#I was... in some sort of cell??? and a blonde guy shuffled in??

[shmowder]

Had a dream about fear & hunger

I have literally never played that game before nor know anything about it besides the occasional overlap with the pathologic subreddit

[sphericaldice]

Rule me.

Dazed slate eyes glanced down at the phone screen. According to his digital map, he was a few hundred metres away from his destination, which was a relief as it was beginning to rain something awful. Manjoume Thunder could not afford to be saddled with something as base as the common cold. Not ever, but especially not before his uh, date of sorts. Truthfully he was uncertain about how to label this little late-night excursion and thinking on it too hard gave him cold feet about the whole thing. He’d left his deck, clingy Ojamas and all, at his flat, so he was completely alone in the poorly lit streets. 

 

Needing some motivation, Jun minimised the map and opened another application, instantly being greeted by that all-too-familiar yellow mask. He swiped onto his sparse chat history (a few bots and some bald guy with a forehead tat whom he left on read) and tapped on her profile: 

 

Cyber Girl

Last chatted 17 minutes ago.

 

There were three photos. The first was an immaculate pair of peach thighs with the faintest hint of gooseflesh. Resting between them, a pair of thin lace panties barely hid the outline of a modest-sized swelling. 

 

Jun sighed, cock stirring already, as he swiped to the next photo.

 

A dimly lit mirror selfie. Long legs crossed, Cyber Girl was clad in a thin-strapped, black leather dress with a huge zipper. Budget leather from the looks of it, but Jun didn’t let that deter him (not everyone could afford Manjoume Group tastes after all). Her face was obscured by a blasted Mokey Mokey sticker but he could tell she had long, golden hair. 

 

Manjoume Jun liked blondes. 

The last photo was the one that enticed him to take that first message plunge…

 

It was an eclectic mix of supplies, all black like his uniform. Ropes, leather paddles handcuffs with chains and buckles, a collar thing with some sort of metal circle? Jun could not identify them all but even in his naivety and woeful lack of experience, he knew what they were for. Well, he had some idea of what they were for, tying people up and making them beg for…things. Maybe hitting them a little?

 

The young man took a deep breath, half hard already, watching as raindrops coated his phone screen. He remembered what he was out here for and couldn’t help but crack a smile, jittery, but a smile regardless

 

He reached the little hotel by the time the rain had begun to pick up. And after a bashful check-in at the front desk, he pulled out his wet phone to message Cyber Girl.

  M:

Hey, I’m here.

 

M:

106 right? 

Cyber Girl:

Just finished setting up. Come on in :3

 

M:

Ok

 

Jun shuffled down the red-carpeted hallway, thanking the gods the receptionist did recognise him from television, or at least had pretended not to if she did. He wanted to keep his extracurricular activities on the low, even on the app his profile picture was a mere closeup of his dark eyes.

 

He knocked twice on the door - at least he thought he did, it was hard to hear anything over the beating of his heart. The door swung open.

 

Jun cleared his throat, “Good evening- Oh.” 

 

“Oh my god.” 

The two former classmates gawked dumbly at each other for a few seconds before Jun was grabbed by his jacket collar and yanked inside the room. The door slammed with a rattle behind them.  

He blinked, face heating impossibly fast, “What are you doing here?”

 

Tenjouin Asuka stared back at him, paddle in one hand, cell phone in the other. “I could be asking you the same thing.” Clinging perfectly to her curves was that damn budget leather dress. 

“I’m here to meet Cyber Girl,” As soon as the words left his mouth he felt stupid. 

 

Asuka smiled sardonically, “Well, you’ve come to the right place, Manjoume.”

 

Jun did not want to gawp like a lecherous buffoon, but he couldn’t help himself. Asuka had been the object of his fruitless affections for all four years of the academy, and while she’d never dressed particularly modestly he’d also never seen her in a get-up like that . Not even in his imagination. The dress was sleek, so much so he could see the distorted reflection of a bashful young man in it. It was even shorter and more form-fitting than her favourite outfit from their school days, her ample chest hardly contained.  

 

As the awkward seconds ticked by, Jun took in his surroundings. The room was gaudier than any hotel room he’d ever stayed in in his time as a pro duelist, with red walls and a white ceiling sporting a single overhead light. The chair from the vanity had been dragged to the centre of the suite and on the circular bed was a blue duffle bag. Suddenly remembered the first photo on Asuka’s profile, the display of thighs.

 

He cleared his throat, “I, um, never knew you were…” 

 

“Into BDSM?” Asuka, interrupted, “Have been for a while, but I’m a little amateur. Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

 

Jun thought it would be best to pretend that’s what he was going to ask about. The last thing he wanted was to cause any sort of offence. 

“Well that's enough chit-chat, shall we begin?” Asuka purred with a smirk. 

 

She turned her back to Jun, giving him a thorough view of her rear, as she rummaged through the duffle.

 

“A few things,” 

 

Asuka’s voice snapped Jun out of ass land and he gave her his full attention, as much of it as he could with all the blood rushing to his other head.

 

“Well, two things. Number, one, what’s the safeword?”

 

Jun tilted his head, “The what?”

 

“You know, the special word. Say it once, and playtime stops. Immediately.”

 

“O-okay.” Jun didn’t expect a word like ‘playtime’ to be used in this context, but he could get behind it, “How about…Ojama Yellow.”

 

Asuka, giggled, “Sounds good. And if, for whatever reason, you can’t talk, cough three times, alright?  Now tell me,” She turned to face him again, this time her voice stern, a rope and collar in grasp, “exactly how intense do you want it? Like two out of ten? Maybe three?”

 

“Eight.”

 

“...Eight?” 

 

Jun, finally looked up to meet her eyes and addressed her earnestly, “I want you to do what you want with me. To rule me. Just for tonight…I want to be yours” He exhaled sharply, “And I want it to hurt.”

 

“Strip and sit.”

 

Jun blinked dumbly.

 

“Did you hear me?”

 

Jun hastily discarded his damp jacket and undid his boots which unfortunately took a bit more time. More reluctantly he shimmied out of his black jeans and undershirt. He knew he wasn't muscular like Kenzan or even a bit toned like Johan and often avoided being shirtless in front of others. Cheeks unbearably hot, and donning nothing but his spandex boxers and socks, he plopped down on the centre chair. 

 

“Good boy,” Asuka smirked as she made her way towards him, gear in tow “Hands behind the chair, now.”

 

Jun was speechless as the girl he’d pined for since high school circled him like a harpy, hungry for her next victim. The rope, which was softer than he’d expected, was looped around his wrists binding them helplessly in a cross. Instinctually he squirmed, but he was stuck tight, a cocktail of fright and excitement rushing through his body. His cock twitched and stiffened under Asuka’s scrutinous gaze. 

“So this is what I’m working with,” Asuka said flatly. Using the corner of her paddle she prodded at her submissive’s abdomen, digging it in his pale skin.

 

He whined pitifully as Asuka dragged the leather instrument, up his chest. Upon meeting his right nipple she circled the sensitive thing until it became taut. 

 

Jun shifted, desperate for some friction on his swelling erection but none came. He could feel himself leaking already and worried about the increasing pressure in his abdomen. Shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm himself he was only granted a few moments of respite before something tight and leathery was abruptly placed around his neck. His dark eyes flew open to discover he had been collared like a mutt. Holding the end of the short chain leash was Tenjouin Asuka.

 

A natural panic began to set in as he noted the slight restriction on his airway. He was harder than ever now. 

 

“Do you like that?” Asuka asked.

Jun’s head was spinning and the room seemed to sway beneath him. “Asuka…” he croaked.

 

“Call me mistress” the blonde domme corrected, 

 

“M-Mistress…”

“Good boy,” Asuka sneered, bringing a free hand to the comically large zipper of her dress, “let me show you something.” She pulled it down, freeing her breasts in an instant.

 

Jun’s eyes widened. Sure he’d seen a picture here and there of boobs but these were in his face and these were real and these were Asuka’s. And Asuka’s nipples were…pierced. 

 

“Do, you like it? They call it a magic cross” Asuka purred, yanking the boy’s chain towards her so he had no choice but to behold.

 

Jun’s heart raced beneath his chest. Had Asuka always had these? The way the four metal studs jutted out from the pink flesh made him uneasy, In his eighteen years never pierced anything, not even his ears. He squirmed again, wanting to look away but he couldn't, with Asuka’s grip on the chain. 

 

“Now, make me feel good.” 

 

Without warning she seated herself upon Jun’s knee and oh god, she was bare under that dress. He could feel her soft balls and shaft and oh god she was hard too-

 

Something hard promptly collided with the side of his face. It wasn't until a few seconds after, when his cheek began to burn that he realised he’d been slapped with the leather paddle.

 

“Do not make me wait, Manjoume.” She said, calmly.

 

Manjoume Thunder didn’t think any more blood could flow to his penis but he was proven wrong instantaneously. 

 

Wasting no time, he leaned in to give her nipple a peck. Then another. Asuka hummed and bit her lip, so he had a feeling he was on the right track. He stuck out his tongue and began to lap at it tasting sweat and metal. 

 

“That’s more like it. Now what do we have here?” Asuka peered downwards, at Jun’s protruding erection, “It was so teeny before, could the great Manjoume Thunder be a grower?” 

 

“Mistress please…please….”

 

“Hm? Please what?” With the corner of the paddle that had just struck her submissive, Asuka lifted the flap of Jun’s underpants.

 

Jun threw his head back and groaned, he couldn’t take it anymore. He exploded right then and there, decorating Asuka’s upper thigh with his pleasure. 

 

Shock flashed across Asuka’s face for a brief second, but it became stoic again in no time. “How dare you?”

 

“I-I’m sorry.” Jun mewled between pants. He didn’t know what was happening to him and his body. He was Manjoume Thunder, who thrived on control and dominance and intimidation. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d apologised to someone. He didn’t recognise the man, tied to an uncomfortable chair in a seedy motel whose exhausted cock hardened as he braced himself for another slap. 

 

Instead, Asuka leaned over and picked something up from the floor and Jun immediately recognised the cruel instrument from the third picture. Without hesitation, she fastened the o-ring gag to his face and rose from his lap.

 

Jun watched in awe as his mistress lifted the bottom of her dress, revealing her own arousal, pink and dripping from the tip. Luckily this one was not pierced yet.

 

“Heh. I might be bigger than you.” 

 

Despite his indignance, Jun could not reply, his mouth forced open by the metal ring. He could only salivate and groan as Asuka abandoned the leash and paddle to grab the back of his head.

 

“Are you hungry? I think you owe me anyways.”

 

Jun nodded enthusiastically, gladly accepting her perfectly manicured fingers into his maw, further and further until he gagged. But he did not dare protest, coughing did not even cross his mind.  She held them there, second after second until they were sluggishly withdrawn.

 

“Good boy, Jun.”

 

He groaned. Quick to establish his seniority, he could not recall the last time someone had used his given name…

 

Using his hair like black reigns, Asuka thrust forward, filling him to the hilt with her prick. It was slender, fitting through the wide ring with ease. 

 

Manjoume Jun’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Asuka fucked his throat in an unforgiving rhythm. His toes curled in his socks and drool tainted with precum spilt onto his naked chest. 

 

“God…” Asuka moaned in a way that made Jun’s little man stand at attention, “You’re way better at this than you are at duelling. Glad we finally found something you’re good for.”

 

Jun whined in agreement. She spoke to him some more but he could not make the words out. He was in another dimension of ecstasy, overcome with sensation, unable to move even if he wanted to. So far gone he hardly noticed Asuka pull out, only coming to once she had thrown her head back and painted his face.  

 

“...And scene!”

 

Jun gasped for air, now acutely aware of his soaked chest and thoroughly begrimed underwear. He panted like a weary animal as Asuka undid the gag and collar. Once she had hastily untied his ropes, he slumped over, completely fatigued by the experience. 

 

“You okay, Manjoume?” Asuka knelt to cup his face in her hands. Her dress was still undone and oh god he could come a third time. 

 

“Yes, I’m fine.” He managed, rising from his sticky seat. 

 

“Good. Hold on a second.”

 

He watched, perplexed as Asuka peeled off her outfit, exchanging it for a white bathrobe that bore the hotel’s logo. She yawned dramatically as she collapsed onto the bed.

 

“What are you waiting for, Manjoume?”

 

Jun blushed again. He had no idea what his crush had in store for him as he joined her on the outrageously soft bed. Wouldn't a surface this squashy make it hard for people to-

 

Whatever thought he was about to have was interrupted by Asuka’s arms being wrapped around him. “W-what are you..?”

 

“It’s aftercare?” Her eyes narrowed, “This wasn’t your first time, was it?”

 

Jun adverted his gaze, “No, of course not.” He replied in his best impression of someone calm and collected and not lying and not nuzzled against the girl of his dreams. “I’m a professional at this stuff.”

 

“That’s good, no newbie would ask for an eight for their first time,” Asuka murmured sleepily, “You probably want to change underwear soon, by the way.”

 

Jun gulped. The Ojamas had rambled on and on about ‘safe hook-up culture’ and had not once mentioned bringing a change of clothes! He was going to throttle those guys when he got back.

 

Nonetheless, he could not stop himself from smiling serenely, snuggled up with Tenjoin Asuka, even if he knew the whole thing meant nothing. After he left this room he’d go back to being a ‘jerk’ with no chance with her…and that was okay.

 

Just for tonight, I want to be yours. 

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn��t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 19: Hands Off

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18

Word count: 2587

TW for self harm

"So you're tellin' me absolutely nothin' is goin' on between you two?" Between sessions, Harley had come to visit Elianna in her office for a chat. "Aren't you still staying at his place?" It seemed that the blonde still had yet to give up on the idea of El and Jonathan together; the only difference now was that she had ended up being right (a fact that the redhead had made sure to remind him of as they laid in bed catching their breath the day before. He hadn't found it quite as funny as she did).

"Yeah���wait, how did you know that?"

"I was pullin' into the parking lot behind you guys this mornin'."

"Uh-huh, we drove separately, stalker." El quirked an eyebrow with an expectant smile.

"Right, so you just happened to arrive at the same time? Just 'cause you didn't take the same car doesn't you're not comin' from the same place."

"Alright, alright," El laughed. "He's got some errands to run after work, so I promised to make dinner."

"Aww," Harley exaggerated the syllable, knowing it would get under her friend's skin.

"Oh, cut it out." El rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I already told you, nothing is going on." The blonde just laughed in response. "Hey, how's your big case coming along?"

As Harley enthusiastically began to tell whatever she could about her sessions with the self-named Poison Ivy, El used the distraction as an opportunity to recall the day before smugly to herself.

Already, the recent change in their relationships had its ups and downs. On the one hand, it almost seemed like a dam had burst; their dynamic flowed more smoothly, and for her part, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the other, when he had told her that morning that he had to oversee the handling of that night's delivery personally (since Batman had effectively put Falcone out of commission), her usual worry for his safety had doubled.

Something that Elianna and Jonathan had in common was a lack of experience with real relationships. As such, they shared a sense of profound importance in regards to the new arrangement. It would take some work to balance the now heightened concern they held for each other.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was in his office trying in vain to occupy his mind by shuffling through the stack of administrative paperwork that the warden's office couldn't be bothered to sort through before sending it to him. Between the unexpected hitch in the master plan and trying as hard as he could to not think about El (on that count, Scarecrow was actively working against), he was struggling to make it through even the very basics of his job.

At that moment, for example, he was grappling with his schedule for the day. Falcone had been taken to Blackgate and apparently had been asking to see him for a few days. Jonathan had been putting off visiting the mobster since he had found out; he had been caught by a civilian in a cape and a mask; what could he possibly have to discuss with such a disappointment to the underworld? Today, however, he had received word that the older man had cut his wrists, and the administration at Blackgate had sent for him specifically.

As if that weren't enough, he had already had to clear his schedule for that night to oversee the shipment, given that Falcone was now indisposed.

There was no getting around it, though, he supposed, and found himself back in the car en route to Blackgate. However, the drive wasn't nearly long enough for Jonathan to quell his frustration in Falcone's incompetence, and before too long was meeting with the mobster's caseworker.

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming." There was a thinly disguised urgency in her voice as she greeted him.

"Not at all," he replied, barely remembering to keep his tone patient. "He cut his wrists?" How irritating it was to fake concern.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," well, at least the woman was pragmatic, "but if anything should happen..."

"Of course, better safe than sorry." He nodded as they approached the door to the private room that Falcone had been brought to. With that, the caseworker unlocked the door to let Jonathan in and let the door swing closed behind him.

Falcone didn't skip a beat. "Hey, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. It's all too much; the walls are closing in, blah blah blah," the old man rambled dryly. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true." Jonathan found himself steeling himself against the urge to let Scarecrow come out as he settled into his chair.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut." The ego of a powerful man is truly something indigestible, isn't it?

"About what? You don't know anything about the operation."

"Maybe not specifics, sure, but I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." Jonathan listened and watched as patiently as he could as the tiresome man continued to talk. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." At this point, Scarecrow was banging against the proverbial walls of their brain, desperate to retaliate. "Those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now I've been bringing your stuff in for months. So whatever he's planning, it's big. And I want in."

Can you believe the balls on this guy? Let me out, Jonny.

Not yet; he still doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you." Just because we haven't yet doesn't mean that we won't, old man.

"Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town." Jonathan was growing tired of this conversation very quickly.

"Your town." The psychiatrist repeated, not a question—a mockery. The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, did I forget to ask? How rude of me, I forgot the most important part. How is your little lady friend from the asylum?" here the mobster leaned in threateningly, "Does she know what you're doing? What's gonna happen to her once you go down, I wonder. Maybe I'll send some people to make sure she's not alone, huh?"

Now that caught Jonathan's attention. The rest of Falcone's little threats were easily avoided; even he didn't have the power to endanger Ra's Al Gul's plans. He did, however, have the power to have unspeakable things done to Elianna. That would not stand.

Jonathan made his decision from there quickly. Scarecrow was overjoyed that El had been brought into the discussion, knowing that Jon would have to take it seriously, and was raring to be in control.

Jonathan sighed and removed his glasses, hearing the straw man begin to cheer in the back of his mind. "Would you like to see my mask?" He asked, opened his briefcase without waiting for an answer, popped open the false bottom, and reached for the mask, ignoring the several full syringes waiting to be used. He had added a new rig to the case, and it was as good a time as any to test it out. "I use it in my experiments. Now, I'm probably not very threatening to a guy like you," he continued, holding up the mask for emphasis, "but these crazies? They can't stand it."

With that, he made to put the mask on and let Scarecrow take over.

He could barely hear Falcone's quip about the nut taking over the nuthouse over the ever surreal feeling of taking the backseat in his own brain.

Once his face was secured, Scarecrow took great pleasure in pressing the button to release the cloud of toxin. The screams of terror began almost instantaneously, much to his delight, and he rose from his chair to loom over the mafioso.

"They scream, and they cry," he teased with menacing glee. "Much as you're doing now." Jonathan allowed Scarecrow a few more seconds of enjoyment before regaining control. They still had to leave undetected, and Scarecrow couldn't be trusted to be professional. As much as Jonathan enjoyed hearing the man who had dared to threaten El scream, he was more trustworthy when it came to subterfuge.

"Well, he's not faking," Jonathan cleared his throat as he reentered the hallway, greeted by the caseworker's concerned face. "Not that one." He was still a bit flustered by the rush of inflicting such horror upon someone. Move on, Jonathan, act normal. It was a bit of a blur after that, promising to talk to the judge and get Falcone transferred to Arkham before making his way back to the Asylum himself. He still had a few patients to see before he could punch out to oversee the shipment that evening.

However, once the rush wore off, Jonathan found his mind wandering back to what Falcone had said about El. Who knew what he could have told his people already? He stopped by El's office before returning to his own and was surprised to find her no longer there. A quick phone call to the secretary at the front desk told him that she had already left for the day—another phone call to find that her cell phone was dead.

Shit.

Jonathan forced himself back to the matter at hand, telling himself that she was fine, but the lingering worry stayed in the back of his mind.

For about an hour and a half at least, when he decided that he was done with work for the day. The sooner he could take care of business, the sooner he could rush home to make sure she was there.

In the car on his way to the meeting site, Jonathan tried calling her again to no avail.

I really need to get a home phone for the apartment; he cursed to himself.

He found himself unable to focus on the task at hand as he parked his car and got into the one being driven by the goons provided by Falcone. Any of them could have received orders at any point to take El, hurt her, anything. He had no way of knowing if instructions had already been given or what liberties were allowed should anything happen to her.

Behind his impassive expression, Jonathan was operating almost solely on autopilot, getting out of the car and entering the old apartment that served as a drop point. This one had already been used twice before, and given how close the end date was, he had already decided to eradicate any and all evidence once the job was done.

He looked disinterestedly over the pile of stuffed bunnies, appraising the shipment's size, doing quick calculations in his head to the best of his ability. After concluding that it was, in fact, the correct amount, he gestured to the goons to retrieve the substance from inside of the toys. "Get rid of all traces."

Jonathan couldn't help the disgusted look around the dilapidated apartment. He couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less at that moment. Distracted by the sheer quantity of distasteful thoughts swirling in his mind, he was almost startled when Scarecrow spoke suddenly.

There's someone else here.

That statement froze all other concerns as he tuned in to his environment. He barely registered one of the thugs telling the others to torch the apartment as he noticed a prickling on the back of his neck, as well as the open window.

Jonathan remained calm and in control as the other men began to douse the furniture in gasoline while he moved to examine the window.

Are you sure?

Before the straw man could answer, the sound of shattering glass from the other room stole Jonathan's attention from the window.

Yes, came the smug response. Wasting no more time, Jonathan let the other goon move to investigate and instead moved into the shadows to retrieve his mask.

You're up again, Scarecrow. Do it fast; we have to get home.

Yeah, yeah, you've been annoying me for hours; she's fine. Would you shut up about it? Retaliated Scarecrow as he forced Jonathan out of the driver's seat and took over, relishing in the drama of wearing his face again.

That moment didn't last for very long before his suspicions were confirmed, and the Batman himself burst into the room, swiftly incapacitating the leftover thug. Luckily, Scarecrow's reflexes were just as fast, and he released a cloud of toxin from their sleeve rig, which hit the caped crusader squarely in the face.

The effects were almost instantaneous, judging by the wide eyes behind the cowl and the erratic, flailing movements. Scarecrow stifled a laugh as the armored man toppled backward away from him.

"Take a seat," he taunted, thoroughly enjoying his playtime, "have a drink." Here he seized a bottle of vodka abandoned by his now useless goons. The staw man snarled mentally, understanding Jonathan's intolerance of incompetence. They would be eradicated along with the evidence of their crimes. Splashing the booze on the caped man in delight, he continued to tease him.

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously." Scarecrow abandoned the now empty bottle and replaced it in his hand with a zippo lighter that El had left in their pocket.

Wait, she loves that thing-

We'll buy her a new one, pipe down.

He had corraled Batman in front of the window and sparked the lighter, extending it in front of him menacingly. "Do you want my opinion? You need to lighten up." With that, he tossed the lighter, which ignited the caped crusader and the old rug in seconds.

This allowed them a swift escape, as Batman threw himself out the window and plummeted with the rain onto the pavement several stories below. Wasting no time, Scarecrow had them outside and in the getaway car. Luckily, there was a spare key in the visor, and they sped down the street in the direction of where they had left their car.

Slow down! We're attracting attention; we don't need that.

You're the one who's been bitching about getting home for the past few hours.

