#deep sight while holding a candy cigarette and staring at the window...

[nart-is-a-monster]

Just had an awesome few days that were so nice and not mean at all to me (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

I'm drawing that Twink getting lobotomized btw

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 130

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 130: Another World

The familiar queen bed, the familiar decorations. Everything about the apartment was exactly as Lin Qiushi remembered. Lin Qiushi took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He tried going to the living room first.

"Mrow…"

A faint catcall suddenly came from the living room. Lin Qiushi looked up and saw Chestnut perching on the corner of a sofa, looking exceptionally sweet. Chestnut tilted its head, watching Lin Qiushi with emerald eyes, and chirping out a litany of meows like it was urging Lin Qiushi to do something.

Lin Qiushi was more than familiar with this call; he looked at Chestnut's food bowl and sure enough, it was completely empty of dry food. The cat wanted Lin Qiushi to quickly refill its bowl.

If this were reality, the first thing Lin Qiushi did would surely be feeding Chestnut, but he was quite clear on the fact that he had entered a door. As a result, he did not take immediate action, instead looked around the apartment first.

The interior of the apartment was exactly the same as when he'd moved out. There were even some freshly washed shirts drying on the balcony and fresh fruit in the refrigerator. The entire house was filled with the breath of life.

Lin Qiushi took a large lap around the apartment and slowly approached the door. He took the doorknob and twisted it lightly open.

A crack appeared in the door, enough for Lin Qiushi to see what was beyond.

The sight that met Lin Qiushi's eyes was a long corridor, with door number plates hanging on both sides. It was no different from Lin Qiushi's memory.

Chestnut began to meow again. It hopped down from the couch and came over to Lin Qiushi's feet, rubbing and bumping its body against Lin Qiushi's ankles. Lin Qiushi looked down and stared at Chestnut for a long while, before slowly bending down to pet the cat in front of him.

Soft fur and warm skin. It had to be said that the moment he embraced Chestnut, Lin Qiushi let out a huge sigh of relief. He took Chestnut in his arms, scratched under its chin, and called out Chestnut's name.

A satisfied rumbling came from Chestnut's mouth, and the creature looked to be in perfect bliss. Still holding it, Lin Qiushi went to the kitchen and fetched the cat food, filling up the entire bowl.

Chestnut hopped down from Lin Qiushi's arms, stood in front of the cat bowl, and began eating with vigor.

Lin Qiushi watched it eating and remembered something. He fished his phone out of his pocket and called a number, but as it went through, the display showed that the number that Lin Qiushi called was not connected. When he heard this spoken through the phone, sweat began to dot Lin Qiushi's palms. He looked through his call log with a number of awful possibilities surfacing in his mind—most of the numbers in the log, Lin Qiushi still had some impression of. Many key people were missing though…every member of Obsidian had disappeared, and Ruan Nanzhu was naturally included.

And when Lin Qiushi called Ruan Nanzhu's number just now, it showed that this number didn't even exist.

A feeling like suffocation churned in Lin Qiushi's chest, and he was forming all sorts of bad conjectures. In the end Lin Qiushi changed out of his pajamas and left the apartment. He took the elevator all the way down and came to the entrance of his residential complex.

The time was mid-summer, and it just hit 6PM. Everybody was leaving work, and the busy sight of people come and going was everywhere he turned.

Lin Qiushi stood at the entrance, called for a ride, and headed straight for a location outside the city.

The taxi cab driver was a chatty middle-aged man who kept saying this or that, here and there. Under normal circumstances, Lin Qiushi would most likely offer him a reply or two, but today his mind was a mess. From start to finish he didn't say a single world, lips pressed tightly into a thin line.

An hour later, the cab arrived at the location Lin Qiushi gave him.

Lin Qiushi paid and got out of the car. He saw the mansion standing grandly before him, looking the same as it did in his memories. Orange lights spilled out from the windows, indicating there were people moving about inside, but this didn't bring Lin Qiushi any relief. In fact, the sense of dread in his heart just got worse and worse.

Lin Qiushi took the few steps forward to get to the doorway. He rang the mansion doorbell.

"Who is it?" Moments later, from the other side of the door came the voice of an unfamiliar man.

"I…" Lin Qiushi said. "It's me, Lin Qiushi. I'm looking for Ruan Nanzhu."

It went quiet on the other side, before the person said, "you've got the wrong place. There's nobody named Ruan Nanzhu here."

The moment he heard this Lin Qiushi felt his mind explode with a ringing buzz. With the last of his willpower he forced himself to calm down, saying, "I'm sorry, would you mind opening the door? There's something important I have to…"

The door was opened, and a tall man he did not know appeared before Lin Qiushi. He looked at Lin Qiushi and asked, "what can I do for you?"

"I…I have friends who used to live here…" Lin Qiushi said, wondering about the best wording. "They're named Ruan Nanzhu, and Chen Fei, Yi Manman…"

"I'm sorry," the man said. "You've got the wrong place. There's nobody you've mentioned here."

Behind the man, Lin Qiushi could see the inside of the mansion through the open door. What was most shocking to him was that everything inside looked exactly as he remembered—even the color of the carpets were the same as his memories.

But despite the identical scenery, the people Lin Qiushi was looking for were gone.

"Are you alright?" Lin Qiushi's expression was probably too distressed, so the man asked him that question.

Lin Qiushi forced himself to smile.

"I'm fine…Sorry, for bothering you."

He turned around and left this place. The man watched him go with a light furrow in his brow, clearly wondering what the heck Lin Qiushi came for.

After leaving the mansion, Lin Qiushi called another car and returned to the city. His manner sitting inside was dazed; he was having hard time accepting everything that was happening here.

Ruan Nanzhu, who had gone into the door with Lin Qiushi, had disappeared.

No matter how normal this entire world seemed, this single fact was enough to trip Lin Qiushi into the most indescribable sense of terror.

Back at his residential district, he stood in his doorway watching people come and go. Lin Qiushi had a feeling like he'd been abandoned by the world. What was supposed to be a rich and active city scene only made him feel utterly incompatible with his surroundings.

Lin Qiushi stuck a hand in his pocket and discovered, to his surprise, a pack of half-smoked cigarettes. He stared at the cigarettes in his hand for a while, before lighting one and tucking it between his lips.

The taste of tobacco tendriled into his mouth. It was different from the drying sweetness of candy, and was actually a bit grating. Lin Qiushi only took one inhale before stopping, extinguishing the cigarette in annoyance and tossing it into a trashcan nearby.

It was at this moment that Lin Qiushi's cell phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out and, when he saw the number displayed onscreen, fell into a deep silence.

There was a name above the number, a name that should not be appearing now—Wu Qi.

Lin Qiushi stared at the name on the screen, and very slowly pressed the call button.

"Oi, Qiushi, where are you?" came Wu Qi's loud and carefree voice.

Lin Qiushi's throat bobbed. "I'm at home. You…"

For a moment he didn't know what to say.

"Why are you still at home? Didn't you say we're going to get dinner? Get down here," Wu Qi said in a strange tone.

Lin Qiushi, "I said we're going to get dinner?"

Wu Qi, "yeah, didn't you say we're getting skewers tonight! Damn, you haven't forgotten have you?"

Lin Qiushi, "…where are you now?"

"I'm in front of your neighborhood," Wu Qi said. "What is it? Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm fine. I'll…be right there," Lin Qiushi said. He hung up the phone, looked outside into the district, and sure enough saw Wu Qi standing casual as anything at the residential entrance, head down and playing on his phone.

Lin Qiushi stuck the phone in his pocket and quickly ran over to Wu Qi.

"That was quick," Wu Qi said after seeing Lin Qiushi. "You didn't have to run. It's so hot, look how you're sweating."

Lin Qiushi made a noise of agreement, gaze falling on Wu Qi's face. The same appearance, the same mannerisms, and even the same tone of voice. The person in front of him was definitely Wu Qi. Wu Qi walked in front, telling Lin Qiushi everything that was happening in the office, and even reminded Lin Qiushi a few times to go get a check-up.

A fine sheen of sweat had once again appeared on Lin Qiushi's forehead—it was just that he felt cold all over, and even his perspiration was cold.

They came to the grilled skewers place in front of the micro-district. After taking a seat, Wu Qi ordered the food.

Lin Qiushi hardly said anything the entire way. Wu Qi noticed his odd state, and asked dubiously, "Qiushi, are you okay?"

Lin Qiushi, "I'm…fine."

"Is it too hot? Or are you not feeling well?" Wu Qi turned to the store owner and ordered a few additional bottles of beer. Popping one open with familiar motions, he poured Lin Qiushi a full cup. "Drink some, and cool down a bit."

"Wu Qi," Lin Qiushi said, "what's the date today?"

"The 16th," Wu Qi said. "Why?"

Lin Qiushi blew out a breath.

"Nothing."

The dishes they ordered came quickly. Wu Qi could tell that Lin Qiushi wasn't in a good state, but he could also see that Lin Qiushi didn't want to answer any of his questions, and so could only let it go.

Lin Qiushi didn't have much of an appetite. All his attention was on the street beside them, but by the time they finished eating and left, something that was supposed to have happened still had not.

The year that Lin Qiushi first entered the doors, he came out the door and ate at this grilled skewers place with Wu Qi. At the same date, at the same time. But the car accident that was supposed to happen in the street did not happen. Everything was just so peaceful. It almost seemed like there had been an illusion in Lin Qiushi's memories, and he'd become a strange sort of dreamer, making up things that didn't exist at all.

"Wu Qi," Lin Qiushi suddenly spoke up on their way back. "How's your girlfriend been recently?"

"Her? Why are you suddenly bringing her up?" Wu Qi was a bit bewildered, but still answered Lin Qiushi's question faithfully. "She's doing pretty well. What's up?"

Lin Qiushi, "…nothing."

"Hey, you've really been weird tonight. What the heck's going on?" He looked at Lin Qiushi with furrowed brows, eyes filled with concern. "Are you really not feeling well? If anything's happened you gotta tell me."

Lin Qiushi nodded yes.

Wu Qi walked Lin Qiushi to the first floor, and only left after seeing Lin Qiushi upstairs. Lin Qiushi got back to his front door, got out his key, and opened it—but his expression just looked lost.

It was all too absurd. Wu Qi was still here, and his girlfriend was fine. So why was Ruan Nanzhu gone? Lin Qiushi changed shoes and went inside, spotting the backpack on his sofa. Thinking of something, he dashed over to the backpack and pulled out everything inside.

When he saw those things, Lin Qiushi let out a violent breath of relief—there were, objects for daily use aside, three very special items inside. The first was a plain old notebook, the second was a baby's skeleton, and the third was a silver gun. Only after seeing these three items did Lin Qiushi feel a sense of reality again—he was definitely inside a door. Everything around him was on the inside, only that the inside of this door seemed perfectly identical to the environment he lived in.

It was truly too terrifying, Lin Qiushi thought. But if this was the inside of a door, why was it that Ruan Nanzhu and the people from Obsidian were gone? Where had they gone…and why was he all by himself inside this door? And given the givens, didn't that indicate that the rule of the doors was no longer applicable?

Even if one person remained, they won't enter a state of invincibility. If they committed any mistakes, they faced death as a finale.

Chestnut slowly prowled up to Lin Qiushi and hopped into his arms. Petting Chestnut's soft fur, Lin Qiushi observed how sweet Chestnut's behavior was, feeling momentarily discombobulated.

Ding dong, ding dong. The hour hand pointed to ten, and the clock on the wall rang out its crisp melody. The sky outside was already dark, leaving behind sparse lights that gave off a sense of life.

Lin Qiushi picked up the remote control and turned on the television, getting ready to choose a channel. As he flipped through them, he spotted a familiar face…Tan Zaozao.

In the advertisement, Tan Zaozao wore a long red dress—elegant and beautiful, just like a blooming flower. She looked exactly as she did when Lin Qiushi had first met her.

Wu Qi was still alive, and Tan Zaozao was still alive. Every dead person had now returned. Lin Qiushi didn't know what this meant.

Everything that seemed unremarkable and ordinary was actually filled with a weird sense of disharmony. As if the calm before the storm, the tiny stirrings on the ocean surface seemed to foreshadow some oncoming terrible truth.

The TV noises were monotonous as it cast its light over Lin Qiushi's face. It had been a long time since Lin Qiushi spent a night all alone like this.

Ever since he and Ruan Nanzhu made their relationship official, they'd spent practically every night together; all they had to do was open their eyes to see each other's faces.

Now, however, silent solitude had returned.

Lin Qiushi's only company was a cat named Chestnut.

The night deepened. The lights outside the apartment extinguished one by one. Lin Qiushi sat on the sofa and, unknowingly, fell asleep.

Ding dong, ding dong. The hour hand met the minute hand; twelve AM came.

The program on the television suddenly flashed with white static. The snapping, sizzling sounds it made woke Lin Qiushi from his dreams, and when he opened his eyes, he discovered the TV had changed to another channel. Only, there weren't any channel logos. It looked to be playing some sort of historical program, stopping on a set of very old-looking stairs.

The scene felt slightly familiar; Lin Qiushi had a faint recollection of seeing it somewhere before, though he couldn't place it at the moment. Then it changed, and a man wielding an axe appeared right before Lin Qiushi's eyes.

With a malicious grin on his face, he followed the stairs up, footsteps finally stopping in front of a particular room. Arm outstretched, he began to bang on the wooden door.

"Wang Xiaoyi, open up. Wang Xiaoyi, open up—"

"Help me, help me—" came a woman's terrified pleas for help from inside.

When the man heard this voice, his expression only grew more savage. Guffawing loudly, he hauled the axe in his hands up into the air and brought it crashing down on the wood of the door. What was already a flimsy door splintered open, and on the other side of the crack was a woman's face, covered in tears.

"Help me, help me—"

The man made to swing the axe again, but it got stuck inside that hole. Seeing this, Wang Xiaoyi quickly shoved open the door and dashed outside. The man's attention was so fixated on that axe that he didn't notice for a whole moment that Wang Xiaoyi had gone.

Wang Xiaoyi stumbled down the hallway, crying desperately for help as she ran along. And just when the tension ratcheted up to breaking point, a door suddenly opened, saving Wang Xiaoyi by pulling her inside. And inside the door…appeared Lin Qiushi's own face. Standing beside Lin Qiushi was clearly the first version of Ruan Nanzhu he'd met.

Indeed, what was happening on the television was everything that had happened in his very first door.

A man in their group had gone crazy, and it was Lin Qiushi who'd saved the girl being pursued.

