, but then we would miss it.» He must have seen the question forming on her lips, because he raised a finger. «And no, I still won’t tell you what it is.»

She rolled her eyes and muttered a quiet «prick». The nickname made him laugh, and she laughed with him, because Feyre hadn’t called him that since high school. It had been way too long since they’d been together like this. Still, under all the joking and laughing, there was an unfamiliar tension that hadn’t been there before.

After only five minutes, Rhys announced that they had reached their destination. He stepped out onto the street, and led Feyre towards a beach. The sight in front of her was breathtaking. The dark waves crashing against the sand, the sky - the nearing dawn making it a deep pink - birds flying over their heads, and Rhys, who had taken off his shoes and started walking towards the ocean. Feyre followed him, slipping out of her heels. The moment she felt the familiar California sand under her toes again, she laughed with joy. A rich and warm sound she hadn’t made in forever.

Rhys, who was standing in the water now, looked up at her, the same bright smile on his face. He waved at her to hurry up, and she walked the final steps to him. The sea was warm, and the salty smell of it was amazing. It was home. She looked towards the horizon, where the sun barely had begun to rise. Then she looked up at Rhys again.

«The sunrise. That’s what you wanted to show me.» Rhys only nodded, before looking ahead of them. Feyre took in the sight again, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She wanted, no, she needed to paint.

Her thoughts were disturbed by Rhys, who was now sitting in the sand, jeans cuffed up to his knees. «Come sit with me, Feyre.» He patted the spot next to him.

Feyre stepped back and sat down, feeling the waves crash against her legs. She looked to Rhys, and said the only thing that could come to her mind with a playful smirk on her lips. «How did your dad take it when he found out his only son was gonna major in English, and not business?»

Rhys grimaced. «He was pissed at first, even threatened to write me out of his will, but he came around - eventually.» They chuckled at that, both knowing how angry Rhys’ father could get, but also how he always gave in when it came to his children. «How about you? How’s all the art stuff going?» Rhys asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

«Urgh,» Feyre cringed, «I dropped out in March, haven’t touched a paint brush since.» She should have been sad or ashamed when admitting that, but she felt good, knowing she had made the right choice. She had been miserable in Boston.

Rhys looked at her, concern lining his face. «That bad, huh?»

«What can I say? Boston sucked, and I would much rather be here, with you guys.» She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

«So you’re back for good now?» Feyre only nodded, turning back towards the rising sun.

The sight in front of her was hypnotizing. «I didn’t realize how much I’ve really missed home.» The words were out before she managed to think. Rhys only hummed quietly beside her. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Feyre turned towards him. His eyes were closed, a small smile on his lips. «What’s on your mind?» she wondered out loud.

Rhys opened his eyes then, and looked at her. «A thought for thought?» he suggested. She smiled at the reminder of the little game they used to play when they were younger. «I can begin,» he continued.

He looked towards the horizon again, taking a deep breath. «I’m thinking that when I walked into the club tonight, I was so happy to see you, because you were so happy. You were dancing and laughing and I thought that finally we had gotten our Feyre back. After you left for Boston, and after you met him, it was as if you disappeared.» Feyre tried to swallow the lump in her throat. He sounded wounded, almost. Did he really care about her that much?

«You visited, of course, but it was like a stranger had replaced you. You were a shell of who you once used to be. You stopped laughing, stopped making inappropriate jokes, and I missed you. God, I missed you so much.» Feyre felt like she might cry at his words, but she didn’t. All she did was stare ahead, and take his hand. She squeezed it, encouraging him to continue. He squeezed back.

«As I said, when I saw you tonight, I was sure we had gotten the old Feyre back. Mor told me what had happened in Boston - why you were back - and I was sure that everything would return to normal between us.» He took a break, clearly anxious of saying what was next.

«But everything isn’t back to normal. Something has changed. I can feel it, and I think you can too.» He looked at her now, that intense longing once again in his eyes. She met his gaze, and suddenly felt brave enough to say:

«I can feel the change too, yes, but I think it’s a good change.» Then she leaned in, and kissed him.

Rhys went completely still at first, and Feyre was afraid that she had misunderstood their conversation. Then he seemed to realize what was happening. He put one arm around her waist, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

His lips tasted salty, she thought, but sweet at the same time. She could get drunk on him alone. Feyre was breathless, and dizzy, but she decided this was the best feeling in the world.

She was kissing Rhys.

He pressed his tongue against her lips, and she opened up for him, moaning at the sensation. She put her hands in his hair, slightly pulling at it. The silky strands feeling soft in her fingers.

Kissing Rhys was everything, but at the same time it was not enough. She needed more. Needed to be closer, needed to feel more of him. She pulled away slightly, breathless, heart thundering, blood rushing in her ears. Rhys looked at her, just as breathless, a hungry gleam in his eyes. «How far is it to your place?» He only smirked in answer.

Rhys stood up, picking Feyre up with him. She laughed as he almost dropped her, then she wrapped her legs around his waist. He didn’t walk far before they reached a small house. Rhys put her down, pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door.

Feyre marveled at the place as they stepped inside. It was small, but it was stunning. Large glass windows facing the ocean, green plants covering every available surface, and several over-filled bookshelves. She turned to look at Rhys, who had stopped in the doorway, staring at her taking in his place, surprise clearly written on her face. She took a step towards him. Then another. And another, until their mouths crashed together again.

Rhys moved his lips over her jaw, down her throat, her neck. Feyre moaned, struggling to get his shirt off fast enough, both minds clouded with lust and the haste to be as close together as possible. Skin to skin.

She finally managed to open the last button, pulling off the fabric. Feyre took in his muscled, tan chest and the many tattoos covering it. She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to the spot right above his heart. She could feel it hammering beneath his skin. She moved upwards, ghosting them over his collarbone, his neck, his throat, his jawline, then finally his lip.

Rhys grabbed her face, kissing her with such an intensity it made her dizzy. She was about to start fumbling with his belt when Rhys pulled away. «Are you sure you want this?» he asked, all out of breath, voice cracking, and Feyre would have thought his consideration and worry to be cute, had she not been so desperate to press her naked body against his. So she only nodded, and stepped back to pull her dress over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

That seemed to be the end of Rhys' restraint. He took a step towards her, grabbed her under her thighs, and hoisted her up so she was sitting with her legs around his waist. Feyre moaned at the feeling of him pressing against her, hard and ready, and she felt a warm throbbing between her own legs.

Feyre let out a breathy «why the hell do you still have pants on?» that made Rhys chuckle. She felt the sound moving through his whole body. He walked across the room, laid her down on the bed and quickly got rid of his pants. Feyre almost drooled at the sight of his large cock. She reached out a hand and stroked him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Rhys groaned at the feeling, and leaned over her, placing his mouth on one of her nipples.

It felt exquisite. Rhys, his wandering hands, her body tingling with sensation, his hot mouth on her skin. She needed more, more, more. Feyre pulled his cock free, and he kicked of his underwear. One of his hands reached the band of her own panties, a finger dipping into her core, then slowly circling her clit.

It was too much and not enough and she needed more. Rhys slid off her underwear, and all of a sudden there was nothing between them. «Do you have a condom?» Feyre didn’t know how she managed to form words at this point, but he reached behind her and grabbed one. Feyre took it and rolled it on him, while his mouth explored every inch of her breasts, and his hand slowly stroked the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre needed him inside her, now. She lined his cock up with her entrance, then she looked him in the eyes. He took her hint, slowly, oh so slowly, pushing himself in, not breaking eye contact.

Feyre moaned at the feeling of him filling her, widening her. He was thick and warm and it felt amazing. She pulled his mouth to hers, and he pressed his tongue inside her, filling her in two places. He pulled out slightly, then pushed in to the hilt this time. Rhys groaned at the sensation, his hand still drawing circles over her clit.

It felt so good, she was seeing stars. The wave inside her rising and rising with no end as Rhys picked up his pace, slamming to the hilt and hitting that magic spot every. damn. time.

Words like more or faster or deeper filled the warm air around them. Rhys buried his head between her shoulder and neck, moaning her name. Feyre felt her pussy clench around him, nearing that sweet, sweet edge. «Rhys, I need to…»

He seemed to understand what she meant, because he went even faster, fingers pressing down against her clit, and fuck it felt so good! His eyes met her eyes, his forehead pressed against her forehead, and she felt his words as a breath against her lips. «Come, Feyre.»

Those words pushed her over the edge immediately, wave crashing over her like nothing ever had before. It lasted a lifetime. That sweet, unending pleasure. She clenched around him again and again, until he started losing control, losing rhythm, and at last he came with her, groaning.

When it was over, the world around them went quiet. The sun was shining through the curtains, a new day beginning, Rhys collapsed on top of Feyre, stroking her disheveled hair away from her face. «That was…» she didn’t know how to end that sentence. She wanted to stay here with him forever. Just the two of them. Skin to skin.

Rhys looked at her, amusement coloring his face. «Intense?» he suggested. Feyre chuckled, tapping her fingers against his chest. He pulled out, turned on his back, taking her with him, so that she lay on his chest, ear placed right over his heart.

