#that drip...those facial expressions...his animation...his hair???

[wizardoftheloops]

who allowed this man to be that hot???

[happylittledrabbles]

Like a Virgin

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith

Rating: 18+ (DNI IF A MINOR)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 9K

AO3

—

Levi is very sexually frustrated from all of Erwin's wandering touches and wants to know for sure whether Erwin is into him or not. He questions the commander on if he has a woman he wants to have sex with, and Erwin doesn't reply. That's the moment Levi finds out Erwin is a virgin. He proposes to "help" Erwin learn how to have sex before he goes on to have sex with the woman of his dreams.

Shenanigans ensue.

—

“Wine or champagne?”

Levi eyed the two bottles in front of him, his eyes then sliding to the blond man behind the desk, his uniform a size too small for him. But he knew that Erwin liked it like that since it showed off his body. He’d never admit to it, though.

“Wine,” Levi said ultimately, motioning to the opaque bottle. Erwin obliged with a nod of the head and leaned forward, the leather chair groaning underneath his shifting weight. He took the glass and let a bit of wine dribble into it, handing it to the black-haired man to taste.

“Didn’t know you were a sommelier,” Levi remarked with a scoff, swirling the wine in the cup and giving it a sniff before tipping it to his lips. He smacked them together, the oaky wine reminiscent of the nights when he and Erwin would get too drunk after a successful mission—their arms around each other, their hands roaming to places that only lovers should touch…

“Are you drunk already, Levi? Your face is flushed,” Erwin asked, breaking Levi out of his daydreams. He reached across the desk, brushing his fingers across Levi’s cheek (as if that would make the problem better) (it absolutely didn’t). “You only had one sip. Are you sick?”

“Get your hands off me, old man,” Levi grumbled, swatting Erwin’s hand away even though he desperately wanted to grab it and lead it to the places where his mind went a few moments ago. His blush had worsened tenfold, causing Erwin to laugh and raise a caterpillar brow in pleased confusion. He took Levi’s cup and filled it up the rest of the way before handing it back.

“I’m not that old,” he retorted, standing up from his office chair to lean on the edge of the desk with the cup of wine he poured himself in hand. He kicked the tip of Levi’s boot playfully before taking a sip of the wine, wincing away from the cup. “Wow, this is pretty strong.”

He was far too close for comfort to Levi—he could practically smell that warm, masculine cologne he peppered on himself every day. It seemed as if every sight, every smell, every taste, every touch...everything was reminding him of the fact that he was horribly frustrated. Sexually frustrated, that is. Erwin was too much of a dunce to ever figure out that Levi wanted to take him apart and put him back together in a fit of pleasure. He’d never figure out that those lingering touches when they had dinner together weren’t a mistake, but a silent plea to never let go. No, Erwin’s nickname was—lovingly—meathead in Levi’s mind. It was getting to the point that all of Erwin’s playful touches and sexual remarks seemed mocking, as if Erwin was saying, “Yeah, you’ll never have me. But every woman on the Scout Regiment wants to fuck me. And I’ll fuck them, too.”

That gave Levi an idea.

“Speaking of old,” Levi continued, taking another sip of wine. If he was to have this conversation, he’d much rather carry on drunk so that he could blame it on the alcohol if—when—it went south. “It’s about time you get a wife. Any women on the Scout Regiment looking like a nice piece of ass?”

“Levi, how crude,” Erwin admonished, his eyes widening in surprise. “You shouldn’t refer to women that way.” Levi would have missed the slight blush rising in Erwin’s cheeks if he hadn’t already been staring straight into his soul for any hint of a reaction at the mention of women.

“Ah, sorry,” Levi apologized, thankful that Erwin wasn’t the type to reply to that gross comment with an equally grosser response. “Well, anyway, we’ve been in close quarters with them for a while. Any lucky ladies get a little closer?”

Erwin uncrossed and crossed one leg over the other as if he couldn’t decide where to put his legs, taking a heavy swig of the wine. It seemed as if Erwin had the same idea as his friend: get as drunk as possible to answer this line of questioning. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Erwin, don’t play dumb with me,” Levi said, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and sipping his wine until there was less than half left. “You can tell me. I’m your best friend. At least I hope.”

An unreadable look crossed Erwin’s face—what Levi wouldn’t give to crawl inside his mind right now. The blond ran a heavy hand down his face, letting out a groan that made Levi sit back up as straight as a pole. His hands drifted into his lap in case the little friend in his pants made an appearance, as it so often did when he was alone with Erwin, getting drunk like this.

“You…you are my best friend. Although that sounds a little juvenile.” Erwin chuckled softly before rolling his eyes. “Why are you so interested in my private life? For the record, it’s highly unethical for me to sleep with members of the Regiment.”

Levi tossed his head back in laughter. “We’re all adults. Shit happens.”

Erwin balked before shying away behind his desk, turning his back to Levi. His back was tense—the muscles surrounding his scapula rose through his uniform as he crossed his arms firmly. “You shouldn’t refer to making love that way.”

Levi stood up, tracing the edge of the desk with his fingers. Erwin was pissing him off. Why was he so defensive of his answers? Usually, men would jump to brag about their experiences at the mere insinuation of having sex with women. Meanwhile, he acted as if he’d never had sex before and was avoiding the question as much as possible. Levi just wanted to know if those lingering stares or tender touches meant something more, and he needed Erwin to tell him that he was taken so that he could be turned down without making a fool out of himself.

“’Making love’? You’re a big ol’ softie, aren’t you?” Levi sat on the desk as he watched the muscles of Erwin’s back tell the story his face was hiding. He polished off the last of the wine in his cup and set it gently down on the table. He kept his eyes on Erwin’s back, biting his lip and hesitating before finally saying, “It’s like you’ve never had sex at all.”

It was supposed to be a joke, one that would make Erwin splutter about to defend himself and spill all his sexual experiences. Levi was illiterate at reading Erwin’s facial expressions but had an advanced degree in literacy in reading his body language. He thought it’d be laughable to anybody to insinuate Erwin had never had sex. After all, anybody who met the man had hearts glowing in their eyes. But his shoulders hiking up to his ears, both of which promptly turned pink, and his arms quickly wrapping around himself were an obvious confirmation of Levi’s suspicions.

Levi was far too surprised to say anything or even move. His jaw went slack as Erwin shifted his body weight from one foot to another uncomfortably. The tension in the room was palpable, dripping from the ceiling and coating each man in a layer of unease. Erwin was a man of honesty. He’d never outright lie unless it’d reduce panic among the population or his cadets. He’d never lie to somebody of his rank, least of all Levi. So, the most he could do was stay quiet in the face of the accusation. If he stayed silent, he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t have to talk about it.

Except, Levi wouldn’t take silence as a complete answer.

“Erwin,” he pressed, the chair groaning as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He laced his fingers together as a hammock for his chin, cocking his head at Erwin’s statuesque figure. “Are you serious? You’ve never had sex?”

Erwin flinched at the claim, and he turned to the side, the lamplight creating a halo around his profile. His aquiline nose and thin lips were put on prominent display, and it took everything Levi had to not grab his face and turn it to face him. He needed to see what Erwin was thinking. He needed to parse out what the wrinkles in his face meant, what each flick of the eye signified. This discovery was the last thing he expected. He expected the secret to the Titans be discovered before Erwin’s more-than-intact virginity.

Erwin’s eyes were set on the floor. “I…it just never happened—"

“You’re approaching middle age, Erwin! What the hell do you mean?” Levi finally moved toward Erwin, grabbing his bicep and whirling the blond to face him. “You’ve never had one girlfriend? One woman you've liked?” He paused. “Have you even had your first kiss?”

“Of course I have!” Erwin was finally animated, and he tossed Levi’s grip off him and stepped back. “My Lord, Levi, you think so lowly of me.”

“Erwin, you are a fully grown, extremely attractive man who hasn’t had sex yet. People have flung themselves at you for years.” Levi tried to find another explanation for his shock, but all that came out was stutters and word vomit. He truly was at a loss for words.

Erwin pursed his lips before catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just haven’t met the right person yet,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, I-I have, I simply…don’t know how they feel about me.”

Levi tried to catch Erwin’s eye, but the blond was resolute on keeping his gaze on a particular swirl in the hardwood.

“You’re kidding,” Levi scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’ve been waiting all this time because you’re scared to admit your feelings? We’re on the brink of death every day, Erwin. We’re going on a mission tomorrow. Sure, it’s a run-of-the-mill mission, but you never know what could happen. One moment you’re there, the next, you’re being crunched on by a Titan like potato chips. I think you’ll survive a little confession.”

Erwin turned his body completely to face Levi, catching the shorter man off guard with the sudden confrontation. “Well, what about you? What’s your entire sexual history? I can’t be the only one on trial here.”

Levi shrugged. “The Underground is an interesting place. Prostitutes are very forgiving for your first time. They give you a discount.” He laughed at the pained expression that crossed Erwin’s face and waved his previous statement away. “I’m kidding. There were some cute girls down there. And then here…well, I got around as I rose the ranks.” He deliberately left out the part where he fucked and got fucked by plenty of men, deciding that was too forward. He needed Erwin to come to him first.

Erwin braced himself on the edge of the desk once Levi finished recounting his sexual tales, his knuckles turning white with how tightly he was gripping it. Levi’s eyes fell onto the other’s hand, the veins and bones in his hand rising above his skin, causing his mouth to go dry. Was this the right thing to do—to ask Erwin about his love life? Wouldn’t he be disappointed when Erwin told him all about the sweet woman he was in love with, the woman he wanted to lose his long-overdue virginity to? Especially after all those yearning gazes shared between them, the times when Erwin draped a blanket over him after he passed out on top of his desk, the handmade teas and horrible cookies (but they tasted perfect because Erwin made them)? Suddenly, Levi wanted desperately to renege on the topic of conversation.

He was about to ditch the entire thing when Erwin cleared his throat, his face pinkening. The lamplight couldn’t lie; the commander was actually getting embarrassed.

“But…what if they’re disappointed? I should’ve…done it…a while ago. I should be good at it.” Erwin covered his face with his hand, the other still digging its nails into the wood desk.

Levi’s whole mindset changed then. He could work with this. He could…do something with this. He had a brilliant idea.

“Men your age and older still can’t fuck right,” he said softly, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he slowly approached the commander. “With how caring you are, I’m sure you’ll do better on your first time than any man who’s had sex a million times.”

Erwin’s blush worsened, but instead of bashfulness, it seemed as if he was surprised. “You think I’m caring?”

Levi hesitated. “Well, yes. You do everything in your power to protect your cadets.” Now, time for the hardest part of the plan. He swallowed thickly before sliding his hand across the table, his fingers meeting Erwin’s before sliding on top of the back of his hand. His eyes flicked from their enjoined hands to the panicked blue eyes in front of him, analyzing them for any sort of resistance. “And you do everything to protect me. So, if you want…I can teach you how to fuck. Before, you know, you go and have sex with the right person.”

His eyes fell to the floor after he finished speaking, disappointment setting in. Sure, if Erwin agreed to this, he’d get to fuck the love of his life and finally see him in his true, pleasure-fueled element. He’d probably even get closer to him. But this was all a precursor to Erwin going out to “make love” to the woman he actually liked, and Levi would have to watch from the sidelines with a pained smile as they settled down and had beautiful children. Sure, Levi wanted to fuck Erwin. But he wanted to love him, too. He wanted a life with him—as much as a life within the walls could afford. And he wanted Erwin to love him back.

Erwin was silent, but he didn’t move his hand, nor his eyes. His eyes stayed on their hands, evaluating, dissecting, inspecting. Finally, he inhaled sharply, causing Levi to inadvertently tighten his grip on Erwin’s hand.

“You’d be willing to teach me?” he repeated. Levi nodded. Neither of the men was looking at each other. They didn’t have the courage to, even as full-grown adults. “Physically, you mean? Not with a chalkboard?”

Levi’s next move was a surprise to him, too; it was as if he was watching his own body from afar as he gripped Erwin’s wrist and flung him into his desk chair before settling in his lap, his legs snug between Erwin’s thighs and the arms of the chair. Erwin’s thighs provided a wonderful seat: they were big and strong, the muscle providing the perfect padding for Levi to sit back and still reach the blond’s flabbergasted face. His hand gripped Erwin’s tie and brought him closer, the tips of their noses kissing.

“Does this answer your question?” he murmured, and Erwin quickly nodded, looking like an obedient puppy in the hands of his equal.

His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to Levi’s lips. “When will the lesson begin?”

Oh, you fucker, Levi thought before diving in and massacring the lips he’d been dreaming about for far too many years. He never in a million years expected Erwin to accept his advances, and yet, unbelievably, it was happening now, in front of him, and not all in his head. He didn’t have time to process the fact that he was kissing his best friend, and that his best friend was reciprocating (with tongue). He had accepted that this was a dream, and he’d treat it that way until it was confirmed that it was real life—presumably after they’d both finished their “lesson”.

Erwin was an extremely good kisser. Whoever he’d shared his first kiss with evidently taught him well, or he was experienced in that department, or he was a fast learner. Or all three. Whatever it was, all he knew was that just a kiss was getting him hot and heavy. He sighed into the kiss when he felt Erwin’s hands on his back and hip, big enough to span from one shoulder blade to the other and for his palm to cover Levi’s entire hipbone. Unwittingly, Levi bucked his hips in Erwin’s palm, trying to get closer to his burning hot touch, only to elicit a delicious groan from the other.

“Fuck.” Erwin bit down on Levi’s bottom lip, his hand gripping onto the back of Levi’s shirt as if he were hanging on for life.

Levi was on fire. The kiss was like a drug. It was nothing like the drugs peddled in the Underground; no, it was far stronger. It was deadly because he would rather sacrifice his lungs than come up for air.

“Levi,” Erwin all but growled, causing Levi to grind his hips down in reply. All that did for the commander was make his eyes roll back and call out another “Levi,” except this time, his voice was soaked in need.

“Oh, what you do to me, Erwin,” Levi whispered. He ground his hips down again, making Erwin see stars. The fronts of their pants were equally and painfully hard at this point, and if it weren’t for their pesky clothing getting in the way, Erwin would’ve finished a long time ago. Levi relished in the feeling of Erwin’s hardness pressed against his inner thigh, making sure to give it ample attention whenever he moved his hips because it gave him the perfect reaction from Erwin: a drawn-out moan that left Levi lightheaded.

Levi wasted no time in tossing Erwin’s tie aside and ripping open his shirt, the buttons popping off and clattering on the floor. The clattering did nothing to distract him from Erwin’s muscular chest, however. He’d seen Erwin shirtless before, of course. Living in such close quarters, they’d oftentimes had to change in the same room. Levi began to wonder if Erwin looked at him the same way he had admired the blond; his broad chest, imposing upon the other males in the room as if to say “I know I’m stronger than you, and you do, too,” his bedhead locks hanging limply in front of his coarse eyebrows when they’d been woken up far too early, the gray sweatpants they wore during training that might as well have been lingerie. They left little to the imagination, and Levi was about to find out if the bulge he’d have to pry his eyes away from every day lived up to its potential.

Erwin slipped his hands up Levi’s shirt hesitantly at first, but when Levi leaned into the touch with another whirl of the hips, his tender touches turned ravenous. Levi’s shirt was also not spared from their hungry love affair, joining Erwin’s torn shirt on the floor. Erwin’s lips detached from Levi’s and reattached to his neck, suckling on the soft skin until Levi was forced to dig his fingernails into the blond’s shoulders to not alert the guards mulling around outside. It was dark out; all the cadets were asleep—however, he didn’t want to risk anything.

“This is very un-virgin-like of you,” Levi murmured before a groan overtook his voice, his spine curving so their chests were pressed against each other. “You’re—mmm—good…”

Erwin chuckled a reply, his hands roaming Levi’s chest until his thumbs got stuck on his nipples, which were hard and tantalizingly pink. All Erwin saw was candy.

“Do you like being touched here?” Without wasting a breath, Erwin kissed a trail down Levi’s chest to place a gentle kiss on the nub.

“Yes,” Levi breathed, tossing his head back as his arms moved to hug Erwin’s head to his chest. “Erwin, this is so—h-hey!”

Erwin’s teeth snagged on his nipple, and the blond looked up with a smirk of mischief.

“Apologies. My mistake.”

Levi scoffed. “Bullshi—a-ah!”

Levi wasn’t a small man—frame-wise. He was muscular and broad and sturdy; however, Erwin’s hands made him feel like a delicate plaything, they were so big. He was starting to feel his dominance wane, especially with the way Erwin made him moan like a bitch in heat. He was always in control whenever he had sex, and the only way to do that…was to make Erwin the bitch in heat.

“Have you ever gotten a blowjob, Erwin?” he whispered, placing butterfly kisses on Erwin’s head as the blond busied his lips with Levi’s nipples and chest. However, those lips stilled at that question.

“I…I have,” he replied reluctantly, raising his head to meet the other’s eyes.

Levi was a little disappointed because if Erwin already knew how a blowjob felt, that meant he’d have to out-blow the first person. Not that that would be a challenge, but still.

“So you’re not entirely a virgin,” he mused, drawing swirls in Erwin’s gelled back hair. If his hair wasn’t sweat-soaked and messy in his eyes by the time they’d finished, Levi would consider it a job badly done.

“I-I suppose not?” Erwin stuttered, confusion evident in his tone. “Why, what are you—”

Levi was already on his knees before he finished his question, ready to answer it. He quickly undid Erwin’s belt, licking his lips at the bulge he had very clearly felt against his leg a few moments ago.

Erwin immediately began to panic, his arms flying out to try and stop the other. “Levi! Y-you don’t have to—”

Levi was quick to interrupt. “I want to,” he replied. He was practically drooling, the clinking of the belt and the zipper unzipping music to his ears. It was pornographic just how much Erwin’s cock was straining against his drawers—the poor fabric was hanging onto his hips by a thread. It only took a short wave of his hand against the fabric crotch for Erwin’s hardness to emerge, leaving Levi breathless and confused.

How the hell am I going to fit this inside me?

“Don’t look at it like that,” Erwin said with a frown, breaking Levi out of his thoughts.

“No, Erwin,” Levi cooed reassuringly, brushing his fingertips against the vein encircling his shaft. “I’m just admiring it.”

Erwin didn’t seem convinced until he felt Levi’s fingers against them—then, all insecurities vanished. His whole body stiffened, his fingers digging into the leather arms of the chair.

Levi smirked at the whitening knuckles in front of him, his eyes drifting up to meet Erwin’s heated gaze. “Christ, if that’s how you react to a touch like that, I wonder how you’ll react to this…” With that, he gripped Erwin’s cock firmly and gave it an experimental stroke.

“A-ah!” The reaction was better than what Levi could ever imagine. Erwin’s body was pulsing, his eyelids dropping with lewdness and his gruff chest voice coming out in spurts. “Fuck…”

“Hm,” Levi hummed, leaning over to give the head a chaste kiss.