But when the scene in the TV cut again, in the very next moment, the girl that Lin Qiushi had saved was being split in half by a shovel. Red and white formed liquid splatters on the snow. She stared with huge eyes colored with resentment, so vivid that it was spine-chilling even through the screen.

Lin Qiushi tried to change the channel, but found that the remote control had stopped working. He even pulled out the power cord of the television, but the scenes continued.

The screen was frozen on the moment of Wang Xiaoyi's death when, all of a sudden, a knock came at the door. Lin Qiushi sat on the couch, not moving, but the knocking continued. It got gradually more violent, until it seemed keen on smashing the door apart.

It was very loud; logically speaking, even if Lin Qiushi didn't open the door, it would be enough to disturb other people. However, the knocking continued on for minutes without anybody reacting in anyway. Lin Qiushi looked out the window and saw that all the lights in the residential district had been extinguished. As if, once twelve AM hit, this had become a whole other world.

The person knocking was growing increasingly impatient. Lin Qiushi slowly approached the door, and through the peephole, saw the person outside…It was a man holding an axe, exactly like what Lin Qiushi had just seen on the television.

He seemed to know that Lin Qiushi was watching him from the other end, and so increased his efforts to bang down the door. Through the hole, Lin Qiushi could even see the fresh blood dripping from his axe.

Lin Qiushi stepped back, taking a deep breath. He went to the kitchen and took up a knife hanging on the wall for self-defense. When he got back to the living room, however, he found that the floorboards were already soaked in a pool of dark red blood. Lin Qiushi searched around, and found that not only was the television still on, but it was also pouring out fresh blood by the liters. And Wang Xiaoyi, who had been dead inside, was starting to twitch. Her skull, split in half on the ground, lifted up, and with pale dead eyes stared out of the television right at Lin Qiushi. Her mouth split at an odd angle, and her hand came reaching.

At such a sight, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but curse. The worst didn't stop there, because Wang Xiaoyi's bloody hands were able to burst right through the television screen and extend outside.

At precisely the same time, the man with the axe began to swing it at Lin Qiushi's door. He broke open a huge hole in what should've been a solid metal security door, eyes peeking inside. When he spotted Lin Qiushi standing in the living room, a strange, spine-chilling cackle left his mouth.

Truth was, any normal person who saw such a sight would probably have already gone crazy with fright; they might've been so scared that they'd jump off the building without the ghouls needing to do anything.

But how many such terrifying scenes had Lin Qiushi seen? He remained calm, and stood in a spot slightly farther from the TV. As he stared at the almost-broken door, an idea popped into his mind, though he didn't know whether or not it was an idea that would work.

The murdered Wang Xiaoyi had almost made it out of the TV, and outside, the man once again swung his axe down. When he did so, however, the axe seemed to get stuck inside the door, and as soon as Lin Qiushi saw this, he pulled open the door, dashed through the threshold, and began sprinting like mad for the elevator.

Because his axe had gotten stuck, the man's motions were stalled. Lin Qiushi threw himself into the elevator and pressed the first floor. Right before the elevator doors closed, the man appeared on the other side—Lin Qiushi even spotted his twisted expression through the crack.

"Fuck."

Lin Qiushi held the kitchen knife and wiped at his face with his free hand. Then he grabbed his phone, once again hitting Ruan Nanzhu's number. This time, what had been an unconnected number managed to connect, and Ruan Nanzhu's voice came from the other side in a rush.

"Qiushi? Is it Qiushi?"

"Nanzhu—Nanzhu—" Lin Qiushi was covered from head to toe with sweat, and he asked quickly, "where are you? Where are you?"

"I'm inside the door," Ruan Nanzhu said. His voice sounded a bit distorted. "Qiushi, how are things on your end? Are you alright?!"

Though he wasn’t saying anything about his own situation, Lin Qiushi could very faintly hear a woman's grief-struck sobbing on the other end—so he knew that Ruan Nanzhu likely wasn't in a good situation either. He hurried to say, "I'm great, don't worry about me. I'm hanging up first, take care of yourself!"

He was scared that Ruan Nanzhu would be distracted by being on a call with him, and so made the decision to hang up.

Ding dong, the elevator reached the first floor. Holding his breath, Lin Qiushi watched as the elevator doors before him slowly opened.

[Ch. 129] | [Ch. 131]

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 5

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

(Fair warning, this is about to get even darker. We are moving towards a much deeper connection between Chess and Rick; but I find a deep connection needs a backstory. Also; let me know if you want to be added to my tag list. I’m still new at this, but I love knowing that people are actually reading my dribble.)

TW: sexual harassment/assault, torture, sexual themes, violence

I rubbed my neck, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did you just microchip me, like some animal?”, I asked. “Something like that”, Flag said, and pulled a radio from his belt. “GQ, get the crate”, he spoke into it, and walked towards the door.

Diablo went to get a t-shirt, hanging over a chair, and put it on. “They got us rigged with some dynamite shit”, he said, and started stretching his shoulders. “Big boom”, Digger said, emulating an explosion coming from his neck. “Knocked String Boys head clean of”. “Slipknot”, Diablo corrected him. “Whatever”, was the answer, as Digger went to lay down on a bench, covering his eyes with his arm; apparently preparing to take a nap.

“Welcome to the family”, Diablo said, smirked at me, and went for a set of dumbbells in his corner.

Croc had pulled a slice of what looked like day-old pizza, from his hoodies pocket, and was eating it with a terrifyingly pleased face.

Harley – motherfucking Harley Quinn – was muttering quietly to herself, before lighting up in a big smile, exclaiming: “Ants!”, and skipping away to do whatever it is psychopathic criminal overladies do, when no one is watching.

The door behind me opened, and Edwards, whose acquaintance I’d made the day before, came into the gym. Behind him, the Tweedles were dragging a large box. Edwards and Flag exchanged a few hushed words; and Flag gazed over his shoulder to meet my eyes, before looking back at his subordinate. “… hope they’re ready”, was all I could make out from their conversation; and chills ran down my spine.

They put the box on the floor in front of me. Flag bent to unlock it, and his t-shirt rode up a bit, revealing some bruises and scratches on his lower back and hip. “Get into a fight?”, I smirked. “Just a feral cat”, he answered, smiling over his shoulder. Apparently, I’d gotten in enough punches, to make him feel it even now, quite a while later.

He opened the lid. “Here’s your shit. If you want to change, there’s a bathroom through that door”, he said, nodding towards the door Harley and Digger had come through. “Just be careful; you might get an audience. Which reminds me”. He walked over to where Digger lay; and kicked at the bench, making the peeping tom fall of it. “Hey jackass! Stop being creepy, and let people shit in peace”. Digger scrambled onto his legs, and made a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”, he boomed, and laid back down, muttering curses under his breath.

“Ladies don’t shit, colonel. We powder our noses”, Harleys voice came from somewhere. Looking up, I saw that she was hanging upside down from a rope, one leg intertwined with it. Twirling her ponytails, she winked at me, before blowing a large bubble with the pink gum in her mouth.

Croc had pulled out a second slice from his pocket, and was chewing away. His enjoyment of the snack was almost obscene. He nodded towards the box in front of me. “What you got in there?”, he asked. I rifled through the things, recognizing some of my own belongings. It was now I realized that none of the crew were wearing all prison garb. Diablo had a bluish varsity jacket hanging from a chair, and Deadshots sneakers were definitely not prison grade; I could tell from the high-end label on the side.

The other three were also wearing some sort of personal addition to the orange pants and tank top, provided by Belle Reve. For Croc, it was his brown velvet hoodie; and Digger had on a coat that looked like it desperately needed a washing. Harley had on a pair of striped pink and blue shorts, held up by suspenders. The shorts barely covered her ass, and showed of the many tattoos on her legs.

Taking my favorite band t-shirt out of the box, I noticed it still had some cat hair stuck to it, from my beloved babies at home. Selina, I’m trusting you to take good care of them, I thought. I put the shirt on the floor beside me, and continued to go through the box. A polaroid of me on stage, my first night at Sammy’s; my copy of Alice In Wonderland; a pair of hot pink socks, I’d knitted myself; an oversized greyish flannel shirt, I’d stolen from an ex; some makeup and black nail polish, in a black purse; and a pair of broken, furry handcuffs – Ahh, Vegas, I smiled. Finally, I pulled out a small stuffed bunny, I’d won at a travelling fair, a few weeks before I’d been taken by Hatter. I stroked its tiny face, and discretely kissed its head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Digger looking at me, sending me a friendly smirk and nod. I smiled back.

I kept searching through the box. “Looking for something?”, Flag said from behind me. “Where are my smokes?”, I sighed. “There were no cigarettes in the box when it arrived”, Flag answered me. He’d already gone through it.

A large scaly hand offered me a pack of Marlboro Lights, and looking up at Croc with a thankful smile; I took one of the cigarettes, and popped it in my mouth. “Anyone have a light?”. Diablos hand appeared in front of my face; pinky stretched. A tiny flame burned from it, taking me by surprise; and I half laughed, half guffawed, as I lit the cigarette.

“I knew you could do that!”, Harleys shrill voice sounded. Her head appeared next to mine, and she rested her chin on my shoulder. She smelled like bubblegum and cotton candy, and for a hot second I was tempted to turn my head and lick her face.

“Who the hell gave Croc access to cigarettes?”, Flag muttered to Deadshot. “You know how he gets when he runs out, and goes cold turkey!”. “You’re telling me, man. There’s still a hole in the wall between his and my cell, from when he ran his fist through it”, Deadshot smirked.

“Ooh! What’s that?”, Harley asked, and reached in to the box, revealing a false bottom. I removed the thin board of metal.

There you are!

Surrounded by the whole crew – a curious Digger having joined us – I picked up a black, cropped and hooded faux leather jacket. The pleather was undamaged still, and putting it on, I pulled up the hood, and closed the zipper. With the help of the hood and the large collar, my face disappeared into shadows. Flag looked at me, lifting his chin; staring me down. His gaze made me slightly uncomfortable – or was it stirred? – and I took off the jacket again.

A loose purple, off the shoulder crop top; and a pair of black, high waist, lycra and mesh leggings completed the outfit. Finding my favorite combat boots in the box, I only needed one thing.

I moved around rope, a crowbar, some lockpicks, and a hammer and chisel. There they were. My claws.

“Cute mittens”, Harley giggled, and grabbed for the black fingerless gloves. “Careful!”, I gasped, and quickly grasped them. Harley pouted. “What? You don’t like sharing your toys?”.

I put on the gloves, made a fist; and from my knuckles sprang 4 curved knives. Edwards and the twins quickly raised their guns at me, prepared to shot, if I tried anything. I rolled my eyes, and noticed Flag trying to hide a smile.

Picking up an old sock, I demonstrated the blades sharpness, by cutting through it. The knives went through the fabric like butter; and Harleys eyes widened. “Oh”, was all she said, after which she took a step back; and went to stand behind Deadshot. “Lady, you got some sharp nails there”, he said, and chuckled.

“You still know how to use them?”, Flag asked, not removing his eyes from the blades on my hands. I just smirked.

I went to stand by the wall. I could feel eyes on my back from my audience. I bent my knees; and then leaped. I grasped the wall with the claws, and started climbing upwards. At the top of the wall was a row of tiny windows. “Don’t do it, Y/N!”, Flag called, as I heard the soldiers cock their guns. I looked over my shoulder, winked at him; and smiled.

I quickly moved laterally on the wall. Gunshots sounded, and the wall beside me suddenly was full of holes. “Hold your fire! Hold your goddamn fire!”, Flag yelled desperately. The gunfire stopped, and I made myself reappear; hanging by my claws from the basketball hoop on the opposite wall. One of the Tweedles cocked his gun again; and everything after that happened in slow motion.

The soldier took aim at me; looking pissed. From out of nowhere, Flag jumped at him; knocking him to the ground. The gun went off; bullet narrowly missing my head – and I fell.

---

I landed on my back; the wind knocked out of me. I closed my eyes, and heard people running towards me. I felt a strong arm under my back, and a hand behind my head. “Y/N”, Flags shaking voice called out. “Come on kitten, wake up”, he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

I opened my eyes, seeing his face inches from mine, mouth slightly opened to speak again. I suddenly noticed there were specks of green in his brown eyes.

I blinked once. “Are you gonna kiss me now?”, I asked, and smiled crookedly.

Flag let go of me, and pulled back, lips now in a thin line. He stood up, and stormed towards the shooting twin. He grabbed his collar; and slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck is your problem? Do you not know how to follow an order?”. The soldier put his hands up. “Sir, she was going awol!”. “She is an asset. Wallers asset!”. Flag punched Tweedle in the gut; making him double over. “Get this asshole out of here”, he called to Edwards and the other twin; who dragged the panting soldier out of the room, Flag following them to the door, still cursing.

Deadshot crouched in front of me, holding his hand in front of my face, a couple of fingers raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”, he asked. “What are fingers?”, I joked; making him chuckle again.

He helped me onto my feet. “You are a hard one to kill, Chess”. “Nah”, I answered. “I can die plenty. I think my secret is, I just really don’t want to”, I said, and stretched my arms into the air, feeling my bones pop.

“Why didn’t you run? You could have made it through the window”, Diablo asked from behind Deadshot. “I wouldn’t have made it half a mile. I’m spent”, I answered. “I need energy to smile, and they’ve had me living on cat food for a month. Only just had a real meal yesterday”. “Que cabrón”, Diablo spat.

Politely refusing one of Crocs pocket-pizza slices; I went back to my box of belongings. Kneeling beside it, I quickly changed into the band t-shirt. It had been a snug fit once; but my kibble-diet had made it quite a bit looser.

Flag crouched next to me. “You good?”. He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the ground. “That wasn’t supposed to happen”. I scoffed. “I’m fine. Just a few more bruises to add to the collection”. Flag exhaled. “You can keep the civilian clothes, and three items from the top layer of the box. Your combat equipment will be stored for you, until you need it”. He stood back up. “The rest will be destroyed”.

I scowled at him, and stood up, putting my hands on my hips; swaying back and forth a bit, deciding; then bent over, and started gathering the things I’d chosen. I felt his eyes on me. “Checking out the asset?”, I teased.

“Could you just for a second stop that shit? Stop flirting, and start being serious about the situation you are in!”, he growled at me. “Why? Am I getting in to your head?”, I twirled around, and pouted at him innocently.

He shook his head, and furrowed his brow, scoffing at me. “Just quit it, and do the job we brought you here to do”.

I stepped up to him, and looked him square in the face. “I’ll quit it, when you quit that good soldier bullshit”, I spat. “You had no right to go after me, and no right to keep me here”.