Not letting up for a second, Scarecrow turned a fifteen-minute drive back to Jonathan's car into a five-minute one before finally retreating to his place in the back of their mind. Of course, on principle, Jonathan was still irritated with Scarecrow for behaving so recklessly, then leaving him to deal with any potential consequences. Still, he was glad for the saved time.

By this point, Jonathan was so frenzied with panic about El's wellbeing that he couldn't even think about their own run-in with the Batman. Still ten minutes away from home, he tried to call her cell once again. Still no answer.

Why the fuck won't she pick up?

Scarecrow didn't respond, finally picking up just how agitated the whole situation had made his counterpart. Best not to rile him up further.

Jonathan nudged the car faster. Only a few minutes away, but it felt like forever. He was so frantic to get home and see Elianna safe that he couldn't even think of what he would do if she weren't. No game plan, not even a shadow of one because she's okay. Or so he kept telling himself.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XII

Jason is a CEO: Part XII

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

Just wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me. It means more than you could ever know. I love you guys! Please enjoy.

TW: violence

I hope you understand

you need your own love

more than they do.

-Dhiman

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

The music blasted in his ears, rattling every cell in his brain, shutting down each transmitter, pounding against every cage. It was not loud enough, he could still feel his heart, could still hear things. The treadmill under his feet beeped as he increased the speed again. Why wasn’t this working? Why was he still here? He’d been running so long he should be on Mars by now.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

FUCK.

He jumped off the machine and flung his phone across the room. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough to do this.

His phone went off again, and he’s annoyed he didn’t break it in his rage. Apparently even destroying something was an impossibility for him. The thought was so pathetic he couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m curr–

“Okay!” He yelled, “I’m answering the fucking call. Just shut up.” He stabbed at the screen until the dial tone started up again.

“Jase?” Annabeth Chase sucked in a breath.

“Yes, what is wrong?” He knew he was being rude but he didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want what was about to happen.

“Can we come in?”

“You guys are outside my apartment?” He scowled.

“Uh yes,” She winced, “We tried knocking but you didn’t answer.”

He cut the call and walked to the front door, yanking it open with enough force to rattle the hinges.

“What do you want?”

Leo Valdez just levelled his gaze at him and stepped into the room.

“Guys, I know you mean well but I really don’t have the energy for this.”

They both ignored him, putting down the shopping bags on his kitchen counter and shoving stuff in the fridge. Leo hit the button on the coffee machine and grabbed three mugs from the cupboard.

Jason didn’t even have the strength to ask what was going on, he just collapsed onto a bar stool and put his head to the cool marble. His friends moved around him in silence, putting things away, washing the minimal dishes in the sink, and straightening the pillows on the couch. Eventually he felt them come nearer, leaning against the counter and looking at him.

“Jase,” Annabeth said softly, “Please look at us.”

He debated pretending he was asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t fall for it. With a deep breath he raised his head and stared into their matching eyes of love.

“Stand up,” Leo requested, voice gentle.

He felt his lip wobble, felt his throat close up. But he stood.

“Come here my darling.” They held out their arms.

He looked at them and collapsed to the floor, sobs catching like swords in his chest. They enveloped him as his tears soaked their clothes. He heaved with heart ache and loneliness, betrayal.

“I can’t do this,” He cried, anguish a serrated edge on his tongue. “I can’t do this.”

The just kept holding him. His friends for these years. His family through it all. They sat on the floor trying to catch all the pieces of him that broke off with each sob, not a word to interrupt his grief. And when the day blackened as dark as his lungs, they held each other by the light of the moon, and let the stars witness the destruction they caused.

***

Jason walked into his office for the first time in a week and pretended to be on a call as he avoided the chatter his employees would undoubtedly try to engage him in. A tight-lipped smile and an apologetic motion at his phone left them in their seats and far away from him. He wouldn’t be here for long. No he just had to sort out a few things and then he was packing up his crushed elation and taking himself to a place no-one save for the birds would be able to talk to him.

His office was just the way he left it, some documents neatly piled on his desk waiting for his approval, the blinds half closed so the sun still filtered in but didn’t blind, and his computer opened to the email he had been typing to Zoe about a holiday they should go on. It took everything in him not to smash the screen with the little cactus paperweight Hazel had bought him.

“Boss,”

Think of the assistant and they shall appear.

“Yes,” He didn’t bother to look up as he shuffled through the awaiting files.

“How-“ She gulped, ‘How are–“

“Levesque,” His voice was cold but it was the only way to get through this, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. Please don’t ask me that. Thank you for being concerned.”

She nodded, jaw-snapping shut, but he could see all the questions burning in her eyes. Instead she released a shaky breath and asked, “Will you be back at work full time? I just need to know if I should be transferring calls to you or putting in an out of office notification.”

He frowned, mulling it over. He could work, he should work. But everything reminds him of his failures. Of the things he didn’t see coming. And his job was nothing if not full of surprises. As he’s about to tell her his decision his phone rang.

His sister’s name flashed across the screen and he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding her.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” She grumbled, “Gees Jase. It’s like you’re purposefully ignoring me. Are you ready for today?”

He was so caught off by her question he forgot all about telling her the news. “Today?”

“Do not tell me you forgot,” She sighed, “We’re supposed to meet Octavian today. Give the idiot a piece of our mind.”

“Oh,” He muttered eloquently, “Are we still doing that?”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’m pretty pissed he dared to hurt one of our own so yes I do think we’re still doing that. Also this is the only day Bianca has so get your ass out of your office and meet me outside Titan Industries in twenty.”

With that the phone gave an obnoxious beep and the screen went dark. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to gather the scattered thoughts in his mind.

“We’ll talk later,” Hazel, still waiting at the door, nodded before waving a goodbye and disappearing into her office.

Sighing he gathered his things and trudged down to his car. Might as well get this over with and then tell his sister about Zoe. No matter what had happened between them Octavian still deserved whatever was coming for him. What he did was abominable.

The Titan Industries building loomed over him as he parked the car in a loading zone and hopped out. He was being that dick today, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Thalia swerved in next to him and behind her an array of cars stopped. A team of suited people poured out, black glasses, and head pieces to match. It looked fake enough to be comical. But then a woman in four-inch heels, a gunmetal coloured suit and a smile made from terror stepped out and he knew it was anything but fake. Or funny. She was the single scariest thing he had ever laid eyes on, and he knew what his sister looked like angry.

“Bianca!” Thalia jumped excitedly, racing towards the woman. They embraced with a laugh and a quick catch up. She fist-bumped a few of the bodyguards and then walked towards him.

“Di Angelo,” She smiled, “Please meet my brother Jason and the reason we’re here today.”

“Oh I know all about Jason,” Her voice was low but clear, like everything she said had purpose.

“You do?” He tried not to let the shock take over his features.

“I know everyone who hangs out with my brother. If they don’t get clearance from me they disappear.” She said it with such casualness he would have thought she was joking if the gleam in her black eyes didn’t hold a challenge.

‘Well,” He laughed awkwardly, “Glad I meet your approval.”

She just tilted her head and looked at him. A panther waiting to pounce. A competition waiting to be won.

Thalia who looked entirely too amused clapped her hands, “Shall we then? I wore my blood-stained pants for this.”

“Period stains or other stains?” Bianca asked, mirth dancing on her lips.

His sister just snorted and pushed open the Brobdingnagian door. None of Bianca’s bodyguards followed them in but he knew it didn’t matter. Between her and Thalia he doubted they would be needed.

“We’re here to see Octavian.”

The receptionist gave them a sickly-sweet smile, “Do you have a meeting?

“Tell him it’s Jason Grace from Anemoi Empires.”

Moments later they were being escorted into an elevator and taken up to the big boss himself.

“And what do we have here?” An oily voice grinned, “An intervention? Interrogation? Investment?”

“Octavian Haruspex,” Bianca drawled, examining her long black nails briefly.

“And who might you be?” He snooted, giving her a filthy look.

She smiled slowly and Jason swore the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Does it really matter who I am?”

“Greatly,” The blonde sniffed, leaning against his desk with arrogance, “I prefer to know who I’m speaking to.”

Her laugh was razor sharp as she focused her glittering eyes on him. “Bianca Di Angelo.”

Those pale blue eyes widened, shuttered, blinked. That was all the surprise he would show.

“And what is the Queen of the Underworld doing in my building? With these,” He pulled his face into a look of distaste, “With company such as them.”

Thalia growled, “I’d watch how you speak boy.”

He deigned to laugh, “What are you going to do? This is my empire. You’re just visiting.”

“She’s right,” Bianca said softly, moving to stand by the window.

“What do you want?” He scoffed, “I have work to do.”

“Piece of shit.” Jason muttered, fingers curling into fists at his side.

“I’m not the one who strung your company along for weeks only to deny them the greatest investment opportunity money could buy.” That greasy smile was back.

It took everything in him not to reach over and smack it off his face. “We’re not three-year olds Octavian. Sometimes business doesn’t work out. What you did–“ He breathed, anger making the room red, “What you did was disgusting.” He can feel the exhaustion tugging in his spine. Like a weighted chain wrapping around him.

“What I did?” He raised a bleached brow, “And what exactly did I do Jason Grace?”

“Okay,” Bianca sighed, like she was already bored with the conversation, ‘I’ve had just about enough of this.”

Before anyone could blink a dagger was embedded in Octavian’s table, millimeters from his fingers.

“Bitch!” He cursed, ripping his hand away from the shining blade. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“We don’t believe in lawsuits Octavian. It’s no necessary when people like you deserve to rot at the bottom of a sewer.” Thalia spat.

For the first time since they came in, Jason could see a flicker of fear in the man’s pale face.

“Fuck you,” He grunted, “You can’t prove jackshit.”

“We don’t have to prove anything.” Bianca grinned, “That’s not how street justice works.”

And before he can say another word, she was standing in front of him a second dagger titling his chin up and laughter playing in her eyes, “Now listen, if you ever, and I mean ever touch Jason, his associates, his family, his friends, the person he blinks at on the sidewalk, ever again I will have you erased so violently history will not be able to string the letters of your name together.”

A tiny drop of bright red blood fell to Octavian’s crisp white shirt as his glared at the woman in his space. “Fuck you.”

“Not even if it meant I could rule heaven,” She giggled coldly.

Her face pulled taut, “They are under my protection, from now until the Ouija boards can longer summon me in my grave. If you or your own ever go near them.” She snapped her teeth at him, “Well let’s just say my bodyguards are very creative with their outdoor activities.”

A dark stain spread over Octavian’s grey pants and Jason had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Fucking coward. Can order a person to stab someone but cannot even handle a little threat.

“Don’t bother doing business on our side of town again.” He hissed. The man didn’t say anything as they turned away. The dull crack of a bone echoed behind him and Jason turned to see his sister leaning over a bloody Octavian, shaking out her hand.

“That was for stabbing my friend, you fucker.”

Through his red teeth he grinned at her, “Your friend huh?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His sister spat.

The vile man turned towards him, “And has she broken up with you yet?”

Jason wanted to strangle the smirk of his face, wanted to throw up. “It’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” Octavian smiled.

“Come on Jase,” Thalia tugged at his arm, “He’s not worth it.”

He let her drag him away, but the businessman’s unsettling grin played a loop in his head. There was something distinctly wrong about the situation. He had the eery feeling he wasn’t done with Octavian Haruspex just yet.

When they finally made it outside, the sun was still shining brightly as if what occurred could never stain the glory of the world. They said their thank you’s and goodbyes to Bianca and her team of people, Thalia promising to come around soon.

“So,” She grinned at him, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” He rolled his shoulders, “That wanker got what he deserved but it didn’t make me feel better.”

In a rare moment she opened her arms, a silent offering. He stepped into them without hesitation and drooped onto her shoulder.

“Thals–“ He mumbled, trying to keep the tears at bay, “Zoe and i–“

“I know Jase,” She hugged him tighter. “She called me. Said to tell you she’ll never be sorry enough.”

The dam inside him burst, “Everyone is always sorry. But does anybody actually care?”

She stroked her hands over his back and carried his burden on her shoulders too.

“I think,” She said after a moment, “I think you should go away for a little while. You haven’t had a proper break in nearly three years.”

“Where will I go?” His blue eyes were blurry with tears.

“We have that house in Panarea.” Her voice was soft, soothing in his ear. “Maybe go there for a little while.”

“And what about Project Hestia? And the company? You know I’m starting the Conservation Conversations initiative after Hestia and there’s still so much to close up for the mini projects, and I have that water–“

“Jase!” She frowned, her blue eyes matching his glinted with sternness, “Your company will survive without you for a week or two. Hell it’ll survive for one or two months. But you aren’t going to survive another day if you don’t get some rest.”

“I just–“ He sighed, “I feel bad for abandoning everyone.”

“If you don’t stop, you’ll abandon us permanently and I will literally bring you back to just to kill you myself if you do that.” She squeezed him, “So just go to Italy for a little while. If you want, I’ll stay here and keep things in line. I’m sure Leo and Beth know what to do where I don’t. And Hazel is more than competent enough. Not to mention Frank.”

He took a deep breath, letting the options buzz around in his mind.

“I swear if you come up with one more excuse I’m going to duct-tape your mouth and ship you off myself.”

He gave a burst of laughter and wiped at his eyes, “Okay, okay. I’m going to Panarea. But you have to let me get my life sorted first. I’m not just packing up and taking the first flight out.”

“Deal,” Thalia smiled, and when she gave him one last hug, he realised there were some things in the world he would never want to control.

***

“Okay,” He popped his head around the door, “Flight is booked for two weeks from now.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “And you’re sure you’re okay to go?”

“I’m fine, you worry pot. I promise I’m not going to crumble to dust.”

“Okay,” She looked dubious, “It just seems like you got over all of this really quickly.”

“It was coming for a while,” He shrugged, “She is magnificent, but she isn’t mine.”

“I’m just worried you’re suppressing your feelings and as soon as you have five minutes to breathe, you’re just gonna break down instead.”

“I promise if I breakdown I’ll call you to come get me,” He laughed, “Now, how about we go over the checklist for the trip. And don’t forget to book a hotel for me please.”

“Where are you going again?”

Gorgeous eyes glittered as he caught the sunset lighting up the room in dainty colours. Gods he loved the sun. Loved that no matter what it rose and fell every day and the way it changed colours each evening and again each morning. The way it astounded him no matter how it looked.

“Daydreamer?” Rachel prompted.

“Oh,” He blinked back into the world, “I’m going to Panarea.”

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

What in the world is going on?????

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​

@leydiangelo​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@msdrpreist​

@sparkythunderstorm​

@nishlicious-01​

@lucyisblue​

[pagingdoctorcarter]

I have prompts to fill, but instead I wrote this unasked for prologue to a Korkie adventure. I don’t know guys, but take it. 

THE SILENCE OF ASTOUNDED SOULS

“There’s something in the last cell.”

She had thought that, at least this time, they might escape without attracting notice. The base was abandoned. The information they’d been sent to retrieve simple reconnaissance. They’d gone in expecting to find nothing, and needing only to confirm the rats had fled ahead of their occupation. No traps, and no loose ends.

But of course, there was a hitch. There was always a hitch.

And so, Wyla Voxx, with two years experience running sabotage missions, her crew a small three man team of insurrectionists with no ties to anywhere, or anyone thanks, in part, to the rise of a new Empire, is forced to make a difficult choice. Do they open the cell? Or does she turn away?

The cell, if it is occupied, can house nothing of importance, or it would not have been left behind. Anything remaining might very well be a trap, playing on their pity and curiosity.

And yet...the sweep would not be complete without a thorough inspection of every room. And Wyla Voxx has never been one to turn away.

So she stalks back down the stone hall, the damp of the earth inching down the duracrete walls in silver streaks, and stops before the barred door of the last cell. She raises her blaster to her shoulder.

“Open it up,” she says.

And so her second does. He’s a strong man from Espirion, though in truth, he has never set foot on that planet, and the door yields beneath the full weight of his body, opening outwards by physical force in the old fashion.

Inside, the hold is dark. Only a thin sliver of moonlight breaches the room, pouring in from the narrow window high in the wall, casting the shadows of bars over the floor like the blackened ribs of some decaying beast. Something moves in the corner, and Wyla lifts her weapon, and plants her feet. Her flare is too close in her hand, and the brightness of it only obscures the dark around her more. It were better she were blind.

“Hold it,” she says. “Is someone hiding back there?”

There is no answer. The battery core of her blaster whines high with a killing charge.

“I’m armed, and I’m not alone. I need you to come out now, and make no sudden movements.”

She waits, her breath hanging as mist in the air, marking out the seconds and the measure of her patience. Without wavering in her aim, she motions for Behan to join her. The girl accedes, bringing her own light with her. With a nod of encouragement, Behan takes one shuffling step, then another, inching closer and closer to the far corner of the room. The grasping hands of shadows eventually unfurl, chastened by the light, to reveal a ragged bundle of rags, the same shade as the night. Beneath Behan’s flare, the bundle seems to breathe, and Wyla cannot say if it is the revelation of life, or a trick of the light.

“I’ve got you covered,” she says, at Behan’s inquiring look, and she lets her finger settle just over the trigger as the girl raises her hand to the blankets and throws them aside.

They tear away with little resistance, disgorging their wrinkled belly of its wretched, sallow contents, leaving it to spill listless across the duracrete floor.

It is a man - or more, perhaps a boy - so pale as to be translucent, with blond hair, and blue lips, and lashes so fair they are the mere spectres of themselves. He makes no response to their attack. He only shivers a little as his skin touches stone, and curls about himself to spare himself the cold.

Behan looks at Wyla, and Sor-Inso behind who both regard the boy with mutual expressions of confusion not quite turned fear.

“Who is it?” Sor asks. “I thought this base was meant to be abandoned.”

“It is,” says Wyla. “It was meant to be. Whoever this is, he was left behind.”

Behan has braved the distance where Wyla and Sor have not, and she sets her flare aside to take the pale hand.

“He’s cold as ice,” she says, turning to Wyla with wide and piteous eyes.

Wyla swallows, unlocking her jaw by her own will, and calls to the man again.

“Who are you?” she demands. “Why are you here?”

A reply of sorts is spoken, but it is thin and unintelligible, carried forth by the release of yet another phantasmal breath.

“Do you work for the Empire?” Wyla presses, raising her voice as much as she dares, and keeping her weapon trained.

But Behan has had enough.

“For stars’ sake,” she scolds, throwing down her gloves, and shaking herself free of her pack and parka. “He’s ill. He can barely speak, let alone hold a blaster. He’s not going to shoot you.”

Wyla drops her blaster to her hip as Behan leans down over the body, obscuring him beneath her coat, and hiding him from Wyla’s aim. Sor’s posture, too, relaxes into something cavalier, and he turns his back to make for the exit without concern.

“We’d better get back to the ship,” he says. “Rendezvous with the nest, and let them know they’re clear to send a scavenging crew.”

Wyla holsters her weapon, and shakes her fingers free of the tension pressed into them by adrenaline. “Alright,” she says. “Grab the drivers, and let’s go. Behan -?”

“What about him?”

“What about him?” says Sor, slinging a bag of drivers and circuit boards pried from various droids and stations over his shoulder. “Imps don’t want him, why should we?”

“He’s sick!” she insists.

“Then he won’t suffer long,” Sor retorts.

“Wyla -” Behan turns her appeal to Wyla. It’s her call. She hesitates.

“It could still be a trap,” she says. “He might be an Imp.”

“He definitely looks like one,” Sor grunts, hefting the bag higher. “Mousy little thing.”

“Then why’d they leave him here like this? When he’s no harm to anyone, and we could just as well have missed him entirely, and left?”

“We still might,” Wyla threatens. But she sighs, and shakes her head, rolling her eyes at her own traitorous heart. She steps close to where Behan sits on her heels, her hand running in soothing circles over the man’s back, though he seems insensate to her touch. Wyla taps him on the cheek, rousing him to meager consciousness. “Hey,” she says. “Who are you?”

A flutter of words come out, torn upon the ragged strings of his voice.

“Naasade.  Ni ganar nayc gai, nayc aliit.  Ni cuy' naasade.”

But Wyla doesn’t know them.

“Do you speak Basic?” she asks. But he doesn’t respond. She doffs her gloves, and reaches beneath the coat and blankets to see if there is anything on his person that might answer for him. An identchit, perhaps. Or a registered holocard. A tag upon a uniform. But there is nothing. He is bare beneath the rags, his skin turning to gooseflesh at her touch, and he shivers, pulling away. The feathered strands of his hair fall aside, and on his neck she sees a scar. Once an open wound, bloody and charred by the brand against his skin, the mark is now shimmering white in the light of the moon: a lily, with a broken stem.

“Who are you?” she asks again. “What have you done?”

His voice, when it comes again, is less than the wind in space, so threadbare she might just have imagined it, but for the look on Behan’s face.

“I killed the Duchess of Mandalore.”

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night Five (final)

PAIRING: Chanyeol x reader

GENRE: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

WORD COUNT: 3,375

RATING: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

SUMMARY: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. One night, a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it, you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

You all sit in silence, staring at Jimmy. The clock on the wall hits midnight but no one makes a move. Faintly, though your headphones, you hear the ad reel kick in. 

Daniel comes into the booth a moment later. He folds his arms, looking haunted but ready for action. 'So, what the fuck do we do now?'

Jimmy spins the laptop so you can see the readout. ‘It was right here, I’m telling you. I’ve got it.’ He points to a large building on the outskirts of campus. ‘When the phone smashed, the signal died. But I’m certain.’ He opens up a new tab and overlays the UW map next to the program. ‘I got it.’

‘Albert Hall,’ you read over his shoulder. 'Why does that sound so familiar?'

Suse and Jimmy exchange a look. 'Let's go find him,' she says, as though it's as simple as that.

Logic wars with your desire to sprint out of the building and decimate anyone standing in your way to save Chanyeol. 'There were bars on whatever he's being held in, guys. And at least two people sick enough to do this. If we charge in there and get hurt, or worse, we won't be much help to him,' you say, chewing on your lower lip anxiously. 'Maybe we could call the police? Report a break in or something and they'd have to go investigate.'

'You're right,' Suse sighs, running a jittery hand through her hair. 'But, also. You know...' She gestures with her hands out the window and then back to the four of you.

'Fuck it.’ You stand up and pull on your jacket, heart racing. 'You're right. We can't wait.' Pulling out your phone, you dial 911.

Without even grabbing your bag you stride out into the hallway, pressing the phone to your ear. Shuffling follows you as Suse, Jimmy, and Daniel grab their coats and turn off the lights.

A female voice comes on the line. '911, what's your emergency?'

You stop in the kitchen and pull open the drawers, grabbing the only weapon you can think of - the long knife amongst the various utensils you all keep there for the odd lunch or dinner you eat at the station. The blade gleams in the moonlight coming through the hall window.

The distress and fear are all too real as they color your tone. 'Please, help me,' you say into the phone in a high voice. 

The dispatcher carries on with business-like efficiency. 'How can I help you, miss?'

Jimmy holds up the screen beside you as you carry on out the front doors into the night. The address flashes in thick red. You head down the hallway and push out the doors into the freezing night. 

'Some guys just took my friend into this building. We were just - we were just walking back from Schultzy's! They came out of nowhere.'

'Are you safe?' she asks. You can hear the clack of her typing in the background.

You feel the wooden handle of the knife in your hand and look at Suse, Jimmy, and Daniel beside you. 'I'm safe. But please, please, hurry.’ You pause to take a dramatic inhale of breath. ‘I think they had a gun.'