“L-Levi!” Erwin gasped. “Stop playing with me!”

“Oh, but it’s so fun,” Levi replied, his never-ending smirk on display on his lips. It only disappeared once he took the head into his mouth, letting the saliva he accumulated in his mouth drip down the shaft and gather around his hand that grasped the base. He gave it another pump as he sucked happily, lubricating it both to provide less friction for Erwin and for himself when he’d eventually have to put it inside himself. It was hot in his hand and heavy against his tongue, and all he was thinking was how it’d feel slapped against his cheek. But of course, he didn’t expect a virgin to do that for him.

“Mm—mm! Levi, ple-ease…” Erwin begged, his body racked with overstimulation.

“Pleath whath?” Levi asked, his voice muffled from the cock in his mouth. But Erwin’s answer was interrupted by another bout of moans that dribbled out of his mouth once Levi returned to dutifully sucking, taking more of the shaft into his mouth. He continued to descend, the corners of his mouth burning by how wide his mouth was stretching to accommodate Erwin’s size, not to mention how he was on the verge of gagging with how deep the blond’s cock was rubbing in his throat. And he was only halfway down.

This is going to be difficult, Levi thought, but he couldn’t focus on thinking when Erwin was making such a huge racket above him.

He pulled up enough to speak, saying, “If this is how you react to the beginning of a blowjob, then the one you got before must’ve been horrible,” before diving back down to his previous spot. He heard Erwin begin a retort, but he stuck out his tongue and stroked the vein in the corner of his mouth as a dirty trick, effectively shutting Erwin up with his own groans.

Even though he was focused on going as deep as possible, he couldn’t help but look up and try to make eye contact with Erwin, who was watching him with such a hungry expression, Levi couldn’t help but reach down into his pants to try and relieve some of the pain in his crotch as well.

However, after a few more strokes and gulps of Erwin’s shaft, he could barely prepare himself for the pressure at the back of his head or the gag that came from the back of his throat.

GACK!

“E-Er–“ was all Levi could say around the thick shaft in his mouth before Erwin’s heavy hand pushed him further down, burying himself deeper in the dark-haired man’s throat.

“Fuck, Levi!” Erwin groaned, his head tossed back in ecstasy. “It feels so…fuck! I’m so close…”

Erwin’s last curse came out as a growl, lighting Levi’s cheeks and groin on fire. However, his throat was also on fire, but for an entirely different reason. He liked control, but he couldn’t deny that being manhandled this way, feeling the sting in his hair where Erwin gripped it, made his body electrified. And he also couldn’t deny that the feeling of a cock lodged in his throat, as much as it was sexy, was also extremely uncomfortable.

“Er—!” he began, his voice muffled before being interrupted by another gag. His taps against Erwin’s leg quickly turned to slaps just as Erwin’s pushes brought him down to the base, his nose nuzzled into his golden happy trail.

“Oh, Levi!” Erwin exclaimed, suddenly broken out of his pleasure-fueled fugue state. He released Levi’s hair and the pressure on his head, leaving Levi to immediately lift off his cock with a lewd pop. He was left coughing while Erwin spluttered out apologies, his hands up in the air before one of them found a place on the top of Levi’s head. However, this time, there was no pressure. He pet the soft hair underneath his fingertips apologetically as Levi caught his bearings.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” Erwin finally said after a myriad of unfinished sentences and stutters. “I-I got too into it. That’s never happened before…I—“

“No,” Levi finally said, his voice now hoarse. He wiped at the corner of his mouth, his hand streaked with saliva and precome. He took a moment to clear his throat before quietly adding, “I…I liked it.”

Both men could barely meet each other’s eyes, their faces as red as the candle flame dancing about on the desk.

Erwin was the first who dared to speak. “Uh, well, I—“

But Levi was quick to interrupt. “If that’s all it takes to get you to come, then we better move on.” He stood up, his hands dropping to his own belt as he held Erwin’s curious gaze. He dropped his trousers, leaving himself in just his drawers. “We wouldn’t want you to finish before we even got started.”

Erwin cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowing together as he took in Levi’s body. His curious gaze morphed into something darker, his clear eyes turning stormy as they dropped to Levi’s crotch. “Y-yes, we wouldn’t want that.”

Erwin’s hungry gaze sent shivers down Levi’s spine. He had wanted this for so long: to be admired, to be sexualized by Erwin. He wanted to be wanted, and that was exactly how it was going. Erwin was physically restraining himself from reaching forward and pulling Levi to him; it was obvious from how tightly he was gripping the chair. It was perfect.

He carefully climbed back onto Erwin’s lap, sighing at the feeling of the blond replacing his hands to their rightful position on his hips once again. The position was the same as before, except now, Levi could feel Erwin’s leaking cock pressed against his asscheek, wetting his drawers.

“Nervous to finally lose your V card?” he asked with a smirk, reaching behind him to give Erwin’s cock a playful tug, earning a delicious grunt from the other.

“Should I be?” Erwin replied, cocking his head as he gazed up at his friend with lowered eyelids and heavy pants. His chest was rising and falling erratically the more Levi fondled him.

“No,” Levi cooed, reaching up to push down his drawers. He leaned forward and kissed Erwin’s cheek, delighting in the whimper that escaped those thin lips. “I’ll take care of everything.”

He lifted a hand to his lips, sticking two fingers inside his mouth and wetting them dutifully with his tongue. If he wanted to walk the next day and not bleed, he’d have to stretch himself very attentively.

“What are you doing?” Erwin asked. He was watching Levi’s every move with heated glances.

Levi chuckled between the fingers in his mouth, pulling them out and reaching behind himself. “Sex between men requires some stretching and lubrication,” he said as he slowly pushed a finger inside himself, letting out a low hiss. “When you have sex with the woman of your dreams, you probably won’t have to endure this. Women make their own lubrication, and if she’s not a virgin, she’s probably loose enough. Just give me a second.”

Even though he knew he shouldn’t rush the process, he didn’t want Erwin to think he was a boring lay, so he inserted a second finger, feeling a slight sting. Even though he only wanted to fuck Erwin in that moment, he at least wanted it to make it enjoyable and sweet for the man who was losing his virginity. He was sharing an important moment with his best friend, and even though sex between men wasn’t really counted as real sex, he might as well educate Erwin on real sex. So that was what he decided to do.

“You’re not exactly small, Erwin,” he continued, using his other hand to stroke Erwin as he fingered himself. It’d been a while since he last had sex. Perhaps a couple of years. Ever since he met and bonded with Erwin, he hadn’t had eyes on anybody else and wouldn’t let anybody touch him. In a way, he’d been saving himself for Erwin.

“You have to be patient with your lady,” he instructed, flinching each time he pumped his fingers in and out. He was loosening up, just not at the desired pace. “She might not handle it well.”

“Levi,” Erwin rasped, breaking Levi out of his teaching persona. “I want to do it.”

“Uh—” This was the last thing Levi expected, especially out of Erwin. “What?”

Erwin snaked a hand down Levi’s hip down to cup his cheek, his hand dangerously close to his entrance. His fingers inched up to stroke Levi’s wrist, which had since stilled from shock. He craned his neck up, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked at his friend.

“I want to prepare you,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t I learn how to do this?”

Levi hesitated. “Er, well, you probably won’t have to do this with women—”

“Levi,” Erwin interrupted, his eyes closing with annoyance, “for fuck’s sake, shut up about women. Let me help you.”

Levi’s ears went bright pink at that, and he had no choice but to let his fingers slip out and let his hand hang limply by his side. Erwin hardly ever cursed. It’d have to be a life or death situation for him to curse. And yet…

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Erwin warned, lifting his hand to his mouth and wetting two fingers like he watched Levi do. He dropped his hand to Levi’s entrance once his fingers were sufficiently coated, pushing in his fingertip as he held his breath.

“You’re not,” Levi said after sucking in a sharp breath. Erwin’s fingers were much bigger than his own—he knew this very well after dreaming about them for years. They felt even bigger than in his dreams. “Keep going.”

Erwin pushed in until he reached his knuckle and slowly pulled out, using Levi’s sighs and breaths as a guide as to whether he was doing well or not. He decided to risk it and push in a second finger before the saliva coating it dried up, earning a squeal from Levi.

“Are you okay?” Erwin asked hurriedly, but all Levi responded with was throwing his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Erwin…” Levi’s voice was shaky. Erwin had never heard him like this. Levi always had a monotone voice, one that was reassured and calm. Even when he yelled, it was controlled. He was always in control. Well, it was only fair. This experience was a first for him, and it was a first for Levi to not be in control.

“Should I continue?” Erwin asked again.

Levi let out a shuddering breath. “I-inside every man’s ass, there’s a spot. And when you touch that spot, it makes you see stars. A-and…” He shifted his hips backward, causing Erwin’s fingers to brush up against a walnut-shaped mound raised from Levi’s walls. Yet again, Levi let out a cry, his fingers digging into Erwin’s back and leaving behind crescent-shaped tattoos.

“So, it’s here?” he asked, pressing into that spot again as if it was nothing, but it was everything to Levi. His mind was foggy, and his head was light. He was so confused; how did Erwin find his spot so quickly and how does he continue to find it so easily? Big fingers are good for that reason, but it seemed as if he knew intuitively where it was.

“Are y-you sure you’re a…a virgin?” he asked, moving his hips to match the pump of Erwin’s fingers. For a virgin, he was finding the spot over and over with impressive accuracy and stroking it with beautiful mastery.

Erwin chuckled and buried his nose in Levi’s dark mop of hair, taking in the smell of his hair mousse and salty sweat. “Yes, I’m very sure.”

After a few moments of continuous pumping, Levi instructed Erwin to scissor him open with another joke about him being well-endowed.

“I think you’re a virgin because women are too scared to handle your giant dick,” he said with a breathy laugh.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Erwin replied, giving Levi another scissor stretch. He fell silent in his thoughts for a moment before beginning, “You know, women aren’t my—”

“Okay, I think I’m ready,” Levi cut in, his hand gripping Erwin’s wrist. “I’m ready to put it in.”

“P-put—“ Erwin spluttered, his face matching Levi’s pink ears. “O-oh, right.”

It was almost as if he just remembered what was happening, that he was going to have sex. It was frustratingly endearing.

“We’ll go nice and easy,” Levi whispered, his tone no longer having its usual bite. He wasn’t that drunk on horniness—he knew how much of a big moment this was for Erwin.

“Okay,” Erwin replied quietly. He sucked air through his clenched teeth when Levi gripped his cock against, standing it up as he hovered above it. “You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know that,” Levi replied hurriedly. It almost felt as if he was losing his virginity, not Erwin. He let out a long breath before lowering his hips, but his chest seized once his entrance made contact with the head of Erwin’s cock, the sheer size of it making his body shut down.

“A-ah,” was the small whine that escaped Erwin’s lips. It invigorated Levi—he had control. It was all he needed to lower his hips further, letting out a groan with each inch that entered him.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunted, his legs trembling the more he lowered himself. However, as strong as his thighs were, they were no match for Erwin’s size, and they gave out, causing a smack to echo off the walls from Levi’s legs giving out and landing him in Erwin’s lap yet again, except this time with his full size inside him.

“Ngh-!” It was like ripping off a bandage—it was better to get it over with all in one swoop, but damn, did it hurt. It was confirmed: Levi would be walking funny the next day for sure. But it couldn’t have felt any better. He was finally joined with Erwin. And he couldn’t wait to fuck him into oblivion.

However, Erwin was suspiciously quiet. Levi tried to lift his head from being buried in Erwin’s gelled hair, but Erwin’s stiff hold on him prevented him from checking in on the blond or even seeing his face since it was pressed against Levi’s chest.

And then came the warmth flooding inside him. It was strange—did Erwin grow a few inches in the few seconds he was inside? But it felt like liquid… which sent Levi into a panic. Was he bleeding that badly? Was he hemorrhaging? If he died because of internal bleeding from a giant cock instead of going down in glory from a Titan, he’d have some hands to throw with God.

However, he quickly pieced together what was happening when he felt Erwin’s entire body shivering and a guttural groan escape from the back of his throat, reverberating throughout Levi’s entire body.

Erwin came.

“Erwin?” he whispered. He bit his lip apprehensively, unsure of how to approach the sensitive issue. Usually, he enjoyed a good creampie. But he needed to have his mind fucked out before he got to the point where he could tolerate the slimy mess inside him, and he was hardly there. Now, he was just uncomfortable, even if it was Erwin’s, the love of his life’s slimy mess.

Erwin wasn’t talking. He was a statue.

Levi took his perpetual silence and interpreted it as shame. He rubbed Erwin’s shoulder reassuringly and kissed the top of his head, making sure to keep his hips still to not overstimulate the poor man.

“It’s alright, Erwin. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of men do this, especially during their first time. It’s completely nor…” Levi trailed off when he realized something dire: Erwin wasn’t getting softer. He was preparing himself to lift off Erwin’s lap and have that difficult conversation, but how the hell was he supposed to get up with that thing still lodged inside him?

Erwin wasn’t just not getting softer; he was getting harder. Enough to stretch Levi open even more, causing the man to hiss both in pain and in confusion. What the hell is going on?

Before Levi could realize what was happening, he was being lifted into the air and subsequently flipped over, his face pressed into the cold hardwood desk. His legs flailed about before finding their place on the floor, his arms pinned behind him in Erwin’s strong grasp.

“Erwin—?!”

“Sorry, Levi, but I’m not done.” Erwin’s voice was gravelly, and Levi couldn’t see his face to match the voice to the expression he was making. “Mind if I come in you again?”

“W-wait—!” However, a powerful thrust cut him off, replacing his objection with a shout mixed with a lewd moan. His chin and knees thumped against the desk, and his softening erection was at full mast yet again. “Erwin, wait!”

Erwin was about to pull out again—he had become a machine—but stopped upon hearing Levi’s pleas. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

How dare you fucking ask that when I’m leaking like a hose over here? Levi thought angrily. He shook his head to the best of his ability and clarified, “N-no, just…what happened?”

“Oh.” Erwin chuckled bashfully, and when Levi turned his head, he could see the blond rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

The damn brute, acting all shy.

“Well, that was embarrassing. You caught me off guard. But I recovered. So, shall we continue?”

He pulled out an imperceptible amount before pushing back in, giving Levi a mouth-watering taste of what was to come.

“Erwin,” Levi breathed, his cheek heating up the wood underneath it as he tried to meet Erwin’s eyes. “Fuck me until I can’t stand.”

Levi liked to be in control. But something that he’d learned very quickly from Erwin (who knew he’d be learning something from the virgin?) was that sometimes…it was nice to give up control. He had been in control his entire life, especially now as a captain. Maybe he could let somebody take the reins for a while.

The small smile that crossed Erwin’s lips sent chills down his spine. “Duly noted.”

The subsequent thrust that followed made Levi’s knees buckle, but Erwin’s hold on his wrists pinned to his back held him in place long enough for Levi to barely recover in time for another back-breaking thrust.

“E-Erwin!” he cried, his skin prickling with each smack and squelch that hit his ears. “Erwin, fuck, it feels—ngh, s-so—"

Both his legs and voice were trembling, his legs close to collapsing at the feeling of Erwin’s size stuffed inside him and pushing out his semen with his thrust. The previous semen provided the perfect lube, and it only added to the lascivious sounds filling the room. Erwin’s groans and grunts were short but dominant, each one causing Levi’s body to seize up and his hole to tighten, which then caused Erwin to groan more. It was a vicious cycle, one that brought each man eye-rolling waves of pleasure.

“You’re so tight, L-Levi,” Erwin murmured, leaning over Levi’s body to lick the shell of his ear. He gave another rough thrust, relishing in Levi’s unhinged reaction. “Are you sure you’re not a virgin?”

Levi was about to reply with a sarcastic remark, but Erwin never gave him the time as he ramped up his pace and continued to give his ear—one of his erogenous zones—special attention. Erwin let go of Levi’s wrists, to which the captain responded by spreading his arms out and digging his nails into the wood. However, Erwin didn’t leave Levi’s hands unattended for long. In between hard thrusts, he slipped a hand over Levi’s, interlacing their fingers from the back and running his thumb over his knuckles. He kept his other hand staunchly on Levi’s hip, leaving angry red marks for Levi to enjoy afterward.

“You’re going to have to buy me a new desk,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the slapping and wet sounds behind them. “You’re leaving scratch marks. That’s pretty…ugh…s-suspicious.”

“Erwin!” Levi begged, both out of frustration and pleasure. He wanted Erwin to stop teasing him, but at the same time, that was the main thing that was sending him over the edge—other than the punishing thrusting pace, of course. “Fuck me, f-fuck me, f…fuck…mmm—! Harder!”

“As you wish,” Erwin replied. He complied beautifully to Levi’s request, each thrust leaving a fresh set of raised red circles on Levi’s ass. “A-ah, Levi…it’s getting quite hard to move…”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Levi demanded. Yet again, Erwin complied, leaning back over and meeting Levi’s cherry red and bitten-up lips with a sloppy kiss that only added to the wet sounds in the room. “Mmph!”

“Levi,” Erwin growled hoarsely in between kisses, causing Levi’s toes to curl in his boots. “Levi…are you cl…mmm…close? Can I...c-can I come inside?"

Levi nodded quickly, which only added to his disorientedness. He couldn't tell down from up—that was Erwin's effect on him. "I-inside...plea...please!"

They were breathing into each other’s mouths at this point, too afraid to separate lips and lose that connection between them. Levi nodded, his hand drifting down the desk.

“My…my cock…” Levi mumbled before a moan overtook him, his hand stopping in its movements as his body went stiff again.

Erwin understood right away. He acted quickly, wanting Levi to come at least once before he finished again. He moved the hand on Levi’s hip down, down until his fingers brushed against Levi’s leaking cock. Within a second, he had it in his grip, giving it a tight pump and utilizing the precome as lube.

Levi’s reaction was immediate, his voice coming out as a shrill squeak and his body ransacked by tremors. He could barely see anything between his sweaty hair clumping in front of his eyes and the way his head was being tossed about with each brutal thrust. All he knew was that he needed one more thing, and he was done.

“Levi,” Erwin whispered again, planting a kiss on the corner of Levi’s lips. “I like you. I like you so much. I’ve liked you for so long…”

That was all Levi needed. With all his erogenous zones activated, plus the romantic confession from Erwin, it was the perfect concoction that brewed up a warm, familiar feeling in the depths of his stomach. It only took the combination of a pump of Erwin’s hand and a thrust from his brilliant cock to send him over the edge.