“I have every right”, he said calmly, staring down his nose at me. “You’re a scumbag. A criminal. The world would be better if you just disappeared”. “Oh?”, I asked; not breaking eye contact. “Tell me, what’s the difference between me and the Bat? That asshole is beating up people left and right; no badge, no warrant… He decides who he thinks is a bad guy, and drags them to the front step of Arkham, or airdrops them in to this shithole”.

I stomped away to grab the sack that had been over my head earlier. I stuffed the book, the makeup-purse, and finally the rabbit into it. I saw Deadshot and the others huddled in a corner; obviously trying to give me some space; and pretending not to be staring at the scene.

Flag stormed after me, grabbed my arm, and spun me around; holding me in place, as I struggled. “You are nothing like him. He brings down criminals. You kidnap judges, and torture them”. His face was inches from mine. “He has never stolen money from anyone”. “Maybe that’s because he is already the richest man in the goddamn country!”, I hissed at him. I looked at the squad in the corner. They didn’t seem to have heard.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”, Flag asked, and let go of my arm. I rubbed the spot he’d been holding on to. “Never mind”, I quietly answered, not wanting to get into it. The papers I’d seen in Lucius Fox’ safe, had made me put two and two together; but as I’d told Deadshot before, I really didn’t want to die – so mr. holier-than-thou Waynes secret, was safe with me. That was one wasps nest I was not putting my hand into.

Flags face had softened. “What happened with judge Kelper?”. “Your read the file”, I answered, not looking at him. “I kicked his ass”. “Before that”, he demanded. “What made you do it? If you’re not a bad guy, you must have had a reason”. I closed the box, and sat down on it. “Truth?”, I asked. He nodded.

“Kelper would show up at the club sometimes – slumming it. I knew who he was, because he was the judge at an arraignment, where I was charged with pickpocketing for the Hatter”. I folded my hands in my lap. “Someone caught you pickpocketing?”, he smirked, a slight warmth returning to his eyes. “Tetch hadn’t fed me in a couple of days. When my bloodsugar is low, and my energy is down, it’s difficult to keep up the mirage”, I admitted. “Anyway, Kelper would bring in whoever he was paying off, to further his political career, and wave money around; getting the performers to join them at their table. I was stupid enough to take some of it myself”. I winced; remembering how I’d sat on his lap, and played the part of willing participant in his little erotic adventure. Flag looked down. “I never let it go any further than a lapdance”, I said, actually worried he’d think even less of me than he already did.

“So, then what?”, he asked. I bit my lip. “Did you know he’s married? He’s got a beautiful trophy wife, and two teenage daughters, almost out of high school. Cheerleaders, blonde. Ditsy as fuck, but on their way to bright futures, due to daddys money, and mommys good looks”. “But?...”, he probed.

I sighed. “There was a girl at the club, Sarah, just turned 18; poor family, desperately trying to scrape up some money for college. One night, he invited her to join him and his friends in their limo. He said he’d give her a ride home, and maybe a recommendation for college”. Flags eyes turned cold again. I continued. “He kept calling her Stephanie, even when she tried to correct him”. I looked up at him. He was looking more and more aggravated. “She didn’t show up for work the next day, so I went to her place”. I ground my teeth together, before continuing. “Her mom told me she was in the hospital. When Sarah had refused to put out willingly, Kelper had held her down... When he was finished with her, he’d let his friends have the leftovers”.

I looked at my feet. “His youngest daughters name is Stephanie”.

I was jolted, when Flag kicked the box I was sitting on; clenching his fist, and cursing quietly. “Sorry”, he said, looking at me. I was unsure what the apology was for; the kick, or my story.

I stood up. “So, now you know. I beat that shitheads face into a pulp, clawed his skin; and made sure he’d never be able to do that to another person again”. Flag stayed quiet.

I picked up my sack of belongings, and went to face him again. “And just for the record, that last 13.000 dollars… Sarahs mom couldn’t afford the hospital bill, and became behind on the payments. They almost got kicked out of their apartment the week before I raided that safe”.

We stood there for a little while, staring each other down.

“I’m sorry that happened”, Flag said. He sighed. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the situation you’re in. You’re going to have to be a part of this team, if you want to ever get your life back”. He was almost apologetic. “I know”, I admitted. “And for the record; I am a bad guy”, I said. “A really good bad guy”. Flag smirked at me, and moved to the middle of the room. Apparently, our conversation was over.

---

“Alright people! Unfortunately, we won’t have a lot of time to get acquainted with our newest team member”, he called, grabbing the attention of the rest of the squad. “We have a new mission”. “That was fast”, Deadshot said. “Sorry, Floyd. You’re going to have to take a rest from the ball, and reacquaint yourself with your guns”, Flag answered.

“So. Here’s the brief…”.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[loserboigavin]

Hoboken Terminal

The train was five minutes behind schedule. There was almost no one on the train, and scantily anyone aware of the delay besides myself. Two old men sat in the front of the car, seemingly deep in their own thoughts with one leaning on his cane and one sprawled against the burgundy seats. Upon closer inspection one could tell that they were merely asleep after a slow journey on this line from Paterson. A mother and her child sat a few rows ahead of me, speaking their own language to each other in their own little world. The little boy enjoyed the sights of the yard we were rolling through and his mother beamed at his joy, though it had little effect on the dreary mood of the car. Outside the streaked window, it was May and the trees had begun to bud, and Hoboken sat still against the bright blue sky. People moved in the distance though no detail could be met, no one would want to hang around a train yard. The train finally made it under the station shed, making it so dark that it could be anytime of day as our nearly empty train joined a long line of fully empty trains.

I rushed down the steps at the end of the car to make it onto the low platform, everyone else behind me as I rushed down towards the ferries. It had been years since I was last there, though it hadn’t changed at all with huge trains waiting to whisk away the few people that would board them. The yellow lights of the huge departure board displayed the lack of departures for the middle of a weekday, just when the rush would start around four thirty. Despite the lack of trains the board was still a beauty, old lettering and back lighting straight out of the seventies, which was probably the last time anyone cared about what happened in this place. When I turned back away from the board all of my fellow former passengers were gone, probably down in the PATH tunnels waiting to leave on a train that would rather wait until all of Hoboken got on. People were waiting for coffee and reading the paper at the small stalls in the dark green walls of the terminal building. The doors to the lobby were adorned with gilded handles harkening back to the terminal’s origins, seemingly the only thing the place could boast about anymore. Boast they should however, the lobby was a masterpiece with large hanging bulbs affixed to the crown mold surrounding the terracotta tiled ceiling. Wooden windows lead to ticket booths with windows so clean the black and white tiles of the floor made the workers inside look like a silent film. The small offices served no one however, and the workers inside seemed to fit better in a vintage photograph than reality. Stairs at the far end lead to more offices beyond the sturdy and tall wooden waiting benches in front of me, and below the stairs was my destination, the ferry slips. I walked through the lobby like a King in his court, though the desolate nature of the hobby perhaps made me more like Hades.

As the gilded handles of the doors on the other end greeted me, the austacious lights of the lobby said their goodbyes. The ferry slips were much darker than the terminal, despite being nominally outside. Narrow walkways extended out into the water with small ordenmants of metal on either side, though no ships were present to meet them. The departures board said that they were at most every half hour, so assuming that I had just missed one I moved to look out across the hudson. Manhattan gleamed in the distance, the buildings were playing king of the hill with each other to see would reign supreme. Claying their way ever higher to the Heavens, Olympus, or any other greater plane couldn’t be decided. The water was blue under the sun, but more of a gray in actuality. It lapped against the pier pillars, and beyond that the wall that the building sat on. Little waves crashed and retreated, over and over and over, the same splash everytime could be heard from every pillar and every surface that could ever be hit. As I watched the water and its flows, it did what was expected of it everytime, until I caught a wave with no origin crashing sideways into another one. Vortexes then formed all around the pillars as the water decided to travel as it may without any regard for physical laws. A stream of yellow light then appeared on the slips, as I looked back towards the city the light of a setting sun was being reflected back across the river towards the terminal. A ferry could never realistically travel in such treacherous waters I thought, I should’ve just taken the PATH.

I rushed back inside to find my way to the PATH entrance, but scant signage proved useful in keeping me in such a useless building. The lobby was busier now than it was before, with people standing about, unmoving while they stared at nothing in particular. They were not fiance types in suits, but not the poor homeless of Penn Station either, far too regular for the fanciful lobby. I was the only one moving as I moved towards the doors labelled “exit”, as if they were too shy to even look one in the eye. A man lit a cigarette as I was about to exit the building, I didn’t think anything of it. The terminal was a castle of evergreen metal outside, with a large clocktower dwarfed by the more modern buildings across the river and farther down in Jersey City. “LACKAWANNA RR” was written in large letters above the entrance, though a few of the letters decided to take an evening off when their lights were most important. Police cars were parked in front of the barren square, though no human could be seen anywhere, just their built creations. No official sign for PATH trains was anywhere to be seen, but a small piece of printer paper had an arrow pointing towards a staircase on one side, and an apartment listing on the other, as it was perpetually close to falling from its tape. The staircase was so unimportant that it must have made any man who walked down it feel like a lesser rat. The tiled walls were dirtier than those in the Lincoln Tunnel, and the floor looked like a congelement of puke and misery with cheap concrete. As I walked along the corridor it turned and turned back on itself, I passed a homeless man and gave him the quarters in my pocket, but I thought I had just seen him before so I have him a five on top of that. I kept going, following the singular line of green tiles that contrasted the pissed stained yellow ones. I came across a staircase, it led back up to the barren square I was in before, still lonely, but now with a purple sky in the background. I had thought New Jersey faced the east, but maybe they were having some sort of special event.

I somehow found myself on a PATH training bound for midtown, the car was packed and the doors were still open. Everyone was silent as everything was in Hoboken, all staring into their own worlds. An old woman sat in her fancy hat at the end of the bench, her eyes were hidden in her glasses but it was obvious that she was staring out the window. Her hands were sad as was her posture, hunched over like everyone on the train would attack her at any minute. Everyone’s posture was sad, hunched like cold and hungry dogs in the commercials all while wearing large coats and holding huge bags like runaways in a teen drama. We arrived at Christopher Street Station and a good amount of people got off, while no one got on. Across from me was a man with a large duffel bag, he wore three coats and the densest pair of jeans I had ever seen. He wore headphones, but no sound could be heard from them. His eyes were closed though he wasn’t asleep, he seemed to be rocking back and forth like he was praying. He gripped the bag strongly, his hand seemed to be bleeding from the dig of his finger nails. Despite all of this his face was as serene as anyone else’s, everyone looked like a stoic subject in a painting. The lighting helped this image as it flickered on and off, illuminating and reilluminating the subjects as they sat in their repose. The ads on the car wall spoke of help for New Yorker’s through some new shoe or a new kind of taxi company, but they didn’t draw the eye of anyone on board. The journey of the city is eternal, its struggles superseding anything material for that was the city in its birth and it will be the city in its death.

The train arrived back in Hoboken sometime later, I must’ve been distracted by some hustlers selling candy or CDs or some other oddity. The waiting area sat at the head of the trains as they stared you down, trying to convince anyone to choose them over the identical rolling stock next to it, destinations differed though all were the same. I boarded one with red seats and end car stairs as a light flurry began to fall. The train was warm with cold passengers, its conductures rushed up and down the aisles checking tickets that could never pay by themselves to have the train run. A young family sat near me as I stared out the streaky window at the lights of Hoboken with the snow falling in front of them. We departed five minutes late.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“hellfire”

A little one shot based on a throwaway line in “Dyad” that I felt like expanding on. I realized I only showed the titular dyad at full power once in the story so this should be a special treat! Enjoy.

synopsis: Julius prepares a plan for the final battle against an invading kingdom. Takes place shortly before BC canon. Also my OC Lisa is there and they kick ass.

“ About a month before my 26th birthday, the Diamond Kingdom attempted yet another invasion. This time, they were serious, and much better prepared. Luckily they went through the town of Kiten first, instead of my hometown to the North. Still, they gained a valuable foothold and prepared to make a rush to the capital. We didn't have much time to mobilize, and really didn't have a plan of attack. But we attacked... and Julius lead the magic knights into the most important battle of his term so far. I was lucky enough to fight beside him, and all the other Magic Knights; people who were old friends, and people who became new friends. Fortunately, we emerged victorious. The Capital roared with celebration as we arrived back, showering Julius and the others with praise. Everyone wanted to be a magic knight now, and everyone wanted to become the Wizard King. They would be telling stories about his spell for years to come... White Hell. “

Dyad, chapter 53

(Six months before the beginning of Black Clover)

“A push towards the Capitol? Right now?”

“Yes, sir,” Marx stammered, his hands shaking as he held the report. Yami stood behind him, beaten and battered but with a neutral expression on his face and a cigarette hanging between his teeth. The smoke dissipated quickly in the cool night air blowing in through Julius’s open bedroom window. He usually didn’t like to be bothered at this time of night, but when at war, a ruler must be ready to act at any time. 

“What about the defenses in Kiten?” Julius asked, reaching up and rubbing the last of his sleep out of his eyes. “Weren’t you stationed there, Yami?”

“Yep. I beat a bunch of them up,” the younger man replied gruffly. “If I were by myself, it would be easy, but it’s harder to fight when ya got a squad full of idiots to protect.”

Despite the situation, Julius let out a huff of laughter. Nervous laughter, but laughter all the same. “I see, so you fell back… well…” His gaze moved to the window, his wise, old mind starting to work hard. Every solution, every possibility, ran circles between his ears. It’ll take too long to mobilize everyone to defend the city… not to mention that, if we aren’t prepared, civilians are going to get hurt… His brow furrowed as his fingers pinched his chin once, his eyes closing briefly. Our best bet is to catch them on the way… but how am I going to gather enough knights, tell them the plan, then get them into position in time? Ah, this is bad…

Why on earth did Lisa have to be gone now-

Lisa. That was it. She was the answer… like always.

Julius’s eyes popped back open. “Yami, Marx, gather anyone in the capitol right now. All the captains if you can.”

Marx frowned. “Sir, will that be enough?”

“Yes… I think. If Lisa can get here in time-” Julius let out a groan. It’s bad enough that she left to visit Mereoleona for a whole month, but of course war broke out while she’s gone. Not that she would have known… 

“Lisa? Oh no…” Yami took out his cigarette to glare disapprovingly at Julius. “Don’t tell me you two are gonna do that creepy link thing again?”