Suse smiles and nods at you. You hardly need Jimmy's whispered directions as you all move silently through the sleeping streets to the address listed. Something within you is pulling you towards Chanyeol and you swallow your fear down and keep walking as fast as your legs can carry you.

'I'm putting your address as 800 NE 42nd st, is that correct?'

Silently, you curse and hurry around parked cars. 'No, no I - I ran before they could grab me. It was 4120 11th Ave NE that they took him into. Please, hurry.'

If she thinks it’s strange you have the exact address ready, she doesn’t show it. 'Got it. I'm dispatching units now, please stay on the line while -'

You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. Picking up the pace, you sprint over sidewalks until you stand outside the abandoned building. While it's clearly part of the row of stone and brick classrooms on the far end of campus, this one looks as though it in particular has fallen into disrepair. The trees lining the street behind you are dwarfed by the three-story rise of the building above.

The sign out front is warped with age. Albert Hall - Psychology Research Center

'Does it say precisely where in the building he is?' You whisper to Jimmy, as though the slightest sound will give you away.

He shakes his head. 'No. But I'm willing to bet it's through a back entrance.' He nods up at the boarded up front doors.

Your group moves around to the right side, closer to the University proper. Just a street away the city pulses with life and lights and noise, students enjoying the start of the weekend. But in this isolated corner, near the freeway. it's unnervingly quiet. The perfect place to lock someone up where no one would find them. In your mind you make a promise to Chanyeol and to yourself that this ends tonight. No matter what you have to do, by morning he'll be free.

The outside of the building is dark, sloping gently down the hill behind it. A gust of wind comes through the trees and you wrap your arms around yourself, careful to keep the knife's edge away. Holding your breath you wait for any sign of life or movement inside, praying you’re not too late. 

'There!' Suse whispers loudly a minute later, pointing to a flash of light in one of the lower windows.

You start moving towards it, blood pounding in your ears. 

Daniel holds your arm gently. 'The police are on their way, shouldn't we wait?'

The fear in your veins is strong, but something pushes you to keep going. 'It's Friday night in the U District, Daniel. I think it might be a while. I can't explain it but, we can't wait.'

He nods grimly and you all carefully pick your way down the slick grass hillside to reach the decidedly not boarded-up back door. Cautiously, you peek inside the darkened glass. Far down the hallway you see another flash of light, followed by a loud crash.

Suse uses the moment to pull open the creaking old door and she heads inside, leading the way. Daniel at the back gently braces it open with a doorstop and motions you all forward. If adrenaline wasn't coursing through your veins you'd take time to be horrified by the shadows in this place.

Your mind runs away with you in the darkness. Though you now believe that the people responsible for Chanyeol's predicament are in fact human and not supernatural, you can't help but wonder. About women in the night with terrifying eyes and wolves that move faster than they should. 

You reach the room where the noise is coming from and lean in to catch snippets of conversation.

'So what are we going to do with him, then?' a female voice says. It's oddly familiar.

The sound of pacing in the background increases. A male voice speaks, muffled at first and then louder. 'You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this. There was never any other option.'

The woman counters in a contained scream - 'I didn't think you planned on killing him!'

Chanyeol. You clutch the knife tighter in your hand, readying for a fight. Peeking around the edge you see two figures circling each other in the faint light coming from a generator in the corner of the room.

The man turns and your stomach drops. 'Professor Langford?' you whisper to yourself.

He hardly looks like himself. His jacket is discarded on the floor and he holds a shaking, shadowed object in his hand. 'This was the deal. You help me get someone down here. Your silly little radio station gets a story worthy of national attention. And then we reach the end -' 

He walks closer to the light, pressing her against the wall. When his hand raises you see a gun, the barrel going to her forehead. 'I kill him and get my first-hand, up-close, look at what panic does to a community. I’ll finally have a case study worthy of tenure.’

You're so distracted by the fact that your goddamn professor is the one behind all this, you don't even pay attention to who the woman is.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Suse asks loudly, incredulous, startling you. When you turn you see she's beside you, staring into the room. Arms crossed, ready for war. Suse isn't looking at the man, but at the woman. 'Jennifer?'

'Holy shit,' Daniel says, coming to peek between the two of you. 'Boss, what have you done?'

And holy shit indeed, they're right. The anguish on her face meets the harsh light and it’s aged her several years. Her normally loose blonde hair is braided back and a dark knit cap is pulled over it, but it's absolutely her.

In the startled silence you hear a banging sound against metal. Muted groans come from further into the room and you can just make out a cage in the corner - like a prison cell with thick bars, but slightly bigger. 

He hunches in the shadows, but you'd know him anywhere. For the last week your thoughts have been filled with nothing but him. You want to run to Chanyeol and get him the hell out of here, but the unstable look in the professor's eyes makes you hold your position.

Professor Langord uses the moment to pull Jennifer into his arms, pressing the gun to her forehead once more. The four of you move into the room, surrounding them, blocking the exit. 'Don't come any closer.'

As you stare each other down, other objects in the room come into focus. Noise machines you recognize from the station. Costumes, masks. A large poster is taped to the wall beside you - ice and a frozen lake as far as you can see. 

Disbelief makes you laugh, the sound hollow in the empty room. 'You made it all up?'

Daniel scoffs in disgust. 'You crazy bastard. The cops are on their way. It's over.'

Jennifer sags, shame coloring her features. She raises her hands defensively. 'Paul, stop this. It's over.' She looks at you and your friends. 'I'm so sorry, it - it wasn't supposed to be like this. We're losing our funding this year and we needed the money. I had no idea it would be... this -' she gestures back at Chanyeol and up at the building before lowing her eyes to the floor.

Suse hunkers down for a stand off. 'Let's wait for the cops and then we can resolve all of this.'

The professor makes a noise of distress and points the gun at you instead, shoving Jennifer to the floor. 'No! I'm not going down for this. There's plenty of bullets in here to keep it all quiet.'

He's deranged enough to do it; his hair in wild disarray and a feral hunger in his eyes you've never noticed before. You hold the knife in front of you, stepping around Suse. It’s your fault they all came along and, even if it’s pointless, you’re going to defend them.

With your free hand you shove them all back, behind you. The professor lifts it to be level with your head and terror surges in your veins as you hope to God you can dodge at the right time.

All of a sudden a thunderous bang comes from the corner and the professor turns at the sound. You use the moment, moving without thinking or hesitating. Rushing forward, you reach for his wrist, driving it back against the stone wall. He jerks, nearly losing the gun but maintaining his grip.

He attempts to aim it again, but you're faster. Teeth bared, you lift the knife and hold it to his throat. 'Move and I'll kill you, professor.'

The fight goes out of him, raising his free hand in surrender. You incline your head and call behind you, 'Daniel, grab the gun.'

He does, coming forward and relieving the professor of the weapon. Jimmy appears on your other side, pinning the man's other arm to the wall as well. 'Go get your man, we've got this,' he tells you.

Together they hold him against the wall. Suse flips the light switch and miraculously it still works. She stands guard at the door and watches Jennifer with disgust. Still on the floor, your boss’ knees draw to her chest as she sits upright with her back against the wall. She drops her head into her hands with a groan.

Noise and light spill the hallway, voices calling out. Suse sticks her head out and waves. 'Down here!'

You finally turn to the cage, now fully visible in the light. Chanyeol sits in the corner, his wrists bound in front of him with a length of rope. His wide eyes meet yours emphatically. He tries to speak around the length of fabric in his mouth and you want to sob.

'You're okay, thank God.'

You easily find the key to the enclosure and unlock the door. Dropping to your knees in front of him, you use the knife and cut off his bindings carefully. He reaches up and pulls the material out so he can speak. He's even more ethereal in person - with deep brown eyes, ears that stick out, and a full, pink mouth, he resembles a hero from a fairy tale, even with exhaustion clear on his face.

You can’t help it - you grin and reach for him, instinctually, automatically, before checking the motion. 

Your hands hang in the air and he watches them for a beat before meeting your eyes once more. Faster than you can process he sits up and pulls you against him in a slightly off-center hug. Gripping his arms you steady yourself, face pressing against his neck. The spell is broken and suddenly you accept that he's very real and tangible and here and alive. He smells like the ocean, even down here amongst the old tables and chairs. 

'Thank you,' he says, lips moving against your hair.

For a long moment you hold each other, in this strange and terrifying place, feeling against all odds as though you've finally come home. You want to cry with relief that he's whole. He was so close to you this whole time. You want to hug him tighter and keep him with you, to protect him from the world. Even if it's ridiculous, and though you've never met him before in your life.

But if telling myths and stories of the unknown for so long has taught you anything, it's that nothing is impossible. 'I can't believe you're here,' you say against him.

His hands find your shoulders and he eases you back to look at you, one hand moving into your hair. For a beat he simply drinks you in, amongst the noise and the sound of police in the room he watches you like you're the only person who exists. And then he surprises you completely by pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours.

For long seconds his cold mouth meets your warm one, tasting and teasing and familiarizing himself with you while you hold onto him, believing abruptly that this must all be a dream. But then you join him, reaching for his face and tracing his skin while you sink into the kiss.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. 'Your voice kept me sane in the darkness.' His eyes open and you know exactly what he means. He tilts his head and motions to a small radio on a ledge in the corner 'I'm so glad you finally found me.'

You blush, unable to help yourself as you push his messy hair out of his eyes so you can see him clearly. 'Any time. For now, how about we get out of here?'

He smiles and laughs, the weak sound finding a home in the hollows of your body. Together you stand, gently helping him off the floor. With him leaning heavily against you, still weak from his days of being in this place, you pull out your cell and dial the recent number.

She answers a beat later. 'Have you heard anything?' Yoora asks, voice tight with sadness.

Instead of answering you press the speaker phone button. Chanyeol bends, reading the name you called and smiling at you. Awe lingers in his eyes at the fact that you knew what he needed before he did. 'Sis?'

'Oh my god,' she starts. You hear the sound of things moving in the background. 'Chan? Are you okay?'

He grins, then winces and presses the hand not around your shoulders to his side. 'Not all the way, but I will be.'

Six months later - June

The station is still hot by the time you arrive in the evening; the summer sun clinging to Seattle well on into the evening. You know how the city feels and you want to hold onto the warmth, too.

Jennifer's office is still dark and you pass by it without looking in. Eventually, someone else will take her place. But for now, Daniel says the management is all filling in. Like so many things after a trauma, life carries on as it always has, and some wounds take longer to heal than others.

You hear his voice when you're in the hallway and grin. No matter how quickly you get out of your class or internship or TA duties Chanyeol still manages to beat you here. His exuberant, deep voice jokes with Daniel and when you peek in the door they're both looking at the computer. They’ve been thick as thieves since he helped you walk Chanyeol out of that godawful place and into the ambulance.

He notices you standing in the doorway and grins, the familiar crinkles coming to the corner of his eyes. 'There she is!'

You never know who does it first. If he reaches for you or if you reach for him. Or perhaps you're both drawn to each other like magnets, always reaching. He wraps his arms around you and you sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Daniel makes a dramatic gagging noise and mutters 'get a room' that all three of you know he doesn't mean. Since the incident he's taken on even more of a protective vibe that now extends to Chanyeol as well.

When it’s finally time to start the show you swap out for Suse, hugging her like always. If anything, this has all brought you and her closer and the four of you are inseparable. 

‘Don’t have too much fun tonight,’ she teases, winking as she shuts the door behind her. 

With a laugh you assume your place on the far side of the desk, settling in where you’ve always sat. The headphones are the same. The switchboard of sixteen lines, waiting for people to call in, is the same. But what isn’t the same is the man who settles himself into a mirroring desk opposite you. 

He gives you a lopsided grin that makes is way into your voice as you start the show. 'Hello and welcome back to The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ Seattle, where the dial might stop, but we don’t. I’m Y/N...'

After the story broke and everyone learned who you are it seemed silly to keep the nickname. The diehard listeners and people who called into the show know you on a deeper level now, and the show doesn't seem to be slowing down in the least. 

When everyone learned about the financial distress of the station, that Jennifer was hiding from everyone, the donations poured in. The thought of having this program, now shared by your boyfriend, gives you a sense of peace amongst all the change in your life.

'And I'm Chanyeol,’ he says. ‘We’ll be your host for the evening. Let’s get weird.' He winks and squeezes your hand beneath the booth.

~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @yeoldontknow​ @enthusiastt​ @itskindofafairything​ @gogh-suck-it​ @nshitae​ @jeons-moonchild​

[kenzieam]

Not You - Chapter Three

@jewels2876​​​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

************************************************************************

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama, potential infidelity

************************************************************************

FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far!!

************************************************************************

Things come to a head.... sort of....

************************************************************************

The next morning brought grudging consciousness and Bucky lay on his bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide on a plan of attack. He needed to figure this out and fast.

He couldn’t keep living the way he was, shambling though life dragging these chains, chains that weren’t his to possess anyway, had never been his to take.

Lev was with Sam, and she’d made it clear that whatever Bucky had felt, or thought, he’d felt, was entirely one-sided.

He had today off, despite his best efforts to secure a shift and a shit-ton of errands to run, real life didn’t stop just because you were trapped in a self-made hell.

At least there were no nail scratches on his back today to sting in the shower.

That evening, Bucky returned to the apartment; he’d managed to drag out most of the day and, hopefully, Steve wouldn’t be there now, either down at Sam’s or on a date or hell, maybe even at work.

No such luck.

The blonde man was there, on the couch, barely paying attention to the TV in front of him.

He was waiting for Bucky, ready for a confrontation that was long overdue.

There was no use trying to delay, not anymore. Steve was nothing if not persistent. Bucky leaned against the doorframe and waited.

“What the fuck, man?” Steve finally asked, without turning his head. His voice was low and controlled but just barely. Finally, he turned and glared at his oldest friend. “You’ve been a ghost for weeks now. You’re never home, you’re never around, when I do see you, you look like you’re two seconds from collapsing. And what ever happened with that Valentina girl? You were all tied up in that woman and now nothing…. What. Is. Going. On?”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky walked slowly towards Steve, perching awkwardly on the armchair nearby. He heaved a breath, stabbing his hands through his hair. “It’s her.”

Steve waited silently, but his brows shot up in a mix of confusion and dawning realization.

“Lev…. Is Valentina.”

“What?” He spat the words, but shock made his voice waver.

“The girl at the bar… Valentina.”

“Is Lev?” Steve asked, disbelieving.

Bucky nodded miserably.

“What… How the hell-” Steve broke off, shaking his head.

Fisting his hands so hard the nails bit into his palms, Bucky took a deep breath and opened his chest to expose his broken heart. “I didn’t know… until I saw her with Sam. I couldn’t… I couldn’t even….it wasn’t until we left to get chips that I could find the words to ask, you know, what the fuck…. And Valentina is her middle name, because why would you give your real name to a stranger at a bar?” He shook his head and growled ruefully. “And she didn’t say anything about a boyfriend because that’s what all single girls say, right?”

Steve frowned, trying to piece it all together in his head. “So-”

“So, I fell for a girl that isn’t mine to have. And when I laid it out to her, said I couldn’t just let go of what I felt between us… she said ‘no’, that there was nothing there and to drop it.” He shook his head, dropping is hands to hang between his knees. “And then she takes Sam off for a quick fuck-”

Steve grunted in surprise, the final pieces falling together.

“And I couldn’t sit there anymore and listen to that… so I left.”

“Jesus, man.” Steve groaned, sitting back against the couch and rubbing at his neck. The anger on his face, the confused hurt had morphed to shame and sorrow. “I don’t know what to say.”

Bucky exhaled a breath, feeling a weight leave his chest. Telling Steve hadn’t solved his problems, but it had shared the load. “And fuck me… I can’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I try, all the shifts I work, all the random girls I’ve fucked… all I see is her. All I want is her.”

Steve was silent for a long while, eyes lingering on Bucky until his friend’s pain was too much then looking away. Wiping his mouth, he finally spoke but there was nothing he could really say to alleviate Bucky’s suffering and they both knew it. “I’m sorry, James. That’s a hell of a mess and… I should have asked you sooner instead of just watching you sink.”

Bucky nodded silently, then delivered the coup de grace, the simple fact that kept him awake at nights. “And even if by some miracle she did feel even a fraction of what I feel for her, and she decided to break up with Sam…. A friend’s ex is off-limits, period.”

Steve groaned, leaning forwards, face in his hands before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face roughly before straightening. “I’m sorry, man.” He said simply, a vast depth of pain darkening his eyes for his oldest friend’s predicament, the seeming hopelessness of it. For even if Bucky could move past his attraction to Lev, which seemed unlikely based on his inability to put it behind him so far, he would still see her every time he saw Sam, be reminded of what might have been, what had torn his heart out because he couldn’t have it, every single time he interacted with his friend.

And what if Sam and Lev married? As a friend, Bucky might be asked to be a groomsman at the wedding, a front-fucking-row seat to watch the remainder of his heart break, the fragments of hope shatter and disappear. Be forced to celebrate the destruction of his dreams, sacrificed for the joy of another.

It was a shitty situation, all around.

Bucky exhaled, sounding rueful. “Sorry man, but you asked.”

Steve offered a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I did. I never imagined it was something like that, though. Buck, what are you going to do? You can’t keep doing this.” He motioned to Bucky’s appearance, for even though he’d showered this morning after mooning around in bed, and the outside air had given him some colour, his eyes were dull, dark circles around them, a heavy cloud of invisible sorrow making the air suffocating around his body.

“I know, buddy. I know.” Bucky muttered.

“Well, how about you come out with me tonight? I’m meeting a couple of work mates, we’re just going to have a few drinks, unwind from that last contract.”

Bucky raised a brow, but Steve answered him before he could speak. “Nah, Sam didn’t say he was coming.”

Bucky considered it, he needed to get out of his head, but he was still too deep in his own misery to be much more than a drag tonight. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to stay in tonight.”

Steve studied him carefully before sighing and reaching out to grab a pen and notepad on the coffee table. He scrawled an address and a cell number on it. “We’ll be here,” he explained. “And call this number if I don’t answer my own, it’s Jack’s and he’s attached to the goddamn thing, if I don’t hear the ring, he will.”

Bucky nodded, taking the slip of paper with a half-hearted smile.

“You going to order in?” Steve asked, obviously trying to keep Bucky’s thoughts from cratering again.

A shrug was his answer. “Maybe?”

“Well, if you get Chinese, get me some General Tso, I’ll eat it tomorrow.”

Bucky made a face, he hated General Tso, mainly just to bug Steve who, if he had a choice, would never experiment beyond the dish.

Steve smirked, knowing Bucky’s exact line of thought, this wasn’t the first time they’d argued good-naturedly over takeout. “And egg rolls.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and saluted. He’d probably order wonton soup know just to mess with Steve and that would be fine too.

As Steve stood to go get ready, Bucky grabbed the remote and started aimlessly surfing, finally deciding on a movie. A few minutes later, Steve left, offering Bucky another chance to join him, a nod of commiseration and encouraging smile when it was again rejected.

On autopilot more than anything else, Bucky grabbed his phone and brought up his favourite Chinese restaurant, ordering what he usually got, plus some General goddamn Tso, and sat back to wait. Maybe the delicious smells of the upcoming food would spur his appetite, but probably not. After a beat, he stood to grab a beer from the fridge and fell back onto the couch, letting blessed white noise from the movie flood his head, drowning out all the agonies from the last two weeks.

When the knock came at the door, he wondered briefly who’d let the delivery guy in downstairs without him buzzing in, but his appetite had appeared, tentative and cautious and he didn’t want to scare it away. Grabbing his card, he shuffled to the door and threw it open, wishing instantly that he’d just paid some goddamn attention in the last few minutes, rather than just mindlessly answering the knock.

It was not his delivery and he felt instantly like he’d been kicked in the guts.

“Lev?”

She stood there, seeming almost nervous, as if she expected Bucky to either start screaming at her or just slam the door in her face. Biting her lip in a way that would have stoked the fire in Bucky’s veins if he weren’t so utterly gobsmacked by her appearance, she finally asked, her voice quiet. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Part of Bucky wanted to shut the door in her face, maybe visit back some of the pain she’d given him, but that was ridiculous, he’d been dying for a chance to even see her for days now and, even if her next words crushed the remains of his soul, he wanted them, because they were at least something.

“I-” He couldn’t find the words to continue and simply stepped back, opening the door wider in wordless invitation.

“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping by and into the apartment, turning to face him. She was wearing an old hoodie, worn and faded and Bucky gritted his teeth when he caught a trace of Sam’s cologne.

Bucky shut the door, struggling to find something to say but then the buzzer sounded, reminding him of the upcoming delivery. That was something he could focus on, if even for a moment. “Sorry, just a minute.” He hit the button, letting the delivery guy in. “I was just going to eat. Chinese, did you want some?”

Lev shook her head slightly and Bucky felt a wave of disappointment, whatever she was here to say, she didn’t expect to stay, or to leave a good taste in Bucky’s mouth when she left. She remained silent as Bucky answered the door a second time, accepted the fragrant bag and paid, shutting it again behind him. He hesitated, debating whether to lock the door as was his habit, but didn’t, deciding not to give Lev the impression that he was trapping her with him. Striding past he entered the kitchen, his nerves on fire.

Part of him wanted Lev to just spit out whatever she’d come up here to say, just rip off the bandage so he could get busy trying to heal the wound it exposed; while another part of him cried for ignorance, just a few more minutes of possibility, to keep his fervent dream from dying.

But even with the delicious smells wafting from the bag, Bucky’s appetite had disappeared again and he turned away from the counter, leaning back against it in a show of nonchalance that was really to keep him from collapsing and crossed his arms, a barrier. “What did you want to say?”

Lev swallowed, eyes scanning the room briefly before flicking back up to his. “Can we sit down?”

He couldn’t move without giving away the fact that he was trembling, so he shook his head, making her swallow again.

“Bucky…” again she hesitated, looking up at him with eyes that said a million things he was too scared to read.

He needed to cut this off, it hurt way too bad, his heart flayed open and exposed to the harsh air; his knees started to shake and if he didn’t sit he’d probably just collapse to the floor. “Sam’s probably waiting for you. You should go, you made it clear how you felt the first time.” Striding past her he marched into the living room, sitting heavily on the couch and holding up his hands, palm up as if to say, ‘I’m busy, what do you want?’ She followed at a distance, stopping a half dozen feet away, standing uncertainly before shoving her hands into her hoody pocket.

Her shuddered exhale was unexpected but not nearly as much as her words. “That’s just it…. I lied about that.”

His heart jolted, adrenaline rushing painfully through his veins, there was no way he’d heard her right, the universe didn’t work that way. “What?” His fingers clawed into the cushion, the fabric protesting.

“I lied.” She whispered, shoulders slumping. “When I said there was nothing between us, I lied. I felt it too.”

He needed a paper bag; he was going to hyperventilate. “What?” His vocabulary had lurched to a halt along with his brain, had he just heard her right? The next words burned like acid, but they needed to be said. “What about Sam?”

Lev’s shoulders slumped further, and she blinked rapidly, looking away. “We’re not together anymore.”

Bucky looked without seeing around the room then stabbed his hands through his hair. There was no way this wasn’t some desperate hallucination; he couldn’t be hearing her right. “W-what?”

A faint, sardonic smile. “Can I sit down?”

Without answering Bucky gestured to the couch, without breathing he waited for her to continue. Lev sat lightly, as if preparing for the need to leap to her feet again for a quick escape. Her black capri leggings were fitted and if Bucky hadn’t been so dumbfounded by this turn of events, he would have appreciated how they fit her curves.