“Er-Er—” His voice cut out just as his vision was overtaken by blinding stars, his come splashing against the inside of the desk and leaving it covered in the evidence of his and Erwin’s romantic encounter. His entire body seized, and every time he felt the fluid movement of Erwin’s abs moving against his sweat-slicked back, it overstimulated him to the point that all that came out of his mouth were pathetic whimpers. With the next movement, he used all the strength in his neck to move his head over to their conjoined hands and bit down on Erwin’s knuckles to silence himself.

It only took two more thrusts for Erwin to finish. He had been holding back ever since they first started back up again, but he needed Levi to enjoy this as much as he was. And his captain very clearly did. His captain.

His orgasm was quieter than Levi’s, but it wasn’t any less dramatic or took any less of a toll on his body. His hips stuttered forward, his chest erratically falling and rising to compensate for the lack of breath in his lungs. He grunted into the nape of Levi’s neck as he buried himself deep inside, spilling his second seed of the night inside his captain. His captain.

Levi was very much in that fucked-out-of-his-mind state of being because he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of being filled to the brim with that sticky substance a second time. It was the perfect feeling to close out the night, followed by the worst feeling of the night: Erwin pulling out. He let out a pathetic whine, and he wasn't even ashamed—he loved Erwin's cock that much. He felt so empty, and he had to deal with the sensation of Erwin’s hot come spill out and wind down his leg. He’d have to take a bath right after this. But his legs could barely stand, and he could hardly hold onto the desk; all his limbs had turned into jelly.

Luckily, Erwin caught him by wrapping his arm around Levi’s stomach before he could collapse, seating him in his lap. Since when had Erwin sat back down in the chair? Levi didn’t know—all he knew was he had been thoroughly and totally fucked from the fact that he had no sense of linear time. All he knew was that he was still madly in love with Erwin, and he had fallen deeper in love…if that was even possible.

“Hey,” Erwin finally spoke up after a few uninterrupted minutes of them breathing heavily. “You’re the right person I was talking about earlier, Levi. You’re the person I’ve been saving myself for.”

Levi was so lightheaded, he felt as if his head could up and float away at any moment. But the second he heard Erwin say that, heard his meatheaded commander confess his love for the second time, he was all-too grounded.

“I…I think I figured that out pretty quickly, Erwin,” Levi replied softly, still catching his breath. He slipped his hands over the blond’s that were sitting over his stomach, and he leaned his head back to rest against Erwin’s shoulder. He looked up to see those blue eyes he’d wanted to focus only on him for so long, and he earned it. Now, those blue eyes never left him. “No normal man would’ve accepted my proposal without being a little attracted to men.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I’m not normal,” Erwin replied, hugging Levi closer to him. “I’m glad you taught me to love you, Levi.”

How could Levi not feel all warm and mushy at that? As much of the stern man he was, he wasn’t heartless. In fact, Erwin reminded him just how big his heart could be at times, as if it was too big for his chest and would burst at any moment.

“Okay, but you seriously saved it all these years for me?” Levi asked, lifting up and turning slightly to be able to look Erwin in the face. “Ever since we first met? Why didn’t you make a move earlier?”

Erwin sighed deeply and shook his head. “I was honestly about to lose it before I met you. I had a girlfriend, and I was satisfied with the thought that I’d be living out the life people expected of me. Get a nice wife, have a couple of kids, and retire from the Regiment or die with the honor of leaving behind a nice family and being a strong man.” He looked up, his eyes never having shone so brilliantly before. “But then I met you, and I realized I needed to share such an intimate part of myself with somebody I truly cared about. And as for taking so long…”

He snickered and tapped Levi on his behind. “That’s your fault. I dropped so many hints…”

“You dropped so many hints?!” Levi interjected. “I was dropping hints every time we were alone together! Your nickname in my head is meathead because you never understood anything!”

“Er, I—” Erwin hesitated, his eyes dropping as he gathered his thoughts. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” Levi sighed, lifting a hand to Erwin’s cheek and stroking his famously sharp cheekbone tenderly. “It took too goddamn long, but we’re here. We…” He bit his lip before saying, “We made love.”

Erwin let out a bark of a laugh and threw his arms around Levi, pulling him in for a tight, bone-breaking hug. “And you said I was a softie!”

“Be quiet,” Levi demanded, pushing himself off Erwin’s lap and grabbing a tissue from his desk to clean himself up to the best of his ability before pulling his drawers and pants up. “By the way, how did you know where to touch me? It barely felt like I was having sex with a virgin.”

Erwin smirked. “I read pornography.”

Levi whipped around, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Those pictures? There are ones with males?”

“Once you’re the commander, you can get a lot of things normal people can’t,” Erwin replied coolly.

Levi went silent, fumbling with his belt absentmindedly as he imagined Erwin masturbating to gay porn late at night. Dare he imagine that Erwin was thinking about him while masturbating, replacing the men’s faces with theirs? He was far too exhausted to get hard again, but damn it, could he still use his wonderful imagination. “Well, you won’t need that now that I’m here.”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Levi finished fastening his belt, his cheeks heating up as he tried his best to ignore Erwin’s fond gaze on him.

“Stop staring at me and get back to work.”

“Oh, Levi, won’t you stay?” Erwin pleaded, reaching out to tug on Levi’s pants.

“With your come in my ass? I don’t think so,” he replied with a scoff. His first reaction was to smack Erwin’s hand away, but instead, he lifted it to his lips and gave his knuckles, which harbored a clean red bitemark from earlier, a soft kiss. “Besides, I only came in to drop off those documents and talk about them for a little bit. My side mission was to seduce you. I’ve been pretty successful today.”

Erwin grinned and nodded. “I have been thoroughly seduced.”

Levi was so in love. All he wanted to do now was get back in Erwin’s lap and kiss him until they both passed out. But he had to control himself. He just took the man’s virginity, they confessed both their feelings to each other, and he had to cope with the fact that he wouldn’t be able to walk straight the next day. He was exhausted.

He walked over to Erwin’s closet and pulled on one of his shirts since his had been ripped to shreds. It was far too big for him, which was both a blessing and a curse. He was far too tired to care about the curse—besides, it was late. He could run to his room without anybody seeing him, right?

“I’ll see you in the morning, Erwin,” Levi said after buttoning up the shirt.

“Can’t I seduce you to sleep in my bed tonight?” Erwin asked, standing up to fasten his belt and pad over to Levi. He towered over the captain, that pleading expression leaving Levi at a loss for any rejection words.

“I…” He’d never be able to say no to that face. “I won’t make it a habit. But since I took your virginity…” He tugged at Erwin’s belt, stumbling him forward enough so that his nose reached his downturned chin. “I can make an exception for tonight.”

Before Erwin could react, he added, “But I have to clean myself up. I’ll be back after my bath. You should probably take one, too.”

“Can’t we take one together?” Erwin asked in that pleading voice, but this time, Levi put his foot down.

“The entire Regiment probably heard us rutting about. Us going to the bath together is pushing it,” he said. When he saw the gloomy look that crossed Erwin’s puppy-dog face, he pulled the blond down by the back of the neck and smooched him hard enough to leave the other dazed. “I will see you in an hour. Goodnight.”

He shuffled out of the room before Erwin could object, closing the door and rushing down the hallway. He was smiling to himself, so excited that he made it out without being seen that he missed Moblit’s entire body in the middle of the hallway, bumping into him hard enough to get the other to grunt.

“Hey—oh, Levi!” Moblit exclaimed, quickly lowering his voice since it was late. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

He stepped back, and it was comical how quickly his eyes dropped from Levi’s face to the oversized shirt he had on. It was less comical how they slowly drifted down the hallway to take in Erwin’s slightly ajar office door and how the lights were still on inside the room. Not to mention, Moblit certainly noticed how disheveled and sweaty Levi looked.

“What are you staring at?” Levi snapped, tugging the shirt tighter around his body as he shouldered past Moblit. “Get back to your post before I inform Commander Erwin about this.”

“So you’d go back to his office?” Moblit asked, hiding a snicker behind his hand. He barely saw the kick in the back of the knee coming, crippling him to the floor as Levi continued on his way.

“No more smart remarks from you, soldier,” Levi grumbled, slipping into his room and hiding behind the door. He walked to the bathroom and looked himself in the face: he was far too red. He knew he could trust Moblit to keep his secret—it didn’t make the encounter any less embarrassing.

Before long, he was bathed and clean. He made sure that the hallway was clear before sprinting down and slamming Erwin’s bedroom door closed behind him. He sighed, but before he could even turn around, Erwin’s hands were on him, around his waist, pinching his hips.

“You took too long.” Erwin had probably fallen asleep; his voice was gruff but melodic.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Levi whispered, turning around in his arms and taking in the refreshing cotton scent of his shirt.

“Mm.” They shuffled and practically fell onto the bed, Erwin out like a light before Levi could even adjust his position. He was convinced that they’d get up to some more funny business before falling asleep, but perhaps losing his virginity in addition to orgasming twice in one night was a little too much for the commander. It would have been too much for anyone.

Levi, fully believing Erwin was asleep, fit himself into his side. His head found a place on his muscled chest, the same one he had been envisioning himself laying on for far too long. And here he was, with that chest all to himself with no need to share it with anybody else. He draped an arm around Erwin’s waist and hugged him tighter.

“I like you, Erwin,” Levi whispered as he shut his eyes.

Erwin smiled to himself in the dark, his eyes fluttering open and casting down to take in Levi’s frame snuggled up against him. I like you, too, Levi, he thought. More than you could ever know.

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

attraction |  hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

masterlist  |  tag list

Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. ��Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own. 

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that. 

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.” 

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...” 

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!” 

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!” 

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life. 

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.” 

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair. 

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face. 

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever. 

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * * 

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[sirensmojo]

“KINDRED”, 2 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Warnings: Swearing, romance, fluff.

Word Count: 6K+

❰ ​Previous Chapter

(...) 

Several days later.

You were walking London’s street with the confidence of someone that ruled the place. Your back, straight, your head high as the air moved your hair gently, as if you were starring in an old Hollywood movie. 

Your suit fitted you perfectly, a little loose so you were comfortable. You were wearing the jacket closed, one hand in your pant’s pocket as the clicking sound of your high heels resonated against the cobblestones of the empty streets.

It was early in the morning, so early the thick mist nearly extinguished the cigarette hanging on your red painted lips, but your gaze was already as determined as one can be. 

‘This day will be great’ was the mantra you were singing in your head. You were supposed to open the library in less than an hour now, and you had to meet with your new employees to discuss the rules before opening.

You thanked God some of them were already a part of your organisation, which made it easier as they knew the way things needed to be done under your management. 

Entering the building, the women were already waiting, in uniform and standing in a perfect line side by side. 

You offered them a warm smile coming closer to them as you took your woollen coat off.

“Misses and Madams, let me welcome you to the Bridgehead Library. Now, you may or may not know me, I’m Y/N, you, strong fighter for women’s rights & aspirant to a world where we would walk the streets unafraid of any danger. Because we know how it is, for those of you that are single moms, for those of you that were disowned by your own family, those of you who don’t want to get married.” 

You paced back and forth in front of the aligned women, looking at each one of them straight in the eyes, as talking with a firm and confident tone.

“You’re not taken seriously, you’re misused and abused. You fear the barmaid will not serve you a drink cause no man stands on your side, you fear the man that is staring at your body will be lurking in the shadows, following you, and rip off your clothes when you’ll be in an empty street.”

You stop in front of a face you saw in the files of Thomas Shelby while doing some research on him. You identify the individual as Ada Thorne, born Shelby, Tom’s sister. 

“Well, you should know, for as long as you're willing to work here, none of the things mentioned before should ever happen to you. And your family will be fed and more... I guarantee you fifteen pounds a week. If anything… A-ny-thing may happen to you due to your gender, consider turning to Bridget, we will find a solution.”

You motioned to a blonde-haired woman sitting legs crossed at the principal desk to their right. Her hair was middle length and perfectly waved to one side as the other was tucked behind her ear. 

The named Bridget glanced up to you before colliding her lit matchstick with her cigarette. 

“You’re under my protection, use my name for doing whatever pleases you, whenever you want. This is your ticket to a brand new life, for all of you. And all of us, together, we can achieve great things. If the counsellor job isn’t enough for you, I invite you to turn to Ana.” 

You pointed a brunette on your side, her facial expression was passive & aggressive, but for some reason, it was comforting. As if you knew you were in security in her presence. 

“Now, as for the library…” You gave your instructions. 

As soon as you finished your speech, it was 7, the hour of the opening. 

The day was slow at the beginning, but soon enough the library was packed. Not only by people here to find a book, but packed with numerous women, all in a single file that led to a small room at the back of the first floor that had been designated as Ana’s office.

It was almost impossible for Ada not to wonder what was going on. 

Were all these women wanting to find another job than counsellor?

All employees tried their best to keep quiet the visitors, following your orders, but as Ada was passing by the single file to pick up and put back books, she could hear murmurs. 

The individuals were talking about politics, but something so far from what she had ever heard.

Some were talking about the tragic death of a certain Emily Davison before the war at the Derby Epsom and how they rallied the WSPU(Women’s Social and Political Union). 

Others were talking about a recent speech by Emmeline Pankhurst to which they couldn’t assist due to coppers. The Shelby sister surmised that woman must be the leader of the political party given the amount of respect they paid her. 

No need to say Ada was drowning in a tide of data and names she vaguely heard of before.

She didn’t pay that much attention to the women’s cause. Even after the death of her Freddie, after which reality smacked her back into the world she was living in. 

It was either her family or her convictions, as being a Shelby meant drifting from the oppressed to the oppressor. But she was so focused on not being a Shelby that she closed herself to other opportunities. 

She wanted to be a part of something bigger and better to help those in need. But she ultimately admitted to herself she needed her family in order to survive, which led her to jump off the communist boat.

But a part of her was always keeping her beliefs close to her heart. 

(...)

*The library, fourth floor*

You turned the keys in the lock, opening your door’s office. You switched on the light and when turning back, stumbled on a man sitting crossed legs, at the edge of the sofa.

When he was sure he made his presence known, he lied backwards, extending one of his arms on the armrest, his head held high.

He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, white shirt, the chains of his watch knotted around one of his buttons with a fine red & blue tie around his neck.

Right above his upper lips was a full mustache, and as your gaze reached his dark eyes, you glimpsed the stranger’s neat hair flattened backward.

“What a surprise.” You let out, walking to the desk as if it was normal for him to be here. You then hung your coat on the coat rack, turning your back at Mosley.

“A good one, I hope.” The man put on his fake smile, lying eyes everywhere he could on the woman’s silhouette in front of him.

“Always, Mr Mosley. How could you be any other thing than a pleasure to see,” you came back to where he was and sat in one of the armchairs ahead “and meet.” You added, offering him a smile.

“It’s a shame we never had time to properly exchange--”

“That’s why you crept into my office.” You cut him and nodded to herself, your knuckles hitting on her thigh.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips before he stared even more at the light-haired woman.

“It is to be said, your name doesn’t get quite unnoticed in society or amongst politicians.” 

“So you’ve heard of me, even more charming.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

 If he thought he could cajole you that easily, he was wrong.

“Not only have I heard of your deeds, Miss you, but I’ve been reported daily about the people you keep company with.” He stated as if it was normal for him to send people spying on whoever.

You remained silent, waiting for the man to say more. 

He was gauging your reaction towards his words, lurking at any sudden change in your expression, but you kept on an unreadable face. Mosley tilted his head to the side, curiosity animating his iris.

“Leading me to question the nature of your relationship with Mr Thomas Shelby.” He continued, squinting his eyes.

“Perhaps socialists are your thing?” He spitted that last part with all the distaste he felt toward both the worker class and Tommy.

By the way your piercing eyes didn’t flinch a bit at his sneaky comment, Mosley surmised you weren't impressed, which eventuated in him smiling while keeping up the stare.

“Did you come all the way down to my library to give me a lecture on your inauthentic Dasein, Mr Mosley? There are doctors for that.”

A rictus at the corner of your lips distracted the eyes of the man in front you, who unwittingly broke the stare.

You won.

You took great delight in the void of Mosley’s expression that surely didn’t understand what you just said. 

“Oh, beg pardon. Perhaps I’m using concepts you don’t understand.” You didn’t even cover the fact you were making fun of his ignorance, your eyes still as sharp as razors.

“Don’t you know Heidegger, Mr Mosley? He discusses a neat difference between what he calls Sein, that covers what Is, what constitutes human existence with the Dasein that covers the phenomenological analysis of human existence. In other words, he says there is a gap between how things are and how we perceive them.” 

You got up and walked to your desk, making sure to pass by him pretty close so your perfume would meet the man’s nostrils. 

You then opened the ceramic piece in which you kept your cigarettes, and as you grabbed one, you concluded.

“When it may seem to you something is occuring, that doesn’t mean it’s actually happening. It just means your senses want to believe it is happening for numerous reasons, but the main one is almost always the fear of something. You don’t believe it wittingly of course, it’s your inconscient working. But still, you just confided in me an unconscious worry named Thomas Shelby.” You ignited your cig.

By using a psycho-philosophical reference, you were showing him your hand, how studious you were, which meant he couldn’t look down on you or intimidate you easily. 

His attempt to pressure you wasn’t working. And you were setting the standards high.

Mosley didn’t miss any of your movement since you got up. Eyeing you top to bottom. It was crystal clear your monologue satisfied him the most. He, that considered you as illegitimate of the high-society status you had been given. 

Perhaps he was wrong?

“May I add, no offense here, that whatever concerns him, or me doesn’t concern you a bit? I’m afraid you came here in vain.” You smacked her lips at the end of her sentence, faking to be annoyed by the fact he lost his time coming here.

“I found you, Miss Y/L/N, I found you.” He repeated, fluttering his eyes as tilting his head to the side.

His way of intensely eyeing the individual he was speaking to would be quite uncomfortable for you if you hadn’t been a woman in a man’s world for so long.

No wonder why this man was so feared and yet adorned. His whole character emitted mysteriousness while arousing wonder and curiosity. It was hard, nearly impossible to read his face or even get in his mind, but you didn’t need that to face him head-on. 

“And to answer your question, no. Socialists aren’t my thing, Kings are.” His brows raised at the end of your sentence.

You stared at each other some more, Mosley trying to discover the implied meaning of your sentence as you were internally laughing seeing him struggle.

“Anyway, I hope you’re finding our city to your liking. You’re from Birmingham after all.” He paused and got up, walking closer to the door with a hand in his pants pocket.”Talking of which, may I ask why not opening in a library there?” It was obvious the displeasure he felt towards your decision.

“I’ll call it ‘modern conquering’.” You responded with enthusiasm.

(...)

Ada poured wine into two cups when hearing the keys turning in the lock of her house. She first thought it was Ben, her lover coming back from his office, or wherever he was working as they weren’t truly speaking of work when together.

Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother when she turned back to the entrance of the living room. “Tommy?” Her high pitched tone expressing her surprise. 