«I was gonna go with best sex of my life, but intense works too I guess.» He laughed at that. A warm, loud laughter that she could feel in her whole body. He kissed the top of her head, and pulled a blanked over them.

As Feyre lay there, feeling Rhys draw slow circles on her back, listening to the waves, letting the steady beat of his heart and the sound of his even breaths lull her to sleep, she knew that nothing would ever be the same after this night. She felt almost electric with excitement over what the rest of the summer would bring. One thing she was sure of, Rhys would be part of it.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhys #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #feysand fanfiction #dawninlatin fanfiction

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megalodon-writes · 4 years

Text

Surprise Date

Anon: Nishinoya and Kuroo fluff scenario (separate) in which his s/o surprises him with a well-planned fun date and spoils him for the whole day 💟 (bonus for cuddles and hugs, thanks a lot)

I’m reposting this because I very much dislike how tumblr messes up the formatting of things so yea. ANYWAYS thank you for requesting!!! I hope you like this. I was a little nervous because this is the first time I’ve written for Noya(other than hcs) so yeah! Have a great day/night!

S/O surprises Noya and Kuroo with a surprise date!

Nishinoya

“Babe,” Noya whined. “Can I take this blindfold off yet?”

“No!” You laughed, holding his hand tighter. Because of the earplugs you made him wear, he couldn’t hear your response, so he tried to take off the cloth covering his eyes but you grabbed his other hand.

“I wanna see-” He stopped for a moment and grinned. “I smell churros.” You silently cursed the man walking with two huge sugary treats. “Are we at an amusement park?” Since he had guessed where you were, you let him regain his two missing senses.

“I wanted us to get inside the park before you noticed.” You huffed. He had such a huge gleam in his eyes that he didn’t even notice you were a little upset.

“I’m so-” He saw the look on your face and wrapped his arms around you. “Thank you, I’m so excited. I had no idea this is where we were going!”

“Wait, really?” You asked, sure he had at least had some suspicions. He shook his head vigorously and before you knew it, you were being locked into a seat on the first ride of the day.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Noya said, looking more excited than you had ever seen him before. “There are so many things I want to do.”

“That’s why I planned this date! It’s all about you today.” You smiled at him and he grabbed your hand to kiss it quickly. “I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me. Plus, we’ve been talking about coming here forever.” Looking at how excited he was made your heart swell.

“You’re the best girlfriend!” He cheered, throwing his hands up as high as he could. The shift of the seats signified that you were about to be brought up and Noya yelled the entire way to the top. He grabbed your hand tight because he saw the nervous expression on your face.

“Hey, um I’ve been wanting to say something.” You said, right as you heard the click behind you. You could see all the small houses and buildings way in the distance from the height you were at. “I love you.” Even though you said the phrase you’ve been dying to say for the longest time, you couldn’t help but scream the last word as you plummeted towards the ground. You had wanted to be at the top of this specific ride because you thought it would be the perfect time to say it as you bounced to the ground. Once the ride stopped and you were let free, Noya was jumping around so much from excitement that he wasn’t making any sense with what he was saying. You followed him out, wondering if he had heard you. You sighed slightly, concerned that maybe he didn’t feel the same way, even though you thought he did.

“That was so cool! The way it brought us up like woosh and then drop-” He stopped, his mouth opening slightly. “Did you say you love me?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay if you-” Before you could continue, his arms were wrapped around you, enveloping you in the most comforting hug. He laughed, almost in relief, and laid his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He planted his warm lips on yours. “I’ve been meaning to say that myself for a while now.”

Kuroo

“Hey I have planned something for us today.” You smiled, looking at the hazel eyes in front of you. Kuroos eyebrows raised in surprise before he laughed into your collarbone. He peppered it with kisses, which left you giggling and patting his head. “Come on, I think you’re going to have a lot of fun.”

“What are we doing?”

“I’m not going to tell you, it’s a surprise!” You snickered. He pouted slightly before sitting up.

“Okay, what do I need to wear then?”

It wasn’t too long after you had left your apartment when you pulled into the clearing, the stones and dirt crunching under the weight of the tire. You had forgotten how truly beautiful the place was, even though you had been there a day before. A small cabin was hidden by the trees, but you were going to keep that fact a secret for a little while longer. Kuroo’s face was all the confirmation you needed to know you had chosen the right thing to do.

“Wow.” He breathed, looking at the water shimmer in the warm sunshine. “I see now why you made me put on a swimsuit.” You laughed and opened the back of the car to pull out the picnic items.

“And you thought I just wanted to see you half naked.”

“Do you not?” He smirked, flexing slightly. You shook your head in a laugh and laid out a blanket on the soft dirt as Kuroo set the cooler down.

“First things first.” You started to head towards the kayak tied to the small dock, but before you could get in it you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. Cold water rushed over your body and you spluttered, turning to look at your grinning boyfriend.

“Oh, you didn’t want to swim already?” He paddled in a circle around you and chuckled, his black hair completely untouched by the water.

“I planned for us to kay-” His lips softly captured yours and you gave into the sweet kiss.

“I’m sorry, what?” He hummed.

“I thought we could go-” Yet again, he cut you off. It would have bothered you except the way his warm body was flush with yours under the chilly water was so nice that you couldn’t help but let him kiss you.

“I’ve even got your favorite-” Another stolen kiss, but this time you pulled away quicker. “Dammit Kuroo let me speak.” You laughed. He smirked and let his arms rest on your waist. “I’ve got some lemonades and sandwiches for us to eat. Then later we can go up to the cabin up there.”

“Whoa,there’s a cabin?” His eyes went wide as he saw the small building.

“Yeah, so I figured we could play around the lake for a while and then go inside. I brought all the supplies for us to grill fish and watch a movie.” He pressed his face into your neck and you felt him smile.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I just want to celebrate you today, Tetsuro.”

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #kuroo x reader #nishinoya x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu #hq #kuroo #nishinoya #haikyuu noya #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo scenario #kuroo one shot #nishinoya one shot #nishinoya scenario #haikyuu nishinoya

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sheps-shepherd · 4 years

Text

Title: Dizzying Dynamics

Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey; Mikleo & Sorey

Rating: T (for non-graphic mentions of death/dying)

Written for SorMik Week 2020 Day 1: Waxing Crescent - Declaration; Commitment / Rigel - Benevolence; Happiness

*Reposted because Tumblr messed up my formatting so badly I just decided to redo it all.

A/N: This is my first time doing any kind of fandom week in three years so of course all the plans I had for it fell through, hence why this is being posted at the very last minute of the first day. I'm not the happiest with how this came out but it's fluffy and what more can any of us ask for.

All of my works for SorMik Week 2020 will take place in this same AU, which has its own story that I wanted to post before these and still haven't finished. It's a BBC Merlin AU, and all you really need to know is this: magic is banned in this world, Mikleo was born with magic, and Sorey is the sunshine prince we all love and deserve. Other necessary world-building happens within each work itself.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Mikleo was getting used to life in Camlann. Slowly but surely.

When his mother had first told him about the arrangements she’d made for him to come live in the capitol, he’d expected to spend a majority of his time with the grandfather he barely remembered in the medical wing of the castle, studying the basics of being a physician by day and honing his magic under the cover of night. He’d expected to spend his days reading, picking herbs, and learning how to properly make various medicines and remedies. Which was okay with him; Mikleo liked to learn, and these types of things were good to learn, and when he went home to Elysia maybe he could put it to use and be more than just the quiet village boy with the magical secret he couldn’t tell anybody.

As it turned out, living in Camlann was nothing like that. Mikleo honestly should have known better, especially when he ended his first week by saving the crown prince’s life and agreeing to take up the mantle as his manservant.

“Which is a completely glorified title, by the way,” Sorey had told him, on his first official day with his new title, when Sorey had come to get him before he could start worrying about what he was meant to do. “All the things you’re technically supposed to be doing, I’m capable of doing myself. And I don’t mind doing them either. That’s why I always told Arthur I never needed one.”

“What am I supposed to be doing then?” Mikleo had asked, and Sorey had smiled at him like that was the funniest question he’d ever been asked.

“Stopping wannabe assassins from killing me, apparently,” he’d responded, in a tone that was definitely way too bright and cheerful for the words they’d been paired with. Mikleo had found out right then and there - Sorey Collbrande-Crowe was fearlessly and unapologetically optimistic.

If Mikleo was being honest, it was rather refreshing to be around someone like that.

He spent most of his time with Sorey after that first week. When Sorey was in meetings or off wherever his princely duties took him, Mikleo was out doing all the things he originally expected to be doing. The times in between were spent wandering the castle and getting into absolutely everything they could find.

They spread out maps across the large table in the drawing room. They snuck cooling pies off the windowsills in the kitchens. They read all kinds of things in the library: history books to fables and fairytales to preserved journals. But Mikleo’s favorite times were the nights they holed up in Sorey’s room, with books or treats or stories to share.

Despite the odd circumstances that got them to this point, they became friends. Genuine friends. The prince-and-technically-servant dynamic didn’t exist.

But the prince-and-secret-sorcerer one certainly did. To Mikleo, at least. The magic in his blood always seemed harder to ignore whenever he was in Sorey’s presence, a glaring reminder of the impassable space that stretched between them.