Marx raised an eyebrow, but Julius couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

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

Two hours later, the group they managed to throw together headed out by broom to the calculated interception point. The night wind rippled Julius’s golden locks as he flew, this time on a carpet that Marx procured. They hung towards the back of the group, which consisted of only the magic knights captains and a few of the knights already stationed in the capitol. Everyone was tense, glancing back at their King who had told them a worryingly little amount of details about this plan. Even Marx, who had inside information, was a little worried. “Lord Julius, if she doesn’t show up-”

“She will.” Julius cut him off, glancing back at the blue-haired man. “She’s on her way now…” his mouth twitched into a smile. “I can feel it.”

Marx gulped nervously, his hold tightening on the edge of the carpet. “How can you say that? I’ve been with you this whole time, and you never called her-”

“When you left to let me get dressed-” Julius cut in once again, his eyes focused up ahead. “I took a moment to clear my head… and sure enough, I could hear her.”

Marx blinked, starting to understand. So… they can talk to each other like that? Miles and miles apart, and yet, he just needs to clear his head. He knew about Lisa’s strange Dyad power, and how she and Julius shared magic as a result. They complimented each other perfectly, and he had always suspected that there was something more than love behind that synchrony. Well… maybe that synchrony was a result of love after all. But that wasn’t his main worry right now.

“So… you’re telling me you don’t have a backup plan?”

Julius was still for a moment, but then he shook his head.

“No. We don’t need one.” His gaze hardened, and his smile widened. “We will win.”

“THERE THEY ARE!”

Fuegoleon Vermillion’s loud voice boomed out into the darkness. He was at the head of the group, tagging a ride on Nozel’s Mercury Eagle spell, and was the first to spot the enemy. “Remember the plan! Engage!”

“KEH KEH! Don’t think you can order me around.” Jack suddenly zoomed past him on his broom, the scythes on his arms glowing green in the night. “I don’t need you to tell me how to slice up my prey!”

He swung his arms forward, and two huge slashes ripped through the night. The opposing army scattered, more than two hundred strong, and then converged on the magic knights like a swarm of bees.

Before chaos erupted, Yami glanced back at his mentor one last time. Julius nodded, then he and Marx descended out of sight below the treeline a moment before impact.

Spells were everywhere, people were yelling, and bursts of light shattered the otherwise peaceful slumber of the earth. Julius stepped off his broom and peered upwards, his eyes widened exponentially and sparkling like a kid in a candy shop. “Amazing… all the captains fighting at once-”

“T-There’s too many of them…” Julius looked over at the sound of Marx’s hoarse voice. He was staring up in the sky too, but with less wonder in his eyes. “We’ll never win…”

Julius’s laugh surprised him. “Marx, I know I couldn’t even take on that many people… not alone, not with all the Captains at my back. But you saw Lisa and I fight together before, remember?”

Of course Marx remembered. No one present that day could ever forget what happened. He witnessed something… indescribable.

Lost in the memory, Marx did not notice the attacker from behind until it was too late. Something slashed down, hitting him in the back. Blood flew crimson against the black sky.

“J-Juli-” 

Marx’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t even finish the name before he hit the ground. Julius started to turn around, almost in slow motion, his gaze landing on his fallen friend first. For one brief moment, shock froze him in place and he was helpless to the mage now leveling another attack at his head. 

Marx…

Before Julius could do anything, the tree trunks around him lit up. A bright blue streak of light, sparking and snapping with power, struck the assassin through the back. His body jerked, then fell down limply at the Wizard King’s feet.

That spell…

Flame Magic: Solar Bolt.

Julius knew it well. It was one of his favorites. 

“Lisa?”

Sure enough, a woman stepped out from behind the trees. She was short, petite, even with her traveling cloak thrown over her shoulders, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of her as she walked with such… purpose. At least, Julius couldn’t.

“There you are-” Her eyes caught his, moonlight reflecting off of her irises like mirrors. She smiled. “-Julius.”

With a sigh of relief, Julius let a grin burst forth on his own face. Forgetting about the battle for the moment, he stepped over the assassin’s body on the ground and bounded towards her. With one swoop, he grabbed her into his arms in a tight hug. She was as warm as always, his little space heater that he missed dearly when she was away. Lisa let out a momentary protest, but he couldn’t hear it over the joy in his heart.

“Julius! Isn’t there, like, a super important battle happening right now? We don’t have time for hugs!” Lisa contradicted herself by letting her arms wrap around his middle and hug him back.

Julius chuckled before pulling back to look at her face. “So? We have time, I say so.” He gave her a wink before reality set in once again. “Ah, but we’ll have time later.”

Lisa nodded before peering around his shoulder. “You okay, Marx?”

“Thanks for asking.” Marx had sat up, still wincing from the pain on the wound on his back. “Luckily it just knocked me over, and it’s not deep.”

“Oh! Well-” Julius was already running over. “Let me close it up-”

“NO! Julius, Lisa, do your… thing. If this can be over as quickly as you say it will, get on with it.” Marx’s annoyance broke for a moment to give Julius a confident smile. “We have a plan, remember? I’m still able to complete my part. You can heal me after you do yours.”

Julius gave him a nod before standing up again. “Right…” He looked down at the fallen assassin. “Is he going to wake up?”

“No.” Lisa walked over and craned her neck to look up at the battle. “Yikes… that’s not good. Are our people still mixed in with all the enemies?”

“For the time being. That’s where Marx comes in. Now, Darling…” Lisa looked back down to see Julius extend his hand to her. “Are you ready?”

With a deep breath, Lisa nodded. “Yes.”

She took his hand and the two of them ran out of the forest to the field underneath the battle.

In a way, it was lucky that Lisa had just been on sabbatical in the grand magic zone. She retreated there about once a year to train with Mereoleona, and learned how to channel large amounts of magic through a body that wasn’t necessarily built to do so. All of that training, all that pain, all this development, she did it because she knew a decisive moment like this would come. 

I have to be strong enough… not just for the Kingdom.

She looked up at the back of Julius’s head as he led them ahead.

But for him, above all else.

Finally, the two of them slowed to a stop in a good central area. Magic was still whizzing above, the tables not yet turned but close to getting there. There were just too many of the enemy, but soon that would all change. Julius sucked in one last breath before grabbing Lisa’s other hand and turning to face her. “Are you sure you can do this?”

She nodded, but Julius could feel her hands trembling. With a calm smile, he leaned down a bit to look into her eyes. “We’ll be together the whole time, remember? I won’t let you get hurt. Remember what you said to me the first time?”

Slowly, Lisa nodded once again, more sure this time. 

“As if I would let you kill me.”

Her grimoire started to glow white, the pages flipping to one emblazoned with a symbol; the same symbol that marked Lisa as Simulcian, as someone who could form a Dyad. Lisa could already feel her mark pulsing, glowing brighter and brighter in the darkness. It was working, as if it had done this a million times instead of just a handful. Julius winced slightly as an identical mark suddenly burst to life on his own head, right next to his swallowtail mark. “Ah… it’s working.”

Lisa nodded, her hands tightening in his. Magic was cycling now, between the two of them, faster and faster and faster and-

I- I can’t do it-

Every time the mana moved through her, Lisa felt the familiar sensation of her very soul breaking.

It’s going to hurt… it’s going to be scary…

She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to ground herself again. Images were flashing through her mind, both her thoughts and Julius. Each flash brighter and bigger than the last, building up, amplifying, getting so massive that she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer-

But this is what it’s supposed to do…

Slowly, she opened her eyes to look back up into Julius’s. His eyes were starting to glow like hers, but he was still smiling.

In order to become all-powerful… I must destroy myself. I must destroy both of us.

It’s alright, Lisa. I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.

I won’t be alone.

Without closing her eyes, Lisa leaned up, and Julius bent down to meet her. Their foreheads touched, and their souls shattered.

For one brief moment, neither of them existed. The Ego, the very shape of the Self, was gone, destroyed by the sheer force of their combined mana. But then, it reformed. One new Ego… one new Self.

A Dyad.

Marx watched from the treeline, leaned up against a trunk, his eyes widened as he watched the two of them glowing violently. They’re doing it… are they- He sucked in a breath as Lisa stepped back. They were still hand-in-hand, but it wasn’t them. The being that stood there appeared to have two bodies, but when they turned to look at Marx, he knew he was looking at just one thing. It worked.

Marx stuck to the plan. He raised his hand to the sky and fired off a bright, loud mana blast, which exploded like a firework a couple meters up.

Yami caught sight of the light, his heart skipping an anxious beat. “Everyone! Get out of the sky!” he yelled, swinging his sword once to dispel his enemy before diving down. The other 8 captains and their crew followed, zipping away from the cloud of the enemy as fast as they could. Yami glanced down to see Lisa and Julius standing there, glowing eyes locked on the sky. “Shit, they’re about to blow this place to high heaven.”

Just as Yami predicted, the Dyad made their move. Their movements were eerie, yet perfectly in sync. They were extensions of each other’s bodies, one mind and one soul shared in order to perform a feat of magic. 

This is going to be difficult to explain to the others.

Their hands clasped together, pulling closer together as if they were performing some strange waltz. But then they pointed towards the sky towards the swarm of attackers who were just now realizing that they had fallen into a trap.

At the very tip of their fingers, pressed together with intimacy and precision, a pure white ball of fire started to form. It was only the size of a marble… but it caused the very earth to shake.

Finally, their lips moved to utter the spell.

“Instant Fire Magic: White Hell.”

In that moment, the night ceased to exist. A second sun burst to life in the sky, engulfing the attacking army in its entirety. Light bathed the land, as bright as noon, and more than two hundred people screamed their life out into the abyss. 

As quickly as it started, it was over. Darkness fell over the landscape, as is if it had never been lit up in the first place. Two hundred soldiers of brooms and carpets were suspended in the air, then went limp and started to fall to earth. 

The Dyad did not notice.

They stood there together, inside the recess of their shared mind. It was warm and cozy, like the sanctuary of a bed or even the safety of a mother’s womb. They stood there together, their palms pressed against the other’s. Lisa smiled up at Julius, and he smiled right back. There was so much he wanted to say to her in this moment, but he didn’t have to utter a single word. She knew. 

Because, to be a Dyad is to destroy yourself… to destroy yourself and become something beautiful. It is the only way to truly be known. 

Julius blinked, and it was over. Smoke and dust filled the air, dirt kicked up from the force of many bodies hitting the ground around him. He looked up into the sky and grinned when he saw that not a single mage managed to avoid the attack. “Look at that! We did it, Lisa, you did it-”

He looked down, and realized that she had collapsed at his feet in a puddle of her own blood.

“LISA!” 

Julius fell to his knees with a strangled cry, quickly turning his lover over into his lap. The sight made him as queasy as it did all those years ago; there was blood coming from her nose and ears, and her eyes were shut. Panic beat itself into his chest at the sight and his hands trembled.

Oh god… oh no… I- I actually killed her this time- I should have never-

But then, Lisa cracked open an eye, her lips twitching into a ghost of a smile.

“Boo.”

Julius groaned, his shoulders slumping with relief. “Lisa! Don’t scare me like that!” he admonished lightly, his heart still pounding slightly. “Jesus... I’m gonna have to spank you.” Despite the situation, he threw in a little joke to make her smile.

“Hmm, you can try.” Lisa winked before wincing again. Julius winced as well, feeling a phantom pain through his own head. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, mostly.” Lisa sat up with some help from Julius, leaning into his chest while she caught her breath. “It hurt a lot, but not as much as last time for sure!”

“Good, good.” Julius pulled out his handkerchief and started to tenderly wipe away the blood on her face. So, she’s grown a lot since last time… To be able to share magic, both members of a Dyad have to be able to withstand the full force of their combined mana. Back in the beginning, Lisa almost died with every attempt. But by working hard and honing the magic Julius shared with her, she was able to do so much better. Pride swelled in his heart, and he couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and gave her a kiss. Her lips were still tinted with the metallic taste of blood, but they were warm.

“Lord Julius!”

Julius quickly broke away (reluctantly) as the other captains ran over. Most of them had stunned looks on their faces, but Fuegoleon and Yami were pensive. The two of them saw the first Dyad on that day long ago, but they were still surprised to see how it had developed. 

This power… Fuegoleon gulped, his eyes flickering between Julius and Lisa on the ground. So easily… they decimated the entire Diamond army. 

Both of them are scary enough by themselves, but when they’re together… Yami shook his head to himself. It’s unreal. I guess I should be grateful.

“What was that?” Rill piped up, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Julius bit his lip, exchanging a glance with Lisa. She was too drained to even move except for a small shrug. They had agreed to keep her power secret, so this was going to be difficult to explain. “Er- a combo spell we’ve been working on. I’ll explain later.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the others. William narrowed his eyes slightly underneath his mask.

Interesting…

“Now!” Julius quickly grabbed Lisa bridal style and rose to his feet. “I better get her home, and get Marx healed as well. The rest of you should contain all the prisoners then drop them off at the border. The reinforcements should make short work of the force at Kiten.”

“Prisoners?” Nozel repeated, glancing back at the bodies strewn everywhere. “But sir, aren’t they… dead?”

Julius let out a hearty laugh. “Of course not! How would that look if we just killed 200 people like that? Anyway, I want witnesses so they know never to come back again.”

“Amazing…” Charlotte’s eyes widened. “How did you save them from the fall?”

“Oh, that…” Julius shrugged before turning away to rejoin Marx. Lisa peeked over his shoulder to smirk back at the other captains before finishing his sentence.

“They are alive because we decided it was so.”

The two of them soon disappeared into the night, leaving 7 of the 9 captains very confused… and awestruck.

The Capital roared with celebration as we arrived back, showering Julius and the others with praise. 

Everyone wanted to be a magic knight now, and everyone wanted to become the Wizard King. 

They would be telling stories about his spell for years to come... White Hell.

Well… our spell.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Hickory Dick-ory Dock (baon)

Summary: A prequel to the series, a glimpse at how Sans and Red's relationship got started.

Tags:  Kustard, Angst, Ecto-Genitalia, Sex, Antagonism, Brats to Lovers, Lemony Goodness

Notes:  Okay, this is the last kustard one, I swear, Edge and Stretch just needed a little break after everything that happened. Besides, with all this Sans and Red stuff coming up, I thought it might be interesting to see how they started out. 