“Let’s sit down, Ada.” The man always looked worried and thoughtful, but this time it was different, his eyes were actually reflecting emotions, which usually never are. 

“What’s happened”

Tommy came nearer the table and pulled a chair for his sister, without looking at her. “Sit down, eh?” He repeated before sitting down himself.

Ada didn’t stop looking at her brother, she knew him too well. Something wasn’t right. She pulled a chair for herself. 

Tommy tried his best to look at the face of his sister while talking but he just couldn’t, his eyes kept drifting away. “Ben younger is dead. Someone put a bomb in his car.”

As the brunette wasn’t talking, her mouth slightly opened in shook, he kept on talking, “I don’t know how you felt about him or how bad this is going to hurt, but whatever happens just remember you have a baby inside of you.” He pointed to her tummy.

His sister let her back hit the chair noisily, searching the void for answers. “God.” She hardly sighed. “Anyone you touch. Which means anyone I touch. Which means anyone any of us touch. He never knew I was pregnant… I hadn’t told him.”

Tommy that was looking at her to support her pain, once again looked down hearing the hard truth. 

“God, I didn’t love him.” She sighed heavily. “But I liked him. He was decent and good. And I wasn’t gonna marry him. The baby was a mistake but that’s okay… because I didn’t ask anything of him. God he didn’t deserve us.” A tear rolled down her cheek before she exhaled loudly again.

“Well I’ve spoken to his family. They’re going to take care of the funeral” Tommy said as Ada sniffled. “It will go down as an IRA assassination of a British military officer.” He felt the need to divulge her all he knew.

“But what was it really?” She calmly asked, looking intently at him her head tilted to the side.

Tommy smacked his lips and breathed deeply. “It was… a consequence of good intentions. My good intentions.” 

She scoffed.

“I pushed him to report on the fascists. I thought it was the right thing to do. And as a result, Section D or the Branch or intelligence had him killed.”

She scoffed again, looking away this time.

He abruptly took back in hands his beret he previously dropped on the table and started fidgeting with it, looking down. “There was a kid, died in the explosion. He was ten years old. It’s funny isn’t it, how it works?” He cleared his throat and got up, starting to move forward the door.

“No, Tommy.” 

He stopped, his back still turned to the woman.

“Don’t give yourself this excuse. “ Ada’s eyes were filled with tears, some of which hurtling down her face to her chin.

“He was ten years old. if I would stuck to what I do, he’d still be kicking a ball in the street. It’s funny isn’t it?” The meaning of his words was amplified by the thunder rumbling outside. 

(...) 

Days later.

It was the end of the day, employees had started to leave when Ada came to the entrance.

“Can I get the changing room keys?” She asked Bridget, who was sitting behind the desk, lost in a book.

“Ada Shelby? Miss you would like to borrow you a moment.” She pointed to the stairs behind her. “She’s waiting for you.” The desk lady invited the woman standing in front of her to get on her way.

Ada rolled her eyes at the mention of the Shelby name. “It’s Ada Thorne.”

The light-haired woman smiled at Ada’s comment.

She got up to the second floor and then to the third one before she wondered what her boss had to say that somebody else couldn’t tell her.

Ada rapidly caught sight of the wooden door at the end of the long corridor. She stops walking when hearing voices, a male and a female one. She stops, not wanting to get into their intimacy, but the door wasn’t completely closed, which allowed the voices to slip out pretty clear.

Not too long after she heard steps approaching and moved backward, so it didn’t look like she was eavesdropping. The door ultimately opened, and the fascist man she saw only once before with Tommy passed by her, without even glancing her way.

She knocked on the door and cleared her mind.

“Come in.” 

She cleared her throat. “Miss Y/L/N, am Ada Thorne, you asked to see me?” She peek into the room. 

“Yep, come in. Take a seat.” You motioned your hand that was holding a cigarette to the chair in front of her. 

Her back flat against the backrest, your E/C’s eyes entered those of the Ada’s.

You were searching for the same light that was twinkling in Thomas’ eyes, in vain.

“Do you know who I am, Ada? I can call you that, right?” 

“I heard about your achievements in Paris. What you did for women.” The brunette answered, uncertain of where this discussion was going.

“Do you know what I do?”

At the question, the woman ahead of you didn’t know what to answer.

Was there even a correct answer for that?

Of course, she knew part of her activities was illegal, she wasn’t blind. And, come on! She was a Shelby too, she could feel those things thanks to her brother’s choice of life. 

But what her boss wanted her to say, exactly? And for what reason? 

“You’re talking about the illegal part?”

“The criminal one” You snapped back.

Ada’s eyes widened.

“I surmised you didn’t. Why did you think there were that many women in here today? I offer them jobs in my London’s counterfeit money’s enterprise.” You leaned forward to Thorne, squeezing the cig into the ashtray. 

You crossed the fingers of both your hands together. “You don’t really want to work here.” You forced out the words as if to convince Ada.

“Understand this library covers an underground organisation that is beyond you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not particularly involved in the “business” of your own family. Tommy gave you a title in it but still, you’re here, working in a library to prove yourself something.

Why would I want someone like you in here? Someone that is unsure of what they are, what they want.” 

The venom entered Ada’s ear going directly to her chest, depriving her of oxygen for a short instant. But her eyebrows surely knitted in anger. 

“Stop acting like you know everything when it is clear you understand nothing.” She gained composure again.

“I heard, you didn’t even want to be a Shelby in the first place, running away from your home and your family.” You nodded, your eyes still deep into Ada’s.

“You ‘hear’ things and you take it as the absolute truth? And you’re the leader here.” Thorne chuckled to herself, her eyebrows raised high.

You sneered at the comment.

“What is the problem with my family anyway? If you want to fire me because I’m a Shelby then just do it. I’ll not come burning your library if that’s the matter.” 

The librarian cackled, putting your head into your joined open hands, elbows on the table. “God! No! That’s not that. It is more about the fact that the first time you’re getting involved in that kind of organisation it’s not your brother’s. Not your family’s.” 

Ada looked away, realizing what the light-haired woman meant. She, who never was included in the family business, rather by choice than by abandonment of her family, was employed in a pseudo library that was covering for dirty activities.

“It’s ironic indeed. But what makes you think I wouldn’t want to work here knowing the truth?”

You shrugged. “You never worked with your brothers. Even your aunt, Polly is actively working there.”

“It was my choice.”

“So you’ve changed your mind.”

Ada dismissed the talk, another question seeming to be more urgent:

“But why didn’t you just let me be unaware of all this and be like the others.” She retorted.

“Because you’re not ‘like the others’. You’re a Shelby and a Thorne. Your brother is sitting at the House Of Commons amongst politicians while getting his hands dirty here and there, and your deceased husband was a very known communist leader. You’re everything but random, understand that.” 

“So you’re telling this to me out of goodness?” She laughed at you without even hiding her reluctance toward this eventuality. 

“Respect.” You rectified with a solemn tone. 

The brunette stops laughing, her expression becoming serious again. She didn’t quite get your the true motives, but she had other questions.

“What are your relations with my brothers, are you enemies?”

“No.”

“Allies, then?”

“No.”

Even if you told Ada about the true roots of this library, she wouldn’t talk about the arrangement between her and Thomas. It wasn’t your place to do so, and you didn’t think Ada needed to know, at least for now.

“It’s not like you’re going to get your hands dirty anyway, but if anything should happen to me, they will associate you with me, so they’ll come for you.”

“Who’s they?”

“Coopers, I don’t have them in my pocket.”

Thorne seemed to be in her head, probably rethinking her intention to keep working here as a counsellor.

“You were already working here with the old owner so I’ll let you choose rather you want to stay or leave. But don’t stay because you want to prove something to yourself, or your family. I don’t need a crybaby. If the communist cause you defend isn’t matching with the cause I fight for, leave.” 

Your words cut in pieces the thick atmosphere that had settled between the two women.

(...)

Thomas convened a family meeting.

Everyone was already waiting for him at the pub. Charlie Senior and Curly were sitting at a table drinking from the bottle, while Johnny Dog and Jeremiah were sipping on whiskey at the counter, next to Aberama Gold, too occupied looking at his future wife Polly. 

She were sitting at a table with her son and his wife, Gina.

As Arthur and Finn passed the door, the oldest Shelby got behind Michael and didn’t miss the occasion to stumble wittingly on his cousin’s chair, pulling away the younger’s back from it. 

Next, he hassled to sit near the counter, pouring himself some liquor that he drank in one go. Finn reluctantly came and sat at the table between Gina and Polly.

Tommy finally arrived, walking around the table to place himself in front of everyone. 

“First of all, an apology from Lizzie. She can’t be here. Charles has a violin concert. Also, welcome to Mr Aberama Gold. He and Polly are to be married in three weeks with my blessing. From now on, Aberama will be welcomed at our meetings. First item: business. A bereavement. Colonel Ben Younger, who may perhaps have become a member of this family, was taken from us, four days ago, by dark forces. We’ve made some investigations, we think we know who planted the bomb. In the meantime, our thoughts are with Ada and the baby inside of her, who may one day, sit at these meetings but… Hopefully under happier circumstances.”

“Let’s drink to happier circumstances.” Pol’ offered while pouring some whiskey in her and Tommy’s cup.

“Yeah.” Arthur agreed, raising his glass. “To Ada.” He added, soon joined by all the people in the room.

Tommy coughed at the burn of the whiskey and continued his speech, “Item number two: an announcement regarding Michael.” He coughed again as if to release some tension in him, his hand rose toward the younger Gray. 

“Before you go on, Tommy, there’s something I’d like to say, to the whole family directly, regarding finances and the future of this company.��� Michael stated, getting comfortable in his chair, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his mother glaring at his wife.

Gina ignored her, looking down and smoking a cigarette.

“According to your own estimations, this new venture of the delivery and shipment of opium will bring into the company around £2 million per year. Therefore, due to the amounts involved, I think this company should be restructured.” He continued, looking fearlessly at a pissed Tommy.

“Michael. I think this can wait ‘till outside the family meeting.” His mother tried to postpone the confrontation.

“Restructured in what way?” Tommy asked, not because he was genuinely interested, but because he needed to know if Michael’s betrayal had limits. Which it didn’t have.

“Because of the amount of money involved, shipment and dispatch will become the primary source of income in the company. It’s simple mathematics.” Gina proudly announced, deciding to match her husband’s audacity as she looked Thomas the wrong way. 

Her husband got up, going behind her as he placed his hands on both her shoulders rubbing them gently. “With the help of my wife, I will organise an expansion into America, where the narcotics business is just beginning to grow. I have very good contacts in Detroit, New-York, Boston, who I’ve already spoken to about this. And Gina has family who are very experienced in this kind of business.”

It seems like the woman surely gained composure thanks to the assurance in her husband’s voice because she finally decides to look back at Polly, who was staring at her the whole time with an unpredictable longing to plant her butterfly knife in her. 

Gina, quickly glanced away as if to snub her husband’s mother.

“According to the conversations I’ve had with them, with a regular supply of pure opium from China, within a short space of time, the American narcotics business will bring in $20 million per annum. Enough money for you to enjoy an easing burden you all now feel. See, I know that the scars and the wounds, they’re on the inside, not on the outside. And as a member of the new generation, I am able to take that burden off your weary shoulders. A new decade is coming. There’ll be new opportunities and new territories, more money than we’ve ever had before.” 

He stops looking around to everyone to pause on his cousin only.

“Tommy, you can still do the good work that deep down you want to do. Mum, you can get married and live in that big house.” 

Polly happily glanced at Aberama, letting herself dream of a good life for a second. 

“Arthur, you can be the man that Linda wants you to be.” 

“Fuck Linda.” Arthur interrupted.

Michael turned to Finn, walking toward him to rest behind the seated man, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it proudly.

“Finn, you’ve proved yourself. You’re part of the new generation. You could come to New-York with me.” Michael finished his speech. His wife handed him a file that he gladly took in hands. He walked to Thomas and dropped the file on the table that rested between them two. 

Tommy’s eyes went to the file before lifting to Michael’s determined face.

“Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director… and you can be non-executive chairman. But under an assumed name to protect your reputation. I found the name of a dead man. You will be registered as Mr Jones.”

He turned toward the other people in the room. “You will each receive a percentage of the profits as an annuity. And you will no longer have to engage in any of the associated activities.” 

Michael then grabbed the file to hand it to Tommy.

“Take a look at the future, Tommy. At least read it with an open mind.” 

The head of the Peaky Blinders paused, looking at Michael intensely before taking the file. “It’s cold in here, Michael.” He finished, turning to the fireplace and throwing the catalogue there. 

Johnny Dog let out an excited laugh, surely due to the heavy atmosphere the two cousins had settled. 

“Tommy the Americans want to deal with me.” Michael’s jaw tensed as his voice raised with impatience. 

“Item number three--” Continued Thomas as if nothing happened. But he was cut off by Gina’s venom:

“Tell him the truth.” She seemed unsatisfied with the way his husband chose to handle the situation. Tommy’s eyes hassled toward the young woman, speechless. “Go on. He can take it.” She continued.

His eyes went back to Michael that looked away, immediately, as if he didn’t want to come to this end.

“Tell me the truth, Michael.” Tommy encouraged, exasperated by this whole scene.

“The Americans don’t want to deal with an old-fashioned backstreet razor gang. Those days are done.” Michael gained composure again, looking blankly at Tommy.

The latter couldn’t even correctly react that some men entered the pub, needing some help to handle Bartley, who was convinced he was still at war. Everybody got out of the room in a hurry except for Michael, Gina, Tommy & Pol’.

Passing by Michael to get out, Arthur leaned to his ear slowly, “Fuck the Americans.”

Tommy turned around, hand on the wooden piece as he was leaning above the fireplace, looking intensely into the orangish flames.

“I’m doing this for you Tommy. It’s time… And you know it.”

The concerned one, closed his eyes taking a deep breath in and tried to calm his nerves and think. But nothing came to him, he couldn’t even properly swallow how much Michael’s betrayal had extended, the worst was that he was sure, it wasn’t the end of it. His cousin probably wanting to take everything from him slowly he surely voluntarily omitted things. 

“Tommy, Mum’s leaving. John’s dead. Arthur needs help. Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up.” Now that there weren’t people to impress, Michael let the anger he felt toward his cousin’s actions.

The elder blue-eyed man couldn’t stay calm a second more, he abruptly turned around, grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was on the table and violently threw it in the fire, creating the flames to only grow bigger. Gina was scared, she held her chair with tightened hands and Polly and she jumped with surprise on their chair.

He turned again to Michael as the latter held him a butterfly knife already open.

“Go on, Tom. Go on cut me. Like the good old days. Or… See this for what it is. A natural succession that someday must happen” His arm going down again.  

At this point, the Shelby brother had calmed down, finding funny the proposition he was offered. His lips smacked and breathed deeply, looking at anything but his opposant. He shook his head in disbelief, “I gave you an opportunity, Michael. You betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back.” He looked at his younger cousin, deceived by him and angry at himself.

After losing $2 millions in the Wall Street crash., Tommy gave him an opportunity to come back to England and pay him what he owed him, but even there, in the boat, Michael met with people that are Shelby’s family enemy. When that happened, Tommy gave him the benefit of the doubt. And now this? Michael went too far, and this time Tommy will not close his eyes on it. The only reason his cousin was still breathing was that he's Polly’s son.

He walked around the table and addressed Gina, smacking his fingers as he pointed her, leaning forward. “You. You can tell your family--”

“Let me guess.” She interrupted him, the same satisfying face she had at the beginning of the meeting. “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” That wasn’t a question.

Michael grinned, as Tommy quickly got out of the pub. 

“Right?” Gina mockingly asked.

(...)

Tommy was spending most days at the House Of Commons lately doing speeches in favor of fascism to the greatest pleasure of Mosley. 

That day, he was there from early in the morning to the evening. It was already around 10, but his assistant opened the door to his office, saying someone was there but without having an appointment. 

“Who it is?” He asked, raising a brow, one of his hands went in his pocket to check on his watch.

“The librarian.”

It’s been nearly two weeks since your last meeting and at the simple mention of you, he would find his blood boiling in anticipation of the wave of feelings you brought him.

His pulsions talking for him, the Shelby brother ordered to let you in without questioning why you were here that late.

“Mr Shelby, you asked me to get information about a certain Michael Gray?” You came in like a tornado, your voice filled with sarcasm mixed with enthusiasm as you were the one pushing him to act on his cousin’s betrayal weeks ago.

How ironic was it that he had to learn the hard way you had been right since the very beginning,  you surmised something must’ve happened between the younger gray and him given the determined words he’d written on the note he left at the library sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk. “No time for formalities.” You agitated the folder in her hand.

He almost gasped at your movements, he had forgotten how sensual you were.

Whenever they would meet, you would succeed to arouse something in him, maybe even igniting a fire that couldn’t be found when you weren’t around. 

“You might want to read that!” You nodded to yourself, your brows raised high as if you detained the most important information of the decade.

“You do me the lecture.” His playful tone made you look up to him. Your head tilted at the sight of the glasses hanging on Tommy’s nose as you released a little “huh” from your lips.

He squinted his eyes, not knowing why the actual fuck did you do that. Did you just judge him or was he dreaming? 

He took off the glasses and placed them on the table, not wanting to deal with that face you just made again, all while remaining silent and invited you to begin.

You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Do you think it’s going to be free, Mr Shelby?” You looked intensely at him, your own eyes devoid of emotions.

He hated the fact you were able to just erase your emotion from your face and your eyes as he desperately wanted to see things in them. But him being him, he too put on an expressionless face.

“What do you want?”

“Everything, but you can’t give that to me. So I’ll just answer ‘whatever’.” 

He frowned, not understanding her point.

“When I’ll need something, you’ll be answering present without the option to say no.”

He remained silent, quite taken aback by how forward you  was. His jaw clenched, tension building up in the room. If stares could send lightnings, they’d both be nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

Reading his silence, you deduced it means he was alright with the deal and proceeded to answer his previous wish, do him a lecture.

“It is written here that Gina Gray’s family isn’t rich, but they weren’t starving either…” You begins. You then allowed a sweet “bla-bla-bla” to come out your lips as passing over the words searching for a specific part.

Tom didn’t miss your deeds a bit. From the enthusiastic tone in your voice to your serious face. He looked at the way your were sitting, legs crossed with the file on your thighs as you was slightly leaning forward. 

No wonder your were excited to show him your findings while handling business like a boss. He caught himself thinking your were cute. 

It was the first time he’d seen your that commited. He’d seen you focused, but you were always passive whereas now, your seemed completely into what your were talking about.

“The part that interests us is this one ‘Has an uncle that meets up at the docks several times a week with a group of people being a part of the drugs industry. It seems they cover their activities by the image of a protestant group and illegally sends rifles under God’s cause to our beloved Scottish friends, in other words, the Billy boys. And this, on a daily basis.” 