Picking at her cuticles for a beat, Lev took a deep breath and fisted her hands, staring down at them as she spoke. “I can’t stop thinking about you…. Even though I said I felt nothing at the bar, it wasn’t true. I’ve been thinking about you ever since that night.”

“But… Sam.”

Lev nodded, sniffling once. “We’ve been friends forever; we never should have become a couple. We were always better as friends.” She trailed a fingertip idly along her knee. “I hope we can be again.”

Bucky waited silently, but he was sure she could hear his heart hammering in his chest. Lev glanced up at him for second before dropping her gaze back to her lap.

“It’s just… I’m still not entirely sure… I’ve been feeling like something was off for a couple months now, and on the plane here I finally put my finger on it… I love Sam, I really do but… I’m not in love with him. And I couldn’t just sit there thinking about that and waiting for him that night, so I went for a walk and chose a random bar and saw you.” She looked back up, tears darkening her eyes. “And I felt it too, god, did I, but I couldn’t… I was scared of… how strongly l was drawn to you… I tried to tell myself I was crazy, that it was just nerves and changing jobs and the move…. But, Jesus, Bucky… when you looked me in the eye and said that? That there was something between us and you couldn’t just let it go? I… I shattered. I lied to your face and ran… and I’ve tried but I can’t get you out of my head.”

Bucky struggled to speak, to make some sort of sound but he was gutted, absolutely stunned silent. Only in his most fevered dreams had he allowed himself to imagine this, hearing these words right from Lev herself, how she’d been just as taken as him, how she’d fought the pull and lost, just like him.

Lev continued, her voice gaining strength. “I’m leaving now, I’m moving out. Sam and I talked and we’re going to take break from communicating for a while to sort our feelings out, but I’m done. I want him as a friend, but only that. I just,” she stood, swaying slightly before gaining her balance. “I just wanted to tell you that, it wasn’t one-sided, you weren’t the only one who felt something. I’m sorry I lied to you.” She wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I’m going to stay with an old classmate until I can find a place to rent. I hope we can…. talk and… but I understand if… Sam and your friendship with him comes first.”

Jesus Fucking Christ. He was a selfish man, he wanted both. But Lev was wrong, if it came down to a choice, it was her, every time.

She turned to leave, was almost to the door before the spell broke. “Lev, wait-”

Cracking his knee against the coffee table and not even feeling it, he rushed to her, crowding her against the front door when she stepped back from his advance.

His chest heaving, breathing far more heavily than the exertion of crossing the room merited, Bucky fought for something to say.

Stay.

Don’t go, don’t leave like this.

I don’t care about all the rest of that shit; I just want you.

“Bucky, I should go.” She whispered; eyes locked on his chest; he seemed to have grown a few inches in height in these last contentious minutes.

“Lev, I…” he swallowed painfully. “Don’t… leave me.” His hands reached up, unbidden, stroking into her hair, needing to feel even just the smallest amount when he was fighting so goddamn hard with himself to not just crush her into his arms.

The faintest of smiles, an acknowledgment of shared pain. “I have to, we can’t do this… at least not right now.” She finally looked up into his eyes, tears trekking down her cheeks again. “I just needed you to know the truth.”

In a way, hearing that there had been nothing between them, that Lev had no feelings whatsoever for him would have been easier and Bucky was horrified to feel tears forming in his own eyes. “No.”

Lev exhaled raggedly. “I can’t get between you and your friends. How would it look if I broke up with Sam and started seeing you right away? I don’t want to be the wedge between you.”

You already are. The moment I saw you, things changed. If Sam can’t accept that fact, then I don’t need him in my life.

“James,” she whispered, voice breaking as she saw this clearly in his eyes.

He reached up, cradled her jaw. If he couldn’t have all of her now, he at least needed this. Tipping her head up, he pressed his lips to hers, face contorting with the pain of holding himself back. Lev sighed against his mouth, relaxing, her fingers curling into his shirtfront. His heart roared in his chest when she whimpered, kissing him back with just a hint of the passion he felt beneath the surface.

She was fighting to control herself just as hard as he was and, when his tongue slicked against hers, pushing into her mouth, her moan was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Pressing her against the door he leaned into her, let her feel just how fiercely his body responded to her. Images of her beneath him, spread for him, sheathed around him and coming so sweetly for him made him groan in her mouth, their tears salting the sweetness.

Then, Lev tensed, her fingers no longer curling into his chest, but pushing him away. Fighting himself, he let her separate them, but only a hairsbreadth, leaning his forehead against hers as they breathed heavily.

Lev pushed him away once more and he straightened miserably, his body throbbing with want and need. He needed Lev like he needed oxygen and the agony on her face said she felt the same. Her hand fumbled for the doorknob then she was stepping to the side to pull it open.

Eyes like trapped galaxies met his one last time, then she was gone.

****************************************************************************

Fallon was just winding down when Steve returned, shutting the door quietly behind him. From the couch Bucky heard him walk into the kitchen, sort through the food cartons Bucky hadn’t bothered to unpack, mumbling in surprise and concern.

After a beat he reappeared in Bucky’s line of sight, holding up a container. “What’s going on, Buck?” Eyes glued to him, Steve moved slowly into the room, sitting himself carefully on the chair opposite, setting the container on the coffee table and sighing. “Lev came by, didn’t she?”

Bucky turned his gaze to Steve, but there was no need to speak to answer his question.

Steve nodded in understanding, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, Sam came out with us after all, it ended up just me and him talking. You already know I take it, they’re breaking up?”

Bucky nodded once, slowly.

Steve exhaled hard. “It’s hard, man. I mean… there’s you on one end and Sam on the other…. I don’t know whether I want to strangle her for hurting you both or thank her for not leading anyone on.”

“It’s not her fault.” Bucky’s voice was blunt.

“Isn’t it?” Steve shot back, but it was hollow, the anger not really there. After a beat he sighed, scrubbed at his face. “I’m beat man, I’m going to bed.” He eyed Bucky; forehead furrowed. “You’re kind of scaring me, man. Just sitting here like this.”

Bucky smirked wryly. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it, you’re like a brother to me.”

Although he was definitely the more touchy-feely of the two of them, emotional displays like this were still somewhat rare and Bucky felt a pang at causing his oldest friend worry. Turning his gaze to Steve’s he continued. “Lev told me about her and Sam, said that…. the feelings I had for her were mutual-”

At this, Steve’s face went pale, concern warring with relief.

“But that everyone needs to step back. She refuses to be a wedge between us all and wants to stay friends with Sam, so right now...” he shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Steve nodded, a little warily. “Give it time?”

Bucky exhaled, nodding. “Yeah, let everything settle down, I guess.”

“And you’re okay with this?” There was caution in Steve’s voice, like he expected Bucky to tear off his clothes and go racing around down in the street like a maniac.

Lips quirking into a grin, Bucky knew exactly where Steve’s head had just gone, you couldn’t be friends with someone for most of your lives without developing at least a little bit of mind-reading abilities, he nodded. “I’m not planning on losing my mind.”

Steve snorted wryly. “You weren’t planning on falling in love with Sam’s girlfriend either.”

“Touché.”

“Seriously, James.” And the fact that he used Bucky’s given name showed the depth of his intent. “You need to talk, I’m right here, okay?”

His concern was touching and, for the umpteenth time that night Bucky felt tears forming but he managed a grin. “I don’t care if it makes me sound like a pussy, but she feels the same way, man. We have a chance, and I’ll wait forever for her.”

[aphasene]

The Commander's Neice A Levi x reader fanfiction

Chapter six

My eyes snap open. I face a dull grey ceiling; I try to recall the events of what happened before. Nothing. I wriggle my wrists; the sound of chains jingling fills my ears.

“Huh-?”

I sit up as quickly as I can, I stare in pure terror at my chained arms. What the hell happened? why can’t I remember?

“It’s okay, Breathe (Y/N). you can get through this.” I sigh. “I just need to get my bearings and find out where I am and how I even got here.”

I look at the room, it seems to be a cell of some sort. There’s a toilet, a sink and of course a bed. The room feels almost claustrophobic. “I Need to find a way out. What if I call out to someone? I wonder if-.”

“Are you finished?” I hear a very familiar voice bark at me.

I whip around to see three people before me, behind a set of bars. I see a slightly taller woman with messy brown hair, tied in a loose pony tail and slightly dirty glasses. A blonde man with steely blue eyes that pierce right through me.

And finally, I see; him! The soldier from before. He didn’t look nearly as kind as he did before. Well, he didn’t look that kind anyway but that’s beside the point.

“Good afternoon cadet (L/N).” The blonde man speaks up, folding his hands by his stomach. “I trust you’re well?”

I scowl. “Well, I’d be a bit better if I knew where I was and who you were.”

“Of course, my apologies. My name is commander Erwin Smith. I am the commander of the survey corps.”

‘Smith’ huh? That was mother’s maiden name.

“This is Zoe Hange and Captain Levi Ackerman.” He gestures to the two beside him. “Do you remember what happened before you ended up here?”

I shake my head. “No, not at all.”

Levi rolls his eyes impatiently.

“Try to think, (Y/N).” Erwin says. “Think back to before you blacked out, what were you doing?”

I close my eyes and think. Before I ended up here I was in trost, I was on the clock tower I saw someone who looked vaguely like Marco and then-.

“Oh my god!”

I shoot up from the bed I’m perched on, the chains preventing me from hitting the ceiling. “Marco! What happened to Marco!?”

“He’s dead.” Levi snaps. “Do you feel better?”

“Levi.” Hange warned.

“What? She needed to know.” He groans. “She should know that when you sign up for this.”

Then it hits me: Mikasa, Eren and Armin. I haven’t seen them since before the raid, they could be dead for all I know. I need to see them, I need to know if they’re alive. I can’t-.

“Cadet.” Erwin cuts through my brief panic. “May I ask what’s around your neck?”

I look to my pendant. “oh this? It was a gift from my mother. She told me that it was meant to be the key to saving humanity. My father told me that I’d meet a relative of mine here.”

Erwin clutches something beneath his shirt, then straightens back up. “Cadet (L/N). We would like to formally ask if you’d like to join the survey corps?”

“Sorry?”

“Clearly your mission is vital to humanity’s safety. It would only be the best option to speed it along, of course you’d be trained between raids and scouting missions too.”

“Sir, can I ask why I’m in this cell?” my eyes dart around the room.

“Oh yes. Levi, would you like to tell the story?” Erwin looks over to an already bored Levi.

“Sure.” He clicks his tongue. “Not long after I left you, I went looking for a comrade of mine that had gone missing a few hours before. I found you over your friend’s body, that when things start to turn to hell. I watch you turn into a titan.”

A titan!?

“You went on a rampage, no one was hurt, thank god, but I cut your nape as soon as possible and here you are.”

“A titan.” I repeat.

“Yes. A titan.” Levi sighs.

“So, what do you say? Are you joining us?”

I take a second to think things out; this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. A chance to carry out my mission, is this too good to be true? Of course, it’s only a coincidence that this could’ve happened. nevertheless, I can’t pass it down.

“Yes, I will join the survey corps.” I blurt, giving the best salute I can manage, despite the chains around my wrists.

“Excellent, you will be joining Levi’s squad, Hange and I will leave you both to it. Levi, if you’ll escort Miss (L/N) to her new room.” Erwin announces before leaving the dungeon with Hange close behind.

I look over to Levi, awkwardly as he smirks at me, I couldn’t decipher whether it was from amusement or pity, still, it was some sort of smile…sort of…not really.

Then he returns to his usual stoic expression and unlocks the door, steely eyes burn into mine.

“Follow me.” He says in a monotone voice. I do as I’m told and walk with him, out of the cavern and up the stairs.

“So.” I Begin. “How long have you been-?”

Levi stops in the middle of the corridor, still facing away from me. almost as if he was about to say something ground-breaking.

“Now listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.” He huffs. “I’m your superior, not your best friend. Just because you lost a friend does not mean that you can be mine, got it?”

I nod meekly.

“Good, I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement.” He turns to a room on the left, “This is yours, now that you’ve joined the survey corps. I want to see you bright and early tomorrow morning, is that understood.”

“Yes captain.” I say, saluting.

“Good, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Levi turns on his heels before walking away, leaving me very much alone.

I open the door to the room and take one look around the place.

In the left corner I see a small single bed with fresh light beige sheets covering it. Next to it there’s a nightstand of the same colour and a wardrobe. The room was very different to the rooms where the cadets slept. It was much cleaner and it seems to give me a feeling of what life was like before the fall.

I sigh and flop on to bed, the mattress springing ever so slightly as I do so. I place my head in my hands, a lot happened yesterday…or today…I’m not too sure what day it is, or even what time it is. All I know is that I’m still alive and that it’s late afternoon, well that’s what it looks like anyway.

I hear a dull knock on my door. had Levi come to check up on me? It wouldn’t be surprising considering the fact that I had shapeshifting titan abilities, what other teenager has titan shifting abilities?

I walk up to the door and open it, revealing Mikasa, Eren and Armin in front of me with very concerned and confused looks on their faces.

“Hey guys how’s it-?”

Before I have time to finish, Mikasa wraps her arms around me, bringing us into a tight hug. “We didn’t see you come back from the mission, so we though something happened and Marco-.” It seemed as though she was on the brink of tears, I had never seen that side of her before.

“No, no. I’m okay, I guess I have some explaining to do.” I rub the back of my neck.

“What do you mean?” Armin asks. “We just assumed you went back with another squad.”

“You might want to sit down for this.” I say nervously.

The three of them sit on my bed in a neat row, facing me. I take this as the opportunity.

“So, during the mission I blacked out and woke up in a cell with the commander and a couple of the other higher ups…like Captain Levi.” The last part comes out as more of a murmur to myself. “It turns out that I turned into a titan and everyone’s kind of freaking out right now. Oh! And I joined the survey corps.”

I watch as my friend’s expressions change from relived, to confused and back to relieved again.

“A titan?” Eren repeats.

“Yes. A titan.”

“But why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I literally blacked out before I don’t remember what happened at all. So, I’m just going to assume that it’s the truth. Would the higher ups lie to me about something like that?”

“I suppose not.” Eren sighs, “But, what are you going to do now that you have this information?”

“I assume that commander Erwin wants to use it for the corps.”

“Well, that would be the rational choice.” Armin replies. “But now your part of the Survey corps?”

“Yeah I guess so. Its kind of scary.” I sound a little scared, but attempt to cover it up. “I suppose my father would be proud of me.”

“And on your first day too. I don’t think anyone’s been able to do that.” Eren exclaims.

“It’s really because of my titan ability. I barely survived that last mission. If it weren’t for the captain, I’d be as good as dead by now.”

“True, but

Now you have a better sense of purpose.” Armin smiles, “We’re just trainees.”

“Do you guys think that you’ll join the survey corps?” I ask.

“Of course!” Eren yells. “I’m going to kill every last titan in existence!”

“There he goes again.” Armin sighs.

“I’ll be joining the corps to keep an eye on Eren.” Mikasa sighs.

“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me, I can look out for myself!” Eren protests.

“And I’ll be joining the corps because let’s face it: I’ve got nowhere else to go.” Armin finishes with a shrug.

“We have a while of training before we can make that choice. Not all of us can be elites like you.” Eren chuckles, tapping my arm.

“Shove off Yeager. It’s got nothing to do with skills. They just want me for my amazing ability.”

“That doesn’t make it any less amazing. You went to one training day, and here you are.”

I smile. “Thanks guys, you’re all very sweet.”

“I don’t suppose you want to join us for dinner?” Mikasa asks.

“I’ve had a rough day; I think I’m going to turn in.”

“Alright, well see you tomorrow.” Eren waves as the three of them shuffle out of the room.

I lean against the windowsill, staring out into the town below. I could’ve sworn I felt something brush against my back.

“Well, I did it; father.” I beam. “I’m one step closer.”

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)

AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)

“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”

A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.

“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”

Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.

“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”

I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.

“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”

As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.

“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...

Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!

I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.

I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.

Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.

“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”

Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”

As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.

They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.

“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”

“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”

“H-he’s not that bad...”

“Ohh...?”

Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.

“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”

Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.

“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”

Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).

“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”

“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”

At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.

“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”

“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.

“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”

Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.

“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”

“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.

“I don’t know...”

Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.

Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:

He knows.

“Kyou-chan?”

The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.

“Right. Well, you see—”

“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”

“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”

There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.

“Would you two just SHUT UP!”

Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.

“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”

“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.

“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”

I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.

“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.

“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.

She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.

“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”

“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.

I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.

“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.

I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.

I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.

And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.

That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.

I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.

I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.

“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”

I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.

“What about him?”

I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.

“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”

“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”

“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”

I scowled.

“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”

And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.

“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.

“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”

He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.

“Kyou-chan?”

I bit my lip.

God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...

He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.

No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

No. Don’t think about that.

Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.

“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.

He slowly reached for my hand.

“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”

“No!!”

I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.

“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.

“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”

Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.

I flushed.

“You creep!!”

I clambered to my feet and stormed over.

“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”

Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.

“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”

Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”

At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.

“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.

“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”

I stopped.

I turned and gave him an exasperated look.

“Depends.”

I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.

“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”

“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

I scoffed.

“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”

I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”

“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”

I froze.

There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.

“It starts on page fifty-three.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder.

“Where did you get that?”

Dazai shrugged.

“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”

I took a step forward.

“Give that back.”

“Back?”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.

“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”

“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”

I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.

“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”

“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.

“Give—it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.

But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.

I felt my blood boil.

“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”

I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.

“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.

I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.

In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.

I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.

“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”

“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.

I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.

“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”

Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.

He got me. He got me good.

Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?

I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...

A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.

Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...

“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...

I shook my head to clear the thought away.

No. Bad idea.

That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.

I squinted at it.

“Who...? Oh.”

It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.

“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.

My eyes widened.

Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.

My mind raced.

When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?

Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.

“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”

Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?

The reply was prompt.

“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”

Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.

[pynkhues]

Ok, so. First of all, I freaking love your writig, its *chefs kiss* delicious. Second of all I have this theory. Its that the only way they will say anything seriously nice about the other is if they are not saying it to each other. Could you write something about Beth defending Rio to someone (maybe a PTA mom or Ruby) or Rio defending Beth to someone (maybe Dean) and the other one overhears? Kinda the opposite of 'eavesdroppers never hear nice things' kinda thing. Sorry for the ramble!

Thank you so much! You’re so sweet! <3

So, I’ve had so many requests for fic in The Center and Circumference / domestic fic universe, I didn’t realise that that wasn’t in your request until I’d already finished this prompt, haha. I hope that’s okay! Anyway, it’s pretty long, so I hope you like it :-) 

-

He’s halfway through a meeting with one of their newer clients – some watery-eyed, broad-faced fuck with a propensity already for overstepping – when Rio’s cell buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans, and shit, he thinks, gaze flicking to his right on the table where his work cell sits uninterrupted. It’s ain’t that.  

“I can manage the extra cars,” the client says across from him, unperturbed, shifting forwards slightly in his seat, and Rio arches an eyebrow, feeling his cell quiet down, then the tell-tale buzz of a voicemail left after it. There are only a few people it could be on this line – Elizabeth, probably about dinner tonight or somethin’ (she’s careful about calling his work cell for work-related things after all), his mom, probably about dinner on Sunday night, or - - his jaw already twitching in annoyance - - Glenvale Elementary School.  

“That’s a lotta product,” he tells the client, while telling himself it could be Danny’s teacher – Elizabeth had kept him home sick yesterday with what she was sure were the early signs of an ear infection, and she is usually right about those sorts of things; or Emma’s teacher, maybe – giving her another prize for highest raised hand or cleanest desk or some shit, but damn, who’s he kidding?  

If it’s the school, he knows who it’s about.  

“I can move it,” the client insists. “It’s only three more than my guys are already doing, and I’ve got a few new territories I’m exploring for distribution.”  

It’s the way the guy says it more than anything that makes Rio train a lazy eye back on him – the tone just the wrong side of desperate. Rio knows that tone – the tone of somebody who’s promised someone more than he can offer.  

Rocking forwards a little in his own seat, Rio knits his fingers together, drops them as one to the table in front of him, his brow furrowing in faux confusion as he does it, and he’s about to ask exactly why this dumbass needs three extra cars worth of pills when his cell starts buzzing again in the back pocket of his jeans.  

And just - -  

If it is the school - -  

If one of them is sick or hurt or something, just - -  

Fuck.  

He lurches to his feet.  

“We’ll start with one,” he tells the guy, already reaching for his cell, and when the client opens his mouth to try and haggle, Rio silences him quickly with a look. Once he’s sure the guy isn’t going to make trouble, he drags his gaze away just long enough to make eye contact with Demon, who’s standing, folded-armed, by the door.  

“Demon’ll take you through the, ah –”  he rolls his free hand out at the wrist, making a show out of considering this, his other hand still occupied with his buzzing cell. “Paperwork, dot the I’s, cross them t’s. You do okay with the one, we can talk about two next time, yeah?”  

And at least even the mention of Demon is enough to shut the guy up for real.  

What can he say? Demon’s got a rep, and what sort of boss would Rio be if he didn’t know how to use it? He smirks a little, watches as Demon moves to sit down on the edge of the table, inches away from the client, looking down at him, and when he’s sure Demon’s got it, Rio slips easily out of the room.

He’s still walking down the short hallway of the warehouse to his current office when he finally actually looks at his buzzing cell, feeling equally pissed off and vindicated at the Glenvale Elementary number blearing back up at him. And sure, maybe he’s pinching his nose as he answers the call, elbowing his way into his office – expecting what exactly, he has no fucking clue. He’s given up on guessing when it comes to Marcus and Jane. If they’ve started another fire though, he swears to god - -  

“Mr Vela,” the administrator says, a little breathless, her voice cutting through his thoughts. “Thanks for taking our call. We understand you’re a very busy man.”  

Rio just hums, folding down into his desk chair.  

“The kids aight?”  

“Um, yes, yes, the kids are all fine, we were just - - we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming in? Now? Or whenever soonest you could get here?”  

He checks his watch, rocking his jaw in irritation. He’s not sure he can sit through another meeting with Marcus and Jane’s teacher, watch him make cow eyes at Elizabeth, blush like he’s fourteen when she laughs at some joke so lame it may as well be leavin’ his mouth with scuffed loafers and a sweater vest. 

And - -  

Wait - -  

He purses his lips a little.

“Yeah, ain’t you got some PTA mom bake off on right now?” he asks. “My partner should be there already. In your cafeteria and whatnot.”  

Despite his best efforts to get her not to be. There were better uses of her time after all, but she kept insisting it was good for the kids to see her there, for the school to see her there too, and they’d fought enough about it, because yeah, sure – Rio was down for the recitals and the games and even the family mixers (which - - ugh), but it wasn’t like the kids were even around for the PTA shit, and besides, Rio (and Elizabeth, in name at least) had donated half a library to the damn place. Enough that the school would turn a blind eye to any of the shit Rio did if he needed to (namely taking the kids out at no notice if shit went down. Or if it didn’t. Whatever. Sometimes he just wanted to take ‘em to LegoLand).

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling,” the administrator says a little nervously. “There’s been an incident with some of the parents. In fact, with your partner. If you could come in as soon as you could, we’d be grateful.”  

***

And really, this shit is just hilarious.  

He’d gotten a few of the details over the phone from the administrator, but honestly he doesn’t think anything will really beat walking into a first grade classroom and seeing Elizabeth on one of those tiny little plastic seats, a handful of scratches at her temple like someone’s tried to gauge out her eye and missed, some more at her chest, the neck of her pink blouse torn open and her neck and chest smeared with frosting.  