He was lying next to Sorey in the prince’s bed, propped up on pillows with one of the larger history books opened between them, his arm pressed warmly against Sorey’s when the thought hit him - that maybe he was in way too deep, and it had only been a few months.

Sorey was still the crown prince. Artorius was still his father who hated all things magic. Mikleo had long since given up his avoid the royal family at all costs plan, but falling asleep in the prince’s bed was definitely too far. Risky things like that would put him on the king’s radar, and if Artorius found out- If Sorey found out-

But we’re already here, Mikleo considered, one afternoon spent watching Sorey scribble away, annotating tomes in the library. This will just be where we stop. No farther. No problems. There was no reason he and Sorey couldn’t be friends; Mikleo just had to tread a little more carefully moving forward. Simple. Even his magic seemed satisfied with that plan, glowing in his chest when Sorey peeked up from his work and smiled at him, and Mikleo smiled back.

And then the second assassination attempt had happened. And Mikleo had saved Sorey again. And then Sorey had saved Mikleo. And Mikleo spent the days recovering from being poisoned by staring up at his bedroom ceiling and wondering how the hell he ended up here.

Some destiny this turned out to be.

“Hello? Anybody home in there?”

Mikleo blinked his reverie away, turning his head to see Sorey standing there, dressed to the nines in his street clothes, head cocked with a curious look on his face. He beamed when Mikleo focused in on him.

“There you are! You spaced out on me.”

“Oh.” Mikleo gave his head a shake, as if clearing the last of the thoughts away. “Sorry about that.”

“Go somewhere good?” Sorey asked, nudging Mikleo over a step so they were back on the cobblestone road. Mikleo hadn’t even noticed he’d pulled them off. “Or is this a side effect of poison recovery that you didn’t tell me about?”

“Sorey, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Stop blaming everything on my recovery.”

“Just checking,” Sorey sang before taking a bite out of his apple - which him grabbing from the kitchen as they left had sparked their usual argument of: “That’s not breakfast.” “It totally counts as breakfast.”

Sorey was impossible, in the most endearing way.

“But,” the prince continued after swallowing his bite, “if you are fine, that means you shouldn’t have any problem making good on our deal today. Sure you don’t want to change your answer?”

Mikleo rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do with your day then talk about poison?”

“Nope!” Sorey grinned around another crunch of his apple. “Already checked with Arthur. He actually thinks it’s a great idea that I do some research about this kind of stuff.”

“It is a good idea,” Mikleo agreed. “You were bound to have one sooner or later.”

“You wound me, Mikleo.” Sorey clutched at his shirt, and Mikleo rolled his eyes again at his dramatics.

Impossibly endearing. And maybe the slightest bit mortifying, too.

“I’d guess most people wouldn’t be so excited to research different kinds of poisons,” Mikleo mused as they stepped off the castle road and headed into the Lower Town. They fell in step beside each other, their arms brushing as they walked, assuring they didn’t lose each other in the morning rush of townspeople. “A bit morbid, don’t you think?”

Sorey shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not like most people.” He gave Mikleo a cheeky grin. “What’s your excuse, huh?”

I’m not like most people, either.

“Gramps doesn’t like to leave things half-done,” Mikleo said aloud. “It’s something I need to know as a physician.”

“But shouldn’t it be something I need to know as the you-know-what? Why isn’t that something Arthur had me studying already?”

“That’s what physicians are for.” Mikleo was quiet for a moment, then carefully bumped his shoulder against the other’s. “That’s what I’m for. I have to be doing something as your manservant.”

Sorey chuckled, but the light in his eyes was dimmed as he looked over. “I know,” he said softly, and Mikleo could just barely hear him over the dull roar of people. “But you got hurt because I didn’t know better, and I’m not okay with that.”

“Sorey, you saved me-“

“You wouldn’t have needed saving if I had known in the first place.”

“You are not the reason I was poisoned,” Mikleo insisted. “The maid who put the poison in your drink is the reason.” He crossed his arms. “And again, you saved me by going out and getting what Gramps needed to make the antidote. So we’re both still here and we’re both fine. We’re even.”

“Are not.” Sorey chewed another bite of apple. “We’re two-to-one. Or have you forgotten about saving my life when we first met?”

Mikleo rolled his eyes again, but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Of course not.” But as far as Mikleo was concerned, that was a debt Sorey had already paid back in full.

He didn’t admit it out loud, but Sorey must have read something in his expression, because he smiled and gave Mikleo a nudge of his own.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to keep saving each other and see where we end up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mikleo murmured. “I guess so.”

Sorey suddenly wrapped his arm around Mikleo’s shoulders and tugged him into his side. He blinked as he found himself pressed against the prince’s chest, his hand coming up to steady himself so he wouldn’t completely crash into the other. His hand landed at the center of Sorey’s chest, right where he had grasped it a moment ago.

He tipped his head back, knowing his face was probably bright red but also ready to demand just what Sorey thought he was doing. Then the group of children came hurtling by, practically trampling over one another as they raced down the cobble, calling out hello’s to Sorey as they ran along.

“Be careful, guys!” Sorey called back. “Watch where you’re going! Don’t run anybody over, I can’t save ‘em all!”

The children laughed but didn’t show any signs of slowing down. The little boy bringing up the rear of the group bounded past them.

“I got them, Sorey!” he exclaimed. “Don’t worry!”

“Thanks, Videl. I’m counting on you.” Sorey tossed his half-eaten apple at the boy, who caught it gleefully. “Say hi to your mom for me, yeah?”

“Okay! Bye, Sorey!” Videl took a large bite of the apple and turned around to chase after his friends.

It wasn’t until Sorey was pulling away that Mikleo realized he hadn’t even thought about trying to pull away himself, which he certainly could have done once the crowd of children had passed. The realization made his face grow even warmer. Sorey’s hand staying between his shoulder blades definitely didn’t help.

“You good?” Sorey asked, taking a half-step forward to see Mikleo’s face. “Still have all your toes?”

“Ah.” Mikleo cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

Sorey studied him thoughtfully. The sun was behind him in the sky, silhouetting his messy hair and casting odd shadows across his face, but Mikleo could make out smears of pink across the apples of his cheeks from the heat. He hoped Sorey chalked the redness on his own face up to that, and not to poison recovery or other things.

The beaming grin that broke out across Sorey’s face surprised him. But really, he shouldn’t have expected otherwise.

“I believe that evens our score then,” the prince chirped. “Two for you and two for me.”

“Evens our-?” Mikleo sputtered petulantly. “You did not save my life from a group of children.”

“And have you ever been bowled over by a bunch of kids on the run before? Because trust me, Mikleo, it is not fun.”

“Why am I not surprised you got yourself into something like that?”

“Hey, be nice about it! I had bruises for weeks!”

They bickered back and forth as they headed down the road again, continuing their walk through the town. There were no more clusters of rambunctious children trying to barrel through them, but Sorey still kept his hand on Mikleo’s upper back, fingers hooked comfortably around his shoulder. And Mikleo let him, telling himself it was because their playful banter was distracting him and nothing more. The magic fizzling beneath his skin made sure to let him know he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Living in Camlann was absolutely nothing like Mikleo had expected it to be.

But he was in way too deep to do anything about it now, so he might as well enjoy it.

#talesoffanfic #sormikweek2020 #sormik #sorey #mikleo #merlin au

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boratanical · 5 years

Text

graphics guide

a guide filled with basic info, tips, and answers to common questions that i hope helps people who want to start making graphics

*this was made based on my experiences of making graphics and is what i thought was important to cover but everyone has different ways and approaches so dont feel the need to follow everything on here

what is a graphic?

a graphic (also known as ‘gfx’) is a image edit that incorporates various elements (textures, filters, text, etc) in order to visualize a idea or to create a aesthetic composition

unlike making gifs, there is no right or proper way to make a graphic so dont get too caught up in the idea that a graphic should look a certain way - just stick with your style and what you think looks good

anatomy

image/subject

usually the main focus of the whole graphic

you should always try to use a sharp hd picture - getting it from the original source is always the best option

make sure the source of the picture allows editing - pictures from public sources like a company or the news can be edited while fansite pics and scans need to have permission asked (and if they give you permission make sure you link them when you post your graphic!)

coloring

often referred as ‘psd’ because that is the format they are in (i.e. pink psd pack)

comprise of multiple layers that can alter the images look

a lot of people make their own colorings since the outcome of the look also depends on the image’s original coloring

textures

smaller cut out images that are often used to decorate the graphic

can also refer to a image that can be use as a background of a graphic

can be found in the form of a png (copy + paste into graphic) or a brush (”painted” on to the graphic)

avoid using any textures that does not state the original poster made them - you could unintentionally be using someone’s work that was not made to be used [read more about it here + resources that you can actually use]

text

text can be used to tell information or just for decoration

try to choose fonts and colors that are legible

faq

what software can i use to make graphics

most people use some version of photoshop (i currently use photoshop cc 2018) and a lot people have it cracked but if you cant afford photoshop, find a cracked version or a patcher (i used adobe zii 3.0.4 for mac), or are uncomfortable with getting a cracked version then there are other softwares that are just as good!

i can only vouch for gimp since i used it when i first started making gfxs. it is very similar to photoshop and shares most of the same tools and has a similar look to photoshop. it is also probably the most popular photoshop alternative and would totally recommend it if you cant get photoshop!