You patted the paper.

“It is written here, they counted around 6 boats per month, Tom.” You raised your kindling gaze to the icy blue-eyed man. 

He paused, his lips slightly opening before sliding a hand on his face and looking down.

It seems Tommy didn’t believe what he was hearing.

He leaned on the desk and opened the wooden box where his cigarettes were. 

His back harshly met his chair as he stared at the woman, blinking.

“I’m serving it on a plate, to you, Thomas.” You”d serenely let out, as if you understood him without having him saying anything. “Just deal with it.”

“How much do you trust this contact?” 

“I trust him with my life.” You responded.

With this partnership, he didn’t proceed the same as usual by offering something in return. He didn’t have the time to give you a proper offer that you'd already started to work in favor of his plan against Mosley, so this relationship was more based on the trust they have into each other rather than a commun exchange of services.

Today was the first time you’d ask him to return the favor, and it was today as well that the man had to wittingly choose to trust her blindly.

He coughed and lighted his cig, and put an elbow on the wooden desk as he was still deeply in thoughts.

You got up, moving slowly and leaned on the desk, hands flat on it, her face not even a centimeter away from his. “If you don’t trust that,” you pointed at him and then at you, “end it.” You finished.

The mood automatically shifted due to the tension that has quickly installed between the two individuals. 

Not for even one second did you imagine things to get this sensual. Here you were, desperately searching other's eyes out of each other’s grip.

Tommy’s eyes hungrily drifted to your lips, and stayed there more than it should’ve.

You moved back and turned your heels, leaving the room.

Too much in too little time. This. What that even was, and what did it mean?

This was the reason why you never got emotionally involved in business . But that was different now. But for you, that always kept the idea that the past wasn't supposed to repeat itself, the present was slapping maybe too hard.

Thank God you succeeded at getting out, not because of Tommy, but utterly because of yourself. If you had stayed so much as one second more, you didn’t know what you would’ve done, or maybe you did know but preferred to bury it away.

It was easier that way.

Following Chapter ❱

[ab1tofsp1ce]

A Warmer Refuge

Chapter 5: Do You Trust Me?

Masterlist HERE

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.4K

Warnings: Violence, mild sexual harassment.

Description: If you want to get this ship fixed, you and the Mandalorian are going to have to make a deal that could put your safety in jeopardy - do you trust him?

The clouds had mostly cleared by the morning, and I found myself apologizing countless times for setting back our journey. Graciously, he reassured me that it was fine, but the pang of guilt ate away at my chest for the rest of the day. So, I decided that I would do the best damn repair job he had ever seen. I would work my ass off making sure his ship was perfect at as little extra cost to him as possible – this would be the only way I could make it right. Additionally, I tried my absolute best not to alert him towards how much pain I was in. It actually seemed to be working, as he seemed to have no cognizance of the pain I was in. I supposed for someone who deals with violence for a living, he had probably suffered a million injuries far worse than mine, and so I caulked up his indifference to this as opposed to my brilliant acting skills; I could barely hold back my moans and groans as we climbed up and over that mountain. Finally, the trees become sparser, and soon we left the forest behind us. We trekked through fields, most of which seemed to be untouched, but distantly I could see smoke rising in small puffs. We eventually came across a gravel road that seemed to separate the wild from the colonized; on the other side were well-kept fields of strange fruit trees and neatly plowed dirt. We stopped for a moment as we reached the road, the Mandalorian looking down at the small navigation device in the forearm of his suit while I took a moment to catch my breath. I’d definitely seen better days. It was fortunate I hadn’t had too much of a chance to look at my appearance, because I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked what I saw. Much of my clothing, particularly around my injured leg, was ripped or stained, and I was almost certain I still had grease on my face from my hasty repair work a couple of days ago. The small stream that banked the side of the road and the tended fields beckoned to me, and so while the Mandalorian busied himself, I went over and kneeled down at its edge to scoop up some water and splash my face down. It was freezing and fresh, reminding me again of the beauty of this planet. I took a moment to feel the mild sun on my back and the cool water drip down my chin, before standing up and turning back to the Mandalorian. “Before we go,” he said, when I reached him, “I want you to carry this.” Out of his utility belt he pulled a rather sharp dagger. It was nothing flashy, except for the way it shone in the afternoon sun, but it pricked something in my heart. “I – I wouldn’t know how to use it,” I admitted timidly. “Are you sure?” He held it out to me in the flat of his palm. “It would bring me some comfort,” he admitted, and so I took it. “Here,” he said, reaching down to my belt. My heart skipped a beat as he attached a sheath for me to keep it in. “Hide it. It will be the most useful if no one knows you have it.” I nodded, carefully sliding the dagger in.

We walked in relative silence, as we had for most of the day. But, unlike it was when we first met, it was a far more comfortable silence. A mutual understanding, of sorts, that we both had things we wished to mull over in our thoughts. I could only guess what he was thinking – he was still a mystery to me. But I thought about my plans on Kistern; where I would go, what I would… in truth, there wasn’t much use. I tried, desperately, over the whole course of the day to consider my plans. But I knew so little about the planet I would soon call home it was futile to try and pretend I did. I hated the uncertainty of my life at the moment (and of the past year), but I distracted myself by admiring the view around me and focusing on what I could manage in the near future; fixing this ship and getting off this planet in one piece. The sun was getting low in the afternoon sky by the time the once empty land began to become sparsely populated. But none of this planet’s loveliness could’ve prepared me for meeting its inhabitants. They were very similar to those back home on Yak’ish Temeen, in that they were a motley population of various races and species, but all equally unsettling. Roadside stalls and derelict houses intermittently spotted the side of the road, and we soon gained some unintentional company as more roads and paths began to diverge onto ours. By comparison to Yak’ish Temeen this was, on reflection, a far more diverse crowd – strange, large furry creatures towered over us, shepherding small and equally hairy creatures transporting goods on their backs, a group of Gungans manned a small cart of strange smelling purple fruit and humans at all wore equally unsettling expressions. They stared at us as we walked, glowering from a distance and occasionally whispering to each other. The Mandalorian must have noticed this, as he slowed down very suddenly to close the distance between us. “Walk near me,” he said quietly, not turning his head. “And don’t make eye contact. We’re not looking for trouble.” I slid my eyes down to the ground, trying to ignore the sensation of being watched. I felt my heart race in my chest. Eventually, we seemed to enter the settlement, marked by a higher density of houses and people. It was mostly one long street, flanked by various stalls selling strangely roasted animals, buckets of grains and other odd goods. Despite the fact I could hear children laughing in the distance, and that the general chatter of the place seemed civil, I followed the Mandalorian’s advice and stuck close by him. Although this was a new place to both of us, he walked with a confidence and direction that made him look like a seasoned local. By comparison, I was almost certain I looked frail and timid, shuffling along and intently staring at the ground. In times like this I was once again grateful for my peripheral vision. The Mandalorian veered off our straight course over to a stall on the right side of the road, where a man was talking to an Artiodac, both sitting on chairs under the cover of a low-hanging tarp. Under it and behind them I noticed a long table covered in various mechanical parts – all of which, I must admit, didn’t seem to be in the best condition. The Mandalorian conversed with the duo, who exchanged glances between each other, the Mandalorian and me. I shuffled uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, so I busied myself by trailing my eyes over the parts in the stall, scanning for anything I might be able to use. From this distance I could make out few bits that could be relevant – whether or not they were in usable condition was another question entirely. My heart stopped beating for a second, jumping out of my chest in shock as I felt a hand grab my arm gently. But it was just the Mandalorian, who was now facing in the opposite direction of me and the vendors as if to better prevent them from hearing what he was saying to me. “We’ll have to get the parts from here,” he said in a low, hushed tone. The baritone depth of his voice sent chills down my back. “Fill your bag with them. But don’t take long – I don’t trust these guys. Or anyone here.” I threw a glance at them; the man was murmuring something to his Artiodac colleague, both staring at us with dirty looks. I nodded in silent agreement with the Mandalorian, my arm still tingling as his grasp lingered on it, firm but tender. He let me get to work, scavenging through the piles of spare parts. As I did, he alternated between examining the pieces I presented to him and watching both the vendors and the general public. I tried my best not to let this creeping feeling disturb me, but it was hard to focus when I was acutely aware of the attraction we were drawing. I filled up my rucksack with the pieces we needed – although some of them were far rattier than I would’ve preferred, I figured it was better to clean and adjust them back at the safety of the ship than make any sort of complaint about it here. After about 20 minutes, I felt that I had truly ransacked the selection for all it was worth. What I had managed to collect wasn’t ideal, but I could definitely make it work, at least enough that we could get off this planet and to Kistern safely. Once I had informed the Mandalorian of this, he escorted me over to the two vendors. The human male gave me a look up and down, making me shuffle slightly – there was something almost hungry in his expression. He looked only a few years older than me and certainly didn’t look to be the muscle of the duo, but between his rugged facial hair and beady blue eyes, he felt threatening enough. Perhaps the Mandalorian saw this too, because he stepped forward rather pointedly, almost sizing up the man as he stood up. “Hand over the goods, lovely,” he said with a slick tongue. “Let’s see what you’ve picked out.” Turns out I didn’t need to hand over anything, as the Artiodac snatched the bag out of my hand with a low growl. “Watch it,” breathed the Mandalorian threateningly at him. The Artiodac took no notice, rummaging through my rucksack and conversing with the man in a foreign language as he occasionally gestured to certain parts. They seemed to be negotiating with each other, with the man occasionally spatting something at the Artiodac, who grumbled something back rather animatedly in return. Eventually, they seemed to come to an agreement, as they both turned back to me in unison. “You’ve got a good load here,” said the man, shifting his eyes slowly from me to the Mandalorian. “We’ve agreed it’ll set you back four thousand credits.” He exchanged a smirk with his colleague. “You’re overcharging,” said the Mandalorian in a gruff tone, which I could read as ‘I don’t have four thousand credits.’ “I can give you three thousand, no more.” The man raised an eyebrow, clearly bemused, and turned to the Artiodac to swap a few remarks in another language before turning back to him. “My friend and I agree four thousand is more than fair for a purchase of this size. However,” his gaze slid back over to me. “We’d be willing to compromise if you have something to offer that can… sweeten the deal.” The Mandalorian stiffened, seemingly understanding the implication of this statement. “Like what?” “My friend here,” said the man, shifting his weight to face me slightly, “is curious about what a Grat’anarian is doing in these parts. You see, he knows Yak’ish Temeen well, been there on a few business trips haven’t you, Uulog?” Uulog made a slurping sound as a reply. I shivered. “What’s your point?” The Mandalorian almost growled these words. “Well, if I’m correct, this one has a great bounty on her head… what with her refugee status, she has free entry onto all sorts of planets… planets me and my friend here, as well as many others, would love to gain access to. So, I’ll tell you what, you –” “I’m not bartering with her life,” said the Mandalorian, stepping even closer and slipping a hand silently onto his blaster. Uulog the Artiodac seemed to notice, as he reached for his blaster in the exact same manner, snarling. The man feigned a sympathetic smile, although the corners of his mouth remained sinisterly twisted. “Of course, of course! Such a pretty thing, I can understand how you wouldn’t want to part with her…” He looked at me and licked his lips. “However, I’m really not sure what else you have to offer that we’ll be interested in. Well, apart from…” he gestured with the silent tilt of his head to the Mandalorian himself. For a moment I was confused as to what he meant, but clearly the Mandalorian wasn’t, and his next words cleared it up. “My armor is not for sale.” “Hmm… what a shame. Well, then, neither are these parts.” The man studied the Mandalorian as if he knew this wouldn’t be the end of it; he was waiting for a better offer. The Mandalorian seemed stuck for a moment, and I could almost hear the cogs and wheels turning in his head. “Give us a moment,” he said to the man, who dismissed us in gratuitously generous gesture. Once again, the Mandalorian slipped his hand around my arm and escorted me to the side, shooting one last look at the vendors before turning to me. I could feel his gaze under the helmet and could sense his uncertainty. He had a plan, and I wasn’t going to like it. “Do you trust me?” I was taken aback dramatically by this question. My eyes, which had been trained in apprehension on the two conversing men, swiveled back to the Mandalorian in mild shock. His voice was almost a whisper, but I could once again hear what he was really saying – almost everything he said had another meaning, as I’d come to learn. I suppose a man of few words had to make the most of them. So, when he said, “do you trust me,” all I heard was “are you ready?” And despite my fear, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach, despite the hairs rising on the back of my neck and every instinct in my body telling me to run, I knew my answer to both questions. “Yes.” “Then play along,” he said quietly. We spared a moment, a split second to look at each other. I felt him squeeze my arm lightly, a small gesture that did a surprising amount to quell the rapid beating of my heart. Then, he turned back and walked over to the vendors. “Well, have we come to an agreement?” The man clapped his hands together enthusiastically, switching his gaze between the two of us. “You can take her,” said the Mandalorian. I’ll admit, I didn’t really have to feign shock at this statement. I knew, with the context of what he had just told me, that he wasn’t being serious, but his tone when he said it – so unbothered and emotionless – it fooled me for the few seconds it took to regain my senses. “What?!” I said, and he grabbed my arm with a force I was yet to feel from him, yanking me as if I was a bounty of his. “Ahh… an interesting development… I’m curious, what made you decide this?” The man’s voice was laced with civil suspicion; he seemed to find it hard to believe the Mandalorian would give me up so quickly. “Well, as you said,” said the Mandalorian, “she’s a very valuable bounty. But I need to get off this planet, so you can have her if that’s your price.” His grip tightened around my arm, and I took this as a silent signal; ‘you’ll have to sell this narrative’. “You bastard!” I yelled, and rather convincingly too. “You – you promised you’d help me! Over there you said – I’ll kill you!” I thrashed against his grip, but before I knew it, he was behind me, one hand tying mine together quickly with handcuffs and the other covering my mouth with his gloved hand. I knew this wasn’t the time or the place, but I couldn’t help my heart flutter at the feeling of my back pressed against the cold beskar breastplate behind me. The man’s smirk turned into a full grin, clearly entertained by our performances. “I have to say, you have not disappointed your reputation, Mandalorian. Cold both inside and out…” “There’s one condition,” said the Mandalorian, his hand still over my mouth. “I need her to repair my ship. You come with me, she repairs it, and then I’ll be on my way.” Once again, the two vendors exchanged brief and heated words in their language, before the man turned back to us. “You have yourself a deal. And, since we reached it so… amicably, I’m prepared to lower the credit portion of your price to just two thousand. As a symbol of… goodwill.” He smiled, that same twist at the corners of his mouth. I felt the Mandalorian nod in agreement behind me, and the Artiodac handed him back the rucksack, which he took with his now spare hand. “Perfect! Now, where is this ship of yours?” The Mandalorian slid his hand slowly off my mouth, faking a threatening glower at me before gesturing at the tall mountain we had recently climbed, which now loomed distantly behind the two men. Both of them turned around in unison, and the man made a sound of familiar acknowledgment. “Ahh, yes! The mountain of Pelesus! An important monument in Utaran history. I assume you hiked your way here, yes? Well, we do not mind in the slightest to give you a ride there… it would be in the best interest of all parties involved, no?” “Lead the way,” said the Mandalorian in return.

We were led further down the road before deviating off it and into what I can only describe as a shanty town, which proved this outpost was far bigger than we had initially noticed. Handmade lean-tos and shacks were piled haphazardly around, only making small alleys as paths between them. It was a strange and drastic contrast – the one between the beautiful, lush and rugged landscape around us with the squalors we were being led through. I wondered how this place could be so poor if it were so abundant with natural resources, and I sensed that something more sinister was probably at play on this planet. The man switched between conversing with the Artiodac in a hushed, foreign tongue to occasionally making cheery remarks to the Mandalorian, as if he were a tour guide showing us around the glorious city of Theed. Eventually, we made it to what almost appeared to be a junkyard on the outskirts of the town, where we were led to a landspeeder. “Wait aboard,” said the man, whose name we had learned on our walk over to be Raggard. I thought I may have a moment alone to ask the Mandalorian something, but the Artiodac stayed with us as we climbed onto the large and rusty landspeeder, eyeing us pointedly the entire time. I watched discreetly as Raggard waved over a few people who had been sitting around nearby and spoke to them in the same foreign language he had spoken to his colleague in. By the way they looked over Raggard’s shoulder at me hungrily, I could only assume they believed they would be getting their fair share of my worth when we returned. Which we wouldn’t, of course. I looked over at the Mandalorian, who sat next to me. He seemed unreadable at this moment, still as a statue and paying attention to nothing in particular. I hoped he knew what he was doing, because I certainly didn’t. His words, ‘do you trust me’, echoed distantly in my ears.