Rio arches an eyebrow at her as he steps in, and Elizabeth puts her nose up and everything, a blush dusting her cheeks, all prim like they ain’t gonna be finding blood and frosting when she pulls her bra off later, but then - - he bites back a grin. That sounds kinda fun.  

She’s doing better than the woman beside her anyway – some Bargain Bin Barbie, who has two cotton balls shoved up her bloody nose, the start of a killer black eye (and damn, when had Elizabeth’s right hook gotten that good?) and cake in her peroxide blonde hair. Some Ryan Seacrest-type who’s gotta be her husband sits beside her, arms folded over his chest, looking for all the world like it’s the last place he wants to be.  

No imagination, Rio thinks, his jaw rocking in amusement, eyes shifting back to Elizabeth.  

He can’t think of a place he’d rather be.

“Ah, wonderful, we’re all here.”

The voice sounds from behind the desk, and Rio jerks his head around to see some guy who must be a part of the faculty – tall and lanky wearing the ugliest fucking tie Rio’s ever seen. The guy gestures him out vaguely towards the back of the classroom. “Would you mind taking a seat.”  

Striding forwards, Rio grabs one of the little plastic chairs from where they’re stacked in the corner, dropping it beside Elizabeth and sitting heavily down in it. As soon as he’s seated, the guy looks between them, ringing his hands a little nervously, shuffling in his own seat.  

“I’ve called you in today because your wives –”  

“They’re not even married,” Bargain Barbie snips, and Elizabeth’s head rotates around so quickly she’s like that little girl in The Exorcist.  

“It’s 2019, Tania, marriage hasn’t been a measure of a relationship’s worth in at least twenty years. Something you’d know if you read something other than the back of your box-mix cupcakes.”  

And, well, damn, Rio thinks, sucking in his lips to swallow a laugh as he looks back at Ugly Tie. Vaguely he can see Bargain Barbie (or Tania, he supposes, but whatever, he doesn’t care) make a noise of abject outrage – whether at being called out for her apparently dated ideas or the insinuation that her cupcakes aren’t made from scratch, Rio has no idea. Maybe it’s both, with the way she turns about nine different shades of red. Beside her, her husband suddenly grabs her hand, dragging it into his lap to stop her from hitting Elizabeth again.  

Or, well, trying to. No matter how funny this whole thing is, Rio’s not exactly inclined to let anyone touch her.  

“Your partners,” Ugly Tie corrects nervously. “Were involved in an incident in the school cafeteria ahead of this afternoon’s PTA Bake Off.”  

“We weren’t involved in an incident,” the blonde hisses, flailing her free hand out in Beth’s direction. “She attacked me.”  

“I did not attack you,” Elizabeth replies, and Bargain Barbie snorts while the colour drains from Ugly Tie’s face, like he thinks fists are about to fly again. He teeters nervously at the edge of his seat.

“Witnesses did say you pushed her face first into the cake display, Ms. Marks.”  

Witnesses, Rio thinks with a grin. Like this is an episode of CSI. These people really are a trip.  

Elizabeth looks at Ugly Tie at that and then quickly paints on that Stepford look – the one that’s all Bambi Eyes and Molly Manners – the one that, despite himself, still makes his dick twitch.  

“Maybe I moved a little suddenly,” Beth allows. “But honestly, it was an accident, Ed - - can I call you Ed?”  

Ed pinks a little, stuttering out a yes, and Rio has to resist the urge to snort.  

“I guess I was just a little swept up in the moment of it – you really do just run the best PTA fundraising bake off – and I mean, I’d know, because I’ve participated in more than my share, being an active member of the school community - - ”  

“You’re so full of shit,” Bargain Barbie snaps, arm flailing out of Seacrest’s grip, and honestly, Rio thinks, amused, she’s kind of got her there. Still, Ugly Tie holds up a hand to both of them, as if finding his train of thought again.  

“The reason we’ve called your partners in, is it seems like the fight stemmed from broader tensions between your families.”  

And that shuts them both up.  

Rio glances curiously over at the other couple, racking his head to think of any time Elizabeth’s so much as mentioned a Tania, but he comes up blank. He knows there’s a Margot who’s trying to get the school on a raw food diet, and a Penny who always fights it when Elizabeth tries to move the school away from celebrating religious holidays (“It should be all or nothing,” Beth insists. “If the school is going to keep celebrating Christmas and Easter, why can’t they celebrate Eid and Diwali too? It’s 2019!” – apparently that’s her buzz phrase at the moment), but - - no Tania.  

“Anyone?” Ugly Tie asks them all now, and Elizabeth and Bargain Barbie both sit up a little taller, pointedly maintaining their silence, and damn, they’re more tight-lipped than half Rio’s boys. He eyes them both with a vague interest as Ugly Tie sighs.  

“Fine. A two week ban on all PTA activities,” he says, and Rio could almost laugh at the look of abject horror on both Elizabeth and Tania’s faces. “And you need to apologise to each other and to the other members of the PTA.”

“Mr. Hollander, the Spring Fling Dance planning committee nominations are next week,” Bargain Barbie cries, and Elizabeth opens her mouth probably to say something equally embarrassing, and Rio figures that’s probably their cue. He grabs Elizabeth by the elbow, lurching to his feet and dragging her up with him, and before she can dig her heels in in that way she does, he’s nodding at Ugly Tie in acknowledgement, saying a quick “Sounds fair,” and dragging them both out of the room.  

***

Turns out her sister’s shitty car had croaked again that morning, so Elizabeth had lent her the mama van on the condition she drop her for the bake off and pick up the brood after school, which is fine, he figures, pulling out of the school carpark, Elizabeth all tightly wound beside him in the passenger seat, her cheeks red and her posture stiff.  

“You gonna tell me what that was about?” he asks as he gets onto the main road. He really should go back to work, but fuck it, he thinks. There’s nothing on Demon can’t handle, and if there is, he knows how to reach him anyway.  

“No,” she snips, and Rio casts a look at her out of the corner of his eye, and it takes him a minute to realise that the red of her cheeks isn’t embarrassment like he’d figured, but rather that it’s still anger. It’s enough to make him shift in his seat – it ain’t like she doesn’t get mad, just she doesn’t usually get mad about PTA stuff, at least not like this – more just tense and exasperated and sometimes frustrated in a way he can usually diffuse if he looks at her or touches her right. But this - -  

He ain’t seen her like this recently.  

The car slows at the traffic lights, and he uses the opportunity to reach over, push her hair out of her face, run a thumb over one of the scratches at her temple.  

“Want me to call my sister? Get her to bring over a rabies shot?”  

It works like he’d wanted it to. Beth exhales a laugh, her gaze drifting over to him, watching as he takes his hand back to the steering wheel of the car. They get another couple of blocks when he feels it, the slow boil of her anger again, simmering beside him in the car, and they’re not even that far from home, but fuck it, he thinks, he doesn’t like the idea of her going straight into one of her furious cleaning or cooking frenzies, so he pulls over.  

If she’s surprised, she doesn’t react, not even when he turns in his seat to look at her, taking in the tight lock of her shoulders, the tighter one of her jaw.  

“Elizabeth,” he starts, and she looks out the window, away from him. “Come on, ma.”  

She rolls her eyes at him, like he’s the one being ridiculous, and he pointedly pulls the keys out of the ignition, watching as she turns enough to scowl at him, folding her arms across her chest. Whatever. No skin off his nose, he thinks, leaning back against the driver’s side door, his eyes not leaving her, he’s got all day, and it’s only another minute, maybe two, before she’s flailing her arms in the air, her cheeks reddening all over again.  

“She called you a drug dealer,” Beth whisper-yells at him, like anyone can hear them in his car, and shit, is that all? Rio just laughs.  

“And you upset about that?”  

He knows she is – can see it in the heave of her (still frosting-covered) chest, in the way her lower lip quivers, her eyelashes clump. Can hear it in the tightness of her voice, and maybe he should’ve gotten her home first, gotten her on her back in their bed, breathless, legs trembling, made her forget about it the best way he knew how, but - -  

“She meant it as an insult,” she says hotly, interrupting his train of thought, and Rio pops an eyebrow at her, because no shit. “And it’s not like she knows you are one. She thinks you work flipping cars with me.”  

“So what?” he asks, shrugging, and Elizabeth frowns over at him, finally turning around in her seat to face him. She’s still all flushed, flustered, and she seems pissed at him now when she flails her arms out at him, and voice shrill, says:  

“So what? So - - so what if she says that sort of thing in front of her sons, who go to school with your son. What if they tell all their friends about what Marcus’ daddy does for a living?”  

Shaking his head, Rio can’t quite take her eyes off her, because seriously – sometimes he thinks she figures he popped out of the ground the day he showed up in her kitchen, like Marcus did that day in the park.  

“Trust me, it won’t be nothin’ Marcus ain’t heard before.”  

And at least that shuts her up, her mouth closing, her posture sagging a little back against the passenger side door. He just watches her, briefly considering putting the keys back in the ignition and driving them home, but then - - he knows her enough to know that that ain’t all it is bothering her. He frowns at her, drums his fingers on his leg, and then looks away, something sharp spiking in his gut.  

“You worried about your kids?” he asks, voice a little tighter than he wants it to be, and when Beth shrugs, his frown deepens.  

“It’s a part of the deal,” he says. “Shit, you know what I look like, ma.”  

And she doesn’t reply to that either, and that sharpness in his gut peaks into something uncomfortable. He rocks forwards a little in his seat, using the momentum of it to sit back harder, to bump his back back against the door.  

“This a problem?” he asks her. “You want me to talk to the kids about how their new stepdad’s gonna make ‘em whispered about on the playground?”  

“I don’t care about the kids!” she yelps, and he blinks, unable to contain his surprise when she suddenly backpedals. “I mean, of course I do, that’s not - -”  

She exhales, the sound harsh in the hollow of his car, and she won’t look at him when she says:  

“She can’t talk about you like that. She doesn’t know anything about you.”

And that’s - - not what he was expecting. He blinks at her, that sharpness in him dulling, squinting a little at her as he takes her in.  

“She can do whatever she wants, ma."  

Because shit, she can. Rio wouldn’t have wasted his time talking to her anyway, but hell, if she ain’t gonna pretend to make nice with other parents, he sure as hell ain’t either.

“Fine,” Beth says finally, sniffing a little. “But actions have consequences, isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”  

He could almost laugh at that, because she’s right, he is always telling her that, but he means it more in the context of handling a slippin’ employee, or her own tendency to steamroll into situations like she’s - - hell, like she’s one of their seven-year-olds.  

“And what? Talkin’ shit gonna get her hit?”  

“Yes,” Beth tells him firmly, nodding, sitting up a little straighter in her seat, her chin up, all defiant, and Rio snorts.  

“You all about defendin’ my honour now?” he says it patronisingly, expecting her to get embarrassed in that way she does when she thinks he’s making fun of her, but that’s not what happens at all.  

“Yes,” she says emphatically instead, and Rio blinks, surprised, and then before he can say anything else, she keeps talking.

“I told you. She can’t talk about you like that, and I’m not going to let her. And just for the record, I like the way you look, so.”

She stops then, looking over at him briefly, then quickly turning around in the seat, facing forwards again, all prim again like there ain’t cake in her hair, and Rio can’t quite stop his grin.  

“Yeah, I knew that last one, ma,” he says, and Beth pinks, but she smiles, gaze finding him again. She bites her lip a little, looks up at him through her lashes, and Rio just - - shit. He can feel how goofy his smile is, quickly tapering it into a smirk as best he can.  

“You really push her into that display?” he asks her after a minute of quiet, and Beth wrinkles her nose, blushing for real this time, but still. Something in her face, it’s a little proud.

“Punched her too.”  

He arches an eyebrow, looking dutifully impressed, and she preens before she can help herself, holding up a hand at that so he can see the start of the bruises on her knuckles. He laughs, shaking his head, grabbing her hand to inspect it, and shit, if he doesn’t find them cute too – all dainty like her, little blooms of purple, like flower buds, and ugh. Even thinkin’ that, he shakes his head at himself, but presses his lips to them all the same, and he doesn’t hear it, or even see it, but some part of him feels her breath hitch, and it’s a relief really – that he can feel just how sprung she is too.  

“Okay, bruiser,” he tells her, twisting back in his seat, pushing the keys back into the ignition, and he goes to drop her hand, but she threads their fingers instead, and he holds it there, against his thigh, the whole ride home.  

[krispyalpacaduck]

Music Lessons With The Devil Chapter 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Lucifer x OC fic

Rating: T

“You speak Italian when you’re angry? Oooh, that is hot indeed.”

I picked up my letter opener and threw it straight at his head. It embedded into the wall a hair’s breadth from his face, making a wobbling sound. He turned to look at it, eyes wide.

“Talk.”

“I can’t wait to tell Maze.” He said, laughing. “I think I may have just found her a throwing partner.”

He grabbed the letter opener with both hands, tearing it from the wall and walked towards me, dropping it into my hand. Looking me up and down, I saw something flash in his eyes.

“I am…quite intrigued…”

Standing toe to toe with him, I met his gaze with the most disinterested look I could possibly muster.

He smirked. “Tell me, Isra…what is it that you desire most?”

A pressure filled my head, chased by a buzzing noise. His voice echoed in my head, pulling me into myself. My eyes flitted back and forth between his, then narrowing with concentration. With a whooshing sound, something in me shoved him back until I was back in the present.

Blinking, I let out a deep breath. It took me a minute to realize my hand was gripped onto something. We both looked down to see my hand locked around his wrist. I immediately let go and looked up at him with murder in my eyes.

“Don’t… do that again...”

Chloe opened the door.

“Lucifer, there you are! What did I tell you?”

“I kept my word. I have a purpose for being here!”

“Uh huh. Then why does Is look like she’s about to rip your head off?”

He looked from Chloe to me, imploring. A smile curved my lips as I shook my head slowly.

‘I won’t save you.’ I said with my eyes.

He huffed, pouting.

“Fine! I may have interrupted her class a tiny bit. We’re here about the case!”

“About Cindy? You think someone here is involved?”

Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes at Lucifer.

“I was going to talk to you about this later, but from all of the evidence we’ve gathered so far, we think someone in your class is responsible.”

“Yes, so I enrolled as a student to ah…canvas…the class for any ne’re do wells!”

“Is, I’ll take care of this. Go back to class. Just be careful, okay?” Chloe said, walking over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll keep my eye out.”

Chloe looked to Lucifer. “You. Let’s go. Now.”

“But, I’ve got to get back to class!”

“Now.”

“Detective, you’re interfering with my education.”

A smack across the back of the head with the case file shut him up. I had to struggle to hold in my laughter as I walked past Chloe. She reached out her hand to high five me, Lucifer’s voice following through the door.

“I saw that! Did she put you up to this?”

….……………………………………………………….

I was full on laughing as I walked back to class. The satisfying smack of the case folder as it hit Lucifer in the back of the head was just the pick-me-up I needed.

“So sorry about that. Now, shall we continue?”

“Where’s the tall, sexy guy?” The busty blonde pouted near the end of class.

“He’s here with the LAPD and they’re very busy.” I said, pointedly.

“It is awful about what happened to Cindy, but she got what was coming to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was embezzling from the college with the Dean.”

“That is a very strong accusation. Do you have any proof?”

“No. It’s sort of a rumor around here. Everyone knows it but no one can get close enough to him to find out.”

I could see waves of agreement wafting through the class.

“Huh. Thank you everyone. That’s all for today.”

As the students packed up and left, I caught Barb.

“Hey, hang back for a sec.”

She came over to me, shuffling the bag on her shoulder.

“Would you mind going down to the station and giving a statement? I’ll let Detective Decker know you’re coming.”

“Will… Lucifer be there?”

She went all flirty, finger in her hair, mouth open with her tongue glued to the top of her mouth after she said the last word.

I looked at her incredulously.

“I don’t know!”

“He’s so hot.”

“Yes yes yes yes yes go go go shoo.” I practically shoved her from my classroom.

“You two aren’t a thing are you?” She asked from the doorway.

“What? No!”

“Good, ‘cause I’m totally gonna hit that.” She laughed, making a lewd gesture.

I slammed the door in her face and groaned loudly. Taking out my phone, I called Chloe to let her know Barb was on the way.

….…………………………………………………………………………………………

The rest of the day went by in a sort of blur. LAPD officers came and went for interviews. I didn’t see Chloe or Lucifer the rest of the day (thank Christ for small miracles where that man was concerned.)

It was well passed 8 p.m. when I was ready to leave for the night. As I turned to lock my office, I heard a commotion coming from the the Dean’s office. Staying quiet just in case someone was in there with him, I snuck in quietly to see him running around, packing things up quickly, cursing when he knocked something over.

“Dr, is everything alright?”

He visibly jumped when he heard my voice.

“Oh! You scared me! Yes, I-I-I-I-I-I’ve had a death in the family. It’s a bit of an emergency, I’m afraid.” He was stuttering. I didn’t know Psychology well, but I knew this kind of stuttering was not emotional turmoil. He was nervous.

“Here. Let me help you.”

The man was juggling 2 suitcases and trying to cram a bunch of documents into another.

“No no! I got it! You go on home. I said I got it!”

We had a kind of tug-a-war with the suitcases until he pulled too hard and one of them burst open. His passport along with several financial statements floated to the floor in a paper rain.

We both looked at it and when he looked back up at me, I knew he had done it.  

“Oh, my God. It was you! Barb was right!”

He panicked then, dropping the suitcases and pulling a gun on me.

Taking a few small steps back, I said, “Frank, easy. Let’s not lose our heads here, huh? Put down the gun and let’s talk.”

“I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. Cindy was in on it too. She wasn’t happy about her cut so she threatened to talk and promised I would take the fall for all of it. I didn’t mean to kill her. You gotta help me.”

“You know I can’t do that, Frank.”

“Then I don’t have a choice with you either. You’re a witness.”

He raised the gun at my head, finger on the trigger.

“Frank. You don’t have to do this.”

“I have to… he said he would kill me if I didn’t.”

“...who said?”

What he said next made my blood ice.

“The Snake.”

Lucifer burst into the door, catching Frank off guard but not before he fired a shot that hit me in the leg.

I stood there in shock for a minute before collapsing to the ground, pain like fire running through my leg. I heard Frank choking and looked up to see he had been lifted off of the ground by his neck. I scrambled to find something to wrap around my leg. Frank had dropped his other suitcase when Lucifer picked him up. I saw a shirt near my leg and stretched my upper body as best as I could to get it so I didn’t have to move my legs. Once the shirt was tied, I focused my attention back on Lucifer.

“Lucifer, stop!”

He turned to me, murder in his eyes. “The man shot you!” He said indignantly.

“Let him go.”

He was ignoring me.

“I need him alive!” I screamed.

He turned and searched my face for a moment, then scoffed and dropped him to the floor.

“You humans. I don’t understand it. The man is clearly guilty of attempted murder and actual murder. You let these criminals sit in a jail cell for 20 odd plus years when they should get a one-way ticket downstairs!”

“You aren’t judge, jury and executioner! That’s what Chloe and the LAPD are for! Some people make mistakes. Some people do it on purpose and later on learn the error of their ways. Still, others…” My voice trailed off, looking into the Dean’s wheezing figure and finding the skeleton in my closet waiting inside. “Deserve to be taken out back and executed by a firing squad. They’ve done unforgivable things….death would be too easy a punishment.” I didn’t blink the whole time I was speaking.

Lucifer was down to my level, waving his hand in front of my face until my vision refocused.

“Hello? Come back. Come back. Yes, there we go!”

I blinked several times.

“There she is. Welcome back. Where did you run off to?”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I was right here.”

Standing back up, he sighed.

“All right then, keep your secrets.”

“Okay, Frodo. Are we off to throw the One Ring into Mordor?”

He laughed, his crow’s feet digging into the sides of his face. Other than his smile and his eyes, that was my 3rd favorite feature.

“But seriously, are you okay?”

I smiled. “I’ve been shot. So I’m going to wager no. But I do have you to thank.”

“Oh?”

“If you hadn’t busted in when you did, that bullet would be sitting in my skull.”

“What can I say? I’m amazing.” He shrugged his shoulders and accentuated it with his hands in the air.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Lucifer.”

“I suppose we should get you patched up. Here.”

He reached inside his coat and passed me his flask.

“One for the road?”

I took it from him greedily and took a big swig.

“Not all of it!”

I laughed, some of the liquor spilling past my lips. I handed it back, wiping what had spilled with my sleeve.

“Here, you big cry baby.”

I let out of a cry of pain as he wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled me up.

“Now who’s the cry baby?”

I smacked his chest. “I’ve been shot, ass!”

He laughed heartily.

Chloe ran in through the doorway then, surveying the room quickly and barking an order for 2 stretchers into her intercom. She sent her officers into the room before focusing on us.

“Lucifer, what-”

“She got a bit banged up.”

“You were shot? Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

She smiled at me then turned to Lucifer.

“You!”

“Yes, I know. Bad Lucifer.”

“I told you to wait!”

“Bloody good thing I didn’t! Miss Isra would have been a lifeless corpse on the ground with a bullet in her head had my excellent timing and instincts not saved her.”

“Can y’all argue later? Kinda have a bullet in my leg and it really fucking hurts.” I said, impatiently.

A stretcher appeared then and the medics helped me up onto it. Before they took me away, Lucifer walked over to me, bumping me in the arm

“See what I did there? ‘Got a bit banged up’?”

I craned my neck to look at him. “Really?”

“I made a punny!” He said with a smile, looking so proud of himself.

I just rolled my eyes as the medics pushed me out.

“Because a gun makes a bang sound? Do you get it?” He yelled after me.

I heard him ask someone else, probably Frank, “Do you get it?”

When he still didn’t get a response, he said, “Geez…tough crowd.”

….………………………………………………………………………………………

Tag List: @ayanna-wild, @using-our-made-up-names

Please feel free to share and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[pinktatertots99]

Mayde a fic about nico thinking hes sick cause he feel weird when hes around rock and uno and/or musashi have to explain his not sick his in love.

ah yes my first nanba ship, how i missed thee.

_____________________

uno played a queen ontop of his king as he was playing a one self game of soliatare. the door to the cell cracked open as nico’s fluffy green hair popped out. “ohaio uno-kun!” he exclaimed as uno looked up and smiled. “oi nico, back from the doc’s already?”

“yeah. where’s rocku and jyugo-kun?”

“went to training grounds. something bout practice fighting or something.” he stated as nico took his seat infront of him. “so, is kaguya-chan still single~?”

“your so silly uno-kun, she’s never single mister otogi and kazari-san are always with her!”

“not what i meant but good.” he stated as he played a three on one of the three aces. “so, did the docs figure anything out?” nico hummed unsurely. “no. and i dunno what it is either. kinda worrying.” he mumbled as he moved to rest his head on his knees. tipping his cap up uno hummed then snapped his fingers. “how bout tellin good ol docta uno bout it then?”

“eh!? uno-kun your a doctor?!”

“well, i mean, no but i can read people well enough.” he stated, getting up and moving the futon’s ontop of eachother and to the side, nearly recreating a therapist couch as he stood next to it. “now come over and tell uncle uno what’s up.”

he giggled as he laid down. “your not my uncle silly! ...least i don’t think.” he hummed as uno played with a deck of cards in his hands. “well, i mean, lately my hearts been feeling really jumpy. and my face gets really red, and my legs feel like jelly sometimes.” he explained as uno shuffled the deck in his hands humming. “hmmm, and do ya know what’s been causing em?”