[visit + download gimp here]

where do you get your pictures from

official sources such as teasers companies release, photos released by press, photos from idol’s instagram - basically photos that are made for the public to see are whats best to use for a gfx. you should download the photos straight from the source so you get it at its highest quality

some phrases you can use to search for pictures on google: - [group name] photoshoot - [idol name] press - [group name] showcase - [idol name] teaser

remember the more specific you are in your search the better! also when you search through google make sure you check your source!

avoid getting photos from reposting websites like we heart it and pinterest avoid using fansite pictures and scans unless you are granted permission

i don’t know where to start/i’m overwhelmed and i don’t know what to do/ where should i begin

figure out what you want to make or a theme you want to follow - do you want to make a simple graphic or a infographic? do you want it to center around a certain theme like a comeback or a photoshoot? once you determine what you want to do it becomes easier getting ideas and finding stuff you will need for the gfx

example thought process: “i want to make a loona graphic” → do you want it to be the whole group or a certain member or unit? will it just be a simple gfx or a AU gfx or based on a event that the group is doing? “i’ve decided on doing a kim lip one” → do you want it to have a certain theme like kim lip smiling or kim lip with blonde hair? is there a certain frame of time in which you want the graphic to represent like during eclipse era or hi high era? “i want it to be from max and match era with her teasers” → from here you can start finding pictures to use and thinking of colors and textures that would fit your theme

where do you get ideas/inspiration from

i mean it’s different for everyone but for me i literally just think of stuff and i’m like wow i want to make that happen asdfsdfj but mostly when i see pictures or watch something thats where i suddenly get a idea

but tumblr is full of graphic makers!!! ive seen so many amazing graphics from various fandoms like kpop, anime, marvel, etc.

some amazing graphic editors i know myself include: primirene, ireone, nctjaemin, celo-mar, 1hyungseo, jeongahn, haechxnie, sonxiumin, syua, lulumelody, dinomite, lovelyeo, joohys, whatchatalkabout, yveu, maerinah, mihyon, lorbits, cherryjennie, thatporcelain, monoka, ifbin, 7ww

some other places you can look at are behance (dont go on behance if you have a cracked ver of ps - it might trigger a ingenue software alert that is a huge pain to deal with), pinterest, deviantart, dribble, and probably any social media platform if you just look up #graphicdesign

remember if you take inspiration from someone’s work then you should cite them in your caption - if you are afraid that you might’ve accidentally copied someone when you were trying to take inspiration from them its best to either try to remake the gfx again or just to ask the creator permission if its fine if certain details are similar/same

my stuff sucks how do i get better

literally just keep on making stuff aka practice. you can’t improve if you don’t bother putting effort.

ways i’ve forced myself into practicing making gfxs is by: 1) starting a gfxs series - its self paced and is based on what you want to make (i.e. introducing my biases gfx series, my favorite outfits gfx series, etc) 2) taking in requests - people who would request from you probably like your stuff so its a win win situation (i.e. send me a idol + era, send me your bias + palette, send me a group and i’ll make a gfx of my fav member, etc)

tips

only sharpen your pictures after you are done resizing them, if you sharpen and then resize it might result in a more blurry or grainy picture

always save your graphic every 5-10 mins in case photoshop crashes

have two copies of your image cutout: one will be the original and the other one will be the one you edit with - in case you mess up like over erasing or over sharpening your image you have a back up you can use

stick with a color palette so you don’t get overwhelmed when having to color everything and it makes all the graphic panels you have look more cohesive

on photoshop you can favorite fonts!!! take advantage of it!!! your computer has a lot of fonts saved on it and it takes forever to look through a whole list of fonts so by favoring fonts you can see all of the fonts that you like to use for graphics

combine a png pack to one psd → when you open a png pack you will probably get a lot of png files and it gets annoying having a lot of tabs open in photoshop when most of them are just textures so by putting all of those pngs into one psd you can cut down the files you open and can easily see all of your options

make folders dedicated to colorings and textures that way you can easily access them instead of looking through your computer for a certain file

name your layers... i dont do it because its easy for me to tell what layer is what but when you are working with a lot of layers its best just to name them it’ll make life easier

lock your main image/subject so that when you play with texts’ and textures’ location you don’t accidentally move your main image

use curves to help get a photo back to its original coloring! like if you have a photo that has a weird filter on it just use curves and it’ll help the picture look more natural! [tutorial]

try warping your text to make it stand out more! you can access it by pressing the icon on the top text bar that has a T with a curved line under it. i use flag and wave the most

alter a particular color by using a selective color layer

rather than changing the actual color of an image/texture you can: create new layer → select the image/texture and color it on the new layer instead of on top of the image/texture → change the opacity or the mode of the layer so that the color is put on the image/texture while keeping its detailing and not affecting the actual image/texture

resources

colorings: can be found on deviantart or tumblr just look up ‘psd coloring’ or ‘[color] psd’

textures: can be found on deviantart (check to see if its og content or stolen) simply just search what you are trying to find or ‘png pack’ or ‘texture pack’ common textures you can try to find: vintage flowers, memphis shapes, organic shapes, doodles other wesbites: pngtree, creative market, lost and taken, spoongraphics

fonts: if you are looking for a certain font then you can just do a google search but if you are browsing then dafont and font squirrel are really good websites too some of my favorite fonts: abril fatface, agfatumc, antonellie calligraphy, arcadeclassic, bebas neue, century gothic, couture, daily news 1915, dark larch, hondurhas, kotori rose, krinkles, risingstar, sant joan despi, studly, zing rust

color palettes: i made one myself which you can find here, color hunt, and honestly a quick google search will give you tons of options

if you have any questions, other stuff you want me to cover, or want to add more resources and tips then please dm or send an ask! i hope this helps!

#i really hope this helps someone and that it makes sense #i literally woudlve been so happy if i saw this when i first started it took me so long to figure things out and im still learning #also i basically told where i got everything so like please dont take advantage of this and end up copying my gfxs... its happened to me a #lot #idk what to properly tag this alfkjasd #ps help

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s0me-writer · 5 years

Note

Hey, for The extremely detailed OC ask meme. 29, 53, 55, and 56. For Adrien Victus and Tarquin Victus.

For the Extremely Detailed OC ask meme.

Ooh, ooh! This seems like an appropriate time to repost my commission from @savbakk because I love it so damn much. XD

Now, prepare yourself for a wall of text that Tumblr (hopefully) won’t mess up the formatting on… again. And thank you so freaking much for this ask!

Adrien Victus and Tarquin Victus29. What was childhood like?

Adrien had kind of a cool relationship with his parents, his father more so. They were strict and expected a lot from him and he always found himself striving to exceed that expectation. It made him an overachiever, but it also made it hard for him to make friends early on. He decided that he didn’t want that kind of relationship with his son. While he still put Tarquin through his paces right up to the day he left for boot camp, he was a much more supportive parent.

When Tarquin took up cooking, he encouraged it, which I think says a lot about him as a parent if what we get from Garrus (wanting to paint but didn’t) and Kandros (his sister wanting to sculpt) is true. I take it that turian cultures do not look so favorably on the artistically inclined, especially compared to how high they hold military careers. Coupled with the fact that kids are just awful, Tarquin was picked on for his interests, which leads us to his childhood.

Tarquin’s mother, Magrim, was KIA when he was five years old so he grew up with a single dad. A single dad who was still very career-minded and found himself juggling being a good parent and his duties to the Hierarchy. At times, Tarquin went back and forth between living on a dreadnought with his father and living in their home on Palaven, though Adrien preferred him to grow up with the ground under his feet. He tried to keep Tarquin on the homeworld as much as possible (usually in a boarding school) which sometimes meant he wasn’t around for weeks or sometimes months.

What Adrien doesn’t know is that the reason Tarquin started cooking in the first place was to do something to take care of his dad. When Adrien wasn’t devoting himself to the Hierarchy he was putting his free time and effort into his son and Tarquin was very aware of this. Furthermore, as he matured he began to notice the fact that his father never really moved on after Magrim’s death. He knew there were bed partners and maybe short relationships here and there, but Adrien certainly never brought them around Tarquin. Cooking became Tarquin’s way of ‘doing his part’ to make his dad’s life just a little easier.

When Tarquin came of age and went off to the military, he and his father suddenly found they had more in common. Between deployments, Adrien would sit on a barstool in their kitchen and chat with Tarquin while he cooked. It was how they both unwinded from stressful missions, even if they had to dance around classified information from time to time.

53. Expectations vs Reality: what did you expect and what did you get with this character?

Adrien: Honestly, I think I can safely say that my expectations have come to reality. He was always meant to change as the story progressed up until the ending scene that I had in mind since the very beginning. I think the only thing I’m surprised about is how well my interpretation of him has been received. Enough that my singular story has become a series and I can’t begin to express how grateful I am for that.