Soon we were off, the four of us in the landspeeder. The journey was only a few hours, and by far shorter than our hike here, but felt agonizingly long as I sat with anticipation and fear in the pit of my stomach. Finally, we arrived at the bottom of the other side of the mountain, and I could almost see the ship as I looked up its slope. We hiked the rest of the way up, the Mandalorian guiding me with a gentle hold on my arm, as my hands were still cuffed. Eventually, we reached the ship, by which time it was almost sunset. “You’d best get working,” said Raggard, walking slowly around the ship to admire it. “It’s clear you’ve got a lot of work to do before it gets dark.” As I collected and sorted the parts, I noticed the Artiodac grumble something at Raggard, who hissed something back in what seemed to be a low, yet heated argument. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my repairs and working as quickly as possible; the sooner we could do this, the sooner we could leave. The Mandalorian helped with repairs but no matter where we went, either inside or out of the ship, one or both of the duo followed us. Because of this, I had not a moment alone with him to ask what his plan was, although I had a strong feeling it would involve violence. Finally, not long after dark, we completed the repairs. The Mandalorian escorted me out of the ship to meet outside with the two men. I began to get nervous. “Well,” said Raggard, approaching us as we were followed out by the Artiodac. “It has been a pleasure, really. But I suppose now is the time to part ways.” The Mandalorian said nothing but didn’t let go of his grip on my arm – if anything, he tightened it. “It is a shame,” said Raggard, poetically, “that you must part ways with such a precious bounty.” He walked up to me, too close for my liking, reading over my face with a gleam in his eyes. “But I’m sure you’ll take comfort in knowing she’ll be of great use to us.” With a dirty, spindly finger he traced a line down the side of my cheek. I shuddered and bit down hard on my tongue to hide my disgust. “However,” he said, “although she will prove a most valuable asset, I just can’t stop thinking about that beautiful beskar armor of yours, I mean, how did you get it?” The Mandalorian didn’t indulge him with a response, but Raggard took his silence as one. “I know, I know, secrets of the Mandalorians. It has been exciting, really, to do business with you. But,” he said, slowly, exchanging a glance with his partner, “it will be even more exciting to kill you.” In the course of the next three seconds, I barely had time to do anything but fall to the ground in shock. As Raggard said these last words, the Mandalorian drew his blaster and simultaneously threw me to the ground. He shot over Raggard’s shoulder, and it was only then, when I looked up, that I noticed the figures drawing in from the forest around us. The men from back at the junkyard began firing at the Mandalorian, and from my position cowering on the ground I watched as he, one by one, meticulously shot them down. He didn’t even seem to look at them, he just knew where they were. When the Artiodac pounced it him from behind, I screamed in shock, but the Mandalorian shook him off in forward-roll drop to the ground, shooting him with a blaster shot straight to the head. I didn’t see what happened in the next few seconds and only heard the Mandalorian grunting as he spared in hand-to-hand combat with a few more goonies who had seemed to close the distance towards him. I was yanked up off the ground, and felt a cold blaster dig into my lower back, freezing me in fear as another arm wrapped around my throat tightly. I could feel Raggard’s hot breath on my neck and smell the sweat on his arm. I scrambled desperately at it, trying to pull it away so I could breathe, but it was no use. “STOP!” Raggard’s voice was shrill in my ear. My vision unclouded at last, and I was able to see the Mandalorian, standing only a few feet away from us, bodies sprawled around him. He turned to us, still holding his blaster in one hand and what appeared to be a spear in the other. “Let’s not – let’s not let this get more out of hand than it already is,” said Raggard, panting violently. I could feel him shaking with adrenaline. “I wouldn’t want anything nasty to come of this pretty little thing, but if we get too ahead of ourselves, I may have no choice.” But as he spoke, something strange happened. I felt the world fall away, and the sound of Raggard’s voice, the clench is arm had around my throat, the blaster in my back… I lost all sense that they were there. I felt my arms release from Raggard’s, falling to my side. Even though he was wearing a helmet, I knew he was looking at me. I could feel it, like I always did, the warmth of his gaze that, for once, seemed to slow down my heart as opposed to speeding it up. Right now, I could only feel him. Him, and… At my side, I slipped my hand into the folds of my shirt. In one swift movement, I unsheathed the dagger and plunged it into the arm that was so tightly constricting my throat. Raggard let out a yelp of pain, letting me go as he stumbled back. “Onto the ship!” The Mandalorian yelled, and I wasted no time scrambling aboard. Outside, I heard blaster shots and scuffling, but I didn’t give myself time to reflect on it. I ascended the ladder into the cockpit and, without even sitting down, began to start up the ship. My hands were shaking violently, and I tried so hard to keep my focus on the buttons I was pressing and not my concerns for the Mandalorian. Before I initiated take off, I almost jumped back down into the hull and watched in astonishment as the Mandalorian strode up the ramp, sheathing his blaster and spear in the process. With no hesitation he went right past me and into the cockpit, and only seconds later I felt the whole ship shake underneath me as we rose up from the ground and away from it all.

[mandoalorian]

Fairytale with Pero Tovar

DAY THREE: Fairytale with Pero Tovar [Requested by @honeymandos]

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December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

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Warnings: mention of arranged marriage and brief allusions to sex. Might it be a warning that I was exhausted when I wrote this? Feels like that should be a warning.

Word count: 2k

Rating: PG

Pero Tovar was unlike any other man you had ever met. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, but hidden beneath the colour was enigma and mystery. When he returned from the crusade, your father, the King, praised him. To have appraisal from the king is every little boy’s dream— but Tovar stood there, scowling, unfazed. When your father knighted Tovar for his efforts, he didn't speak a single word. Whilst most fresh knights of the realm would typically offer a speech of gratitude; Tovar simply nodded and sauntered off. You didn't see him again until that evening.

Tovar was on his third cup of ale, sitting alone at the bar. The palace’s main hall was lit up with an abundance of candles, golden flames illuminating the spacious room. There must have been hundreds of people sharing his company. The laughter, the dancing, the music… Tovar despised it all. That was until you slid into the empty stool next to him.

You had been watching him all day, intrigued by his misery and his demeanor. He didn't speak to anyone; even when spoken too, he merely offered them just an utter of a few words. You wondered if he would speak to you, the princess and future queen of the kingdom. You waited for him to make the first move, in hope he'd initiate conversation, but he didn't even do as much to look at you.

"Lovely evening," you greeted the Knight. "Wouldn't you agree?" Tovar grunted and took another sip of ale. You noticed that he must've been heavy handed, because when he put the cup back on the bar, little bits of the amber liquid splashed out, dripping down his hand and pooling around the coaster. Like an animal, he licked the sticky ale from his skin. "Your bravery is very much appreciated by the kingdom," you sighed, placing your elbow on the bar and cupping your cheek. He finally turned to look at you. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"I don't dance." Pero spat. Ah, your first words out of him. His voice was gruff, but not angry. He didn't look angry. You did struggle to weigh up his facial expressions. He didn't look happy to be at the Christmas ball, which confused you. He should be happy to be here.

"Not even with a princess?" you smiled, fluttering your eyelashes in the direction of the attractive mercenary.

"Especially not with a princess." He replied, gulping down another mouthful of ale. "You don't want to be seen with a man like me."

Pero felt shame. You were a princess, and by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. But he was nothing but a peasant boy compared to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pick you up and pin you against the wall, kiss down your neck, and revoke every ounce of your purity. Those were just his thoughts. It was pointless to even consider acting upon them. Not with a princess.

"That's the thing…" you said, looking down at your knees and biting on your lower lip. "All my life I've been sheltered from men like you."

"And for good reason." Pero turned back to the bar and gestured for the barmaid to come over. He reached into his pocket and hurdled a handful of coins to pay for the next glass of ale he was ordering.

"Do you ever just want to run away?" you sighed, leaning close to Tovar. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You regretted the words instantaneously, as soon as they left your lips. He was a mercenary— constantly on the run from town to town. It was a stupid question.

"You want to run away?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. Now you had peaked his curiosity.

"I do," you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of disobeying your father. "My whole life I've craved for something more than this. This is my last Christmas as a free maiden, for next Summer, my father plans to marry me off to Prince William of Ireland."

"And you don't want to marry a prince? You are royalty. You do not want to give that up." Pero huffed, looking irritated that you had made such a suggestion.

"You don't get it. Everyone thinks I have a perfect life," you shook your head. "But I long for something more than this. I want to see the world— journey the seas. Ride my horse without having an army follow. I want to fall in love, Pero. Don't you?"

Pero paused. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, a gleam in his dark brown eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I wish for you to help me escape the palace."

And for the first time, Tovar laughed. You stared at him, blinking a few times in bewilderment. "Oh, you're serious? With all due respect, your worshipfulness, I will not disobey the king like that. He will have me hanged."

"The brave Pero Tovar who was just knighted by my father is… scared?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Not scared. It's just a foolish idea." Pero sighed, running his fingers through his short and messy hair.

"Very well then," You clasped your hands together and stood up, courtesying to the scowling man who sat before you. He grunted and took a swing of his ale. "A pleasure to meet you. Venture safe." You told him before pondering off.

Tovar was your first choice. There was something about his rugged yet handsome looks which you craved so bad. He was different to everyone else. Different to all the other men who graced the ballroom that night. The princes, sires and knights who had come from all across the land wore the best garments and tights; whereas Tovar doted a ripped tunic which looked like it was at least a few years old. The other knights would ride their horses into battle and surrender, but Tovar was a true warrior. You could tell from the scar across his eye, his pessimism; like he had seen too much. He made all other men look like imposters.

But you had to escape the walls of the castle, and if Tovar wasn't willing to help you, so be it. You scouted the room for another potential man who you could trust to carry you away from this life on his noble steed. Your dress trapesing around your ankles as you padded towards another man, of Roman descent, who had recently been knighted by your father. Unlike Tovar, his armour was pristine and a blinding silver. He wore a vibrant red tunic and gold boots, and even brought his Roman helmet to the Christmas ball.

"I like your helmet," you smiled, placing a hand on your hip as you reached up and felt the feathers sticking out the top. "What's your name, fine gentleman?"

"Julius." he replied, putting down his goblet of red wine and offering you a small bow. "I was not expected to share the company of her highness tonight, I must admit."

"Julius, as the future queen of the kingdom I have a request for you, but you must listen carefully." You told the Roman, avoiding his precious attempt of a flirtation. Before you could reply, you felt a large hand grab the curve of your shoulder.

Spinning around on your heel, you were greeted by Tovar. He had been watching you from his seat at the bar, scowling miserably when he saw you were speaking to another man. Tovar was wise enough to know you shouldn't trust any of the men in the ballroom tonight. When he bolted over to you, he had hoped you hadn't already revealed your plot to abandon your position as princess of the kingdom.

"Ah, Pero, this is Julius." You smiled politely, introducing the two knights to one another. You were a little taken aback, not expecting Pero to even look twice in your direction, nevermind come over and see you. "Pero, I was just speaking to Julius about an urgent matter. Now if you excuse me-"

Tovar's grip on you tightened and you felt a rush of heat flood your body under his touch. He looked up at Julius. "M’lady offered me a dance," Tovar explained before looking back down at you. "And I'd like to take you up on that request."

You gulped, unsure where he was going with this. You supposed you could spare a few moments to dance with the handsome knight.

"And as you heard, Pero, her royal majesty has an urgent matter to discuss with me." Snarled Julius, earning a death glare from Pero.

"That's okay Julius, I wish to dance with Knight Tovar." You told the Roman Knight. Tovar smirked and took your hand, interlocking his rough and calloused fingers with yours. He dragged you to the centre of the dance floor, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close.

"I don't dance." he started as you briskly began to guide him, swaying your hips to the bard’s music.

"Tovar, why did you interrupt my conversation with Julius?" you questioned him with genuine confusion. Tovar sighed, looking around to make sure no one was paying any attention.

"I will help you escape the palace," he leaned into you and whispered into your ear. You smiled eagerly at him and he felt his heart soften when you saw the way your eyes sparkled with excitement. "When do you want to do this? When is the best time for you?"

You dropped a hand to his chest and bit your lip, leaning in close. "Now would be perfect." you hummed and he knotted his eyebrows together.

"Now?" he quizzed, feeling a little weary.

"Everyone is distracted with the Christmas ball. If we slipped out now, I don't think anyone will notice we've gone."

Pero contemplated your words but he agreed that you poised a valid point. He sighed and looked around once more. "My horse is outside. Grab a cloak from your quarters and hurry. I will meet you by the back entrance of the palace gardens in five minutes."

You nodded your head and let go of Tovar. You looked at him and smiled, pressing a kiss into his cheek. His dark stubble grazed your lips and when you pulled away, you spotted a fluster of redness blush his cheeks. "Thank you." you whispered, before sneaking out of the ballroom.

Tovar waited about two minutes, to avoid suspicion, and headed to the bar to finish his cup of ale. He did not expect to spend his Christmas Eve helping a princess escape the confines of her own kingdom. He took a moment to process what exactly was happening and tried to form a plan. Where was he going to take you? He was a mercenary, constantly on the run. No matter how much he wanted, you couldn't stay with him. You'd be in danger. What about when he had to flee into battle and slay dragons? Where would you stay? He figured it was a conversation to have with you when you had successfully escaped the kingdom.

Tovar wanted you to stick by his side because you were, simply put, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen before. Sparkling eyes and the most beautiful smile. When you were on the ballroom floor speaking to Julius, he couldn't help but admire your body and the way your dress hung off your shoulders. He was obsessed with the ribbon that laced up your front, thinking of how easy it would be to just pull it out and undress you.

Your flirtations hadn't gone unnoticed by Tovar. He could see straight through you. But, you were a princess. It would be beyond foolish to assume he could forward the same advances to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pin you against a wall and bite down on your skin until you were screaming his name.

With caution, Pero slipped out of the ballroom, certain he was unseen and quietly jogged outside to his horse. The thick white December snow crunched under his boots as he comforted his shivering steed. "It's okay sweetheart," he whispered, running his fingers through his horse's hair. "I know, I know it's cold. But we'll get outta here very soon." he promised his companions before hopping up and straddling the animal.

He heard you padding towards him, your breath shaky in the cold air. He turned to face you, completely mesmerised at the way the little snowflakes balanced in your hair. You really were an angel. He grabbed your hand and helped you onto his horse. "Put your hood up," he ordered you, to which you obliged. "and wrap your arms around my waist. It's going to be a long ride." Tovar warned.

You shuffled closer to him and wrapped your body around his, already liking the familiar warmth he radiated. "You are the bravest man I have ever met." you admitted, your fingers curling in the hairs on the back of his head.

"Nonsense." he cursed you.

"I mean it." you smiled. "Thank you, my brave knight. When we stop for the night, I wish to show you my gratitude through a kiss."

Pero felt his muscles tense up at the prospect. Now he had to get you out of the kingdom alive. "There will be no mistletoe where we stay, your highness," he frowned, preparing the horse for the journey.

"I don't need mistletoe to kiss you, Tovar," you giggled.

"No?" he asked.

"No," you confirmed. "I have love on my side."

[jazminetoad]

In My Reality | Chapter 1: Dreams & Wishes

Yo, I finally finished the actual first chapter of this new series! I originally wanted to get this out within a week of the prologue’s release but this turned out to be longer than I imagined. All of my TLC went into this for the past three weeks, I haven’t felt this passionate for a project in a long time. I hope you enjoy it just as much as I do! ^-^

(This is a Tatsumi brothers x Reader)

(To read the first part, click -> Prologue)

(To read the next part, click → Chapter 2)

(Click “Keep reading” to read the story)

"Geez [n/n], you look so tired," Kamida pointed out. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I did," I told them before a yawn escaped my mouth. "Just not as much as I wanted."

The three of us were standing at one of the local bus stops that took us downtown. It was our usual meeting spot since it crossed paths with the sidewalks that led us to our houses. We were heading to the arcade, our pockets filled with coins and our phones. The two artists were awake and ready but I on the other hand wished I stayed in bed.

"Oh?" Kamida quirked a brow.

"Did you go to sleep when we ended the call?" Meri-chan questioned, narrowing her eyes at me. 'Course in my sleepy state, I wasn't bothered by her laser stare.

"No-"

"[Name]!"

"Look, I wasn't ready to fall asleep at the time. Can you blame me?" I asked only to receive a sigh for an answer. "I didn't stay up too late anyway-"

"When?"

"When what?"

"When do you go to sleep?" Meri-chan inquired, placing her hands on her hips.

'Playing the mom friend, are we now?' I thought to myself. 'At least I don't have to deal with the teasing wingman.'

"Around 2 in the morning," I mumbled.

"[Name]!"

"What did you even do during that time?" Kamida asked, saving me from Meri-chan's lecture.

"I just watched the twins' episodes from Juuni Taisen." I noticed Meri-chan was about to go on again so I added, "Hey, at least I didn't watch the entire series."

"That's not the point," Meri-chan stated. I just shrugged in response.

"You really love those two, don't you," Kamida asked me.

"Yup."

I lost track of how many times I rewatched their episodes long ago. While rewatching the entire Anime is great, I didn't have the patience to go through six other episodes before seeing my favourite twins. I then just kept replaying the twins' episodes, eventually losing track of how many times I did. It's just that every time I watch the two episodes, the more I felt I could understand them. It made them seem as if they were real, but the reality is that they're not and I have to remember that. That doesn't stop my dreams though, speaking of my dreams...

"You know, I had an unusual dream last night," I told my friends. "It wasn't like the rest of my dreams that were strange and went all over the place. This dream it... it was of the Tatsumi Brothers but- but it was alternate ending with them." I left out the description of what happened because it'd spoil the Anime for Kamida, and I didn't want to do that.

"What do you mean by 'alternate ending'?" Meri-chan inquired, raising a brow.

"Like it was the ending of Juuni Taisen but different," I answered. "It just- it looked so real! It felt like I was actually watching the Anime until I woke up. You get what I'm saying?"

"Ummm, no," Meri-chan responded, sounding puzzled.

"Really?" I deadpanned.

"I get what you're saying," Kamida piped, pushing his glasses up for the Anime effect. My brow raised in question as to what his next words would be. "You're saying you're obsessed with the two to the point you dream of them!" He stated, pointing an index finger at me.

"Ack-! No!"

"Relax [n/n]," Kamida laughed. "I'm just messing with ya."

"Ha ha..." I let out before another yawn escapes.

"Man, you really are tired."

"I think the dream took my energy," I theorized, rubbing my eyes to stay open. Just as the words left my mouth, we all caught a glimpse of the approaching city bus. I don't know if it was just me but the thing seemed to be taking its sweet time to get to the bus stop.

"It's okay, [Name]. You can take a nap on the bus," Meri-chan told me as the bus came to a stop. "We'll wake you up when we're at the stop near the arcade."

"Alright."

Following my friends, I stepped onto the bus. It wasn't crowded, which made sense considering most people were still working at 2 in the afternoon. Kamida found a set of seats for all of us and sat down, Meri-chan sat next to him, then I plopped down in the seat next to her. Adjusting my position to try and get comfortable enough to fall asleep, I tilted my head to the side and let my eyes fall shut. Soon enough, I had drifted into sleep.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Is that thing any good?" Nagayuki asked his younger brother, watching him eat the deceased, cooked lizard.

"Yeah, it's awesome!" Takeyasu's sarcasm dripped with venom as his teeth tried to tear the scaled arm. "What do you think?"

The elder twin just blankly stared at his brother. Silence filled the air around them, but the sound of the younger twin eating his dead pet prevented the silence from taking over the scene. That was until the echo of a knock on their door emitted into their ears.

In sync, they both turned their attention to the door wondering who'd come to the door at this hour aside from a delivery man, but it wouldn't make sense for it to be a delivery man. Neither of them had ordered anything. The two gave each other a glance of uncertainty before Nagayuki let out a sigh, pinching the tip of his nose.

"I'll answer it," he stated as he approached the front door.

"Alright." Takeyasu reached over and grabbed his weapon, pulling it close for easy access, just in case.

The feeling around them pulled the twins towards the edge as eerie vines grew in the room. Masking his expression, Nagayuki slowly twisted the knob and partially opened the door. He briefly eyes the person standing on the other side.

It was a man with a top hat, grey hair tied back into a ponytail, facial hair, and the structure of his face made him seem elderly. He wore a black long coat with a grey scarf and white gloves. By this alone, the elder Tatsumi brother was able to tell this man dressed to blend into the shadows and meant business. Something else emitted from the man, it seemed to be supernatural. If it had been a normal person answering the door, they would've brushed the feeling off as if it was nothing because they don't believe in it, but Nagayuki knew the supernatural existed because he was living proof. That said, he grew cautious, thinking carefully of his next actions.

"Can I help you?" Nagayuki asked the man with a stoic face.

"I do believe this is the household of the Tatsumi brothers, Nagayuki and Takeyasu, if my sources are correct," the man spoke with an unreadable smile.

"So what if it is?"