It's swell! Watch out for that lemony goodness!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was either too early or way too fucking late to be awake, and Sans’s body hadn’t decided on which one yet. The only chair in the room was as shitty as the rest of the furniture, stiff-backed and with the kinds of stains it didn’t pay to think too deeply about. Not really worth sitting in except for those moments where someone shouldn’t be having a cigarette but still was. Supposed to be no smoking anywhere indoors, but in a motel that prided itself on a cash-only, Sans didn’t think anyone would be chasing them down for a cleaning fee.

Of the two vending machines by the elderly ice maker, only one of them worked and it reluctantly parted with a can of Pepsi for the rip-off price of two bucks. Not even an honest swindle, it was piss-warm and unsatisfying, even for someone without a proper throat.

The tiny bottle of whiskey he’d nabbed earlier on the plane was of a decent sort, though, helped smooth the path down, and by their powers combined, it was teetering on the edge of acceptable. Not like they were going to be here for long, anyway. Sulking about it would be petty waste of precious little time.

“you gonna offer me some of that or keep it for your private party?”

Sans glanced at the bed, but Red didn’t bother opening his sockets, still sprawled out in the wreck of the sagging mattress. A corner of the sheet was draped over his pelvis in a parody of modesty and the colorful splatter on his femurs made Sans idly think of the modern art at the museum Blue dragged all of them to a few weeks back.

Sans took a deliberate sip from the can, then a drag from the cigarette, holding in the smoke long enough for it to start seeping from his sockets before he exhaled it. “dunno, haven’t decided. maybe i like a solo act better.”

That got him a single socket opened, a thin rim of crimson showing. “yeah? was getting the idea earlier you preferred a duet. i spent the better part of an hour sucking you off, and this is the thanks i get?”

“isn’t it supposed to be the thought that counts when it comes to gifts?”

“uh huh, and what i’m thinking is it should be your turn to make your way downtown,” Red shifted, drawing his knees up and letting them fall to either side. The tangle of the sheet gave tantalizing glimpses of pelvis and the beginnings of a swirl of magic within it. “c’mere, little boy blue, come blow my horn.”

Sans snorted and crushed out the cigarette on the scarred old desk, leaving a blackened mark that matched a dozen others. “like i’ve never heard that before.”

“i know you haven’t,” Red gave him a sly, sulking look and rolled to his side, giving Sans his back, and yeah, he got the unspoken insult there. “you’ve never fucked anyone with my crushing wit.”

“mother goose ain’t exactly phd material and you might be crushing, but i’m the one pounding tonight.”

Sans hopped down from the chair and snagged the can, carrying it with him to the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress, trailing an idly finger down the intricate curves of Red’s spine. That was worth a faint sigh, exhaled through a jagged-tooth smile. Fondling the sensitive cartilage between each vertebra was better, Red arching into the touch with a hissed groan, undulating between that generously stroking hand and the stained sheets.

It added to the novelty of the occasion, could tack that sight right in with all the other scenery Sans never expected to see. Lovely bones, gleaming palely in the neon light creeping in through the slatted blinds covering the windows. The scars littering Red’s bones were predicable, but discovering the slimness of them beneath that ever-present jacket wasn’t, smaller even than Sans, all bulked up and hidden beneath heavy layers.

None of that made Red any less dangerous, but then, that was part of the fun, now wasn’t it.

His hand got lazy while Sans was taking in the sights and Red made a complaining sort of sound, rolling onto his back and stretching. The sheet, already doing a poor job at an attempt at modesty gave up even that, sliding completely loose. That left nothing covering Red but the remnants of come, still tacky yet, smearing as Red ran a pin-sharp fingertip up the inside of his femur. Sans watched, rapt, as red and blue mingled, sullied into purple.

“give me that.”

For a split second, Sans lurched obediently forward, ready to crawl between those femurs. Then he saw that wickedly sharp smirk curling up and noticed Red was reaching out towards the can that was starting to crumple in Sans’s too-tight grip.

It didn’t pay well to show Red any weakness and Sans swallowed down his flusterment, handing it over. Watched as Red tipped it back and swallowed down half the can in a single gulp. There was probably a pun to be made there, getting hit hard with a soft drink, but instead he only watched, tried not to think of what his eye lights were revealing as he stared at Red licking his teeth, the tips tinging to crimson as he nicked his own tongue against them.

“you gonna come down here or just enjoy the show?”

“i was about to leave,” Sans said, slowly. Like it wasn’t a lie and he wasn’t sitting here without even his shorts on. “paps will be wondering where i am.”

All the ambassadors were tucked away in their own five-star hotel, none of them suspecting their head of security and his second had skulked off, leaving them with the rest of the bodyguards. They were safe as houses, had to be or Red never would’ve been coaxed off, but Paps might come to his room, might ask for a bedtime story or just a chat.

“yeah, can’t let your little brother know you’re sneaking out to fuck around with me, now can you?” Poisonously sweet and okay, Red could, and did, get away with murder all the fucking time, but Sans wasn’t gonna let that slide.

“that how you want to play it?” Sans let a smirk of his own work its way loose. Like this lovely secrecy was for his benefit? “oh, miss mary, quite contrary, you want me to call him? i can give him the room number, see if he wants to stop in and verify. probably some paperwork that needs done, ain’t there, the bossman fucking his subordinate, bet he’d volunteer to help, he likes filling out forms.”

“you’d need form 109b, you’re the one who fucked me,” Red’s eye lights glittered with unnamed emotion. “hoping i’ll call you on that?”

“go ahead, if you think i’m joking, i could use a few chuckles."

“bet you could. i’m all about the jokes, but 3 am is a tough crowd.”

Sans ran his tongue along the even line of his teeth, considering. And then he went for blood. “we aren’t meeting up at roach motels to keep secrets from my brother. tell you what, wanna give the edgelord a call, instead? bet he and stretch are already done banging for the night, all curled up together for beddy-bye.”

“it’s 11am back in the states, i’m more likely to interrupt some meeting.” Oh, but there was blood in the water now, and fucking shark that he was, Red could smell it.

“great, then asgore can listen to our first ever porn podcast.”

Sans reached for his shorts and dug out his phone, humming as he pulled up Papyrus’s contact. “i don’t worry about my bro. let me give him a call, then you can call yours—”

His phone clattered to the floor as Red slapped it out of his hands. Sans kinda hoped it wasn’t broken, he wasn’t gonna have time to get a new one in the morning before all the meetings started and sitting there without candy crush to keep him entertained would be an endless nightmare.

“you gonna fuck me or not.” The words caught on a snarl, Red’s eye lights shading into a deep, harsher crimson, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

Sans hummed thoughtfully. “you gonna give me something to fuck?”

He did one better, rolling onto his front and forming ectoflesh from just beneath his ribcage to the tops of his femurs. The generously rounded globes of his ass were a bribe, but Sans wasn’t too proud to be cheap. He cupped them in both hands, firm flesh but with comfortable give.

But he wasn’t quite ready to be bought. “needed a nice cushion for some pushin?”

“you’re bitching at me for mother goose when you’re putting out that shit? fuck me, already, before i die of boredom—hnn!”

Seemed polite to wait until he was at the end of a sentence to push two fingers into his cunt. So slick inside, already practically dripping with want and Red whimpered as Sans worked to coax out a little more, pressed in another finger just to feel the hot stretch around his knuckles.

“huh. think i like your mouth better when you aren’t speaking,” Sans teased. He worked another finger in, all that slippery wetness making it easy. Yeah, much better like this, gasping and whining, mangling obscenities while Sans scissored his fingers inside him.

"yeah? think this is gonna shut me up?” Red managed to gasp, "gonna have to try harder than that, i could take your fucking fi—gah!!”

"what was that? seemed like you had something to say, sweetheart." Red gave it another try at the same moment Sans gave a little thrust with his fingers, letting them glide in and out, riding that silky wetness as Red’s curses tangled in between whines. In the interest of both their orgasms, it seemed best to reach up and push two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to suck on them and hoping Red didn’t take the opportunity to bite them off.

Instead, a moan vibrated through his phalanges, the slick little tongue between his fingers made him think of other places that mouth had been. Tight, hot little mouth almost as good as his tight little pussy and yeah, it was kinda vulgar to pull his fingers free, slip them still wet between Red's legs to rub his clit but the lovely little writhe he did excused it.

"oh,” Red groaned out, “that's…oh, fuck, you – yeah, just –"

Might be better if he took the continuing effort at speech as a compliment. Not difficult to do with the way Red was pushing back at him, wriggling and rolling his hips in a way that could never be taught, could only be known. He felt the sudden clench around his fingers as Red started to come and quickly pulled them out, left his cunt clenching on nothingness while he scooted back away.

Even as Red spat out curses in the ruins of his orgasm, Sans caught hold of his hips and dragged him up to his knees, hastily forming his cock. He rubbed it along the wet slit, but Red was squirming so much beneath him he slipped away on the first try.

“hold still!” Sans slapped one asscheek, and Red howled…and did it, spreading his knees wider to let him line up. Then he had to catch his own breath, that long, easy slide inside, surrounded by wet, clenching pussy. Easy, too easy to dig his fingers bruisingly into the giving ectoflesh of Red’s hips, lifting him to make the angle that much deeper. His rhythm was shitty and desperate, no finesse left to him. Sans could only drive in as hard as he could, his hips slapping against that generous, crimson backside.

Didn't matter, Red was along for the ride, both hands braced against the headboard and wood shavings curling around his razor fingertips as he dug them into the cheap particleboard. The room was a cacophony of conflicting sounds, flesh and bone striking, the bed frame creaking, and both of them breathing like they were about to dodge a blow. The sudden feeling of Red tightening around him in a sweet, constricting ripple made Sans gasp and listening to his choked, desperate cry as Red convulsed and came again was almost as good as coming himself.

Almost.

The air around them was thick with the scent of their sex, sourly spicy and nothing sweeter to soften it. Sans sagged down on top of Red, ignored his grunt as he let him take all of his weight, and breathed it in.

~~*~~

The sky was only graying with dawn when Sans woke up again. The bed was empty next to him, only the stained blankets and sheets to keep him company. Sans managed to crawl out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, gathering up his wrinkled t-shirt and shorts along the way.

Shitty as this little hotel managed to be, the mildewed shower still had plenty of hot water and Sans basked in it, scrubbing away the night before with the sliver of complimentary soap.

The cab ride would only take fifteen or so, but he still wouldn’t have time to get changed when he got back to the hotel where the ambassadors were staying. Paps would scold him for wearing the same thing as yesterday, loudly and with vigor, and groan at whatever puns Sans offered before slyly offering back one of his own.

But he wouldn’t say anything about Sans being gone all night in front of the others, those questions would only show in his worried glances, and soft, secret questions about whether Sans was being safe.

Damn shame Sans didn’t know the answer.

For now, it didn’t matter. Time to head back and play nice in front of the Ambassadors, and put on some sunglasses so no one could see if he fell asleep. Maybe tonight he could persuade Red out again and they’d give Humpty Dumpty a try or even Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Worth a shot.

He hummed as he stepped into his rumpled shorts and slipped on his t-shirt. If he hurried, he’d have time to grab coffee. Maybe this time he’d bring one for Red, too, the way he liked it for once, hot and bitter black.

Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kind, just this once.

-finis-

[quillsareswords]

When He Looks

Jason Todd (angst)

Requested (anonymous, anonymous)

Prompt List // Masterlist (both in bio)

   The first time he catches you in the corner of his eye, it’s in a graveyard.

   The graveyard is one of many on Gotham Island. It lays silently on the far reaches of the Wayne grounds, the old wrought iron fencing grown over with twisting vines, desperate for the sunlight that dense trees deny. The gate is never closed, the bottom ends of dark iron bars too stuck in dirt to be moved without the effort its visitors lack. It’s one of many of the old graveyards on the island, left forgotten by people and time.

   He stands alone, a dark figure towering over a gravestone in late fall. The leaves from the crowding trees have fallen, but the vines are too tired to reach for the light now. Not that there is much to reach for but the last slivers of red and gold light shooting between branches and what few leaves are left.

   You loved to come here. As spooky as he had always thought it was, he’d let you drag him out in the dead of night so you could stargaze and fill up that little black notebook you packed around with poetry.

   He holds a shiny red helmet in his hands. Without its cover, his black and white hair is left to curl and sway in the billowing breeze that stirs the leaves at his feet. He doesn’t notice, mind far too preoccupied to be distracted from the granite he stares at.

   If he concentrates, he can hear the carved words in your voice, as if you were reading it loudly a few paces off. [Y/N] [M/N] [L/N], BORN [B/D], DIED OCT. 21 2019. FEARED BY ALL, LOVED BY FEW.

   Tears welled in his eyes. But even through the blurry image, he caught sight of your shape, lingering at the edge of the little fenced in area, on the opposite side of the iron.

   When he looks, you are not there.

   The second time he spots you, he is sinking into the cushions of the second-hand couch you had picked out from the Goodwill two blocks down from the safe house. His limbs were tired and heavy, body aching for the release of sleep, mind begging for the emptiness of rest.

   The little apartment is barely big enough for two people to live comfortably, but you had never seemed to mind. A breeze swept through the little space of the living room and kitchen through the window he didn’t care enough to close, stirring the lightweight things scattered here and there in the dark. No lights had been turned on, leaving the light pollution from outside the sole source.

   His mind is still reeling when something moves on the fire escape across the alley. His eyes jump for it, the colors of your favorite shirt registering immediately.

   When he looks, an old woman struggles to close her window.

   He is gliding down the isles in the gas station across the street from the same building, but a full three days have passed. His brown leather jacket is muted under florescent lights, boots muddy on the cracked white tile.

   In the crook of his left arm, he holds a Gatorade and a doughnut, while his right hand reaches for a bag on cheddar cheese Combos.

   He stops himself just as his fingers graze the edge of the package. You aren’t waiting outside by his bike. You aren’t going to thank him for grabbing them for you, even though you didn’t ask, because you didn’t have to. He grabs them anyway.

   He shoulders the glass door open, stuffing a new pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. He halts suddenly, door easing closed behind him.

   You lean patiently against the wall beside his parked motorcycle, helmet sitting on the seat in front of you. You smile at him.

  When he blinks, you are gone.

   He is lost in a world of his own, throwing hit after hit after hit at the dummy in front of him, music roaring in his ears. The loud sounds and tunnel vision blocks out the pitying looks from his brothers.

   They know why he’s come to the Cave. They know he can’t handle being alone, even if he won’t admit it.

   “Geez, what did he ever do to you, Jaybird?” you voice rings happily.

   He whips around, ripping earbuds from his ears by the cords. His eyes scour the dim area, searching and searching for the familiar black leather of your jacket. Tim looks at him strangely.

   When his mind catches up, he knows you are not there.