Tarquin: Now he is much more of a juxtaposition for me. I wrote Order, from beginning to end, with the mindset that Tarquin is dead and never coming back. Then I finished the last chapter and just felt so sad. I ended up going to Youtube and watching Tarquin’s death scene over and over, trying to figure out some way he could have possibly survived. Then I noticed the plate that falls down with him and then I started pondering… maybe? No! No no. Don’t do it… But it is possible… Stop it! We never saw a body… Don’t you dare open up that document- and there she goes.

I still go back and forth on whether that was actually wise. I know I lost readers because of it, but I’ve also received a lot of supportive feedback. And as he’s developed in my series I’ve become more secure in my decision.

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? What happens when these all interact with each other?

Adrien:

Core trait: Loyalty. Whether that’s toward his soldiers, his friends, the Hierarchy, or (later) his people, Adrien Victus is loyal to the point that he will put all the above before himself. It’s why he understands Garrus so well.

Best trait: His confidence. It’s what makes writing him so much fun.

Worst trait: Manipulation. He gets so good at manipulating people that he catches himself doing it without meaning to.

Culmination: You get The Primarch’s Order and hours of my life stolen from me. XD

Tarquin:

Core trait: Honestly, I’d say he shares this one with his dad.

Best trait: He’s a caregiver and always has been.

Worst trait: He’s a caregiver.

Culmination: He will always put others first which sometimes leads to bad decision-making, like Tuchanka. When he encountered the Reaper forces on their approach, his first thought was to avoid heavy casualties in a head-on assault, choosing to skirt the enemy instead. We all know how that turned out. Then, when Shepard catches up, instead of pushing his men further, he wants to stabilize the injured and get them off planet. Given enough time and experience, I think he would have learned a balance, but the Reapers didn’t afford him that time.

56. What’s your overall goal with this character? Will they get a happy ending or will they succumb to their faults?

I see you fishing for spoilers! XD

Adrien:

Goal: More politicking and ultimately dealing with the Leviathan threat. As for whether or not he’ll get a happy ending… I have my thoughts, but I’ll have to see once I start writing from his POV again.

Tarquin:

Goal: By the time part 5 rolls around, him and his father are very different people than the ones they knew before the war. They’re going to need each other to help put pieces back together in between everything else that’s going on. As for his happy ending, I’ll just say this: Tarquin’s a tough son-of-gun. Regardless of what his father’s fate may or may not be, Tarquin has survived a lot already. I think he’ll be fine.

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hairringtonsteve · 6 years

Text

i. under pressure [quixotic]

[steve harrington x reader (female)]

series summary: everyone that knew the truth about hawkins lab thought it was over, that it was all over. they thought that the fighting was over, the bad men were gone. the portal was closed. people were safe. you, however, you knew the truth. things were far from over. and they were coming fast.

word count: 6,046 words

a/n: hey folks! this is a repost of chapter one, which was posted a few months ago. tumblr messed up the post back then, so this is going to be posted in my new format -- which will have the links in the first reblog (which will be reblogged right after it’s posted) and the tag list as a separate post! also, be on the lookout for chapter two, being posted tomorrow! tw: language

“I promised that I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Could you try a little harder, then? Because you kind of suck at this.” Just a minute ago, she’d pried off the metal lid of a Spaghettios can and had somehow folded it in half so she could use it as a spoon. She dipped her makeshift spoon into the can, precariously balancing a pile of canned noodles onto it and shoving it into her mouth. She said something, but it was muffled behind the food.

Some sauce dribbled down her chin and onto her shirt. It seemed almost impossible to keep from rolling your eyes, but somehow you managed.

“What was that, Tee? I couldn’t understand you around the food.” Tee glanced over to Seb, who had his head shoved in the refrigerator. He was standing on the tips of his toes, trying his hardest to reach something that was on the top shelf. When she made sure that he wasn’t looking, she set the can down on the kitchen table and shot you the finger. “Seriously, though, can you watch him?”

“Watch who?” Seb asked, poking his head out of the fridge. He gave you a bright grin, hair falling in front of his eyes. “Can I have pudding for lunch?” He stuck his tongue through the the gap between his two missing teeth in the front, waggling his eyebrows as though it’d help change your mind.

“You, kid. You can’t be trusted on your own. You could burn the place down or something.” His arm was sneaking back inside the refrigerator. “Oh, no. No pudding. You need real food for lunch.” He slammed the door shut and scowled at you. It would’ve been almost intimidating if he wasn’t just over three and a half feet tall.

“I wouldn’t burn it down. Tee would. I’d put it out.”

Tee smirked as she swallowed her food. “He’s got a point. What’s that word you used to call me?”

“Asshole?” Seb supplied as he crawled onto the chair next to Tee. You let out a cry of ‘language!’ but he just ignored you. “What’re you eating?” He wrinkled his brow as he leaned his arms onto the table, as if trying to read what the label said —like he could actually read. “Pasghettios?”

“Spaghettios. You want some?” Tee handed the can over to the five year old. His eyes lit up when he saw what was passing for a spoon. “Be careful with the lid,” she warned. Glancing back to you, she raised a brow. “So what was the word?”

“Pyro. You’re a pyro.” Your lips pressed together as you pinched the bridge of your nose. All you had to do was keep hold of your patience for a few more days, and the three of you would be free. But then Tee was opening her mouth to say something, and you felt like you were going to snap. “Can you just watch him? It should only take me a few hours.”

“No need to get touchy, God. It’s fine.” Seb tapped Tee on the arm to hand her back the can. You watched as he gave her the lid-turned-spoon as well. There was sauce all over his fingers.

You walked over to the sink to grab a hand-towel to run it under the faucet. “You guys do know that there are more spoons, right? And also more than one can of Spaghettios?”

“You do know that you don’t have to be an ass-”

“Tee.” Your voice was ragged as you almost groaned, the frustration obvious to anyone that was listening. You turned to her, frowning.

“We just wanted to see if we could eat it like this!” Seb piped up, looking between the two of you. “Like an experiment.”

He looked over to Tee, who was still glaring at you, and slowly reached over for the can. A tense second passed, and he started to eat once more.

“I’m just saying,” Tee started up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You kind of really suck right now.”

“Are you serious?” You tilted your head back and groaned. “After all the shit that I’ve done to make sure that your ass is alive, and this is what you give me? You can’t even agree to watch him for a few hours because you’re the asshole!”

“It’s like an experiment,” Seb mumbled to himself. He was focused solely on the food in front of him, as though he tuning everything else out. “I’m an experiment,” he added, grinning.

“Jesus, Seb. You’re not an experiment,” you snapped. louder and harder than you’d meant to. Your sharp words, accompanied by a scowl, made his grin drop. His face twisted up and got red. His lower lip trembled as he stood up from the table.

“You’re no fun anymore!” With that declaration, he practically ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“He’s right, you know. You’re no fun anymore.” You turned to Tee, who was still scowling. “What? I’m just saying, no pudding for lunch and yelling at him? You’re practically begging for a meltdown.”

“Trust me, I’m not begging for — “ You could hear a shriek from the bedroom, and the shattering of glass. “Well, that’s great.”

“Look,” Tee said, standing up from the table. She walked over to the couch, where your backpack and a decent sized cardboard box were sitting. “You take this stuff into town and see what you can get for it and I’ll deal with Mr. Drama, okay?”

Another thud came from the door. “You sure that you can handle the tantrum?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” Her tone was final. You headed over to the couch and slung the backpack full of records over your shoulders. The weight made you frown. Peaking into the box, you made sure that that was filled to the top with records as well. “Just get some good money for them. I’d like to eat food that’s not ‘pasghettios’.”

You let out a snort. “You know that there’s other food in the freezer, right?”

Tee scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s just a ton of Eggos. You can’t live off of Eggos.”

“Says you. Eggos are magic.” She let out a huff of laughter as you picked up the box, wincing at the weight. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You headed towards the door, hesitating as Tee walked over to get it for you. It was hard to remember that she was only fifteen. Hell, you were only nineteen. Neither of you should have had to deal with any of this. Your frustration towards her weakened. “You’re sure you’re good?”

“I can handle this.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though.” The words were quiet, the closest that you’d get to an apology. Your expression softened as Tee opened the door. She was avoiding your gaze, focusing resolutely on a squirrel shuffling around for its acorns on the ground just beyond the porch.

“None of us should have to handle this.” Her words were quiet in the warm spring air. “But we’re stuck with it, so we might as well deal.” Finally she turned to face you. Her expression was blank, but her eyes were hard. She looked older than fifteen. Another yell could be heard from the bedroom. “You better head out before he burns the place to the ground.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

Your words did the trick. The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile and she rolled her eyes.

“Just go so we can head out of here in the morning.” You gave a nod of your head before stepping outside, the air hitting you. It was humid, the dampness just hanging there. There was no wind, no break, just heat.