"My name is Duodecuple," the man introduced himself. "I am from the Juuni Taisen organization."

Nagayuki raised a brow, suspicious of this mysterious person. When the head of the dragon and snake household explained how the Juuni Taisen contacted you the instructions of how to get to the location, they sent a letter in a red envelope with gold wax as its seal, and it was delivered through the mail. Why was this man here?

"Are you?" Nagayuki questioned. "Do you have any proof to back up that claim of yours?"

"I figured you would say something like that," Duodecuple said, his gloved-hand reached into his coat and pulled out a red envelope with a golden seal, handing it to Nagayuki.

Taking it from the man, the elder Tsumita twin opened the letter and thoroughly read the message written. Sure enough, this was legit. Glancing back at the man, still with a hint of suspicion, Nagayuki folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope before handing it back to him.

"Alright, so why are you here exactly? Last time I checked, you don't escort the warriors to the Juuni Taisen."

"While that is indeed true, I am here on the behave of a wish someone made. A wish that you and your brother wouldn't partake in the Juuni Taisen."

Takeyasu, who was listening to the conversation nearby, swung the door open and fired his weapon at the man. In his mind, that statement is something said before another person is killed. Not necessarily a threat, but even so it wasn't something to take lightly. He wasn't taking the risk of his brother being killed.

Nagayuki hardly had any time to react before his brother started burning the person in front of them. Part of him wanted to scold his brother for acting impulsively, but gratitude is the feeling that stirred inside him. He became unsettled after what the man said, and if it wasn't for Takeyasu, there was a chance the walls would've been stained with blood. However, he should stop his brother before they burn down the apartment building, he doesn't want to have to move again.

"Alright, that's enough, Takeyasu," Nagayuki told his twin, putting a hand on the younger one's shoulder. As the final remains of ember faded away after Takeyasu had stopped, both twins saw that no evidence was left behind of the man. "You really got him good..." Nagayuki stated, almost in disbelief.

"I do believe it is considered rude to try to kill someone before they finish what they are saying." Duodecuple's voice lurked behind them. The two flinched and spun around to discover the man standing there with no trail of smoke or ash on him as if he never had made contact with the fire. "But since you are warriors, I suppose that is an exception."

"I'd like to see you try and avoid this!"

"Wait-" Nagayuki tried to stop his brother from making any haste moves but his brother slithered quickly and tried to attack the old man with physical combat.

From the way the man never flinched and stood his ground, Nagayuki knew something was up. Sure enough, when Takeyasu struck he phased right through. Surprised by this, Takeyasu barely had time to recover and stumbled to catch himself. Once he steadied himself, he looked back to the elder man with narrowed eyes, growling.

"Now, now, I don't mean to bring any harm," Duodecuple reassured the two, holding up one of his gloved hands to gesture he meant no harm. "I am just here to fulfill a wish..." he paused for a brief moment to lower his hand. "Three wishes actually."

"Huh?" Both Tatsumi brothers spoke in sync, confused. Why would there be three wishes that involved them?

"By your tone, I am sure you are confused. I do not blame you however, even if you remembered your own wish you still would not know where the third one came from."

The twins' eyes glanced at each other before going back to the man. If they had made their wish and Duodecuple was here to grant it then that means they were already in the Juuni Taisen and won. What didn't make sense was how did they both win? Did something change where they could both win? If that was the case, why was Duodecuple here before the Juuni Taisen even started? Then there was still the third wish that didn't fit in the picture.

"Since it is not possible for the two of you to avoid the Juuni Taisen while in this plane of existence, our organizers thought it would be best to move you to another. And since the organizers are generous, they thought to grant another wish that would benefit both you and the wisher."

Once again, the Tatsumi brothers shared a look. Both unsure if there was a catch, and both having a lot of questions running through their minds. This entire situation seemed to be too good to be true then again, it was the Juuni Taisen. From what the twins heard, they made anything possible, the power they have is unimaginable.  Still, better to find out now.

"Is there anything else we should know about?" Nagayuki inquired.

"You will be living with the wisher," Duodecuple informed them. "As I said, it is a win-win situation. You will be informed of the new plane and you will have a new place to stay, it makes things more convenient."

"Alright, so we get our wish granted and a new roommate." Takeyasu turned his gaze to his brother, a smirk on his face. "It doesn't seem all that bad."

"I am glad to hear that. That being said, you have seven hours to pack everything you need before you are escorted to your new home," Duodecuple told them, taking off his hat and bowing. His form began to pixelate away until the air was the only thing that remained where the mysterious hologram once stood.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"[Name], wake up," Meri-chan whispered, nudging me awake. "We're here."

"Huh? Oh, right," I mumbled before a yawn escaped my mouth as I rose to my feet.

Once the three of us had walked off the bus, I stretched my stiff limbs. Satisfaction filled me as the musical sound of my bones cracking played through my ears. I was on that bus for too long, but if that meant I got more sleep, I didn't mind. However, I still wished I had been sleeping, for one I still felt like I needed more rest, and two, I wanted to continue the dream I had. It felt real like the one I dreamt the night before, just as if I was watching Juuni Taisen. I found it rather strange that twice in a row I had a dream like that.

"Feeling more awake now, [n/n]?" Kamida asked me.

"Kinda," I answered honestly before I drew a smirk on my face. "Awake enough to be able to beat you at Street Fighter!" I told him, poking his arm then picked up my feet and dashed towards the building.

"Oh no, you don't!" Kamida shouted, sprinting after me.

"Hey, no fair! You guys got a head start!" Meri-chan complained, following behind, trying to keep up.

'Course, it didn't take long before Kamida was running ahead of me, he had the height advance. Kamida is taller than both me and Meri-chan, and I am taller than Meri-chan which leaves her as the shortest out of our trio. That said, it was the order in which we all arrived at the arcade's main doors. Laughter emerged from us as we stumble at the front entrance.

"You guys are so slow," Kamida jeered.

"Yeah, yeah." I waved it off with a hand before strolling over and opening the door. "After you."

"As the wingman, I insist you go first," he stated holding the door open.

"Fine." I stepped into the world of entertainment and scanned the dark place where black and neon lights hung from. Only a few kids were here today, which means more gameplay for us! "Alright!" I thought out loud.

"Hey [n/n]-chan," Meri-chan addressed me, catching my attention. "Let's play a round of air hockey."

"Yeah- we can do our match later Kamida," I told him, still wanting to do that duel.

"Cool, I'll just be playing Space Invaders over here," he said before walking away.

"Alright, Meri-chan." My hand fished out a dollar from my pocket and inserted it in the coin slot, activating the machine. Taking the puck from the goal and placing it on the table, I put on my game face. "First to ten wins."

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

"Aw man," I groaned, seeing my Pac-man die for 4th time playing this multiplayer game.

"You're off your game today," Kamida commented as his eyes focus on the screen, trying not to get eaten by Meri-chan's red Pac-man.

"Gee, I wonder what makes you think that." I playfully rolled my eyes, chuckling as I saw Kamida's blue Pac-man get eaten.

"Dang it!"

"Haha!" Meri-chan cheered in victory, throwing her hands in the air.

I felt a smile form on my face seeing my friends act the way they did, but my mind couldn't help but focus on the dreams I had earlier. They were stuck bouncing around my loop of thoughts, perhaps that's why I was off my game. Who can blame me though? It's not like I get these dreams every day so the fact they happen was a puzzle itself, maybe if they happened more often I wouldn't be so distracted.

"Well darn, it's 5:10." Meri-chan's statement caused me to get off my train of thought.

"Shoot, I'm supposed to be home by 6," I told them.

"And I'm supposed to be cooking dinner tonight for me and my little brother," Kamida grumbled as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Should we leave now and catch the next bus?" Meri-chan asked, her eyes looking at us after her phone was put back in her pocket.

"Yeah, the next bus arrives in 15 minutes," Kamida informed us, checking the bus schedule.

"Let's get going then," I said leading the way out of the arcade. Stepping outside after being inside that dim-lit building burned my eyes. My hands shot up to block the setting sun as I let out a snake-like hiss, taking a few steps back.

"Hhhhh, why couldn't it be night when we left?" Meri-chan complained, getting the same effect.

"I don't know, I don't control time," Kamida replied to her squinting his eyes to try and adjust back to the normal lighting. "Come on guys, we don't have much time before the bus gets to the stop."

"Right," I nodded, setting my hands in my jacket pockets after my eyes were used to the lighting, following the others.

"You guys wanna do this again tomorrow?" Meri-chan asked, starting conversation as we strolled to the bus stop.

"I already have stuff going on tomorrow," I lied. It's not that I didn't want to spend time with them, I just didn't want to go outside until I have to go back to school.

"And I'm going to be at my grandparents for the next three days. That's why I said we should hang out today," Kamida explained.

"Oh, that's alright. We can always voice chat at night," Meri-chan optimized.

"Yeah." A yawn escaped from my mouth once again. 'Man, I really do need sleep.'

"[n/n], you should take a nap when you get home."

"I will, I will," I grumbled. 'After I take a shower.'

I probably won't remember to take a nap when I get home, cause with showering and then dinner practically ready when I'm finished, the thought will be lost in my head. Not to mention my dreams are what have been occupying my mind. Usually, they don't, but I believe I'm still grasping onto them since I don't want them to slip away.

'What do the dreams mean?' It appeared too real to be just a normal dream but to call it a vision would absurd. Visions are stuff that happened, will happen, or a sort of warning, at least that's how it is in movies. The closest thing I ever get to a vision is the random flashes of deja vu I receive. Perhaps I'm overthinking this, maybe I'm just having proper dreams for once. Yeah, that's probably it, I-

"Whoa there, [n/n]!" Kamida grasped my hood to prevent me from walking any further.

"Huh?" I voiced, confused by his actions, I turned my head to him and gave him a "Why did you do that?" expression.

"We're at the bus stop, dummy," Meri-chan informed me.

"Oh, oops." I sweatdropped as I stood beside them.

"We're just in time too," Kamida pointed out as he watched the bus drive towards the stop.

One by one, we stepped onto the bus. I noticed the number of people taking this transportation has grown since it's at an hour where most people get off work, luckily there was still a three-seat row open for us. My legs took haste to snatch the spot before it could be in someone's possession, then I plopped down onto the window seat. By the time I had shifted into a comfortable yet civil sitting position, my friends had joined me. Kamida next to me and Meri-chan sitting on his other side.

Vines of silence grew around us so we didn't disturb anyone lurking in our surroundings. I wasn't phased by the lack of conversation, taking the opportunity to gaze at the modern buildings the bus drove by and dive further into the waters of my mind. Going through the catalogue of my memory, I searched for the recent dream I had and play it once I had found it. Something felt out of place in that dream, and it wasn't just because the scenario differed from the canon result of the flashback in episode 8 of Juuni Taisen. The fact Duodecuple stated he came to fulfill three wishes and not two didn't make sense.

If I connected the dots correctly, the first two wishes were Nagayuki and Takeyasu's wish to not partake in the Juuni Taisen, but then where did the third wish come from? Why would there be a third wish? Did I miss something in my first dream? Is it possible that if I slept a bit longer this morning I would've found out who made the third wish?

Multiple questions danced in my mind but they couldn't find any answers for them to waltz around with. After all, they were left in the mystic unknown, the only way they could return to the known land and find answers is if I returned to the dream realm, but there's no guarantee that it'll give me what I'm looking for. I highly doubt I'd be able to get another dream of the Tatsumi brothers again, my dreams have been generous enough to grant me two normal dreams in a row, I don't think they're going to give me a third. Still, it would be nice-

"[n/n], we're at our stop," Kamida informed me while waving a hand in front of my face.

"Uh-right... right," I responded and arose to my feet, following them out of the bus. Once outside, I brushed myself off, watching the bus drive out of view. Turning my attention to my friends, my hands set themselves in my jacket pockets. "So I guess I'll see you guys at school."

"{Yup|Yeah}," they answered at the same time.

"Alright, see ya then guys." I waved, beginning to stroll backwards in the direction of my house.

"Bye!"  Meri-chan exclaimed, waving.

"See ya." Kamida gave a small wave before turning and heading home.

I faced forward once we had disappeared in our path home, eyeing the slim light that emerged from the sun that is ready to be engulfed by the black night. My hand dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone, I needed to text my mom I was almost home. Turning on the device, I noticed I had two text messages, one from my mom and the other from my brother. I tapped on the notification and bypassed the lock screen to read the message my bro sent me.

"Hey, I'm going to a hangout at my friend's house.

Won't be back till morning"

"Looks like he made plans of his own," I thought out loud. "Guess that means no Code Geass tonight, but that also means I can rewatch Juuni Taisen." Drawing a smirk on my face, I chuckled before sending a response to my brother.

"Aight, cya tomorrow bro"

I waited for the message to load and confirm it was sent before tapping onto the text my mom sent.

"Just wanted to let you know your brother

is going over to his friend's place."

"Good to know."

"I'm almost home"

I turned off my phone once I had replied to her message, storing the device in my pocket. Mom always made sure to inform us whenever something came up, which I am grateful for. It helped me remember and keep track of things, they say "two heads are better than one" for a reason.

"Two heads..." I chuckled to myself when the Tsumita twins popped into my head once more. "Two heads that's been stuck in my mind all day."

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

I sat down in my office chair once I had finished drying my hair, dressed in a simple t-shirt and cargo pants. Opening my laptop I hopped onto docs and clicked the option open a new document. It had been a while since I had written anything, my search for inspiration had been harder than trying to find water in a desert, but with the two dreams I had, I thought I could use it for the idea of a plot. Fidgeting with my bracelet, I tried to construct a starter for the story in my mind, but I found myself unable to find my way around writer's block.

Glancing down at the accessory hugging my wrist as if I asked for ideas, I didn't have any other options since no one was here beside me. I would call or text Meri-chan or Kamida but I knew I'd be heading down soon for dinner. I found no point in inquiring if they could talk if I had to disappear. Funny enough, the bracelet only reminded me of the Tatsumi brothers. I laughed to myself, wondering what the twins would say if they were here, I found the idea amusing. I became tempted to tear the material on my wrist to make my greatest wish a reality, to see if they could become real once I did, but common sense popped my fantasy bubble. This wasn't some Anime where a game master could grant my wish, such fictional desires weren't possible for me to achieve, but I wish it was.

Something in my gut kicked me, flying my head out of that sad mindset I didn't know I fell into. My eyes went back to the blank doc I had open on my laptop. I felt a spark begin to flicker, attempting to get the fire of creativity going. My hands hovered over the keys, words on the tip of my fingers-

"[Name], dinner is ready," mom told me on the other side of my closed door she knocked on.

"Dah!" Frustrated, my arms flew up and mimicked the action of flipping a table before they slammed down on the edge of my desk. "Just when I had something..." I groaned and hung my head back. My mood shifted quickly, realizing some brain food would be good. "Coming mom."

As I arose from my chair, my bracelet seemed off, but when I checked it, everything appeared to be fine. I shrugged off my instinct, believing I was imagining things.

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

A yawn escaped my mouth after I heard the door to mom's room close, she went to bed since she had to work early. I was just chilling on the couch, my feet reclined up and any plans of writing had gone out the window once I had become one with the couch. I had the house somewhat to myself, considering my mom was now upstairs sleeping I couldn't do much.

I don't do things too exciting anyway, most times I just continued writing, or watch something on the tv which is what I'm doing now. Other times if my friends are available, I'd call them up and we'd discuss the fictional world. Then there was the rare occasion where I'd put on music and dance or vibe. It's relaxing me time.

Currently, Juuni Taisen played on the widescreen tv, already on the 11th episode. I don't know why, but it felt strange to watch it. I've seen these courses of events multiple times, each time understanding it more, why now do I receive this feeling? Perhaps the reason had to do with the dreams I had previously, with them appearing so real I guess coming back to what actually happened felt off to me. At least that was my thought process as I let out another yawn.

The 11th episode now halfway through and my eyes had begun to droop, feeling drowsy like Nezumi. The tv slowly turned into background noise when my tired mind began to pull me into the dream realm, my arms going limp to my sides as my eyes closed. The last audible thing I heard was Nezumi mentioning his 100 paths.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Too bad my lizard died, I think he would've liked meeting a new face," Takeyasu remarked gazing at the empty reptile tank sitting on his shelf, taking a break from packing his duffle bags.

This all seemed surreal for Takeyasu, for months he was on edge and trying to distance himself from his brother so when they were in the Taisen it wouldn't be as painful to see him die, at least that was his thought process. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway, not when Nagayuki started to take the big brother role more seriously ever since they both found out one of them was going to die in the Juuni Taisen if the other were to win. Then this wish thing came along and now they're packing for their new life, it was a miracle this was happening. Part of Takeyasu imagined this is some cruel dream that he's in and reality is about to wake him up to see those red letters for him and his brother. He sure wished it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.

"Hey, are you done packing?" Nagayuki questioned checking in, changed into his signature blue outfit.

"Almost, just gotta stash the rest of the money in there," the younger Tatsumi brother answered, going back to his task. "Do you think we can bring Hitokage and Yuki-onna?"

"I don't think that's the best idea, we don't know who our new roommate is going to be and what exactly they'll be okay with," Nagayuki stated, his hand grasping his chin as he began thinking out loud. "Normal people would probably freak out upon seeing two guys with a flamethrower and an icethrower. Still, if we have something to do with the third wish they must know who we are."

"Heh, I was just going to bring Hitokage anyway, regardless of your answer. You never know if we may need them."

Nagayuki rolled his eyes, knowing his brother would do something like that. His little bro had a point, however. They might need their weapons in this new place they're going, it'd probably give more use than the currency they were bringing with them. Both were unaware of where they were heading. Walking over, he looked inside one of Takeyasu's bags, small red rectangle boxes caught his eye and he picked one up.

"Really? You're taking your poker cards?"

"You say that like it's a question."

"Do you really need all of them?"

"Yeah, they're collector." Takeyasu stated his reason like it was obvious. The snake then cracked a smile. "At least I can reuse them unlike the bags of snacks you packed."

"Shut up." A faint blush appeared on Nagayuki's albino cheeks. "The flavours might not be available where we go, it's not like I'm going to eat them all in one go."

The little brother playfully snickered until the brief moment died down. A gentle silence sat between them, the only thing heard was Takeyasu stuffing items into the duffle bag. The elder Tatsumi brother glanced outside the room, considering if he should go check to see he had everything he needed and wasn't forgetting anything, but his bro caught his attention before he could decide.

"Hey..." Takeyasu started with a monotone, the mood in the room becoming heavy. That was a rare thing to happen among them, so he had his elder twin's full attention. "Did you ever think this would happen; Us not having to be apart of the Juuni Taisen?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, Takeyasu."

That was a phrase the younger Tsumita twin hadn't heard in a long time.