   He is hunched over a shiny bartop, eyes dark as he watches the bartender pour out another glass of amber liquid. The low chattering filling the space bounces against deaf ears. As soon as the woman slides the glass back to his hand, he throws back his head and revels in the burn it leaves in his throat.

  Her eyebrows raise, but she says nothing about it. She tilts the bottle over the glass in his hand. “What’s her name?” she asks.

   “Don’t wanna talk about,” he growls. She leaves it at that, setting the bottle down in front him before she moves on to the next patron.

   His eyebrows furrow, eyes boring into a specific divot in the glossy wood top. Caused by a pocket knife, he decides.

   A woman’s hand rests on the wood beside him. He recognizes your mother’s ring and nervously gnawed fingernails. His eyes leap up to meet [E/C] rims, but he is disappointed. He digs out handful of dollar bills and smacks them down on the counter.

   When he looks again, the ring is different.

   It’s Halloween night, and he sits on the edge of an apartment building, eyes dancing through the thin crowd wandering the streets. Parents struggled to corral their children, teenagers laughed loudly as they paraded around with their friends, homebodies swung doors open happily to give out candy to anyone who wanted it.

   Halloween had always been your favorite holiday. You always talked him out of patrol and work so you could hole yourselves up in whatever safehouse you occupied, a new queue of old favorites every year, with a few new releases sprinkled in.

   The sounds and commotion from the street bellow rose up to the roof, pitching up a barrier between him and the deafening, lonely silence he would have been doomed to, had he not insisted on taking Damian’s shift. The demon-spawn had said something about Jon inviting him somewhere, but Jason had been too relieved about having something to do to listen to it.

   He watches a young couple walk their son up to the door, clad in the cheesiest Superman costume the internet had to offer. The little boy gleefully held up his plastic jack-o-lantern pail, likely babbling, “Trick or treat!”

   The sight tore through his heart like a bullet through flesh, and he was forced to look away. Talk of a family was sparse and rare and an unlikely possibility between you and him, but he couldn’t help wonder, what if?

   His eyebrows furrowed together, pushing the thought out of his mind. Now wasn’t the time. No time was the time.

   He heard the rubber soles of boots scrape against the gravel on the roof, in time with your pace. “Can’t believe you talked me out of-”

   When he turned to look, your voice stopped, and he was left with nothing but the sounds of others’ joy and a lump in his throat.

   Flakes of the season’s first snow settle in his hair as he marches down the sidewalk. It’s November now, and you would normally be trying to talk him into joining his family for Thanksgiving. This year, he’d already made up his mind that he was going, weather he wanted to or not.

   Even with the loud commotion of Gotham’s streets around noon, Jason had scarcely felt so alone. Your hand wasn’t stuffed in his jacket pocket with his, fingers laced together. You weren’t grumbling about your face being cold, or giving not-so-subtle prompts for him to warm you up when you got home.

   He’s passing the gas station across from the apartment building you had insisted be at least half-furnished.

   Then, he’s crossing the road.

   Then, he’s unlocking the door with your keys.

   He locks the door behind him and turns around to hang up his coat. He stops with his coat around his elbows, every muscle going stiff. He could have sworn a shadow moved in the kitchen. He almost calls your name.

   “Who’s here?” he demands, leaning to see around the door frame. It’s empty.

   The last time you hover at the edge of his vision, he stands in the same place he stood two weeks ago, but this time, he isn’t alone.

   “It wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?” Tim asks softly, scarf pulled up to cover his nose.

   Jason doesn’t respond. His eyes run over your name, once, twice, three times.

  Tim takes a deep breath. “She did it for you-”

   “I know that,” Jason snaps, his voice raw and full of emotion. It isn’t happening now, but Jason swears your scream makes his heart clench, his hands suddenly warm with fresh blood and a new weight as he holds you. “I know,” he repeats, more level.

   Tim’s eyes move to the taller man. He looks on for a moment, Jason’s gaze moving all around the slab of stone. The, his eyes jolt over to the wrought iron fencing, and focus there. Tim ties to match his stare, to pinpoint what it is he’s staring at that could make his eyes so teary.

   “Did I ever tell you why I begged Bruce to bury her here?” he asks suddenly.

   Tim’s eyes jump back to his face, confusion scribbled across his furrowed brows. “No,” he answers slowly.

   Jason’s eyes move back to the headstone screeching your name. A ghost of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “When we were younger, and she would come over to hang out, she’d drag me out here to look at the sky and write poetry,” Jason began.

[fandomblues]

English Girls [Billy Hargrove]

Fandom ; Stranger Things

Pairings ; Billy Hargrove x English!Reader, slight Steve Harrington x English!Reader

Summary ; You’re just as much of a player as Billy Hargrove and you’re out to let him know that

Warning(s) ; brief mention/description of sexual activities, slight voyeurism, swearing, some derogatory remarks about women, slight asshole!Billy

Word Count ; 2.9k+

Author’s Note ; This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever written, though I actually quite liked it. I know the Steve in this fic isn’t the most accurate, but this is purely fanfiction and nothing is accurate anyway. Let me know if you want to get tagged in my writings. Enjoy xx 

| based off the song ‘English Girls’ by The Maine |

listen to it here on spotify

masterlist

He said,"Smoke whatever you've got left, it's getting late and we don't have much to lose."

Well she said,"English girls they just like sex."

I couldn't believe when he said 

"I've got news for you, American boys do too."

A red car rolled into the parking lot of Hawkins High and as it turned in, everyone’s heads turned to give it a glance; including Billy. Billy observed how the wheels of the mystery car reflected the sunlight, showing off how sparkly clean and shiny they were, and how the candy red colour stood out from everyone else’s dull and boring vehicles. Except his, of course. Billy had always thought his car was pretty, but in the moment it had seemed that this new mystery student’s ride had taken his car’s number one position in the beauty pageant.

“Woah, check that out,” Max gasped. “It looks so cool.” Billy grunted at that. “It’s not that good looking,” he scoffed, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and shoving an unlit joint into his mouth, letting it hang out between his lips. Max glanced at her step-brother and quirked an eyebrow. “Of course it isn’t,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Billy’s head snapped to hers quickly and he stared her down. “What’d you say, little shit?” Max’s eyes widened when she realised that he had heard her comment and she immediately turned around, hopping onto her skateboard and flying off towards the middle school, desperately wanting to avoid Billy’s wrath. 

Billy would deny it to his deathbed, but he was clearly thoroughly impressed by the bright 1964 Chevrolet Impala; until it pulled up right next to his car. Billy squinted as he attempted to peer through the sun-reflected windows to see who the naive person was, bold enough to park next to Billy Hargrove’s car. He placed his hands on his belt, puffing out his chest as he took on his gangster stance to intimidate whoever was going to come out of the pretty vehicle, but to his surprise, a girl stepped out. 

A tight denim skirt hugged her hips perfectly, showing off her curves; her chest was covered by a tight bralette in a similar shade to her car. A leather jacket was thrown over her shoulders, expensive Ray Bans resting on the bridge of her nose, long locks held back by a red bandana headband. Black leather combat boots matching her jacket were worn on her feet, and it made a satisfying crunch as it made contact with the gravel ground when she stepped out. 

Billy was surprised by the sight in front of him, and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly; his jaw dropping when he caught sight of the gorgeous dame. She caught sight of Billy in front of her and she tugged off her sunglasses, staring at him icily. “Can I help you?”

Billy was immediately thrown off by her thick accent. “You British?”

She raised her eyebrows, slamming the door of her precious car shut. “English,” she replied curtly, brushing by him without so much of a glance at the mullet-wearing boy. Billy got a whiff of her perfume as she walked by him. Roses and vanilla. He didn’t say much as she passed him by, his eyes raked down the length of her body, stopping at her hips as they swayed in the most sensual way with every step she took. 

Billy smirked a little to himself as he yanked the unused cigarette out of his mouth and discarded it on the ground. Now this girl was someone he really wanted to get in his bed.

-

The fucking new kid was going to be the death of Billy Hargrove. In just a week, Y/N L/N had the entire male student body of Hawkins High wrapped around her finger; and there were rumours going around that she had already slept with the whole basketball team. Apparently Billy was the only guy on the team that she hadn’t had sex with. Apparently she was really good in bed and gave amazing blowjobs. And apparently even Steve Harrington had gotten it on with her; and Billy figured that was true, because he saw her getting into Steve’s BMW a few days after arriving to Hawkins High. Then Steve turned up to school the next day with a dumbass smile and a hickey on his neck. 

Y/N had officially beaten Billy Hargrove’s record of sleeping with the most number of people in the shortest time. And Billy loathed her for it. 

First, she had a nicer car than him. Then, she beat his sex record, and now she was the Ruler of Hawkins. She’d pretty much stripped Billy of his entire reputation. 

Billy had decided to confront the new chick, teach her a lesson, intimidate her a little. Yeah, she was hot, but that didn’t mean she was entitled to taking everything away from him. Billy stood at his camaro after school, leaning against the hood as he waited for her to turn up to her car, which was still parked next to his. 

Then he saw her approaching, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw Liam Carpenter glued to her side, following her. Like most of their run-ins, Y/N ignored the boy, not wanting to pay attention to him. She couldn’t deny that he was easily one of the most attractive boys at Hawkins, but she had learned of his reputation pretty quickly. He was competition, and there was no way she was going to sleep with the enemy. No matter how much she wanted to. 

“L/N,” Billy’s deep voice spoke up as she passed by him to get into her car. He didn’t bother turning around to look at her. Liam paused and both Y/N and him exchanged glances. “Hargrove,” she greeted coldly, not quite wanting to stick around to hold a conversation with him. 

“You should watch out.” 

Billy’s words made Y/N pause and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What’re you talking about, Hargrove?” she asked. Billy turned around and glared at her. “You better take a few steps backwards. What? You think you run the school now just because you have money and a banging body?” he seethed. “I run this school, L/N.”

Y/N stared at the boy for a while, before she threw her head back and let out a sarcastic laugh. Billy kept his eyes trained on her as he growled. “Aw, baby, you jealous you ain’t popular anymore?” she taunted. “I do what I fucking want, Hargrove. It’s not my problem you’re now expired.”

Her accent was thick and noticeable in every word she spoke, and Billy would be lying if he said he didn’t find her accent fucking hot. But he covered up his attraction with a menacing stare. His jaw clenched, and breathed out heavily but didn’t say anything further. Y/N lips curled into a grin, and she blew a kiss at him. “Don’t get too riled up, babe. I’ll see you around,” she drawled. 

With that, she got into her car and sped off with her new boy toy. 

- 

Y/N was pressed against the wall by Steve fucking Harrington, his slimy hands were on her, caressing the bare skin on her waist. She had on a tight black, satin dress that hugged her curvy body; It was a halter-collared dress, so it failed to show off any cleavage, but it was so short that she had her ass to display to everyone anyway. Her hair was pulled up into messy bun, lips fiery red and eyes smokey. Billy stood across the room watching as Harrington enjoyed himself with her. He whispered something into her ear, earning himself a giggle. Billy, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy. 

Billy didn’t even know why. Maybe it was because she was hot, and he was just pissed at the fact that he was one of the only guys who hadn’t gotten a chance to touch her yet. Or maybe he just hated Steve. Could be both. 

As the weeks went by, Billy had found himself more and more attracted to the English beauty. He wanted Y/N underneath him, whimpering and crying out his name while he rammed into her over and over again. He wanted to fuck her in his bed, but he also wanted to strangle her to death. She was both annoying and hot, and Billy hated himself for even liking his new nemesis in the first place.

He wasn’t the only one though, Billy caught the glances she threw to him every now and then; and when she was sure he was watching, she’d wiggle her ass, adjust her top to show more cleavage or do some teasing shit that would make Billy get a hard-on right in the middle of the hallway. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her, even though both of them hated each other. She had imagined his fingers in her countless times, pretended that whatever guy that was busy pounding into her was the mullet-headed boy; she needed him badly. 

However, both Billy and Y/N’s egos were the size of the universe, and there was no way in hell either of them were going to be the first one to give in. That was considered losing. 

He watched as Steve’s hands trailed down her body and gripped at her ass, massaging it as he continued to whisper things to her. Probably some lewd shit. But whatever it was, she seemed to be enjoying it, as she continuously laughed at whatever he was saying and toyed with the belt loops of his jeans. Billy’s hand tightened around his beer bottle and his jaw clenched as he continued to burn holes into the side of her head. Then she turned around and her eyes met Billy’s. 

A coy smirk made its way onto her face, and she reached up and whispered something to Steve, and then their lips were together. His hand snaked down under her dress and Y/N’s mouth dropped open in pleasure, giving off the message that Steve’s fingers were clearly inside her. She clearly had no qualms about getting fingered in the middle of a public space. Billy flushed red as he gripped his bottle so tight his knuckles turned white. He tried to turn away, but his eyes stared glued onto both his enemies. Eventually, he saw her grab onto Steve’s hand, and drag him through the crowd into the middle of the living room, where everyone was dancing, and she wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as she began to sway her hips to music. 

Billy growled and took a swig of his beer, turning away and making a beeline towards the backyard. He knew what she was doing; trying to rile him up and get him all flustered and mad. But he wouldn’t pay attention to her. Billy was smarter than that. 

He stood outside, discarding his bottle and lighting up a cigarette to rid himself of frustration. His eyes scanned the yard, casually observing all the party-goers; making out, smoking, drinking, throwing up or doing some sort of dumbass dare. Twats. 

“You got a light to spare, Hargrove?” 

Billy’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull when he recognised the English accent. “No,” he rejected, not bothering to glance back at the girl. He tensed up when he felt her hand on his jacket clad shoulder, giving him a little massage. He smacked her hands away. “The fuck is your problem, L/N? Can’t you keep your slutty hands to yourself for one second?” he spat, whipping around and pushing her away, much to her surprise. He got up in her face, towering over the foreigner as he stared her down. She looked a lot sexier up close as she gazed up at him flirtatiously, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly not that much affected by his aggression. 

“Why are you mad, Hargrove? All I did was ask for a light.”

“I know what you’re fucking doing, L/N,” he growled, sending shivers down her spine at the domineering tone of his voice. “I’m not giving in. You can go back to fucking Harrington in the living room.”

She quirked an eyebrow and grinned at him mischievously. “Oh, so you were watching me and Steve?” Her hand moved up Billy’s chest and her pointer finger curled around one of Billy’s curls. “Did you enjoy the show?” she purred.