You stood on the porch, shifting the cardboard box in your arms until Tee closed and latched the door. A pang of anxiety shot through you. They’d be fine. It was only for a few hours. It took you a few moments, but you forced yourself down the steps. Town was a couple miles away, but there were a lot of woods that surrounded the cabin. They would be safe and hidden away — as long as they followed the rules. Stay inside, stay away from the windows, keep the curtains drawn, don’t answer the door unless the secret knock is given. You didn’t want to think about the last time that Tee had decided that she was above the rules.

The gunshots still rang in your ears.

That was the past, though. You shook your head as you traipsed through the brush. There was a dirt road that led to the cabin, so you followed along that, staying just beyond the treeline. It was around May, you figured. There shouldn’t be anyone out hunting.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the sweat starting to drip down your back. You swallowed, suddenly wishing that you’d thought to bring some water with you before you left. You'd even seen a water canteen hanging off a hook in the kitchen. At the very least, you’d have to nab that before you left. It’d come in handy even though the three of you were heading north.

Well, not just the three of you. All sixteen of you, really. Just because everyone was scattered, that didn’t mean that you weren’t all in it together. Everyone was just… On their own for awhile.

It had been the safest course of action, you knew that. Alex knew that too, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it then. He'd wanted everyone to stick together, that was all. It felt safer when everyone was together. From the time that you'd been born, it was always safer when you all were in the same room. You’d understood where he was coming from.

It was just hard to really think when everyone was huddled in the lab while there was still blood smeared along the windows.

“We can’t split up, we’ve got to stick together,” he’d said, giving you that imploring look. It was making you feel antsy, like you were going to crawl out of your skin.

“We can’t all make it to — you know where — together. We’d stick out too much. You saw what it was like outside. People don’t travel in groups that big.” Alex had scowled and shook his head. “You know that I’m right.” Without thinking about it, you narrowed your eyes, drawing upon that fear and anger within your chest.

Alex gave your shoulder a sharp shove. “Don’t try that Jedi mind trick bullshit on me. You know it won’t work.”

“You know that I’m right, though. We’ll be found easier. You told me yourself that you heard Doctor Lepner call for that, that… what’s it called?”

“Department for Defense, I think?”

“Exactly!” You jabbed your finger into his chest and scowled. “Do you really think that those people are going to be on our side? Do you really think that?”

Alex went to respond when he heard a guttural growl come from outside the lab doors. Everyone fell silent. Slowly, you turned your head to the thick metal doors, trying to see through the frosted glass. The silhouette of something awful crossed it. You looked over to Vee, who was trying to comfort Seb. He took in a shuddery breath before Tee slapped her hand over his mouth and wrapped her free arm around him.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Glancing back to Alex, you paused at the expression on his face. Despite him being the oldest at twenty-two, he looked younger than you did at that moment. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he breathed.

“We can’t go all together.” A louder growl emanated from just beyond the doors. “It’ll be like Thanksgiving dinner if we do that.”

Alex let out a snort. The familiar sound gave you a tiny ounce of comfort. “You don’t even know what Thanksgiving is.”

“I know it’s got to do with food, which is what we’ll be if we don’t figure out what to do.”

A car roaring down the main road jarred you from your memories. You blinked, having been so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized just how far you’d walked. It drove on down the road, showing no signs that it had noticed you or cared if it had. You breathed out a sigh of relief. It took another two minutes for you to muster up the courage to leave the safety of the trees and to start walking down the side of the road.

It was hard work. The sun was beating down on your back. The box was growing heavier and heavier with each step. Christ, you really should’ve thought this one through.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed, but it seemed like no matter how long you walked, the town was still out of sight. You started wishing for a miracle when a car slowed down beside you.

“Hey kid, you need a ride?”

You turned around, squinting in the sun to get a good look at the vehicle. Your eyes flickered across the lettering along the side, the words letting fear settle into your stomach. You moved your attention to the man at the wheel. He had a small smile on his face and a kind of scraggly beard thing going on. You focused a little, reaching out just enough to get a read on him. It was difficult to focus that much when the sweat was literally dripping off of your face and your arms were wrapped around the box. But it was enough.

“Where you headed?” You asked, taking a step forward. You were close enough that you could just feel the blessed air conditioning.

“Into town. I can drop you off if you’re headed in.” It took you a second, but you gave a sharp nod of your head to answer him. “Throw the box in the back, then climb up front.”

It took you a few seconds to maneuver the box onto your knee and then open the backdoor without dropping anything, but you managed. Your arms ached with the sweet relief. Slamming the door shut, you practically leaped into the front seat once that door was open. The air was frigid and perfect, cold enough that it felt like it froze the sweat right on your face. You shut the door fast, and rolled the window up almost the instant it was shut. The backpack shoved against your back, making it so you couldn't sit back the whole way. You kept it on, though, just in case.

“So what’s in the box?” He asked as the car started forward.

“My grandpa’s records. My mom wants me to see what we can get for them.” The lie fell off of your tongue easily. The man nodded his head.

“Your grandpa got good taste?”

You shrugged. “I think there’s some Sinatra in there, and some Ella Fitzgerald?” You spoke like you were trying to remember what the records had said, but really, you were just trying to remember what some of the doctors had said when it came to music. Lush, green trees were a blur outside of the window. It was pretty.

If you weren’t in a cop car, you might have even been able to relax.

“Ah, so your grandpa was into the older stuff, then.”

“Uh, yeah. The older stuff.” You tried to wrack your brain for the years. Was Sinatra in the fifties? Or seventies? Or forties?

“My old man was into that jazz stuff.” Jazz! That’s what it was. The thirties and forties, then. “Really big into Benny Goodman. You ever hear of him?” You shook your head. “Oh, I bet you’d like him. He was great.”

The conversation drifted off after that. The two of you were content to sit there in the air conditioning, watching as the car finally started to enter town.

“You’re headed to the record store, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You’d been planning on going to the first pawn shop you saw, but a record store was even better. They’d be able to give you even more money if they were good records. And you’d made sure that the ones you’d picked were in pristine condition.

He took a left from the main road onto some smaller side road. There were plenty of shops with people bustling around. You blinked and for a split second, you weren’t in the police car; instead, you were in the back of a van looking out at the world around you for the first time while you were ten years old and handcuffed to the door. Another blink, and everything came back into focus. You turned to the man and stared at him. His mouth was moving.

“Huh?”

“I said, you need help carrying those inside?”

You shook your head so hard your hair flew into your face. “Nope, I’m good.” He pulled up in front of a storefront that read rebel records in all lowercase letters.

“You sure about that? I could help you bring them in. That backpack of yours looks pretty heavy.” He held your gaze in a way that made you shrink a little, like he knew that you were lying about something.

You reached towards the handle and hesitated. He was nice. He seemed like the kind of nice where you could tell him everything that had happened. The kind of nice that meant that he’d actually try to help you.

The kind of nice that would eventually get him killed if he did try to help you.

“No, I’m good. Thank you, though” You opened up the door and stepped out. The air hit you like a humid brick wall. It was almost enough to make you climb back into the car. But you took in a deep breath and closed the door behind you. When you grabbed the handle for the backdoor, it was so hot that you winced. “Fuck,” you mumbled, jerking your head up to make sure that no one was close enough to you to hear. You pulled it open, stealing all of the cold air that was leaking out.

“Hey, kid?” He called as you had an arm around the box. You looked up, your eyes meeting his. “If you need anything, you call the police department and ask for the sheriff, all right?”

“Okay.” You were shooting for a breezy tone, but it came out more shaky than anything else. The two of you regarded each other for a long moment before you tugged the box out fully. “Thanks again for the ride.”

You shut the door before he could respond.

Your head was pounding against your chest as you walked up onto the sidewalk and towards the shop. You were waiting for the inevitable, for him to get a call on his radio or to realize that the records were stolen or a hundred other things that could go wrong. But nothing happened. A few seconds passed, and the police officer drove off while you heaved out a sigh of relief. Things were fine. Hell, they might have even been looking up in your favor. You stepped over to the door, tightening your grip on the box with one arm while the other loosened up enough for you to get the door open, sliding in just before it shut behind you.

The record shop was old and dusty. Notes drifted from out of a record player that was behind the counter. You scrunched up your nose a little as you tried to place it. It sounded just familiar enough, like you’d heard it a few times in the background while you were driving from one place or another.

Doctor Arayed had always liked listening to music while she worked. She’d always be humming softly as she looked over blood samples, or when she’d push back the hair from your eyes. You could remember her always telling you the artists. Your favorite was always —

“Bowie?”

You blinked. A blond-haired man was standing in front of you, eyebrows raised. He was behind the counter, his forearms leaning on it as he shot you a small smirk. He was cocky, the sheer confidence coming off of him almost like a stench.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked as you walked towards him, frowning a little.

“Bowie, that’s who’s playing. You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. I like him. He’s alright.” You set the box of records on the counter, heaving out a sigh as the man continued on.

“He’s a legend. You looking to buy any albums of his?” He leaned forward, his smirk growing. You could feel it, the way he was almost pushing the charm out of himself. It was impressive. He must’ve made decent money.

“I’m selling, actually. If you couldn’t tell by the box of records.”

He raised a brow. “Really? What've you got, sweetheart?” Someone let out a snort to your left. Glancing over, you paused.