“i dunno...but everytime i look at or think bout rocku they always happen.” he stated as innocently as the wide eyed uno had seen. “hmm, do you think he gave me something?” he asked as uno sighed. putting a small portion of cards in his pocket he moved to drop the rest onto nico, all having hearts on them.

“boy, i think your in love.” he stated as nico picked some of them up confused. “...eh?”

“YOUR IN LOVE WITH ROCK!” he stated loudly shaking the younger lightly. “YOUR SO INNOCENT IT ALMOST HURTS TO BE BLUNT!!!”

“EEEEEHHHHH!?!?!?!?” nico exclaimed as he was shaken. “ROOOOCKUUU??? LOOOOVE??? EEEEHHHH???” letting him go the blonde sighed and hid his face. “our little nico’s growin up so fast!”

“wait are you sure?!”

“of COURSE i’m sure i’ve been love expert for six years! i’mma VETERAN of love!” he exclaimed showing off slightly. “now the REAL question is, what’re you gonna do bout it huh?” he asked as nico hummed. “i should...confess?”

“hmmm yes yes but you can’t JUST confess it. you have to make a show of it. show how much you REALLY mean it.” he stated as he messed around with his cards while nico thought. “maaaybe...i could write him a love confession, put it in his locker and then meet him behind a school?”

“...nico we’re in prison.”

“so behind the prison?”

“okay lets put away the anime cliches.” uno stated as he played his cards in another self solitare game. “you gotta really show it to him. give him a show of sorts with it.” he stated as nico nodded and got up. “i was thinking of using these at some point.” he stated as uno looked and gawked at the backside sweater and apron with the words “dinner, bath or me” infront of it with a big heart they were located on. “would these make a good show-”

“NICO NOOOOOO!!!” he stated as he grabbed both and tried hiding nico in a blanket. “WE’LL GET IN DEEP SHIT CONTROVERSY IF YOU WEAR THEM!!!”

“EH?!?!? i was gonna wear em over my jumpsuit tho-”

“STILL the fact you made the notion puts us in hot water!!!”

“we’re baaack.” both looked to see rock and jyugo back, exhausted and sweaty from training. before uno could register nico quickly rushed to rock making him shriek. “NICO N-”

“rockuuu you made me love you!” he stated innocently, smiling up as uno and jyugo looked shell shocked by such a blunt statement. rock’s hand slowly moving to pet nico’s head. “that’s cool.” he mumbled, moving to the stacked futon’s and collapsing onto them in a deep sleep.

“...ne ne uno-kun did i do a good job? did it work?”

“please don’t tell me my futon’s in there uno.”

“god that brick of a guy. guess we’ll see when he wakes up.”

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

in the middle of the night as the three curled up in the one spare blanket there the heavy lifted inmate’s piercing yellow eyes shot open and face turning pinker then jyugo’s nipples.

“WAS THAT A LOVE CONFESSION!??!!?”

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature - Language, Mentions of Violence.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

SERIES SUMMARY:

“Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn’t make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now.”

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: Battle is the Want of All Man.

Hershel and Andrea’s voices cut in and out, partially obscuring the Governor’s words. But I’d heard enough.

“I don’t want your prison,” he had said. “That doesn’t sound safe at all. I mean, you lost your wife, another man… What good would that do me? Best you stay where I can keep my one good eye on you. I want Michonne. And I want my girl back. Turn them over and this all goes away.”

I clenched my teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t shatter into a million pieces. My girl? Since when was I “his” girl? If I hadn’t been sitting on the car bonnet next to Daryl at that moment, I probably would have launched into attack mode right then and there. Thankfully, his body was between me and the door. It gave me enough pause to think logically.

“You’ve obviously got big plans,” Rick remarked. “Like you’re the guy who’s gonna lick this thing. Bring us back from the brink. So why waste your time with a two-bit vendetta? On this one girl who decided to think for herself? Why risk it all? You could have a statue of yourself in the town square, Governor.” Rick’s low chuckle almost set the hairs on my arms upright. “Killing Michonne, obsessing over Jacques, it’s all sort of beneath you, don’t you think?”

“You could save your son,” was the Governor’s reply. “Save your daughter. Everyone you know. It’s your choice.”

The gap between the Governor’s statement and Rick’s response was almost enough to give me a fucking aneurysm.

“If I give you Michonne… If I hand over Jacques… How do I know you’ll keep your word that you’ll stop?”

He wouldn’t.

Something inside me had to believe that Rick already knew that. Even after only a few days around the man, I knew he wasn’t an idiot. You didn’t get as far as their group had with a leader that didn’t have at least an ounce of common sense.

I didn’t hear the response. Martinez said something to Sean right as the Governor’s voice filtered out through the metal door, obscuring my ability to distinguish the words. A curse escaped me, barely loud enough for even Daryl to hear.

When the Governor pulled open the door, everyone was suddenly at full attention. Daryl and I straightened from our slouched positions by the bonnet of the car, watching him as he walked past us with barely a glance in my direction. He was making a point of ignoring me, of pretending he didn’t care I was standing on the other side of this. I knew better and watched him until the very moment he climbed into their car and slammed the door shut.

Rick emerged a moment later, hand on his belt as he walked purposefully toward our own car. His face was all hard lines, eyes focused straight ahead. Not a word was exchanged between any of us as we climbed into our respective vehicles.

I shot Martinez one last, lingering look, hoping he’d see sense before things got out of hand. He gave me a small, sad smile as they pulled away from the edge of the road.

The drive back to the prison was uneventful. Rick didn’t say a word and neither did Hershel. I began to wonder whether this esteemed leader would be truthful about their exchange, if he would inform everyone that the Governor had put their lives upon the heads of Michonne and I. Was he considering it? He couldn’t truly believe the Governor would leave the prison be after all this. I refused to accept he was that stupid.

The people of Woodbury had known Philip, had trusted him. His manipulation of them was understandable. Many of them had yet to see his dark side. Rick knew only the worst of him, and I had to believe he would make his decisions accordingly.

When we arrived back at the prison, Carol and Maggie were there to open the gate. Daryl’s bike drove in first, followed closely by us. Once we had all climbed from the car, Rick called for us all to get inside.

I spotted Merle by one of the cells lining the corridor. He stood beside Michonne and straightened his back when he saw us entering the cellblock.

Rick walked down the corridor a fraction further than the rest of us, reaching into one of the open cells to retrieve a hunting rifle. He turned back to face us, looking between the gathered faces of his people with a pensive expression.

“So, I met this Governor,” he announced, sounding almost amused by the title as it rolled off his tongue. “Sat with him for quite a while.”

Merle cocked his head to the side. “Just the two of you?”

Rick nodded.

The older Dixon glanced toward me, cocking a brow. I shook my head with a deep frown, which made him scoff. He pushed off from the cell door he had been leaning on and walked across the opening before Rick, looking to his brother as he passed. “Should’ve gone when we had the chance, bro.”

He came to a stop beside me. We both looked up to Rick as he stood a step up on the staircase behind him.

“He wants the prison,” he announced.

I nodded, smiling slightly, glad he had seen through the Governor’s bullshit.

“He wants us gone… Dead. He wants us for what we did to Woodbury.”

Everyone seemed unsettled by this, shuffling in their places on the concrete floor.

“We’re going to war,” Rick said with finality, looking at each of us in turn before stepping down from the staircase and walking out of the cellblock.

The silence was almost palpable. Daryl stepped forward and looked to Merle, who looked down at me, as if questioning whether we were going to stay and fight. I gave him a tight nod, which he returned to his brother.

I was in this fight whether I was with them or not. The Governor would not allow me to live either here or there in peace. He’d want me gone, removed from the equation, so he could sleep fitfully at night. But he was fooling himself if he thought it would be that easy.

If it was war he wanted, a war he was going to get.

#

To say things were tense after that would be an understatement.

Merle, Michonne, and I continued to press Rick about the possibility of attacking first, to which his response had remained the same over the past day and a half. “It’s too risky,” he’d say. “There’s another way.”

Yeah, I’d think to myself. And that “way” involved handing Michonne and I over to a man who wants to shoot us in the face.

I kept that to myself. Hadn’t even told Michonne. It had been a difficult decision, whether to tell or not, but I’d come to the conclusion it was best that only one of us remained on edge. Ignorance enabled Michonne to more genuinely attempt to fit in here, to make friends of the people huddled in the cellblock. I couldn’t. Not when my attempts were spurred by that minuscule sense of doubt in the back of my mind, the thought that Rick couldn’t send me away if his people liked me. When they came up to me, I remained nothing but pleasant, but I was guarded. I didn’t want a tainted beginning to a friendship. These people deserved better than my unintentional manipulations.

Still, it was like I couldn’t help myself. Beth had been first, mostly because of the baby. In case you couldn’t tell quite yet, I had a soft spot for kids. Always have.

Merle had begun to frustrate me quite early in the day. He’d begun ripping into the mattresses throughout the cellblock, no doubt looking for some kind of hidden stash. At first, he’d asked me to literally be his “sniffer dog” and, once I’d refused, he’d given an indignant “who needs ya” before tearing into the damn things like the unrestrained idiot he was. I’d left him there, both unable and not in the mood to try and talk sense into him.

I walked out to the fenced-in section of the courtyard, intent on getting some fresh air, when I spotted Beth, sitting crossed legged on the concrete ground. In front of her was a box, and from the inside of that box, I could hear the senseless cooing sounds of little baby Judith. I hadn’t been game enough to approach her whilst Rick was around, unsure of how he’d react to my proximity to his baby girl, but Rick was nowhere to be seen – at least as far as I could tell – so I began a cautious approach. Carol was nearby, sitting on the steps leading up into another section of the cellblock. She watched me approach Beth with a narrowed, suspicious gaze.

“Hey,” I said softly, announcing my presence to Beth, who had been too enraptured by the book in her lap to notice my approach.

Her eyes, wide and blue, lifted from the pages and fixed on me curiously. Thin, blonde eyebrows pulled down slightly. “Hi. You’re Jack, right?”

“Jacques,” I responded with a little chuckle. “Like, the uh, detective in Pink Panther.”

She blinked up at me, tilting her head the slightest bit as her thin lips pulled down at the corners.

How old was she? Did she not know Pink Panther? Was I old? My God. Twenty-four wasn’t old, right? Right?

I gave her a gentle shake of my head, slowly lowering myself down into a crouch beside her. “No? What about the, um… the shrimp guy from the dentist’s tank in Finding Nemo?”

That made her eyes widen in understanding, her mouth partially opening in an “O” shape before she clucked lightly.

“That’s just my last name, though,” I added, glancing down into the box at Judith. “Le Jacques.”

Her little baby cheeks were so round, so pink. Those eyes, light green in colour, were wide and alert, as if she were listening in on every word. She looked at me for a brief moment and I smiled down at her, which made her face break out into one of those pure baby-grins as she threw her arms about in excitement.

Jesus fuck, I would die for this child.

“What’s your first name?” Beth asked me, leaning in slightly to draw my gaze from Judith.

I glanced at her, still grinning. “Synnove.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Sin-oh-vey.” I shrugged haplessly. “It’s a Norse name. My mum, she was heavy into the whole “my ancestors were Vikings” thing.”

Beth chuckled, nodding. “Oh. It’s pretty.”

I snorted, though gave her a thankful smile as I lowered myself down out of my crouch and into a sitting position. The top of the box cut off my view of the baby inside, but I got a decent look at the side of the cardboard, where someone had written “Lil Ass Kicker” in black marker. I felt my brows scrunch as I looked at it in surprise, coughing out a laugh. Adorable.

“A baby doesn’t get to choose their own name,” I remarked, gesturing to the scrawled black letters on Judith’s box. “If I’d had a choice, I might have picked that.”

Beth laughed. It was a light sound, pure and full of heart, kind of like her singing voice. Had this been a hundred years ago, I didn’t doubt she would be the exact kind of girl that one of my kind would attempt to draw into the shadows, to lure into a ring of mushrooms deep in the silent forest. Thankfully, my kind didn’t do that as often these days, too wound up with their own bullshit to worry about the humans of their neighbouring world.

“Daryl gave it to her,” Beth informed me after a moment.

That made my brows rise slightly as a smile pulled at one side of my mouth. Of course, he had. Why was I not even remotely surprised?

Beth’s own smile began to fade after a moment as she lifted herself partially out of her crossed-legged position to look down at the baby. She reached in with a thin arm, rearranging the blankets within the box with a pursed lipped frown. “Her momma died giving birth to her,” she said softly. “Carl had to – you know. That was before we knew ‘bout Woodbury. One of the prisoners that survived here, he opened the gate and let the walkers in. We all got separated. That was when it happened.”

I gave her a sad look, nodding along with her story as she sunk back down beside me. It had been a cruel world even before the dead had begun to rise. Now, it was almost as if the universe or whatever sicko God was watching over us, purposefully put everyone in the worst position possible just to watch them squirm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Sounds like you guys have had a run of bad luck lately.”

Beth bowed her head slightly, blue eyes focusing on her hands where they fidgeted in her lap. “It’s been rough. But we’ll get through. We always do.”

I smiled slightly at that. “I don’t doubt it.”

She glanced up at me, her sad look slowly fading into a smile. It was small and didn’t entirely reach her tired eyes, but it was nice to see, nonetheless.

Everything settled back into silence after that. Carol, who had been partway through cleaning the rifle now resting across her lap, had watched our entire exchange with a keen eye. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use that rifle on me if I’d made even the slightest of moves indicating I meant Beth or Judith harm. Something about that woman struck me as… I don’t know. Capable? Alert?

No. I knew what it was.

She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. So well hidden beneath that wool that even I had stumbled and stuttered before figuring out what she truly was. It was impressive, honestly. Those keen eyes were the only thing that betrayed her. The way they always seemed to be watching, to be turning those little cogs inside her mind, constantly alert. The tell glow of a wolfs eyes in the darkness.

When Carol caught my scrutinising gaze, she straightened her back, her grip on the rifle slipping down slightly as if intent on pulling up and pointing it at me.

I gave her a slow, knowing grin before averting my gaze, pushing myself back up, out of my sitting position. The sound of my booted feet against the concrete was barely noticeable as I made my way back toward the cellblock door. I’d had half a thought to check in on Merle, make sure he hadn’t destroyed every mattress in the cellblock, when I felt my feet come to a sudden halt.

Voices. I could hear them coming from somewhere to my right, down near the end of the cellblock where the brick wall met the beginning of the fence. They were hushed and barely discernible, but I could tell they belonged to Rick, Hershel, and Daryl. With a glance behind me at the two women to make sure neither of them were watching, I began to slink down toward the sounds of conversation. Using the shadows cast by the tall brick building, I remained partially hidden as I approached the yard where Rick, Hershel, and Daryl stood. Silent, tightly pressed against the wall before the corner, I remained out of sight as I listened in to their voices.

“It’s the only way,” Rick was saying, his voice hushed despite the fact no one other than my nosy ass was nearby to listen in. “No one else knows.”

Daryl looked perplexedly back at the man, pursing his lips slightly in thought. His grip on the strap of his crossbow was tight, as if he were using it for a sense of comfort. “You gonna tell ‘em?” he asked.

“Not till after,” Rick responded.

It didn’t take a genius to understand what they were referring to. Rick was planning to hand Michonne and I over after all. I felt a deep sense of anger rise within me, setting my chest alight. My hands curled into fists against the brickwork of the cellblock wall and I had to take a deep breath in order to restrain myself from marching out there. How the hell could he be so stupid? Did he honestly think this was the “only way”? That the Governor wouldn’t kill us and then immediately turn on them? Where was his common sense? His police-y instincts? Why was I the only one thinking rationally here?

“We have to do it today,” Rick continued, glancing between Daryl and Hershel with a steely-eyed resolve. “It has to be quiet.”

Daryl was partially pacing back and forth, looking out to the forest beyond the gate before returning his gaze to Rick. He chewed his bottom lip indecisively for a moment before asking, “You got a plan?”

My upper lip curled up into a snarl. Seriously? Not even Little Dixon was on my side here?

“We tell them both we need to talk,” Rick answered evenly. “Away from the others.”

Daryl shook his head. “Jacques ain’t gonna fall for that. She’s clued in, man.”

Rick’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing at Daryl as his lips pulled tautly down at the corners. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” he answered, sounding a little offended Rick would even ask. “She knows how the douchebag operates. Probably already guessed he’d asked you to hand her over.”

That made Rick pause, a hand lifting up to rub at the scruff along his jaw. He looked to be in deep thought for a moment before meeting Daryl’s gaze with an intensive look. “Would Merle do it? Get her alone? If it were the only way we’d let him stay, would he do it?”

Daryl blinked at him in surprise. It took him a long moment to answer and I wondered exactly what was going through his mind at that moment. The question looked like it disturbed him. “Naw,” he answered plainly. “He ain’t ever been like this with no one. No way he’d give her up to the Governor.”

Rick let out a frustrated sigh, turning on the spot to look out through the fence. “Alright. One at a time, then. Michonne first. Merle will help with her, at least.”

Daryl nodded slightly, though I could see the conflict in his gaze. He didn’t like this. In fact, I was pretty sure he hated it. The idea of giving someone up to save his own life looked as if it made him almost physically ill. He took a series of deep breaths, stepping closer to Rick with a sad look. “This ain’t us, man.”

“No,” Hershel agreed. “It isn’t.”

Rick turned so he could look at the both of them, at such an angle that he was almost directly facing me. I didn’t panic, remaining as still as I could, knowing the distance between us would make it difficult to discern my body through the shadows of the building. It helped that I was wearing all black, of course.

“We do this, we avoid a fight,” he said, sounding as if he actually believed it. “No one else dies.”

That part, he said directly to Daryl. The younger Dixon still looked troubled, as if he wished someone else would say something, give them another option, but he nodded after a moment, realizing that second choice wasn’t going to come.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll talk to Merle.”

“No,” Rick said quickly. “I’ll do it.”

Daryl blinked. “I’ll go with you.”

Rick shook his head. “No. Just me.”

As Rick turned to walk away, back toward the front of the cellblock, I watched Daryl’s face contort into a troubled frown. He and Hershel shared a look, after which the old man shook his head and turned to follow Rick. That left Daryl alone, standing by himself in the empty yard, staring out through the gaps in the wire fence at the forest. Once I was sure Hershel was far enough away that he wouldn’t spot me in his peripherals, I stepped out of the shadows and silently approached the younger Dixon.

One hand lifted to grip the fence, as if he needed it to keep himself steady, the other hand still tightly holding the strap of his crossbow.

He had no idea I was there. Not until I spoke.

“It’s not going to work.”

Daryl almost jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast one of the arrows on the end of his crossbow caught in the fence. Once he realised it was just me, he let out a huff of air through his nose and looked over his shoulder, prying the arrow free with an irritated yank and stepping away from the fence with a scowl. “Get you a bell or somethin’. Jesus.”

I smirked, amused despite the situation, but it faded quickly as I repeated my initial remark. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t?” he asked, though I could tell by the way he was looking at me through narrowed eyes that he already knew what I was talking about. That I’d been listening.

“Handing Michonne over to the Governor isn’t going to placate him,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Neither of us will.”

Daryl didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the ground by his booted feet as he chewed the inside of his lower lip.

“He won’t even kill her,” I continued. “You know that, right? Not straight away. He doesn’t function like that. Revenge isn’t a bullet to the head with him. It’s more than that – it’s just as psychological as it is physical. He’ll torture her. Probably take out an eye. Maybe both, just to make a point.”

Daryl swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple move up and down as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, only to continue staring at the ground.

“Me? Fuck knows what he’ll do. I have an inkling it’ll involve a set of pliers. Don’t know why – just a feeling.” Whether it would be pliers, a hammer, or a knife, I knew he wouldn’t just put me on my knees and execute me. He needed to hurt me. To hurt Michonne. He needed to make us feel the pain we’d inflicted upon him, righteous or not. It was more than just a simple case of clearing the field. He needed to win. Needed to be on top. To have himself placed on a pedestal for the people of Woodbury that believed he had defeated the enemy, despite the fact, somewhere in that rotted skull of his, he knew we were an enemy he had created.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl breathed after a moment, still not meeting my eye.

I smiled softly, despite myself. He looked like a scolded child. It made my heart ache in my chest. “Don’t stress it,” I responded, waving a hand dismissively. “Rick’s just trying to minimize the bloodshed. I don’t blame him. Or you.”

That made him look up. His brow was furrowed, the muscles in his neck tensed with his deep, troubled frown. Despite the fact he said nothing, I could tell there was some sense of relief inside him. As if my acknowledgement of the lack of blame I regarded him with had set his mind somewhat at ease.

“If this is what you all think is best,” I said softly, looking out to the forest with a small frown. “I’ll go. I won’t fight it. I’ll tell Merle not to, either, and he won’t. But you and Rick both need to understand that this will not amount to anything. The only thing you’ll accomplish here is the removal of two competent fighters from the board. Two that are standing on your side.”

Daryl breathed heavily through his nose, the skin on his forehead wrinkled as he looked back at me with a sad, helpless frown. He swallowed again before nodding, chewing the inside of his lower lip before turning to make his way up the path Rick had disappeared down.

God. How had it come to this so fast? I needed to find Merle. Convince him not to help. To at least attempt to talk some sense into Rick. Lord knew, he wouldn’t do it on his own inclination. That was the way he was. Obeying the orders, doing the dirty jobs with little question. That was how I used to be, too. How had I become the one looking at things from the outside?

[searchingwardrobes]

If You Could See

Happy birthday to a wonderfully talented writer and artist who I am honored to also call my friend - @optomisticgirl  ! I hope your day is absolutely wonderful B! I was so honored and blessed to have you as my artist for the CSBB, and even happier that I got to know you through that event. I was floored to discover you were the writer of one of my favorite fics Days of Future’s Past, and as a nod to that, your birthday fic has a little bit of time travel. It also sort of ran away with me and became a 3,000+ word fic. I hope you like it! Thank you to @snowbellewells who helped me choose between three picsets that I was agonizing over because, well, it’s you B. I’m no artist though!

Summary: Snow confesses to Merlin that she sometimes doesn't understand her daughter. He gives her a talisman that will allow her to see through Emma's eyes. Will she be able to understand the love her daughter shares with Killian Jones?

Based on the song by Tonic as well as my head canon that there is a lot that people don’t know about our two favorite idiots because, let’s face it, they are not big on sharing. Oh, and the song by Tonic is about a girl, but I changed it because of the blue eyes thing . . . 

Rating: T

Trigger warnings: anti-Neal (what else is new for me?) 

Also on Ao3

Part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist which is up to eleven fics by now! I know I could link back to them on tumblr, but being technologically challenged, that takes me freakin’ forever so you can find the series here on Ao3 or search the tag #fandom birthday playlist on my blog.

Tagging: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @thislassishooked @snidgetsafan @kday426 @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @wellhellotragic @wellhellotragicwrites @let-it-raines @distant-rose

If you could only see the way he loves me then maybe you could understand why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do. If you could only see how blue his eyes can be when he says, when he says he loves me.

“You feel you don’t understand her.”

Snow startled to find Merlin standing just over her shoulder. He smiled kindly as he took a seat across from her in the diner booth, and Snow relaxed. She glanced outside where her daughter was saying her goodbyes to Hook. They smiled at one another, and Snow herself grinned as well. The smile on Emma’s face was such a joyous one, her nose wrinkling and her cheeks creasing. Hook’s smile was tender for her daughter yet laced with worry. He pulled Emma in for a passionate kiss, and Snow looked away.