Billy narrowed his eyes at her but stayed silent. He did like seeing her face twisted in pleasure, but he certainly did not like the fact that it was Steve’s fingers inside of her and not his. 

“He’s reeaaally good, you know, Hargrove?” Y/N giggled. “His fingers always feel amazing, he knows just what to do with them.”

Billy stared at her menacingly, silently warning her to shut up, but she continued with her lewd descriptions of Steve and her’s activities in the bedroom, until Billy’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward so he could bring his face down level with hers. 

“You want a fucking light? You can have mine. Now shut the fuck up.”

Billy plucked his cigarette from his lips and shoved it between Y/N’s red lips. He released his harsh grip on her wrists, turning round and pulling out a new stick to light up. 

“Jealous, Hargrove?” she asked, sauntering up to him and leaning against the pole opposite him. Billy scoffed. “Don’t let your ego inflate too much there. Only a rabbit would be jealous of you.”

“Not me. You’re jealous of Harrington, aren’t you?”

Billy ignored the girl, focusing on his cigarette as he puffed out smoke. “You want to be the one fucking me,” she continued, smirking. “I don’t blame you, really. If you want me, you can just say it, you know?”

Billy laughed. “Sure thing, princess. I’ll hit you up once my collection of whores get stale, but I don’t think I need to point out that every girl in Hawkins wants me, so you may need to wait quite a while for my phone call,” he shot back.

“Every girl, huh? You may need to double check your data or the source you’re getting that information from, because last time I checked, I didn’t want to fuck you.”

Billy’s lips curled up into a cheeky smile and he licked his lips as he stared at her flirtatiously. “You may not want to fuck me, but you may want to suck me off. Or have my tongue in you.”

Y/N stared at him, clearly at a loss for words as she failed to come up with another comeback. Billy celebrated inside a little. She turned away from him, looking straight ahead while she continued smoking on the rest of Billy’s old cigarette. 

Billy cleared his throat. “So which part of the UK are you from?” he asked casually. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What are we? Friends now? What’s with the small talk?”

“No need to be so harsh, I was just trying to be nice but if you want me to be an asshole then sure.”

She kept silent for a while before she turned to Billy, glancing up at him. “I said I’m English. I’m from England. Birmingham.”

“Why did you move to the US then? Especially a shit town like Hawkins? Why didn’t you move to California or some shit?”

“What is this, an interrogation session?” she questioned. Billy glared at her. “I’m just asking. Stop being such a bitch about everything.” Y/N shrugged, puffing out some smoke. “I can’t help being a bitch around people I don’t like,” she sighed. Billy rolled his eyes at that. 

“Mom died. Dad wanted a ‘fresh start’ as if running away from a place was going to suddenly make us forget about all the bad stuff,” Y/N stated nonchalantly. “I didn’t want to leave, but nobody in the rest of our family would take in a screw up like me, so here I am.”

Billy stayed silent as he listened to her and when she finished, he chuckled. “Huh, funny. I have the exact same story.” Y/N looked at him and raised her eyebrows, almost in disbelief. “Looks like we actually have somethin’ in common, princess,” Billy winked, throwing his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it to put it out.

And for the first time that night, Y/N cracked a genuine smile. Not a sarcastic one, not a flirty one; but a real smile of happiness. It disappeared just as quick as it appeared, unfortunately. She looked a lot prettier when she wasn’t marching around with a mask over her face, Billy thought. He dismissed that thought quickly though. It was clear that both of them weren’t ones to discuss cheesy affairs of the heart.

“So, uh... what’s the deal with all your little boy toys?” Billy asked, moving over to lean against the pole next to her. Y/N didn’t make a move to push him away. “You trying to find a good guy to be friends with benefits with? Numb the pain? Or...”

She shrugged as she finished smoking, putting out the joint underneath her heel like Billy had done with his boot. “Oh, I’m English. And in case you didn’t know, English girls just really like sex, Hargrove.”

Billy bit on his bottom lip as he looked down at the girl, who gazed at him sultrily, with the same seductive look in her eyes that Billy had. “Well I’ve got news for you, sweetheart, American boys do too.”

With that, she grabbed onto his hand and both of them bolted into the house and up the stairs, flinging themselves at each other when they found privacy in an empty bedroom.  

| TAGS |

@so-not-hotmess

[richie-txzier]

65 & 66 with Reddie? Maybe kinda smutty as well? Thank u sm!

Prompt: 65) One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other / 66) Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In

Words: 1.7k

Note: Not exactly smutty but definitely has sexual themes because Eddie is a tease (and likes cherry lollipops ;D). As always, characters are aged up yada yada yada, teens being hormonal teens!

Written by: Admin Tozier <3

“Richie, would you juh-just go wait in the f-fuh-fucking car?”

Bill shot him a dirty glare which had Richie grinning, and, taking the last drag of his cigarette, promptly tossing it on the floor, he shoved his hands into his heavy fleeced denim jacket.

“And leave you alone with Stan? As your father, I think that is highly inappropriate.” Richie said with his deeper overprotective dad voice and met Stan’s hard gaze, still holding his smile.

“You’re n-not my dad, Richie.”

“Well, your mom still didn’t mind.“

Richie grinned harder at Bill flipping him off and chuckled as he made his way towards the car parked neatly by the school’s entrance. He spotted a head of neat brown hair, and his smile widened. He knocked on the window, purely for the fact that he knew Eddie would make his cute annoyed face. And he did, glaring at him through dark narrowed eyes and scrunched freckled nose.

Cute, cute, cute!

Richie clasped the car door handle, but even with a hefty pull the door didn’t move; he saw Eddie grinning through the window.

“EDDIE LET ME IN.” He shouted, bracing himself against the door dramatically, “PLEASE SPAGHETTI-MAN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! LET ME LOVE YOU, BABY, COME ON!”

He saw Eddie’s cheeks redden, and then flip him off. Suddenly the door could open once more. That’s when Richie noticed the white stick in his mouth.

“Watcha got there, Eds?” Richie slid into the car seat next to him with an easy smile.

“Lollipop,” Eddie spoke around the candy sphere, his gaze not lifting from his comic.

“Ooo what flavour?”

Eddie pulled the red globe from his mouth; a small wet sound punctuated the release. He ran his tongue absentmindedly across his bottom lip to taste the last remanent of flavour. His lips were a little pink and puffy from the stinging of candy, his tongue a shocking red matching the colour of the sweet, and, as Eddie, before moving it to brace it at one side, gave the ball a last kitten lick and purses his lips. 

Richie suddenly felt very hot.

“Cherry.” He replies shortly, utterly oblivious to the flustered state of his friend as he stared at him, or more specifically, his mouth, in dark lust and fascination. And Richie knew his glasses were fogging up a little and his cheeks were pink and his tongue had poked out to smudge across his bottom lip. But he could only stare at Eddie, who craved the therapeutic rhythmic feel of sucking on the lollipop, but, of course, knowing Riche was going to continue bothering him, resorted to sucking on his bottom lip as a replacement.

Richie felt the intense pull of desire rise in his throat - stronger than the itch of needing a cigarette, or the growl of hunger after his mother had forgotten to make dinner. No this was different. He wanted to, no, he needed to kiss Eddie. To taste the tang of artificial cherry on his tongue and the softness of his swollen lips.

“Looks good.” Richie breathed, and Eddie glanced at him to see Richie’s gaze planted firmly on his mouth.

Plan Get-Richie-To-Kiss-Me-Because-He’s-Too-Stupid-To-Actually-Go-For-It is a-go.

Experimentally, Eddie poked his tongue to smear across his bottom lip, watching in aroused fascination how Richie’s breath deepened through his parted mouth.

He brought the lollipop back to rub the hard, sticky candy against his mouth as if lost in thought, as he kept facing the comic book, even if his eyes were solely focused on Richie’s reaction. Slowly, his tongue swirled across the surface, the sweet taste coating the tip of his unnaturally crimson tongue, and Richie’s fingers twitched in his lap, but his hot, heavy, dark gaze was still as it focused on his mouth.

He started to suckle on the candy, lightly. His lips opened to welcome the treat with a kissing like gesture, as he rhythmically sucked continuously, the lollipop disappearing for a moment before sliding back out puffy pink lips.

Richie thinks it’s the most erotic sight of his life.

He didn’t realise he’s leaning closer until his nose brushed the hand Eddie was holding the stick of his lollipop with. Eddie’s mouth is slanted into a smirk when he pulls it away with an obscene wet noise, a tiny web of spit connecting his lips to the scarlet orb, and then offers it to him, his swollen red mouth so close Richie could smell the faint fragrance of cherry,

“Want a taste?”

God, more than fucking anything.

Hesitantly, Richie leaned in a centimetre further so now their lips were hardly brushing; the heat from Eddie’s cheeks was radiating onto his own pink ones. He could feel Eddie’s breath against his mouth, soft and warm, a lock of curled brown hair tumbling between their foreheads and Richie’s upper lip smudged briskly over Eddie’s wet bottom one, and a shock of cherry-flavoured sugar tingled. Eddie puckered his lips ever so slightly to enclose around his cupids bow, revelling in the hitch in Richie’s shuddering breath and the darker flush of his cheeks.

Richie knew he had to stop. Bill and Stan were still outside, a car door and few feet away from this tantalizing escapade. He knew he had to pull away like all those other times, focus in on the anxious voices speaking of ruined friendships until they gripped him physically enough to yank him away from the seductive magnet that was Eddie Kaspbrak’s mouth. But Richie felt like he was on fire; every nerve in his body was numb with desire, all feeling rushing to his mouth, insistent on not missing a fraction of a second of the brushes of Eddie’s lips against his. That made listening to the nagging voice a lot harder - even as they nipped and bit at his brain - but were drowned out by the ghosting of Eddie’s teeth on the wet tender skin on the inside of his bottom lip.

Eddie was too close and too far away as the tip of his nose touched his, his face so near his that through the squinting position his eyes held he could see Eddie’s dark lashes fluttering, the fullness of his eyelid indicating that he was staring at Richie’s mouth as well. The thought made Richie’s stomach coil in want, but then the insecurity finally got a grip on his muscles, the waver in Eddie’s breath shocking him enough for his bottom lip to minutely slide away still hungry for the soft tease of Eddie’s lips.

But then the car shuddered, and, with a fleeting thought of Bill and Stan, suddenly his self-control was rendered futile as the sharp motion knocked his face flush against Eddie’s and -

Cherry.

Richie’s world tasted like cherry. Cheap sugary cherry that isn’t really what actual cherries taste like, but what corporate companies think it should taste like.

Richie thinks Eddie should taste like guilt. Shame. Broken friendships. Repressed feelings and the lingering flavour of humiliation after you reveal a deep secret you’ve kept locked up for so long you didn’t know if it could’ve ever come out. But now it’s there, in the open. Between the lips of the boy he’s harnessed feelings for so long that the moment doesn’t feel real. He’s going to snap out of it in a second and he’ll be slouched into Eddie, arm strictly platonically around him and the adorable boy smiling up at him with that golden smile that fills him hope -

No cherry.

With a small wet noise, Eddie pulls away, his mouth still puckered in the shape of Richie’s mouth, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes still closed and eyebrows pinched as Richie realised with a punch in the gut that Eddie was savouring the moment too.

And, apparently, that was all he needed.

Because then with a dizzying rush that had his vision blurring and the memories later a little fuzzy, his hand snapped up to clasp his jaw and dip his mouth back into Eddie’s. Their lips squished against one another for an innocent moment, the both of them holding onto the soft seconds, feeling the heat of each-others faces radiating, feeling the reality of their skin touching one another and the bumping of their noses.

And then the adrenaline kicked in, and Richie’s thumb pressed into Eddie’s bottom lip, Eddie catching the hint immediately, opening his mouth to let Richie lick at the inside of his top lip. He did it once more, and Eddie found it with his own, caressing the underside of it tentatively, and Richie seemed to like that by the choking noise erupting in the back of his throat.

Eddie twisted his head to the side, delving further into Richie’s mouth, Richie’s hand tightening against the side of his face while his own snapped to grab onto Richie’s jacket as to steady himself. The kiss turned hungry, tongues eagerly sweeping against one another, slight wet noises only igniting the desire more as Eddie resisted the intense urge to clamber onto him - to feel Richie’s thighs between his.

When they finally parted, a bead of saliva resting on Eddie’s lips that Richie sucked away promptly, they were breathing heavily, no movement coming from anywhere but their chests. Eddie was the first to react, sinfully red and swollen lips pulling into a smile,

“How’d it taste?”

How’d I taste?

Richie chuckled shortly and breathlessly, his thumb swiping across Eddie’s mouth thoughtfully, “Like…”

He must have thought for a second too long before Eddie interrupted him, his lazy smile still smudged across his face, “Cherry?”

Richie felt high - his brain feeling light, all thoughts seemingly floating around his head with no intention of pouring out his mouth. He rubbed his nose against his purely for the fact that he could, his smile starting to ache but he couldn’t stop it if he tried, “Mhm yeah something like that,”

Eddie giggled and dipped his head to kiss him again when the car doors swung open and Stan and Bill clambered into the front seats. Stan was smirking at Bill, who was looking the other way buckling his seat belt, or rather at the swollen pink colour of Bill’s neck. Bill poked his head around the chair while Stan started the car and flashed them a smile, his demeanour very different to the one Richie had left him with, “You guys okay?”

“Never better, Big Bill,” Richie replied easily, slinging an arm, admittedly a little awkwardly because of the seatbelts, over Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie snuggled under it, feeling as safe and comfortable under it as ever.

Bill turned around as Richie dropped a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie nuzzled his nose into Richie’s collarbone in retaliation.

Fucking finally.

[peakyblinders1919]

The Answer Pt. 6

Elouise laid in bed, watching the sun rise through the window. She wasn’t going to be late today; mainly because she didn’t sleep at all. The second she rested her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes, the images flashed in her mind. Over and over until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

When the alarm went off promptly at 8 she rolled out of bed, taking a shower to keep her up. She got out then, standing in front of the mirror staring at the dress Maggie had made for her. But just behind that was her reflection staring back at her.

She looked at it hard, trying to find the young girl she once knew in it. She wasn’t there anymore, no matter how hard she tried looking behind the surface. Now, all there was staring back at her was a woman, and a fierce one at that who was confident and strong.

“Today’s the day.” She whispered to herself, taking a deep breath. “You can do this. Prove to them you’re capable.”

And with that she started getting dress, the material hugging her body like a glove. Her hair was next, pinning the curls in precise spots, remembering the advice Maggie had given her. Then she put on make-up, covering the bags under her eyes, lining them with dark kohl, making her lips looks kissable, irresistible to anyone who dared look at them. One last look in the mirror and everything came together. There was a whole new person looking back at her, and with that she knew it was time to go.