He was behind a rack of records. You could only see him from his waist up, but he looked like he owned the place. Perfectly messy hair, a dark gray t-shirt hanging off of his shoulders like it was made for him, and a small smirk that made your heart stutter. He glanced up from the record that was in his hands and locked eyes with you. His smirk shifted into a smile.

You looked away, back to mullet-man.

“I don't know, really. They were my grandpa’s.” You slung your backpack around and set it on the ground, your shoulders and back practically singing at the freedom. Crouching down, you braced yourself as you unzipped the bag. Just sell the records, and get back to the cabin. Easy-peasy.

It took you a few seconds of trying to tug them out before giving up and just setting the whole bag on the counter beside the box. “My mom wanted to see what I could get for them.”

He reached out for them, pausing just above the bag as he glanced to you. You nodded your head, effectively giving him permission to just shove his hands in there. The records didn't have any names that you recognized, but then again, you were bad at recognizing names when it came to music.

He pulled them out one by one, turning them around in his hands. “These all play?”

“Yeah, I tried them all out myself.” Your words came out too fast, and your heart gave a little jolt as he looked up at you. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something when you narrowed your eyes. You concentrated, that familiar feeling swelling in your chest. “They’re fine.”

“They’re fine,” he parroted, shooting you a grin. He looked back down to the albums, thumbing through them a little faster. They were fine, after all. “So these look — your nose is bleeding.” You froze and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. When you pulled it away, dark liquid was smeared across. “Here.” You looked back across the counter and took the tissue from him.

“Thanks,” you said as you dabbed at the area. “The air’s pretty dry in here. It’s killing my nose.”

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass during the winter. Right now’s not too bad, though.”

“So, how much do you think that you can give me for the records?”

He shrugged. “Twenty bucks sound good to you?”

“Twenty dollars, are you kidding me? That’s less than a buck a record!” There were at least thirty-five or forty records there. That was ridiculous.

“They’re used, though. New ones are sold for nine bucks.I can go twenty-five, but that’s it.” You blinked.

“I need at least fifty.”

“Fifty dollars, are you shitting me? That’s insane. Look, I’ll go twenty-seven, but that’s as high as I can go.”

The boy with the perfect hair fumbled with some records, reminding you that he was there. You glanced over, noting that he was watching the exchange curiously. The tissue was still in your hand. You took care to lower your voice and said, “Please. I need fifty. I’m begging you.”

“No way, sweetheart. That’s too high. I’m gonna give you the best deal around, so take it or leave it.” What an asshole. You leaned forward a little, placing your left hand on his arm so it was behind the pile of records, just out of the other guy’s sight.

You focused, feeling the power rising up into your chest. “They’re in good condition,” you murmured, the force of your words coming out strong. “You’ll do fifty dollars.” A thought occurred to you. “And you’ll keep your voice low.” He blinked his head a few times, looking from your hand on his arm to the pile of records and then finally back to your face.

“You know what? They’re in pretty good condition,” he said. He was quiet, thank God. “I can do fifty.” You pulled away from him and he shook his head a little before shooting you a blinding smile. He’d be kind of cute without the rat’s nest of a mullet.

“Oh wow, thank you. Seriously. That’s a huge help.” Reaching up, you wiped the fresh blood away from your nose. Your head ached a little. Some food would be a good idea.

“No problem. I’m Billy, by the way. Billy Hargrove.” He shot you another smile, his gaze flickering over you in a way that made you duck your head.

“I’m Elise. Elise Peters.” In that instant, you were thankful that the three of you had decided on fake names before getting to Hawkins. Granted, no one would really believe that the three of you were siblings, but it was better than nothing. You grabbed the now empty backpack and slung it over your shoulders. Billy was rifling through the cash register, softly counting the bills out loud until he had the right amount.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Elise,” he said, shooting you a grin while holding out the money. When you took it from him, he made sure to brush his fingers against yours.

It took all you had in you to keep from rolling your eyes.

“You too, Billy.”

With that you were heading towards the door. You risked another glance over to the guy with the hair, feeling your heart stutter a little more when you locked eyes with him. It took you a beat to pull your gaze away and step out into the hot spring air.

Meanwhile, Steve turned to Billy, eyebrows raised while he waited for the girl to leave before speaking. “You ever seen her around before?” He asked. Billy just shrugged as he thumbed through the new acquisitions. “What’d you give her for those?”

Billy shrugged again. “Fifty.”

“Fifty dollars? Are you kidding me? That’s insane.” He walked over and started going through the pile that Billy had already made. The more he went through them, the more in shock he was. “Dude, you’re gonna get fired. There’s no way Jenkins is gonna keep you on after this.”

“Oh, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, Stevie? I get fired and you can work here in peace.” Billy watched as Steve’s hands stilled as he stared down at a record. “What?”

“Holy shit, you are fucked.”

“... What?”

“You do know that she just sold you stolen records, right?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at Billy.

“I’m pretty sure that I would’ve noticed if she was selling me stolen records. Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve flipped over the album that was on top of the pile and pointed to some scrawled letters in black marker. “J. Hopper. She look like the sheriff to you, dumbass?” Just to really drive it home, Steve turned the cardboard box around to show him the same lettering. Billy’s face paled as he stared at the box.

“Fuck, I’m fucked. I gave her a decent amount too. Shit, do you think that Hopper will be able to get the money back?” All Billy got was a stare instead of a response. “What? Do you think that he’ll be able to get it back?”

“Do you think that Hopper will be able to get the money that you gave to some girl from out of town that stole his records to you — even though they have his name on them?”

Billy let out a groan and clapped his hand over his face. “I’m screwed. I’m absolutely screwed.”

“Maybe if you would’ve actually learned how to read, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Billy stared at Steve for a few moments before letting his forehead hit the counter. “Der urr thint thut yer culd-”

“You gotta lift your head up, man. I can't understand what you're saying.” Billy lifted his head up nice and slow, fixing Steve with a frown.

“Do you think that you could tell Hopper for me? It'll sound better coming from the golden boy.”

“Why would I do that for you? Give me one good reason for why the hell I would ever do that for you.”

“Because last summer I saved your ass from one of those demogorgon things.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You can’t keep bringing that up. It’s not like you just get to reuse that excuse over and over again.”

“Oh, well then next time, I’ll let it eat you, nice and slow. How’s that sound, Harrington?” Billy shot him a smug smile, like he had him.

“Better than being near you, Hargrove.”

Billy’s smile dropped. He ran a hand over his face and let out a shuddered breath. “Steve, seriously, I need this job. I don’t know — I have no idea how I missed Hopper’s writing, or why the fuck I sold them to her for that much. I just… I’m screwed if I get fired. Can you help me get the money back?” He asked as the door opened up.

“What, you sold my records already, Mr. Hargrove?”

Hopper’s voice carried across the room, loud enough to make both boys jump. “You — they — you know?” Billy asked, almost like he was going to start babbling apologies.

“Of course I know. I saw her walking along the road with a box that had my name plastered along the side. I can read, I’m not an idiot.” Steve snickered. “I even gave her a ride here. Thought she might come clean.”

Billy was fidgeting behind the counter, enough that it caught Steve’s attention. “So what are you gonna do?” He asked, hoping it’d put Billy at ease.

“Head back up to the cabin and see if she’s staying out there. They’re all the ones I left behind, so I figured that that’s where she’s at.” Hopper walked over to the counter, looking over the records. “How much you give her for them?”

“... Fifty.”

“You don’t know shit about music, do you, kid?” Billy opened his mouth to argue with the sheriff, but his shoulders drooped. “Don’t worry about it, kid. We’ve all been duped by a girl with a pretty face.” He looked over to Steve and nodded to the door. “I thought I heard Dustin say that your shift ends at three?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not busy.”

Hopper gave a pointed look around the empty store — save for the three of them — and turned to the clock. “It’s ten ‘til now. I think Hargrove here can handle things while you come with me.”

“Why do you need me, though?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“She looks to be about your age. I figure it might make her easier to talk to if someone her age is there.” Billy opened his mouth to ask the inevitable question, but Hopper beat him to the punch. “You’re not coming for a whole lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that you still have to work.”

“Look, I don’t care who goes. I just need that money back.”

Hopper took a long look at Billy, his gaze easing up just a little. “You’ll get it back, don’t worry about it.” He started for the door, Steve following after him. They remained quiet until they got into the car, with Steve breaking the silence.

“So did you ever look into what I said, about Max and Billy’s dad?”

Hopped nodded his head as he turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. “Yeah, but nothing panned out. Domestic abuse is hard to pin down. Joyce just makes sure that Max is somewhere other than home for the most of the time. That’s about all I can do for now.”

Steve let out a quiet hum. “So we’re heading to the cabin?”

“To the cabin.

Some nice older lady had given you a ride close to where the dirt road leading up to the cabin was. You’d had her drop you off about a half mile down the main road, at some random house just to make sure that she wouldn’t think anything of it.

She’d been nice. A little nosey, but nice all the same.