“He makes her smile in a way no one else can,” Snow commented, unable to keep the slight tinge of jealousy from her voice.

“And you don’t quite understand why.”

Snow glanced at Merlin, wide-eyed.

“Why a pirate, I mean.” Merlin’s face was serene, free of judgement.

She sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. “It isn’t that I don’t approve . . . I do, really. She’s happy . . . “ Snow took a deep breath before finally speaking the truth aloud. “But you’re right, I don’t understand her. I don’t know her. I thought . . . “

“You thought she would be reunited with her first love, get the happy ending that you and Charming got.”

Snow blinked away the tears. “Hook’s changed, I know that, but Emma is the savior, a hero . . . she’s always been on the side of good, like Neal was.”

Merlin simply nodded, and Snow almost felt the way she did talking to Archie back home. She waited for the sorcerer to give her some piece of wisdom, but instead, he reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a necklace. The pendant looked like a gyrosphere, multiple hoops going in different directions.

“Emma’s life was vastly different from yours or your husband’s.”

He quickly raised a hand as Snow’s head dropped back. She gazed up at the ceiling, her breaths coming quicker. Would the guilt never go away? She finally looked back at Merlin who was waiting patiently.

“I know why you did what you did – so does she. But Emma doesn’t exactly open up easily. There is much she doesn’t share with you.”

Merlin put the necklace in Snow’s hand, then rose from his seat.

“Wait! What is this?”

Merlin smiled. “A talisman. To see the world through your daughter’s eyes. But it can only be used once. When the time comes, spin it.”

Snow’s brow furrowed. “When the time comes? When is that?”

“You’ll just know.”

She scowled at Merlin’s back as he left the diner. Was it a requirement that wizards speak in riddles?

******************************************************

Snow blinked away the tears as her daughter clutched desperately at Hook’s shoulders, begging Merlin for a way to save him. Could her daughter never be happy?

Yet even though her heart broke for Emma, Snow backed up everyone else. She had to let him go. Embracing the darkness wasn’t worth it. Even Hook was gasping for her to re-forge Excalibur so he could see her free before he died.

Then suddenly, Emma cried out, tears streaming down her face, and both she and Hook were gone. Merlin’s gaze fell to the floor in defeat, David sank in despair to his knees, and Regina snapped about mooning over stupid pirates. Snow turned her back on all of it. She reached into the bodice of her dress, pulled out the talisman, and spun it.

******************************************************

Snow’s vision was spotty and she stumbled slightly, disoriented to find herself in a dark alley back in the Land Without Magic. It was evening, cold, with a slight drizzle. A few feet away, a couple huddled together. The man held a flashlight. Could they see her? Snow took a step closer, but neither of them reacted. She could now see that the woman wasn’t a woman at all – she was just a girl. The beam of a flashlight shifted and caught the girl’s features. Snow gasped.

“Emma!”

It was obvious now she was an invisible observer, as her daughter didn’t so much as flinch at Snow’s outburst. Snow drank in the sight of her. The innocence of her face, the blonde ponytail, the black framed glasses. She wore less makeup, her freckles more prominent. She was so young.

“You sure you know the code?”

The man she was with turned, and Snow gasped again to see Neal’s face. She swallowed as bile seemed to rise in her throat. Why had she never considered the age difference? But now, seeing her daughter this way . . .

“Of course I know it . . . the numbers at least. Here, hold this, I can't see a damn thing.”

Emma took the flashlight and shone it on a panel of buttons on what Snow assumed was the back entrance to an apartment. Emma chewed on her lower lip.

“And you’re sure this guy isn’t home?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Look, you don’t want to sleep in the Bug again, do you?” Neal turned and put his arms around Emma, giving her a flirtatious grin. “And while we’ve had some good times in that back seat, I want this to be special.”

Snow clenched both of her fists at the nervous look on her daughter’s face.

“I should have told you this before . . . “ Emma hesitated, her gaze going down to her shoes.

Neal’s eyes widened in surprised revelation. “Really? You mean, you’re a . . . virgin?“

Even in the poor light, Snow could see Emma’s cheeks turn pink.

“Why is that so crazy? I’m only seventeen.”

Neal shrugged in a manner that was way too cavalier for Snow’s liking. “You’ve lived on the streets, babe. I mean, I know how that usually goes.”

“Well not for me!” Emma snapped, taking a step back and out of Neal ‘s arms.

“Hey, hey,” Neal soothed, rubbing her arms, “calm down. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Emma went willingly into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Neal ran his fingers through her ponytail. He kissed the top of her head.

“Ready to get out of the rain?”

Emma nodded, and the two of them turned back to the access panel. Neal pushed a combination of numbers, and a loud buzz sounded. He turned to Emma with a big grin.

“See! What did I tell you?”

Emma shuffled her feet. “Neal . . . “

Snow stepped forward, wanting to tell her daughter that she didn’t have to do this if she wasn’t ready. Tears pricked her eyes as she reached out, but her hands went right through her baby’s shoulders.

Neal smiled gently at Emma. He pulled her close, cupped her cheek, then kissed her softly. “It’s gonna be great. You’ll see.”

“No! She isn’t ready!” Snow cried as Neal pulled a reluctant Emma through the gate. She tried to grasp the metal bars, but it was useless. Snow hugged her middle, her stomach roiling. Please, please, was he gentle with her? Patient? She sobbed.

The alley way suddenly spun, and she found herself in a city park this time. Neal was ready to leave Emma, to flee to Canada. Snow watched her daughter, so happy, so in love, telling Neal she could get the watches for him. Snow stared at the wanted poster in Neal’s hand. She tried to tell herself it was no different than the posters with her image back in the Enchanted Forest, but a tiny niggle of doubt teased the back of her mind.

The next two scenes were even harder to watch: her daughter being arrested because of Neal’s tip, her daughter numb in a jail cell as she held a positive pregnancy test in her hand. Why had Emma never shared these things with her? Her mother? Snow knew she was pregnant in jail, but had never wanted to press into painful memories. She should have pressed. The desire to hold her daughter was a physical ache, and Snow sobbed once again.

*********************************************************

As the world spun around her, Snow feared what she might see next. The noises that greeted her ears certainly weren’t comforting. The sight that met her eyes both shocked and confused her. Hook was face down in a tub of water, and Emma was frantically trying to pull him out. Everything fell into place when Snow saw Zelena and Rumple nearby. The villains didn’t break whatever spell Hook was under until the man’s body went limp. Emma hauled him out, the terror on her face palpable. Snow shook her head in confusion. When had this happened? Why had neither of them ever said anything about it?

“Hook! Hook!” Emma cried, shaking him. It reminded Snow so much of the tragic scene in the diner, her heart ached. “Hook, wake up!”

“Killian, come back to me,” her daughter pleaded. She looked around, as if desperate for someone to help her. Finding none, she muttered, “Son of a bitch,” then leaning over Hook’s face, she said again, “Hook, come back to me.” Then she held his nose and breathed into his mouth. Snow didn’t understand the cloud of magic that covered Emma and blew away on the wind.

Hook choked and coughed up water, and Emma sagged in relief. Hook’s eyes went wide as he touched his lips.

“What did you do?”

Emma sighed. “I saved your life, that’s what.”

Hook sat up, his fingers at his lips again. “And you did that by . . .”

“Mouth to mouth, okay?” Emma snapped. “And don’t get any ideas, I just didn’t want you dying on me.”

Emma rose and dusted off her jeans. Snow was amazed at how she so easily hid the concern and desperation from just moments ago. Hook scrambled to his feet as well.

“You should have just let me die. Now your magic is gone!”

Emma’s eyes flashed. “You wanted a hot kiss instead of first aid? Well too bad.”

Hook rolled his eyes. “You think I’m that shallow? I’ve done everything in my power to ensure that my cursed lips stayed far from yours, and -”

“I’m sure those lips weren’t wanting for attention, so spare me the melodrama.”

Snow tilted her head. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but as her daughter stalked away from Hook, she could read her more easily than she ever could. Her daughter was afraid of her feelings for this man.

Snow found herself next in a barn with a swirling portal. Emma had already fallen in, and she was clinging desperately to Hook’s hand. With a scream, she lost her grip and fell. Snow was surprised to see that Hook was still safe. Hadn’t it pulled them both in?

“One of these days I’m going to stop chasing this woman,” Killian Jones muttered before pulling his hook free from the dirt.

As the portal swallowed him and closed, a smile lifted Snow’s lips.

“He followed her,” she whispered. And she and David never knew. Even Emma probably didn’t know of this particular heroism. There was definitely more to her daughter’s pirate boyfriend than met the eye.

******************************************************

Snow at first didn’t understand why she found herself on Granny’s patio. She had looked outside that night and seen her daughter kissing Captain Hook. But she hadn’t heard their conversation.

“You traded your ship for me?”

“Aye.”

So that’s where the Jolly Roger had been. Why had Hook never told them? Why hadn’t Emma?

After that, Snow found herself watching her daughter on another rainy night, this one outside Granny’s. Emma’s words were like a gunshot to Snow’s heart.

“Everyone I’ve ever been with is dead. Neal, Graham, even Walsh. I can’t lose you too.”

Snow didn’t even hear Hook’s assurances. Her ears were ringing with the words I can't lose you too.

*****************************************************

It was a beautiful day on the beach. Hook lay on a blanket, her daughter curled up with him, her head on his chest. He ran his fingers lazily through her hair.

“Listen to that sound,” he said quietly.

“Mmm,” Emma mumbled, “the waves, the gulls, the wind.”

“Aye, it’s always soothed me.”

Emma turned and rested her chin on his chest. “Even though you were a slave at sea?”

Snow blinked. Hook had been a slave?

Hook nodded. “The vastness of it, the wildness, made me believe that one day I could have freedom there. Liam and I dreamed of having our own ship someday. But not with the Navy – as merchants. A ship that was ours alone with no one telling us what to do.” Hook chuckled, “I was only nine, Liam only thirteen.

Snow pressed a hand to her lips. He was only a child?

“I used to have crazy dreams too,” Emma said with a fond smile. Snow’s heart ached to hear them both talk about difficult, lonely childhoods with such a casual air. “That my parents would come, and I would find out that I was special all along. Like Harry Potter or something.”

Emma’s words made tears track down Snow’s cheeks. She watched as Hook rolled over, gazing tenderly down at Emma. His smile was one Snow had already noticed was reserved only for her daughter. It crinkled the corners of his eyes, dimpled his cheeks, and made his eyes light up. He caressed Emma’s face.

“I suppose both our dreams came true. I got my ship, and you found your parents.”

Emma reached up and cupped his face. “But it wasn’t what we imagined as children. And you lost your ship.”

“But I found you.”

Snow looked away, feeling a bit guilty for watching them kiss. She glanced back, concerned she would see the pirate pillaging and plundering her daughter. She was surprised to see that he had stopped kissing her and had pulled her back into his embrace instead. Her daughter wasn’t having any of it, however. She sat up and straddled him.

“When are you going to make your move, pirate?”

The smile on his face was surprisingly gentle and serious as he sat up and wrapped his arms around Emma.

“I told your father you were more than a mere conquest, and I meant it.”

Emma tilted her head. “So this is some Enchanted Forest courtship agreement with my dad?”

“No.” Hook ran his fingers through Emma’s hair, then kissed her gently. “I love you, Emma.”

Snow watched her daughter press her forehead against Hook’s. “I know.”

“Yet you haven’t said it back.”

Emma’s eyes looked sad as she climbed off his lap. He remained quiet as she sat cross-legged next to him.

“Be patient with me?”

Snow almost didn’t catch the words, Emma said them so softly. When had she seen her daughter so vulnerable and scared? Snow’s breath caught. In that alley with Neal. She continued to hold her breath as she watched Hook gather Emma close.

“Of course, love,” he told her tenderly, “we have all the time in the world.”

*******************************************************

“Snow?”

She turned to see David looking nervously into her face. She glanced around to see that she was back at the diner in Camelot. David cupped her face.

“Snow?”

“What happened?”

“You stared off into space for a moment, then you suddenly blinked and started crying.” David’s thumbs caressed her cheeks. “Are you alright?”

Snow grasped David’s wrists. “Only a moment? They left only a moment ago?”

David’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Yes. . . “

Snow grinned and pulled her husband in for a quick kiss. “True love, honey, true love is the answer!” She turned to Merlin. “If Emma re-forges Excaliber and rids herself of the darkness, could she share her heart with Killian?”

Merlin smiled, glancing down at the talisman around her neck. “Yes, that could definitely work.”

“But Snow,” David protested, “that can only work if Hook is her true love. And if it doesn’t work, it could kill her.”

“Oh David, please. The man’s name is Killian.”

****************************************************

How Merlin had figured out where Emma had taken Killian, Snow didn’t know, nor did she care. All she cared about was stopping Emma from doing something horrific when there was a better option. There she was, standing over Killian with Excaliber.

“Emma, stop!”

Her daughter’s face was even more anguished than before as she turned to her. “I can’t lose him, Mom! Please, I can’t.”

“I know, baby,” Snow soothed as she gently lowered Emma’s arm.

On the ground, Killian made a gurgling sound. Even Snow’s heart lurched, and as she gazed down into his suffering face, she no longer saw Captain Hook, the reformed pirate. She saw Killian Jones, former slave boy, man of honor, hero who time and again chose her daughter over everything else. She saw Emma’s true love.

“He’s dying!” Emma sobbed, sagging in her mother’s embrace. The sword fell with a thud into the middlemist roses.

“There’s another way, Emma. Do what you planned, use Excaliber to cut away the darkness in you -”

“But -”

Snow put a finger to her daughter’s lips. “Then you can do what I did for your father. Share your heart.”

“Emma,” Killian managed to say. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“You’ll be okay,” Emma told him as she dropped to the ground next to him, grasping his hook.

“I love you,” he told her, then his eyes rolled shut.

“He’s gone,” David said softly.

Emma pressed Killian’s hook to her breast, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. She stood, her face pale, but free of tears as she looked at Merlin.

“Let’s hurry and do this so I can save the man I love.”

Snow smiled through her tears at Emma’s commanding voice, the tilt of her chin. Perhaps her daughter was more like her than Snow thought.

Emma had fought the darkness so valiantly; it was easy to forget what she bore. But as Excaliber pulled the darkness from her, Snow could see a lightness come back into her daughter’s eyes, and the pink return to her cheeks. Light magic surged from her palms, and Excaliber imploded, blowing away as it turned to dust.

“She did it,” Merlin said in awe, “the Dark One magic is destroyed forever.”

Emma took no time to embrace her parents or celebrate. She dropped to her knees beside Killian’s still form and plunged her hand in to her own chest without hesitation. With it pulsing red in her palm, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Killian’s.

“Come back to me,” she whispered.

Merlin took the heart from Emma, and after a nod of consent from her, split it in two. Emma cried out and fell to the ground next to Killian, her hand still clasping his hook. The sorcerer leaned over them and plunged the two halves into their chests. Emma rolled over and took Killian’s face in her hands.

“Please,” she whispered, tears rolling down her face, “you promised me you were a survivor, Killian Jones.”

David reached out and drew Snow close as they waited. She could feel his half of her heart beating fast.

Then, with a gasp, Killian’s eyes flew open. Emma gave a glad cry and began to pepper his face with kisses.

“What happened?” he asked as he sat up, one arm still around Emma.

She smiled and pressed her palm to Killian’s chest. “We share a heart.”

Killian’s eyes widened in wonder. “We do?”

Emma nodded, happy tears now streaming down her face as she pulled him close for a passionate kiss.

Snow looked at her husband and smiled to see a tear slip down his cheek. She reached up and brushed it away as he turned to her with a broad smile.

“David?”

“Yes darling?”

“What do you think about calling our son by his middle name?”

[zenonaa]

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318629/chapters/43545287 Read from the beginning here: http://zenonaa.tumblr.com/post/183875659535/read

Comments: Final chapter for TogaFuka Week - Hope! In this chapter, a new student joins the class that Fukawa clashes with, everyone gets ready for the school dance and Komaeda is there for some reason?

Please reblog this and leave kudos. <3 I worked hard on this and hope everyone enjoyed it!

***

The Sun smiled in the bright blue sky, peeking in through the window of Touko’s bedroom. Her eyes crept open and she forced herself to sit up. A small tear formed in her eye as she stretched out her arms. She yawned cutely. Today marked the start of another regular week, a typical Monday at Hope’s Peak Academy.

When she finished yawning, she grabbed her glasses from her bedside table and put them on. Still half-asleep, she picked up her phone, which had been beside her glasses, and checked the time.

Touko blinked.

“Eh?” she went.

Then she screeched.

She was late for class!

Leaping out of bed, she rushed over to her wardrobe and flung it open. Touko threw off her night dress, put on the first plain set of undergarments that she saw and hurriedly finished dressing herself, buttoning her shirt through the wrong holes and shoving her feet into the wrong shoe. With no time to spare, she picked up a slice of bread on the way out, not even slotting it into the toaster for a minute. She held her breakfast between her teeth and sprinted out of her dorm. Out of the building.

To sleep through her alarm... what a ditzy, scatterbrained thing to do!

Her shoes slapped loudly against the pavement. Not even thirty seconds could have passed, and she was already huffing and puffing and sweating.

Keeping this pace required so much effort that she started to develop tunnel vision. By now, everyone had already arrived in class, so one would assume that the chances of her crashing into anyone were almost nil.

One would assume.

But alas! Touko crashed into someone.

She shrieked and tumbled back, flailing her legs, and when she came to a stop in a sitting position, she could only see stars for a few seconds. The back of her head throbbed where it had hit the pavement, and the slice of bread that she had brought with her had been released into the abyss somewhere.

“W-Watch where you’re-!” she started with a snarl, only to trail off. Sat opposite her was a tall, lean, blond guy with long eyelashes and ocean blue eyes.

Though her lips continued moving, no sound came out. As she stared at him, pink bubbles floated behind him.

He rubbed his head and stood up. With a scowl, he pushed up his glasses and glared down at her.

“You’re the one who should watch where you’re going,” he said as he dusted himself off. “You ran straight into me.”

The bubbles behind him popped.

Touko scrunched her face, jumped up and waved her fists indignantly.

“I was going to class!” she spat. “What are you doing here, huh? Apart from knocking girls over and trying to get a flash of their panties?”

He fixed his glasses again.

“I’m on my way to class, actually,” he said coldly.

She curled her lips.

“Then you’re late,” she said.

“So are you.”

She howled at the sky.

“My brain cells are dying because of the frequency of your voice!” she announced, pulling on her hair, and she left the guy to his own devices.

After all, she had class to attend, and it wasn’t like she would see him again.

Touko entered the main school building through the front entrance and climbed all the necessary stairs until she arrived at the corridor containing her homeroom. Her shoes squeaked all the way to the door, which she pried open and peeked around.

At the front of the homeroom, her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, was writing equations on the interactive whiteboard. Upon hearing the door open, Chisa turned to it, and seeing who was there, she faced Touko completely, stuck out her chest and placed her hands onto her hips. The rest of the class followed her gaze.

“You are late, Fukawa-kun,” scolded Chisa.

Nearby, Kiyotaka slammed his hands against his desk, already crying.

“Fukawa-kun! You broke... the school rules! And... judging by how you’re breathing... you ran... in the school halls!” he said, tears and snot running down his face.

Lightning could have struck outside.

He cried louder. Next to him, Mondo threw his desk at the wall in rage, then he leaned over and squeezed Kiyotaka’s shoulder.

“Kyoudai, you’ve gotta fucking relax,” said Mondo, his pompadour like, ridiculously large. Kiyotaka turned to him.

“Kyoudai...” Kiyotaka said in a hushed tone back, and they continued gazing into each other’s eyes.

Pink bubbles surrounded them. Mondo tenderly wiped away Kiyotaka’s eyes, cradling Kiyotaka’s cheek in his oversized hand.

Chisa set her eyes on Touko.

“Don’t let this become a habit,” she said, wagging her finger at her.

Touko gave a noncommittal grunt and shuffled over to her desk at the back of the classroom by the window, feeling everyone’s eyes on her. If only the gloomy cloud following Touko could have been thicker. Then they wouldn’t have been able to see her through it. Chisa waited for her to sit down, then turned back to the whiteboard to teach.

The lesson resumed, and from the get-go, dragged on. While Chisa rambled on, Touko stared out at the sky. It was a brilliant, endless blue. A sporty person would have liked to be outside in it, where rays from the Sun would warm their skin and they wouldn’t have to worry about how it might rain. Touko, however, imagined her blouse clinging to her damp skin and her legs melting beneath her until she formed into a puddle on the ground.

On a day like this, she would have preferred to be in her dorm or the library, writing.

As Touko trained her eyes on the sky, she felt as if something was pressing against her lips from inside her mouth, like her tongue, only not her tongue. Like.. Like her soul. She felt like the sky was trying to suck her essence out of her. Something about the blue sky... felt so inviting...

Chisa scrawled arrows onto the whiteboard so various numbers pointed to others. Even though Touko specialised in writing - particularly fiction writing, she was also a genius girl, so she understood what Chisa was saying. Well, Touko would have if she had been paying attention. She didn’t even respond to the classroom door opening.

“Ah, you must be the new student,” said Chisa, turning to the door.

Touko was pulled out of her daydream and looked over to the doorway. She froze when she saw who it was. Of all the people that existed in this world, the new student was none other than the blond guy that she nearly flattened on the way here.

What a twist!

He walked into the room, passing Chisa, and sat at the only available desk. Which, believe it or not, was the desk in front of Touko and also the desk where the protagonist in an anime would often sit. Being by the window, near the back, the animators wouldn’t have to draw everyone behind him, but by having a row of desks behind him, it gave the viewer the impression that this was a full class.

Chisa frowned and tilted her head to one side.

“Are you going to introduce yourself?” she asked, staring over at him.

The guy pushed up his glasses, even though they weren’t out of place.

“I’m Byakuya Togami,” he said.

Silence.

“My self introduction is over,” he told them.

Chisa blinked and rubbed the back of her neck. “Um... okay.”

She returned to the interactive whiteboard, and Touko squinted at the back of his head. What sort of impression did he intend to set by turning up late to his first day at a new school? Also, what sort of name was Byakuya Togami? The nerve of this transfer student... and he acknowledged the class so coldly!

He bent down to reach into his satchel. Touko assumed that he was getting out a notebook and pen so he could take notes, but instead he extracted a laptop. Okay, so he could have wanted to type his notes instead. Fair enough. But then he booted up his laptop, and he opened up a webpage for the stock exchange market! So while Chisa explained differentiating the equation of a curve, he was making money!

Touko’s teeth ground together.

“Fukawa-kun!” said Chisa, and Touko snapped her head up.

Chisa frowned at Touko from the front of the classroom.

“Huh?” went Touko, and Chisa folded her arms over her chest.

“Can you answer my question?” she asked Touko, pursing her lips.

Touko fidgeted. Her skin prickled under her collar.

“Which is...?” mumbled Touko. Chisa lifted her chin.

“Do you make your personality dark and push people away just to keep them safe, or because you fear them rejecting the real you?” asked Chisa.

“W-What?”

“I said,” said Chisa in the same tone of voice as before, “by differentiating the equation of the curve, what are we left with?”

“The...” Touko swallowed. Fumbled. Her heart was still beating rapidly. “The gradient of the curve. You’re left with the gradient of the curve.”

Chisa narrowed her eyes, and after a beat of tense silence, broke into a grin.

“Yes, that’s right, Fukawa-kun!” Chisa said brightly, and she carried on with the lesson.