She walked down the stairs, stopping outside the kitchen when she heard Michael and Polly talking. Not one to eavesdrop, Elouise tired turning away and not listening but she couldn’t.

“You’ve got his same beautiful eyes.” She heard Polly say, hearing her smile as she talked about her late husband. A silence came down around them again, and she cleared her throat, making it known that she was there before she walked in.

She was greeted by silence though as she entered and Polly’s jaw dropped, Michael looking at her with a confused look.

“So…”

“Give us a twirl.”

She felt silly doing it but spun around, the sequins catching the light. She stood before them in a black gown made from sequins so it sparkled with every move she made. A gold belt cinched the fabric in at her waist, giving her a more womanly figure, and draped over it all was a patterned sheer coat.

“You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” Polly said as she put her knife down and approached Elouise, hugging her tightly.

Michael stood up, obviously feeling very awkward in this situation. He stood holding his hat, waiting for them women to let go of each other.

“You look very nice. Where are you going?”

“With you, silly. To the auction.” She said, walking past him and taking a piece of toast from the table.

“Lou, don’t get your dress dirty.” Polly said, rushing over to fuss over her.

“Poll, please. It’s fine.” She said, looking back and Micael and rolling her eyes jokingly.

“What are you doing at the auction?” Michael asked then, giving her a quizzical look.

“Well, you said it yourself. You wanted a mistress, so you got one.”

“Me?” He said, worry washing over his face with a pink tint that Elouise chose to ignore. “Why me?”

“Well, I could be Tommy’s or John’s I suppose, doesn’t matter really. Right?”

He looked at her again, this time making it very obvious that he looked her up and down, a real sight to see in that midnight black dress. He cleared his throat. “Right, it doesn’t matter.”

Just then a honking came from outside, sending Polly off the deep end, yelling and swearing at the boys that it was a ‘respectable fucking neighborhood.’

“Are you ready Michael?” She asked, clapping him on the back, shaking him from his thoughts. He looked up at her, a smile plastered on her face like she found some wicked joy in all of this.

“Suppose there’s no turning back.”

“Who knows what we’re going to see today Michael, just be ready for anything. You wanted to be a part of this family, and now you are.” She said, leaving him there to wonder what was actually about to happen as she walked outside, trying to keep from shaking.

Outside she was met with whistles and stares of the men crammed into the car. John had to do a double take and for once didn’t have any smart comeback for her. Arthur just smiled, knowing she always had it in her. And Tommy, he looked at her as he always did, with a cold stare she couldn’t quite read. He took one last drag of his cigarette then flicked it to the ground, giving her a once over.

“You look the part, now show me you can play it.”

“I won’t let you down Tommy.”

“You best be on your absolute best behavior Tommy or I swear to God…” Poll started, her words catching in her throat as Michael walked out.

“Aye, those are my clothes.” John noted. “They looked better on me.” He laughed, nudging Michael in the ribs before getting into the driver's seat.

Elouise stood next to him, wanting to get on the road instead of prolong the waiting. She caught Michael run his hands over the gray fabric again and she found herself trying to reassure him. “Don’t worry about him, he just likes giving people a hard time. The suit looks nice on you, it compliments your eyes.” Elouise said with a smile, turning quickly to get in the back of the truck, Arthur giving her a helping hand. He snickered as she sat across from him, fixing her dress.

“What?”

“Be careful Lou.”

“What are you going on about now Arthur?”

“Mama bear’s not gonna be happy when she loses her cub to another.” Elouise turned her head and looked at Arthur like he had three more coming out of his neck.

“Speak fucking English Arthur.”

“She’s not going to like losing Michael to you.” He said, laughing when he saw the shocked look on her face. She elbowed him in the stomach, pretty hard too as he grunted and grabbed it, knowing she wasn’t one to mess with after that.

She played the words over and over in her mind. ‘She’s not going to like losing Michael to you.’ What did he mean? Well, it was actually very clear what Arthur was insinuating with that comment but Elouise couldn’t understand why or what reason she had given him to believe that there was anything there besides the budding flowers of a friendship. But maybe the seeds were already planted, and the growing feeling in her gut that there was something more to his unexpected presence.

The shift in the sit next to her made her look up from her feet, Michael sitting beside her. The engine started up, filling her ears with a loud roar that blocked out everything else, the words Arthur were saying and the thoughts swirling around in her head.

“Might not want to sit next to her, she’s dangerous mate.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She said through gritted teeth,  glaring at Arthur as they hit the road.

Michael had been vague in saying that horse auctions were posh. Stepping out of the car, Michael giving Elouise a helping hand as she did, she felt like she was transported into another world she never knew. There were heiresses and their butlers to the left and right, like Michael had said, and everywhere she looked where rich men wearing expensive suits, at least twice as expensive than Tommy’s. And these men were older, with white hair but black mustaches, with two or three girls on their arms. Much younger girls, she’d like to point out. Every step she took they looked Elouise up and down, not trying to hide their stares, making her feel self-conscious for the first time in her life. It was one thing to have the scum men on the Birmingham streets look her up and down, she knew she could take them, but these men made her feel small.

She followed behind Michael and John, playing with her hair as she couldn’t ignore the looks she was receiving no matter how hard she tried. She thought she’d love a taste of the world, but now that she was here, she missed the predictability of her little corner of Birmingham.

She heard Tommy’s voice above the ring in the air, but she didn’t hear what he was saying. She walked up the steps, fully aware of an older man wearing a trenchcoat and fedora covering his dark hair walk by and look her up and down.

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, brushing right by him as he continued eyeing her down. She grabbed the coat, pulling it closer to her.

“Don’t worry, they just look.” Michael said, his voice shocking her as he was closer to her than she expected. She glanced over at him, his words really calming her.

“That’s fine.” She said, sounding less confident than ever.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be a mistress.” He said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t mean I like being some men’s eye candy.” She huffed, following along. It was quieter now, and she heard Tommy and Curly talking in front of the group as they emerged above the pit.

“It’s just, I got a feeling Tommy. Something isn’t right.”

“It’s all right, Curly. You’re just in an unfamiliar place. We all are.”

Elouise sighed under her breath, only John and Michael hearing her annoyance.

“What, think he’s talking shit?” John asked.

“No, he’s right. Tommy should listen to him.” She said as they  walked up to the edge, Elouise leaning against it, the beads on her dress catching the light again.

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked confused.

“Gypsy intuition. Curly thinks their some bad spirits.”

“I’m telling you he’s right John.”

“You think it’s real?” Michael asked, waiting for Elouise’s answer. She shrugged.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” She said, everyone getting quiet at Tommy’s commands when the horse for sale came out. Everyone was on high alright as the men inspected it from their spots, Tommy leaning against the railing coolly smoking a cigarette. And then just like that the bidding starts, Tommy’s little nods towards the auctioneer down below enough to lock in his bets.

While everyone paid attention to Tommy or the horse, Elouise watched the people up above, the real horse owners and trainers with the newspaper listings in their hands, ignoring the quarter-Arab filly trotting around lazily.

Then she caught the eye of an exquisitely dressed women eye Tommy and talking to a man, who soon after began bidding and went into an all out war.

“Who is it?”

“That pretty women over there. She doesn’t really want it. Tell Tommy to keep going.” Elouise said, staring at the women who only looked at Tommy in turn. But soon enough Tommy’s persistence won after all and all the men celebrated his win.

They walked down to the booking office, Tommy settling the money and deed in the office while Elouise and the men waited around to check the horse. Just when Tommy was done and they could head towards the horse, the pretty women from before corned Tommy and talked his ear off while the boys cracked jokes to embarrass him, but Tommy didn’t embarrass easily.

“Quit it.” Elouise said from her spot between them all, hitting John and Arthur. “The last thing he needs is you fuckers messing everything up.” She snapped at them angrily, all of them shutting up and Tommy rejoined them and they walked onto the pit.

“It’s the fucking truth John boy. Rich women these days, all they want is working class cock.” Arthur said as they walked on.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. But they’re not doing it for the cock, they’re doing it for the money.” Elouise as she slipped through them men towards the front, trying to hear what Curly was say again, leaving the other men speechless.

Curly was still rambling on about the feeling he had while the others fucked around, Tommy throwing the keys to Michael telling him to drive.

“Why can’t I-” Elouise started to protest when all the men, Michael included, simultaneously yelled no. She pouted as they walked towards the horse, not noticing the man from before, on the staircase giving Elouise a once over, sat hunched over in the middle. She stopped in her tracks, watching the men walk by oblivious.

“This was what he meant.” She whispered, her eyes surveying the area.

“What was that?” Michael asked, stopping next to her but she couldn’t respond as the man stood, calling out Thomas Shelby before he let rain shower of bullets down on them. Everything was chaos after the initial bullet, John and the others whipping out their hidden guns and shooting as well. At nothing. The ringing was loud in Elouise’s ears as she backed up against the wall, the yelling, shouting, metallic shrill of the bullet leaving the cage and reverberating off the walls overwhelming her and sending her into a spiral. She couldn’t keep her eyes on them, knowing who was shooting or who was being shot at. Arthur lurched forward, pounding his fists into the man’s skull, a flurry of red blood taking over.

Elouise sat back and watch it all until her vision started to blur, only then realizing she wasn’t breathing. She grasped for her throat, closing her eyes, trying not to totally lose control. But it was too late. It had all happened so fast. And just like that it was silent again. There was a barely alive body on the ground, though it didn’t resemble a human any more, Arthur covered in his blood as he was physically pulled off him.

“Don’t get blood on the kid.” Tommy called, pushing Michael back. “Michael, you didn’t see a thing. That didn’t happen. All right? Give me the keys.” Tommy said, out of breath.

“I’m alright to drive.” He said his voice low and steady, letting on that Michael had not been affected by what he had just witnessed.

“Alright, go on. Go on.”

Michael started walking, only then realizing Elouise wasn’t amongst the men again. He turned around, seeing her against the wall, her knuckles white as they were gripping the wall behind her. He threw the keys to John, telling him to get a head start when he turned around and walked back to her.

“Elouise, we have to go.” He said, standing in front of her. She didn’t see him though, she looked right through him. She couldn’t hear him either as her ears were still ringing.

“Lou..” he tried again, putting his hand on her shoulder to shake her out of it. And still she didn’t answer, again gasping for air.

“Lou, what’s going on.”

“I…” she started but didn’t finish, her eye still on something in the distance that wasn’t actually there at all.

“El, listen to me.” He said loudly, getting her to move her gaze to him, standing in front of her. When he saw her dark eyes looking back at him, begging for help as she stayed silent, trying to get air to her lungs, he tried again. “El...it’s alright. We’re gonna go, ok.”

“Michael…” she breathed as he started walking away. “I...you literally need to push me.” She said out of breathe, trying to move but being unable to.

“Yeah, alright.” He said confused walking over to her. He looked at her hesitantly before grabbing her wrists and pulling her towards the door. She took a deep breathe then, moving along with him but slowly.

“Thank you.” She said as they emerged back into the sunlight, the angry men waiting for her to get in the car. Elouise hopped up in the back, everyone looking at her for a second before turning away at John’s words. Michael looked at her questioningly, her little nod enough to send him to the front with Tommy and finally drive off. She sat back, resting her head against the cloth as she tried getting her breathing back to normal.

“Here we are.”

“Thanks John,” Michael said, jumping out of the car, lingering in the darkness.

“You getting out?” John asked, looking over at Elouise whose head rested against the cool glass. She sat up, looking at him blankly, having not heard his question.

“Oh yeah. Thanks.” She said, her voice laced with sadness. John nodded and drove off, leaving the two on the sidewalk.

“You alright Elouise?”

“Fine,” she said, looking up from her feet. She looked into his eyes, filled with worry and the glow of the silver moonlight. “I’m...I’ll be at the Garrison. Will you tell Poll I’m fine?”

“Uh, yeah...sure…” he said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But are you fine? Are we going to talk about what happened back there or…-”

“No.” She said, daring to look him in the eyes one last time before walking away. “Michael?” She said over her shoulder, stopping in her tracks. He turned around, waiting for an explanation or something. “Thank you.” She said, a little smile crossing her face as she turned. And just like that she walked into the fog and disappeared, leaving him to stand in the middle of the street to wonder if she was just a figment of his imagination.

She wound up at the Garrison a few moments later, banging on the door hoping Harry was inside. It took him a minute to open the door, but he was shocked to she her standing there, tears stinging her eyes.

“Lou, do you know what time it is?”

“Sorry Harry. I just really need a drink.”

He sighed, fighting with himself internally but moving so she could come in from the cold, taking her usual seat at the bar.

“The usual?” He asked and all she could do was nod as she stared off into the distance, thinking about what had happened. He poured her glass and when he turned around to put the bottle back on the shelf, the glass was empty again.

“Just keep em coming Harry.”

“Doing some self-loathing are we?” He said sarcastically as he poured another but she simply nodded and threw back the glass, waiting for the next one. “Maybe we should take it slow Lou.”

“I can handle it Harry.” She said, eventually taking the bottle from him and pouring her own glass.

“You're gonna drink me dry, you know that?”

“I'll pay for it Harry. All of it,” she said nonchalantly with a disheartened wave of her hand as if it was no trouble for her at all.

“What happened Lou?”

She wouldn't talk until a couple more glassy of whisky were in her bloodstream. “I blew it Harry. Big time.”

“Blew what?”

“Everything. My future in the Shelby company, my chance at real love...everything.” She said, taking another sip, that emptied the bottle.

“I'm sure it wasn't that bad.”

She sat there, watching the scene from today as an out of body experience. She saw herself shut down when the guns were drawn. She saw herself cling to the wall, unable to move or breathe. She felt stupid, she felt weak, she couldn't believe it had taken control of her again. And now that it did, it would hold control of her for a long time.

“I don't mean to keep you Harry, you can go if you have to.”

“How are you gonna get home?”

She shrugged, not having thought that far in advance.

“I don't wanna go home Harry. Not yet.”

He sighed, not wanting to ask her to but knowing it was late and he himself had people to get home to.

“Lock up when you're done ok? Call someone if you have to, please?” He begged.

“I'll be fine Harry.” She said, watching him leave.

In the silence of the bar she collapsed, crying uncontrollably as she was left alone with her loud thoughts and vivid memories. The stronger they got, the more she drank until she passed out all together, cheek pressed against the sticky countertop.

i know its late but i wanted to drop this here anyway