You did the same as before, keeping just beyond the treeline so you’d be out of sight if anyone drove up there. But the cabin had looked like it had been empty for months when you’d gotten there two nights ago. Dust had covered everything. The lights had taken a few seconds to come on. Most of it was empty anyway. There were some cardboard boxes filled with stuff, like someone had started to move but never fully finished. The pantry and freezer had been stocked, though. There was even some stuff in the refrigerator. Thinking back on it, it’s a good thing that Seb hadn’t eaten that pudding. Who knows how old it could have been?

Just like earlier, the roar of an engine pulled you from your thoughts. But this one made you freeze.

The same car that had given you a ride into town earlier was driving up the dirt road. It was going a little too fast for you to make out who was in it, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.

You started running straight through the bramble patches, the thorns tearing at the exposed skin on your arms, a few getting your face as well. The sting was sharp, but you kept going. Your breath was coming out in pants as you jumped over a fallen long. Your foot caught on the branch, making you trip and hit the ground hard.

“Fuck,” you muttered, changing tactics. You got up and ran to the left, towards the dirt road. The second you broke through the trees you turned to head up it. You pushed yourself through the ache in your legs, through the pain in your arms and face until you saw the car parked in front of the cabin.

You couldn’t breathe. You could hear a muffled yell, and then Tee’s voice. It was impossible to make out what she was saying, but the closer you got, the clearer it was. The curtains were drawn open, like they’d been looking out the window. You could make out two imposing figures near them, but neither of them were near the door.

Launching yourself onto the porch, you ran inside, skidding to a stop when you saw the scene that stretched out before you.

Seb and Tee were backed up against the wall, eyes wide. Seb had tears running down his cheeks while Tee had her arms around him, protective and ready to lash out the second anyone moved. The cop from earlier was there, his hands held out in front of him. The guy with the perfect hair was there too, just behind the cop. You were pretty sure that the cop was saying something, but it was hard to tell with the dull roar sounding in your ears.

You couldn’t think of what to do. You looked back over to Seb, whose whole body was trembling. But then you saw something even more concerning.

His nose was bleeding.

please reblog/like/comment/send me an ask with your thoughts!

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things 2 #reader insert #fanfic

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angryzilla · 6 years

Text

Reposting what I wrote for the great event that the @fantasticbeastscalendar is, in case some of you prefer the tumblr format :3

Also, so sorry for not including a “Read more” as usual and making it a long post: it makes the post buggy and adds in some weird symbols...

Real or not real? | | Some Thesival pain I needed to write!

“Get away from me,” Percival groans, trying to get up, but the baked clay under his legs is unforgiving, trapping him and keeping him in place, the only sensation he is able to feel now being pins and needles all over the lower part of his body.

Theseus keeps moving toward him just as his friend looks up at his full height towering over him, and there’s menace in there; menace and fear and a deep sense of getting ready for whatever is coming for him.

“Perce, fuck’s sake, let me help you—”

“Get. Away.”

Biting. A caged animal bathing in his own blood. Theseus can even imagine him making choking sounds in the back of his throat as torture went on, stabbed a thousand times over.

Of course he’s feral.

“Percival, it’s just me, just—”

The black cloud of dark matter that threatens to reopen in his wounds hangs right there, right above his head. “Just who? Who exactly?”

”Welcome home, Percival. You’re never going to see daylight again,” Grindelwald had told him so many months ago.

Theseus arches an eyebrow in confusion.

“Just— me, Theseus—”

“Don’t even try to get closer,” Percival spits and keeps his face angled away so as not to look at who he believes to be his abuser. “I know your little game, it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you!”

You.

It dawns on Theseus, at that moment, that Percival is dissociating entirely and is still trapped inside his nightmare, his hallucination—

The memory eating him alive.

Trauma showing up. Another situation he’s already seen before.

“I’m not Grindelwald,” Theseus murmurs quietly. “It’s over, Perce. He’s gone.”

His pulse jumps in surprise for a few beats when Percival’s voice breaks through the silence.

“You’re lying.”

Theseus slowly stops moving, crouches to the floor before sitting down on the cold tile of the bathroom.

“I know you’re scared, but—”

“You don’t know anything!”

It aches something fierce in Theseus’ body as the words are thrown at him. Maybe I don’t know anything anymore, he thinks. Maybe I just know that I love you and never got to tell you how I feel. And now… now— this is what we have come to.

“Let’s do something,” Theseus says, and licks his lips, pressing them together before speaking up again. “Ask me things, things only the real Theseus Scamander can know.”

Percival stares at him and Theseus wonders if anything will come out of this, if the other man will ever remember, will ever stop dissociating, because Percival’s reality now is all that is fake and evil in this world; because he is drifting away by each and every second and nothing can stop that.

Theseus nods tiredly to himself. "Alright, that was a bad idea—"

“You hit on me straight away the first time we met each other. Real or not real?”

Percival’s voice so rough Theseus barely manages to recognise it; and there’s hope blooming in his stomach. His heart picks up a little in his chest; he will not falter. Will keep going, if not for himself, for Percival’s sake, so the hollow in his chest won’t end up overtaking him.

He chuckles and blinks to clear his vision.

“You look terrible. I mean, you look handsome, dear, but also awfully sick. Caught a cold in the sweet trenches?”

“Real. I told you you looked handsome but also very sick. But you were handsome first and foremost.”

For a second, Theseus thinks he sees a spark of recognition in Percival’s eyes, which forces hope to blossom again in the pit of his stomach; however, the look is gone before he can decipher it, and Theseus is not looking at him anymore.

Still, he can feel Percival searching his face, searching for something, and somehow this is worse, so much worse. Much like a sharp stab.

And so Theseus carries on; he must not let the feeling go.

“You had a coughing fit the first time you blew me because you were too proud to say my cock was gigantic for your mouth. Real or not real?”

Percival grimaces a little, tilts his chin down into the curve of his own neck. “Real,” and his eyes cloud over, something the British Auror didn’t expect. “Hopefully you’re not Grindelwald, because I’d rather die than have him know this. And I’m going to die anyway.”

Theseus can't resist the urge to grin before it turns sour and sad, weighed down by the words and the meaning they carry beyond their hills. “You’re not going to die. I’m here.”

“Well, unless you’re the real Theseus, I am going to die,” the other man answers darkly. There’s a sad chirp to his voice that punches the redhead right in the guts, even more when he notices the constellation of purple bruises that spreads evenly along Percival’s body.

There is it again, the faint crimson fire in his eyes, the melancholia and hurt.

It causes a shiver of anger to jerk up Theseus’ spine. There’s nothing to stop time from running all the way down to empty spaces and negative numbers.

Percival needs him, and fast, of this he is certain.

“You have never told me you loved me. Real or not real?”

Oh.

Word punched out of his chest.

Oh, that fucking hurts.

Theseus shakes his head as if to rid himself of the sting of the burn spreading throughout his entire body, the intertwined web of veins and muscles and bones.

“Real. Because…” Theseus bites his lip, looks like he’s deciding whether to lie to the other man or to tell him the truth. It’s an easy choice, in the end— if he lies, it could be over for Percival. And he doesn’t want that. Never. “I’m a coward and thought you never wanted more than… benefits, out of our friendship. Which is— which is why— why I’ve never said anything.”

Silence falls between them, still, just the distant sound of the wind pushing through the cracks, outside, and water dripping from the sink nearby.

Maybe he really has lost Percival forever, now.

Until—

Until he hears it.

The sound is distant, melting into the wet air, fractured but present.

“... love me?”

Theseus feels his face drain of colour. "I— what?"

He’s on edge now, feeling exposed and raw, defensive. The truth is—

The truth is that he's been hiding his feelings for his best friend for so long that he doesn’t know how to act upon them anymore; and Percival— Percival, he’s— he’s wrecked and can’t love him back, not like this.

Never like this, never never never, Theseus promises himself, even if he doesn’t know when that will be.

Half truth, whole truth.

Something should be found to be right in this mess, right?

“It’s…” and Percival’s hands start shaking as hard as the tears slipping from his eyes, furious rivers escaping at last. “It’s really you, Thes, it’s really you.”

Theseus squeezes his arms tight around him, drawing Percival closer to him, who sags in Theseus’ hold, letting him support his weight; a way of saying I trust you, I love you, help me.

Theseus loves him so much it hurts; breathes him in as their foreheads rest together. Percival eventually relaxes in his arms, storm passed, leaning on him trustingly where tears have formed wet puddles on the fabric, where fears and lies have melted away all at once to reveal what was meant to be all along.

“It’s really me, Perce,” Theseus says in a voice so weak he wonders how it made it through. “It’s really me and I love you. I love you so much and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry it took me this long—”

Percival finds himself to be a light. Broken, misshaped, but a light nonetheless despite all the darkness; the British Auror cannot believe his luck, and neither can the real Director of MACUSA.

“But you found me,” Percival half sobs, the level tone of his voice making Theseus shiver for all that it displays. “And you love me. You love me, real or not real?”

“Real,” and Theseus runs his fingers gently down the side of Percival’s face, until he finds Percival’s lips with his own, slow, warm and desperate.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #thesival #percival graves #theseus scamander #fanfic #mine #tw: mention of torture #fantasticbeastscalender #let me vanish back to the batcave #long post #sorry about that!

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