Touko barely paid attention before, but now all Touko heard when Chisa spoke was the hum of a fly, or the hum of an old computer’s fan whirling. For the rest of the lesson, she stared at the back of Byakuya’s head, and by the time lunch finally rolled around, she still didn’t feel quite with it. A knot formed in her gut, and all the way to the cafeteria, it bounced, tugging uncomfortably on her insides, and it festered as she waited in line to get her food.

In a lot of schools, a few students were assigned lunch duty and brought lunch to their classroom, but this school had a cafeteria. Just to throw it out there.

“Ah, Fukawa-san!” greeted a stout student on the other side of the counter. He was in another class and was called Teruteru. His special talent was being a chef or something.

Oh, right, everyone enrolled at this school had a super duper talent.

Teruteru stroked his chin. “What are you in the mood for? A sausage?”

He smirked. Touko didn’t respond, and the ends of his lips wilted at the lack of reaction.

“Are you in the mood for my sausage, Fukawa-san?” he asked, putting on more bravado.

She lifted her gaze. The anxiety manifesting in her started to become drowned out with anger, but before she could respond, a blur swooped out from above and sent Teruteru careening away with an almighty kick to the face.

When the blur stopped moving, which was right after, Touko discovered it to have been a student with wide shoulders and hair almost as pale as his pale skin. Under his jacket but over his shirt, he wore a green waistcoat with a red trim. He gave a wheezy laugh.

“Ah, sorry. I, Nagito Komaeda, must have slipped,” he said, but firstly, he didn’t sound sorry, and two, what sort of person slipped like that?

While he offered Teruteru his hand and helped him up to his feet, Touko served herself and brought her tray over to a small table with no one else on it. Today’s lunch consisted of a bowl of rice, a bowl of egg drop soup and a dish with two sections - one containing pickled vegetables, and the other a block of deep-fried tofu with oyster sauce.

Touko scooped up some of the soup and sipped it. The ginger, salt and pepper helped bring out the sweet eggy taste without overpowering it with a spicy flavour. She helped herself to some more. As she ate, people passed her table, some to get food, some to leave the cafeteria, and then a shadow fell upon her table.

“Hi, Fukawa-chan!” said someone. Touko looked up. It was Aoi Asahina, accompanied by Sakura Oogami.

According to the floating text annotating the arrow pointing to Aoi’s head, Aoi was Touko’s best friend in this, and the arrow pointing to Sakura indicated that Sakura was her other best friend in this. Presumably because it wouldn’t make sense to have Komaru Naegi be here.

Wait. This? In ‘this’? Why did Touko think to use that word? And who was Komaru Naegi? Anyway, ‘this’ was life. Without waiting to be asked to join, Aoi placed down her tray and took a seat. Sakura followed suit. Touko’s lips pinched.

“What do you want?” asked Touko, narrowing her eyes at them with suspicion, suspiciously.

“Isn’t this what best friends do?” said Aoi, tapping herself on the chin and answering with a question.

Touko hesitated. “I... suppose?”

Aoi beamed, and she and Sakura began their lunches. Theirs weren’t the same as Touko’s. For some reason, Aoi had a plate stacked with donuts, and Sakura had cans of protein drink and precisely one cup of tea on a saucer.

Initially, Aoi wolfed down the donuts, and Touko watched in disbelief, even if the sound of chomping wracked her eardrums. After a while, Aoi slowed down a bit and began to talk as she ate.

“So anyway, Kuwata asked Maizono-chan to the dance, right? But Maizono-chan skirted around it.” Eating. “You know? She said she was undecided on going, but I think she wants to see if a certain someone asks her out. Now, we think it’s Naegi, but Kirigiri-chan is also an option, or even Ikusaba-chan.”

More eating.

A lot more eating.

The donuts didn’t seem to ever end.

“But, like, Naegi could go with almost anyone!” Aoi gulped. “Kirigiri-chan’s the popular choice, but then there’s also Togami.”

Touko sucked in her cheeks like she just inhaled from a lemon. Speaking of Kyouko, she was standing in a shadowy corner, sneering at everyone. She lit a cigarette, took one puff, dropped it, snuffed it out with the heel of her boot and then resumed looking cool again.

Kyouko was very mysterious indeed. Also probably a tsundere, or maybe a yandere. It could go either way.

“But you know, Naegi’s very popular with the girls and most of the boys, so it’s too early to say,” said Aoi, shaking a finger at Touko.

Sakura nodded and folded her arms over her chest. She gave a grunt, smirked, and then said, “Indeed... heh.”

There was a round of applause.

Touko fed herself some rice. To think, of all the things that could have been happening to them in the world, she was listening to Aoi talk about an upcoming dance which Touko currently had no date for.

“I’m going with Sakura-chan,” piped up Aoi. “But we have a pact that if Naegi asks either of us out, we’ll either split or go as part of a harem.”

Aoi clapped her hands together and pointed her finger tips toward Touko, looking stern.

“Now, Fukawa-chan, your choices are rather limited,” said Aoi gravely.

A pause. Then Aoi grinned and splayed out her hands either side of her head.

“Actually, they’re not. Because I know you have a crush on Togami!” announced Aoi, and Touko choked on her milk. Some spurted out of her nose.

Sakura reached over and gave Touko a pat on the back. The force of impact sent Touko flying across the room, where she slammed into a wall on the other side of the cafeteria. As this was just a gag, though, only a few people looked at Touko for a little bit, and Touko returned to their table unharmed.

“I don’t!” Touko hissed through her teeth, picking up the conversation like nothing happened.

“I mean, for a nerdy white guy, you could do worse than Byakuya Togami (十神 白夜),” remarked Aoi, but Touko continued fuming and didn’t even notice that Aoi said his name twice for some reason.

“Do not be afraid of your love,” said Sakura, and the angle made it look like the ceiling light above her head was a halo. “As Ji Cun Xi once said, ‘I Only Know That The First Time Is Accidental, The Second Time Is Inevitable, And The Third Time Is By Fate’... heh.”

There was a round of applause.

Touko didn’t know what that had to do with her and Byakuya. This was his first day at the school and Touko had never met him before. He had also been obnoxious on their first meeting which therefore meant he was a piece of garbage forever. FOREVER.

“Oh, I just remembered something,” said Aoi. She scratched her chin. “Celes-chan planned on asking Togami to the dance, so you better be careful.”

Aoi and Sakura turned their heads at the same time, and Touko followed their gaze. Celes was seated with Byakuya at another table, and she was talking animatedly and giggling about something while Byakuya stared broodingly into space.

Even though Touko totally didn’t like Byakuya, seeing Celes trying to get close to him made her blood boil. For some unknown, mysterious reason.

“Fukawa-chan,” said Aoi suddenly, and Touko turned to her. Aoi’s face was serious. “Does your masochism stem from how you’ve tried to cope with the sexual abuse from your father?”

Touko’s stomach lurched. “What?”

“I said, what are you going to wear to the dance tonight?” asked Aoi, with the same, serious expression.

It hadn’t sounded like that. As Touko stared down at her lunch, she didn’t feel hungry anymore.

“Oh... I don’t know?” mumbled Touko.

“Then we’ll all just have to give you a makeover!” Aoi said, and she scoffed the rest of her donuts down. With her mouth full, she added, “Straight after classes, okay? We’ll go to Enoshima-chan’s room.”

That name sent a chill through Touko, but Touko couldn’t pinpoint why. Junko was one of their classmates, a blond girl who specialised in modelling with a valley girl accent despite being Japanese. Her existence and what she stood for went against the lifestyle of a bookish nerd author like Touko, so that could have been why Touko felt such revulsion at the sound of her name. Always accompanying Junko was Mukuro, who just stood in the background and blowed bubblegum.

After thinking all that, she almost forgot about the whole makeup thing, but she hadn’t forgotten and shuddered. Hopefully, they would forget and she could escape to her room as soon as class ended.

They returned to class and Touko settled back at her desk. The next lesson started, but unable to focus, Touko doodled in her notebook while teachers came and went for every lesson. She couldn’t concentrate, not really because her mind’s focus lay elsewhere, but because her head seemed to be filled with fluff that made it hard to fit a thought in there, and she didn’t put much stock in this, but she spent most of the next couple of hours boring her eyes into the back of Byakuya’s head.

For some unknown, mysterious reason.

“And that’s why you should always make suwe you have a fiwewall wunning,” concluded Usami, a large white rabbit with feathery wings and a pink bow by her right ear. She wore a pink bib and a pink and white layered, ruffled dress. “Now... hey!”

Touko jerked her head up at the sharpness of Usami’s tone. Usami marched over to Chihiro and snatched a note of paper from Chihiro, who jumped when it left Chihiro’s grip.

“Awe you passing notes while I’m teaching?” she groused, blowing out her cheeks.

“I-It’s n-not f-from m-me,” said Chihiro with large, doleful eyes.

Ignoring Chihiro, Usami unfolded the piece of paper, cleared her throat and read aloud from it.

“Touko Fukawa Only you light up my world Get me feeling light-hearted All I want is you, who makes my toes curled Me and You I am too shy to share my true feelings So I pretend to hate you Do you feel the same way about me, whose love reaches past ceilings? I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me Castle walls border my heart Killing me by starving me, by the way the castle walls are really a metaphor Parkour.”

Usami waved the love letter and stomped her feet. Steam blew out of her ears. “Alwight, who wwote this?”

No one said anything. They just stared at Touko, who melted into her seat.

“Well, whoevew wwote this poem is cleawly vewy talented, but we have to get back to ouw lesson,” said Usami. She put the love letter away in a desk drawer. “Computew secuwity is vewy impowtant! You don’t know when someone will bwing a viwus into a simulation and make you kill each othew.”

For the rest of the lesson, Touko wondered who had written that incredibly heartfelt love letter to her. All her life, she thought herself ugly, stupid and other things that a woman’s worth was measured with. However, try as she might, she drew a blank. The writer would most likely remain a mystery for the rest of her life. Or until like... the last chapter or something.

By the time the last lesson concluded, Touko had actually forgotten about Aoi’s plans for her, and outside of the classroom, Touko started for the library.

“Hey!” Aoi caught up and grabbed her by the arm. “Wrong way! We’ve got to like, get ready for the school dance tonight!”

Touko struggled but Aoi could crush a watermelon between her thighs, so Touko had no chance of breaking free.

“But I don’t have a date,” said Touko, whining as Aoi dragged her away.

Aoi kept a firm hold of Touko all the way to the dorms. Several people stared at them as the pair passed by, but none of them thought to rescue Touko.

They arrived outside of Junko’s dorm, and Aoi rung the bell. Ten or so seconds later, Junko opened it.

“Hi!” Junko greeted with no evil undertones. She stepped aside, letting them in.

Walls painted white enclosed the room, and white furniture sat upon dark wooden flooring. Pink accented many of the furnishing, such as a pink cushion on a chair and a pink couch frame with white seat cushions. All the girls in their class had gathered here already. Mukuro sat perfectly still next to Kyouko on the couch. Celes stood in the background, wearing her black loita dress, Sakura flexed nearby and Sayaka enveloped Touko in a big hug.

“Fukawa-san!” Sayaka greeted. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Touko didn’t know what to do during hugs so just held her arms at different angles until Sayaka finally stepped back.

“Okay, we’ve got work to do!” Junko said, one hand holding a hairbrush, one hand holding a hairdryer and her third arm clutching a mascara wand. “The dance starts in two hours, and we have a lot of work to do. Which I just said, but like... nya!”

That sounded like an insult. Not the bit with the nya, but the bit about having a lot of work to do. However, as Touko drew in breath to come out with the best retort ever to be written in print, Junko thrust a dress into Touko’s arms, nearly bowling her over.

“Put this on first,” instructed Junko, and she shoved Touko into the bathroom.

Silence rang as soon as the door slammed shut. Touko held out the dress and examined it. The dress consisted of bright pink lace applique with a floral pattern and a short puffy skirt. There was a divide at the cleavage, and the two halves at the front came together around the belly button area.

Against her reservations, Touko changed into the dress and studied her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Seeing herself, she felt like a fairy from a video game that lived in a secret fountain and blessed whatever elven warriors visited.

“Come out, Fukawa-san!” Sayaka called.

Touko took a deep breath and emerged back into the main room.

No one said anything for a while, staring at Touko with wide eyes.

Then...

Then...!

“Wow, you look amazing!” Sayaka said, and the other girls commented their agreement, causing Touko to blush and wiggle, embarrassed.

Junko flourished a hairdryer. “All right, Fukawa-san, now we’ve just got to do your hair and makeup, and then you’ll be ready to go to the dance!”

She marched Touko over to the vanity and plopped her down. Time seemed to go on forever as Junko loosened her braids, tugged a brush through her hair and then finally sprayed glitter into it. Once Touko’s hair was done, Sayaka did Touko’s makeup, highlighting her eyelids with pink and applying coral pink lipstick.

With just minutes to spare, Touko was ready for the dance.

The other girls still had to get ready, so Touko took off for the dance alone. She descended the stairs and opened the door to outside. To her horror, while they had been inside, it had started raining, and even though Junko’s dorm had windows, Touko hadn’t realised until right now.

A tear rolled down Touko’s cheek, but it didn’t ruin her makeup. Her heart ached. After all that effort, all that build-up, she wouldn’t be able to go to the dance. If she went out in the rain, it would ruin her whole outfit, and she would be a laughing stock.

Just as she started to turn away and go back to her dorm, someone held out an umbrella toward her. She stopped and turned back.

“Here,” said Byakuya, dressed in a dark green pinstripe suit with a dollar symbol pattern all over it. He pressed the umbrella into her hands. “I’m only giving this to you because it’s too heavy for me to carry. Not because I like you or anything...”

Byakuya turned his head away and added,

“B-Baka.”

Piano music tinkled as Touko stared at him. She would have stared at him for longer if Celes hadn’t barged past her and hooked her arm around Byakuya’s arm.

“Bonjour, Master-sama! It’s time to for us to go win prom king and prom queen,” said Celes with a simper, giggling, and the pair walked to the main building together, all the hot air in Celes making the rain evaporate before it could get near them.

Touko hunched her shoulders and set off with the umbrella.

The dance was in full swing when Touko arrived as part of the pack of girls in her class, who had all managed to get ready themselves in less than a minute, dress, hair, makeup and all, as well as catch up to Touko. She stayed back while everyone else went their separate ways.

Sakura and Aoi held each other’s hands and danced together on the dance floor, which was made up of different panels that flashed a fluorescent independently. Celes, wearing the same loita dress that she wore every single moment of her life, sidled up to Byakuya, who was too busy counting the money in his wallet to notice her existence, and Kyouko walked over to the punch bowl.

Kyouko poured herself a glass of punch and frowned at the contents. She held up her glass.

“All right, who put razor blades in my drink?” asked Kyouko.

Everyone gasped, but Sayaka gasped loudest.

“Oh, no, who would do something like that?” said Sayaka sweetly, placing a hand against her cheek.

“Whoever it was, they’re totally a backstabbing skank that doesn’t deserve Naegi-kun,” said Nagito, who wasn’t even in their class.

Sayaka narrowed her eyes at him.

Aoi stopped dancing for a moment and looked around. “Hey, where is Naegi, anyway? Shouldn’t he be at the dance by now?”

Everyone else looked around too.

“Uh, maybe he got lost on the way here, ‘right? Like in the Bermuda Triangle or something, man,” suggested Yasuhiro, holding a blunt in one hand and a sign in his other hand with Hifumi’s face drawn on it.

“Indeed,” said Hifumi, sounding like Yasuhiro but higher-pitched. Yasuhiro bobbed the sign up and down as ‘Hifumi’ spoke. “Mayhaps the gentleman thought the dance was in another academy, like Otonokizaka Academy?”

The suspense was thick as everyone wondered where Makoto could be. They were still pondering about his possible current whereabouts when the door to the school gym burst open. All eyes flitted to the doorway.

A silhouette was framed by the light of outside. Celes’s skin burned where the light touched her and she scampered into the darkness. In the doorway stood none other than Makoto, wearing a black suit with his hoodie on underneath the jacket.

He swept his gaze across the hall, where everyone had stopped to marvel at him. One-by-one, as soon as his handsome eyes passed over a different classmate, they wandered over to him. All except Touko, who remained at the side of the room, and Byakuya, who was too busy making sure no one tried to steal any money from his wallet to pay attention.

Mukuro bowed in front of Makoto, going down onto her hands and knees. Celes stood behind Mukuro, and Aoi and Nagito dropped to one knee either side of him. Makoto sat on Mukuro, using Nagito and Sayaka as armrests and Celes as the back of his human throne.

Everyone waited with baited breath.

Finally, Makoto lifted a finger, pointing.

“... You,” he said in a deep, manly voice.

His finger was aimed at Kyouko, who blushed and gestured weakly to herself.

“Me?” she said.

He nodded, got off his seat and linked arms with her. Kyouko giggled and fanned her face with her other hand which had no scars whatsoever. The pair walked over to the dance floor together.

A harpoon sailed through the air where Kyouko’s head had been moments before.

“Dammit!” said Sayaka, stamping her foot and cradling a harpoon gun.

After Makoto’s entrance, the dance slowly returned to normal. Aoi and Sakura paired up together again, Makoto and Kyouko danced shyly together, and after they signed Chihiro’s adoption papers, Mondo swung Kiyotaka around like he was a ragdoll. Mukuro and Sayaka gazed longingly at Makoto.

Leon shuffled over to them and cleared his throat.

“You want to dance?” he asked Sayaka.

“Sure,” said Sayaka with a shrug, and she went off with him. They started headbanging together.

As for everyone else, they didn’t have anyone to be paired off with specifically so weren’t worth mentioning. Touko sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. Everyone else seemed to have someone to dance with except her.

She heaved a sigh.

But then, someone held out a hand, and she looked up.

It was Byakuya.

“Do you want to dance with me?” he asked. He blushed. “You pig baka.”

Touko blinked, uncertain if she heard him right. As she stared into her eyes, her heart skipped. She must have heard him right.

“S-Sure,” she said, taking his hand, and they both glided onto the dancefloor together.

Across the hall, Celes noticed and began gnawing her teeth angrily against a log of wood. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Yasuhiro holding the sign with Hifumi on it, and she stomped over to them.

“Give me that,” she hissed, snatching Hifumi off him, and she thundered away.

Yasuhiro continued smiling stupidly into space.

Touko glanced at Yasuhiro and then turned back to Byakuya. The rest of the hall faded away, until all that was there, all that mattered, were Touko and Byakuya, lit up by the tiles underneath their feet. Byakuya gazed at her, not wearing his glasses, and her glasses were gone too. His chin was incredibly big and well-defined and his shirt’s top buttons had come undone.

He cupped her cheek with a hand bigger than her head and smiled.

“Fukawa,” he said in a husky voice. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Uh huh?” she replied, leaning into his touch.

“Do you really believe only miserable people can imagine a perfect world?”

She frowned a bit. “... Huh?”

“I said, I wrote you that letter in class,” said Byakuya. “Fukawa, I love you. It’s not like I have been raised to think otherwise or have any internal conflict about it. No... I definitely love you.”

Her eyes widened. Her breathing hitched. Her body quivered.

“Attention!” shouted the headmaster, Jin, standing on a stage. The world phased back, and Touko and Byakuya were on a dancefloor once more surrounded by hormonal teenagers... or around about. “I am now going to announce the Prom King and Prom Queen.”

“Oh, it’s totally going to be me,” said Celes smugly, rubbing her knuckles against her titty.

“Sorry, Celes-san, but my intuitions tell me it will me and Naegi-kun,” said Sayaka, her hands clasped together.

They smiled at each other with their eyes shut and both of them set aflame, but it was an emotional flame, so it didn’t burn them or anyone nearby.

Jin tore open an envelope and read aloud from it. “The Prom King and Prom Queen... is Byakuya Togami and Touko Fukawa.”

A spotlight shone down on the winners. Byakuya and Touko looked at each other, then took each other’s hands and climbed up onto the stage. Chisa placed a crown on both of their heads.

“Speech!” Leon yelled, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and the rest of the class began to chant what he said, pumping their fists in time with their shouts.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Touko shivered, surveying the hall. They had chosen her to be Prom Queen... her! Celes glowered at her, but everyone else smiled and clapped. She continued looking at them, trying to think what to say, and then her eyes fell onto Nagito, who was gripping the handle of a plunger detonator...

Wait.

He pressed down on it, and the stage collapsed. Multiple explosions billowed out around them. Touko screamed as she felt herself begin to plummet, and she grabbed onto the nearest solid thing to her.

Byakuya.

Their surroundings turned black as they fell, falling further... and further... and further? They kept falling, to the point when she became used to it and it felt like she wasn’t falling, but rather that she and Byakuya were suspended in midair.

The only thing she could see was Byakuya.

The only thing she could hear was Byakuya.

“Fukawa,” he said, gripping her hands tightly back.

“W-What?” she said, tensing.

Byakuya gazed into her eyes.

“This will sound unreal and outlandish,” he said, “but none of this is real. This is all a virtual simulation created by a resistance group called Future Foundation, meant to reprogramme us.”

Her heart jolted. She ogled him. “What?”

“After a series of events, Enoshima manipulated us and brainwashed us into becoming her elite squad for spreading despair,” Byakuya explained. “By now, our classmates have completed the simulation and come out, all except you.”

Touko let go of one of Byakuya’s hands and placed her hand against her head, wincing. That sounded crazy. It couldn’t be possible.

“I managed to get into the program just now, overriding the file that represented me in here.” He loosened his hold for a moment, then squeezed her hand. His eyes searched hers for something. “I want to know... if you will leave this virtual world, for the real one?”

She bit her lip. It was coming back to her now. In the other world, tally marks covered her body, and under his suit, Byakuya had patches of Junko Enoshima’s skin sewn onto him. Their surroundings went from black to cyber blue, full of ones and zeroes.

“Leave... here?” she mumbled. Leave behind this happy world where everyone lived, where the only problems that she had to face involved school festivals and love triangles? And instead, go to a world where despair had feasted on the world, where she had to face the reality of her actions...

... and a world where Byakuya did not love her.

“I... I don’t know,” she admitted. Her chest fluttered.

He plucked her hand off her head and squeezed that one too.

“Fukawa...” Byakuya looked away for a moment, but then he made himself look at her again. “I can’t force you to come with me, but... I would like you to.”

She inhaled sharply. Her face warmed. “Y-Y-?”

“Yes.” He gripped harder. “Long ago, you told me... that love isn’t a weakness, and can make you stronger. I thought you were wrong, but I’ve thought it over. Your love... that you channel into your writing, that surfaced when Syo stopped me from killing myself... that had you stay by my side, and fight as well as you did... that made you repress Syo’s urges to kill... and be willing to leave despair so we could be together... has made me think I should reconsider my stance. After all, you are not a weak person. Not at all.”

Byakuya gazed into her eyes, blushing. While he had blushed during their dance, ignoring the fact that the Byakuya there had been a fake, the colour on his face here meant more than anything that imposter could have said or done.

“If you come back with me, I would like to investigate, and find out more about it,” he said, his voice cracking at the end. “Together.”

Her heart thrashed.

“I...”

She furrowed her brow.

“I’m scared, Byakuya-sama... but... if I’m with you, the real you, I think...” Touko stared up at him, shaking. “I think I’m strong enough to face the world.”

The real Byakuya was who she had fell in love with, after all.

“Okay,” she said, choking up. Smiling even though she was crying too. “I will go with you.”

He smiled, and as they leaned in toward each other, the simulation turned black.