"I thought the Juuni Taisen was what our whole lives were leading up to, but I also thought the day would never come," Nagayuki spoke truthfully, his eyes gazed down at the floor. "I... just can't believe that it's not actually going to come, and how it never will..."

It grew quiet, the reality of what was happening finally settling in their minds. The reality neither of them was going to die. The reality neither of them had to kill the other. It was gone, the dark road was gone. They were free.

A laugh broke the silence, Nagayuki glance at his brother who had made the joyful sound.

"We don't have to play those bastards' game!" Takeyasu exclaimed, tackling his bro into a hug.

"Oof-" Nagayuki stumbled, not expecting the sudden embrace, but when he steadied himself he wrapped his arms around his baby brother. The burden of death has been lifted from their shoulders and they never felt more relieved. Tears of joy threatened to fall as the two hugged, knowing they wouldn't lose the other.

Before either could cry, an outsider cleared their throat. The moment now passed, the twins pulled away from the sibling hug to see Duodecuple there holding his hands behind his back.

"Are you both ready?" the man asked.

"Yeah, let me just get my bags," Nagayuki responded, moving past the elder man to get to his room.

Entering, the dragon went straight to retrieve the two duffle bags he packed. However, he ceased in his tracks when he turned to exit, spying the icethrower from the corner of his eye. He had originally planned to leave it, thinking it wasn't needed in his new life and unsure how their new roommate would feel about it, but since his little bro was taking his flamethrower what could it hurt to bring his weapon along?

"Besides, I don't I could get something like you out there, Yuki-onna," Nagayuki said, a smirk plastered on his face as he picked up the icethrower and put it on his back. He then grabbed his bags and left his now old room. Joining his brother's side in the main room, both face the mysterious man, holding their belongings.

"I hope you both are aware you are not heading to any warzones," Duodecuple told them, seeing how both Tatsumi brothers were carrying their weapons with them.

"Yeah, we know," Nagayuki stated blankly.

"But there's no way we're leaving these," Takeyasu added with a smug expression.

"I see." Duodecuple nodded, grabbing the rim of his top hat.

"So where are heading?" the elder Tatsumi brother asked.

"And how are we getting-"

Before the younger Tsumita twin could finish his question, Duodecuple had taken off his hat to bow, while doing so the brothers faded out of their reality.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"No!" I cried, reaching out to the two, only to face the actual screen in front of me. "Oh... it was just another dream," I muttered to myself, grasping my forehead with my right hand.

I'm surprised I actually was granted a third dream of the Tatsumi brothers. I expected my brain not to be so generous, not that I'm complaining, I'm grateful for it. I wished I knew what happened to them though, maybe I'll find out in the next dream. I could get used to having them on my mind as I sleep.

Returning to the reality before me, I saw the episode had finished a while ago. My hand went to pick up the phone that laid on the couch beside me to check the time, but when I did I noticed my bracelet had broken beyond repair. I quickly sat up, picking up the remains of the lime bracelet and the few beads that were once on it.

"Shit, how'd it break?" I questioned, examing the pieces. "It was fine an hour ago, wasn't it?" Shaking my head, I knew it had to throw it in the trash, it was useless now.

I reclined my spot on the couch back down and stuffed my phone in my pocket. Holding the bits of my broken bracelet, I strolled over to the trashcan in the kitchen and dropped them in there. I felt disappointed, I actually enjoyed wearing that bracelet. Not only was it a gift from one of my best friends but it was something that reminded me of the Tatsumi brothers.

"Oh well, objects can't last forever," I mumbled to myself, recalling the day our Wii console stopped reading discs, on New Year's Day too no less.

Catching a glimpse of the time set on the oven, I figured I should head upstairs to my room. If I stayed downstairs for too long and went up late in the night, I'd give mom broken sleep. Probably best I'd head there now anyway if I wanted to get any writing done.

Going up the steps silently so I wouldn't disturb mom, headed to the next floor. My mind was in a whirlwind of different thoughts, but they were put to a pause when I heard voices. At first, I concluded it was just mom talking in her sleep again, however, I crossed it off since they sounded male. My next assumption was my brother but that wouldn't make sense since he wasn't home. Before the scary sensation of the situation settled into my mindset, I had reached the floor and the semi-audio voices sounded familiar to me. With that in mind, I crept down the hallway towards the sound and I realized it was coming from my room.

'Why would it be my room of all places?' I questioned in my head. 'I don't have anything worth stealing!' I turned around to go and find something to use to defend myself but I never took another step because that's when their sentences became audible.

"Too bad we didn't have more time to pack, I would've liked to bring my desktop set up with me."

'No way...' I thought to myself, slowly twisting my head towards my door with wide eyes.

"Don't sweat it, bro. You got the USB, that's all that matters."

'No fucking way!'

I didn't even realize I moved down the hall until my hand felt the cool metal of the doorknob that opened the door to my room. My brain hardly processing my actions, I twisted the handle and pushed open the door. The sight before me I could barely believe.

There standing in my room, in their full warrior gear, were the Tatsumi brothers.

In the moment of me just staring at their backs, I forgot how to fucking breathe. Then Takeyasu was the first to turn to me.

"Hey bro, I think our roommate is here," he told his brother, his signature smirk on his face.

"Huh?" Nagayuki turning attention to me, his icy gaze settling on my skin. "I think you're right."

The expression of the younger twin changed to a semi-worried one. "Hey, are you okay?-"

I wasn't able to hear the rest of his words because all the weight that once was in my head disappeared. I saw my surroundings grow taller and tilt horizontally, but then I felt something solid collide with my back and my vision dissolved to black. I realized that I fainted from disbelief.

I mean, this couldn't have been real right? I was sleeping only moments ago and I woke up to this? No, no, this couldn't be real. I'm probably just dreaming, right? Yeah, that's what I'm doing, dreaming. I'm just dreaming. I'll wake up on the couch and see that it was only a dream.

[sidespromptblog]

Liar: Part 1

Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and End.

Summary:  In the midst of a breakdown, Deceit comforts Logan. It is while doing so that Logan decides that if the others can't accept him for him... then he'll just be what Deceit is... another liar.

Word Count: 3000

As much as he wanted to, Logan didn’t say a word as he stood among the others. He barely even heard them, their words sounding like nothing more than disconnected static coming from their mouths as his eyes looked past them not even really seeing them. A crushing weariness had settled into his bones as his eyes drifted over to Roman watching as the fanciful side spouted off something before throwing his head back in his usual boisterous laugh. Logan heard precisely none of it, he didn’t even hear how the others had responded to it aside from Patton reaching over and swatting at Roman’s side a pinched look taking up his expression as his eyes darted back over to Logan worriedly.

So he had been talking about him then… another joke then, of course, it was another joke aimed at himself. Roman couldn’t exactly insult Virgil without getting into trouble, and neither Patton or Virgil really cared enough about him to firmly tell Roman to stop. Hell… they threw their own jokes at him, always assuming that he never knew what they meant, always assuming that they’d never get under his skin. Except it did… god did it always get under his skin, scratching and clawing at him like the fingernails of a beast tearing at him from the inside.    

Something inside of Logan quivered the longer that he looked at the others, and something horrible burned in his eyes forcing him to hastily keep blinking in order to free himself of the fogginess that obstructed his vision. Panic crawled up Logan’s throat, he was crying… or he was about to start crying, and all of them… Patton, Virgil, and Roman were all going to see him break down. They were going to see him pathetically start weeping over what they could assume was no more than just their usual jab at him and nothing more. They wouldn’t know… they wouldn’t know how done he was, and how utterly hurt he was until they saw it dripping down his face.

Patton reached out, his pinched worried expression reflecting in his eyes, “Logan,” He softly began, his hands opened peacefully. Almost immediately Logan felt himself recoiling from his touch, Patton didn’t get to watch every single insult thrown at him and only pretend to care when he finally showed the emotion that he wanted. He didn’t get to do that, he wouldn’t have stood for it to happen to Virgil… so why was he letting it happen at all? “Is something wro-”

“Yes,” Logan hollowly said his tired eyes locking with Patton’s, he immediately took a single step back from Patton’s outstretched hand before it could even get close to reaching him. For a moment he wasn’t entirely sure on just what to do with his hands as he just stood there among the others, before eventually just settling on lightly hugging himself. Squeezing his sides until he was sure that his ribs would break. His lips trembled, and with each passing second he found himself trying harder and harder to suppress those tears “But..but I know better than to come for any of you for help on the matter.” That he did, if he told them what was wrong, what would come of it? Another joke? More and more of just being ignored every time he has something important to say? Being looked over until he broke in front of them once again?

He wanted to matter to them… and he wanted them to care.

Not like this though, not when they had already pushed and pushed. Only just realizing that he too had a breaking point. They wanted to believe that they could say anything to him and it wouldn’t leave an impact anymore, well… he was done lying to them and letting the wool remain over their eyes.

There was a blur of motion as the tears raced their way down his cheeks, and before he even knew it his feet sank into the warm lush carpet of his bedroom. He.. he wasn’t there anymore, he was safe, he was in the safety of his room where he could cry and curl up in his bed with nobody being the wiser about any of it. Except… they now knew, they knew from just the smallest little instance that he could cry, that he could cry because of anything and everything. What kind of logic was that? What kind of logic wept about things that had already been long said and done, it was pathetic, to cry over such a thing. It was… wrong.

And yet, cry he did. As the tears dripped down his face faster and faster, as a pitiful whimper bubbled up only to be crushed as he clamped his hand down over his mouth as the muffled sob shuddered out between the lips that he desperately attempted to keep closed. Honestly, he would have given anything to forget everything, or perhaps to just pretend that he didn’t hear what they had long since said, to pretend that of course, they loved him and always would. He would have loved to forget and to pretend that they did, and that he had never heard them, to begin with. But… he couldn’t, and that really wasn’t who he was, he wasn’t the kind of person to just... pretend everything away. He would remember, he would always remember.

He couldn’t just not do that on a whim. No matter how much he wished that he could.

Logan clutched the pearly white bowl of the sink, his body remaining hunched over it as his tears spilled openly spilled into it. He didn’t even bother to stop the next whimper made its way up his throat as the warm tears streaked his face in a flurry of wetness and regret.

Logan! Everyone’s favorite character! Four months, three weeks, and five days.

Hush, you sub-astute teacher! Six months, four weeks, and seven days.

You’re the least favorite, and you know it. Eight months, two weeks, and three days.

Logan...can you just stop? Six months, four weeks, and seven days.

It felt like a drunken haze as the words swirled around in his head like a tornado wrecking every logical thought in its sight, he remembered it, he could remember it all down to the very last second that it had been said to him. He could recall the exact facial movement that the others made when they spat out their retorts and he could remember the exact way that it had stung him. Why did it have to be this way? Why did he have to be the odd one out now that Virgil was a part of the family? Why couldn’t he..why couldn’t he just belong? The thoughts seeped like poison in his head, and it burned, god it burned so badly that he wanted to grip his hair and rip the roots out of his scalp. He wanted to be sick and have them care, he wanted to stay sick and never see them again, to stay in his bedroom and never ever come out, he wanted to go back out and apologize so that things could stay as they always had been. The duality of his own thoughts made him want to crumple onto the floor and just… not think anymore.

He wanted…

What do I want? The tiny little thought popped up, and finally, he pried his own fingers away from his face as he stared at his own awful appearance in the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy, with fresh tears already streaming down his face. Underneath his glasses, dark circles from countless nights staying up and trying to do the best thing for Thomas. All of it now felt so useless, it was useless. None of them truly cared about what he contributed, he was boring to them… boring Logan with his boring spreadsheets caring about a boring upload schedule. He wanted… he wanted....

“I want them to stop being such liars.. I want them to stop lying to my face when they say that they ca.. love me.” His voice came out as a soft husky whisper as his words cracked and crumbled in his mouth, evident by how much he had been holding in his tears and stopping himself from truly feeling what he needed to feel. “I want them to stop acting like we’re one big happy family when.. when we’re really not.” They didn’t like him, they didn’t love him, and they most certainly didn’t tolerate him. They could barely stand him.

That, was the truth of the matter.

“They’ve scorned you bad, nerd.” The familiar, and yet the completely foreign voice startled Logan, forcing him to spin around to catch just a hint of a caplet before it vanished into a pure white suit with a red sash. He wasn’t fooling anybody though, especially with the dotting of the green and golden scales and the yellow eye that remained staring sympathetically right back at him. There was a warm look that rested within those eyes, a look that squirmed beneath his skin in an entirely different way than the others.

“What do you want?” Logan gruffly asked, his posture as stiff as a board, all things considered… Deceit was really the last person that he wanted here to see him break down. Out of everything that had just happened, it really would be the icing on the cake of the mistake that was his day. However,  Roman’s face.. his beautiful and sunnily warm face smiled back at Logan, with a knowing look that said more than what words alone could. It was a look that was normally reserved for Patton or Virgil exclusively, and it was a look that was being aimed right at him. Although, he knew exactly who it really was underneath all the red and golden colors of Roman’s uniform. Deceit knew that he knew too, especially given the tiny crooked smile that made Deceit shine through whatever form he took on. And despite that… no matter how he smirked, that sympathy remained in his eyes as he looked at Logan.

There was no judgment, and there was no pity.

Holding his hands up peacefully just as Patton had done not even an hour ago, Deceit smoothly stepped forward. His movements were even and measured, as if even the most sudden of movements would send Logan scuttling back like a startled and wary zoo animal. Eventually, the dishonest side gingerly laid his hands on Logan’s shoulders giving them a brief squeeze before he spoke, “They’re all liars Logan.. they’ve hurt you.. they’ve scorned you.. and taunted you. They’ve unfairly blamed you,” Deceit moved Roman’s lips downward in an unsatisfactory frown as something akin to a fire sparked in Deceit’s mismatched eyes. He looked… angry wasn’t the right word for it, but protective. “If I may ask…” He took a deep breath forcing himself to calm down at least a little bit, “Do you believe that they love you? If you changed… do you think that they would still love you the way that they do now?”

It appeared to be a genuine question, as Deceit pulled himself from the logical side, almost as if he were expecting to be punched in the face or in the very least shoved towards the open door of the bathroom. Stepping away from him Deceit idly walked his fingers along the doorframe, his eyes remaining locked onto the ground before darting back over to Logan.

“Do you think that…” His fingers twisted the red sash that stretched itself across his chest, “Do you think that I could learn to love?” Deceit’s voice now took on a silken whisper as he straightened his back before once again meeting Logan’s eyes. There was an uncertainty there that lingered underneath the brown and gold eyes, there was an uncertainty that told Logan that underneath all of those villainous laughs and evil smirks… Deceit was someone who had lied and been lied to as well. How often had someone told him that because of who he was, or what he looked like… that nobody would ever like him?

How often had Deceit been made to feel like the ignored one?

He had barely noticed it, but Logan had moved closer and closer until their chests just barely brushed against one another, there was an odd warmth tingling in Deceit’s chest at the briefest amount of genuine contact with the logical side. And even so, Logan barely noticed it as he looked up into Deceit’s eyes as Roman’s face melted away bringing forth more and more patches of scales. Evident by the first of the curly locks coming forward rather than Roman’s soft combed back hair, there was a moment of silence between them as Deceit raised his hand offering it to Logan. A look that was charged and tense, as his hand remained there waiting for the logical side to either take it or swat it away.

It was the offering of a deal, but the exact kind was left unsaid to them both.

“You’re a liar,” Logan whispered back without any real heat behind it, and Deceit could easily agree with that, he very much was a liar. It was his title, after all, you couldn’t get any more descriptive than ‘Deceit’ of all things. In pretty much every way that matter but this he was a foul-mouthed liar, and even so… even knowing everything that he did about him. Logan took his hand and gripped it tight.

Their deal wasn’t yet done though.

“Will it hurt?” Logan asked before they could take a single step out of this bathroom, his real feelings bleeding through for just a moment, allowing Deceit to see the slightest hints of fear and uncertainty that the logical side attempted to keep out of his eyes. But even so, Deceit could see it all, as Logan’s hand gripped his a little bit tighter, and as his teeth chewed on his bottom lip in a way that only those terrified of the next few moments could. “Not that such a thing would be an issue, I merely am not accustomed to pa-”

In one swift movement, Deceit’s hand gripped his own tighter before smoothly jerking him forward into the dishonest side’s chest. Before Logan could so much as open his mouth he felt a pair of lips touching the top of his head, and everything went silent. All of the worries and fears that rolled inside of his head felt as if they had been silenced in one fell swoop, as if the warm blanket of comfort had fallen over it all leaving him with not a single thing to worry about. It was… nice, with his thoughts not being so loud as they normally were, with his thoughts allowing him to feel for once, to just…

Experience.  

“I won’t let it hurt, I can assure you that.” Deceit vehemently whispered back once he pulled his lips away from Logan’s forehead. “I won’t allow it to. I swear.”

Gazing back at him, as he clutched the soft fabric of Deceit’s caplet and his heart pounded openly in his chest. Logan going out on a limb and figuratively putting his heart on the line allowed their lips met together for a brief second, it could barely be counted as a kiss, as his lips just brushed against Deceit’s allowing him ample time to pull away before they then parted. Just for the dishonest side’s lips crash back into his with even more fever and heat than before, not that he was complaining as he gripped Deceit tighter feeling the other’s arms cradling and holding him so very close. Logan could feel the scales brushing over his skin, and he could feel a change taking place as he sagged into Deceit’s arms his forehead thumping against the other side’s shoulder as the world spun around him in a blurry tango of colors and movement.

He felt so.. so tired, his eyelids felt so unbelievably heavy as his knees buckled under him, sending him sprawling into Deceit’s arms.  

“I’ve got you… I’ve got you. I won’t let it hurt, and I won’t let any hurt come to you. I promise.”

Chancing one last look in the mirror, as the exhaustion hit him in wave after wave, Logan caught a single glimpse of himself before Deceit gingerly picked him up carrying him towards the bed. Shutting his eyes, Logan swallowed thickly as he buried his face into the other side’s shoulder, he could still feel it. He could still feel what he had seen happening to him in the mirror, and… he wasn’t scared anymore. Any of the others would have been, they would have been repulsed and horrified at seeing themselves like this. But… with Deceit holding him the way that he was, as they both settled onto Logan’s bed, with the dishonest side gently holding him still, he wasn’t scared.

Closing his eyes, Logan fell into unconsciousness with the feeling of Deceit’s fingers in his hair and the fish scales curling around his neck and growing over his face changing his eyes to a stunning silvery-blue color. That wasn’t the only kind of change he felt taking him over, but right now… none of it really mattered so much as the instantaneous relief he felt as he slowly but surely fell asleep in the arms of the one and only person the others would never have trusted to tell the truth. As he fell asleep with him…

As they both became liars, together.

There had always been two Creativities, but now… there were two Deceits.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                    Rán, the Goddess of the Sea,                    whose origins stem from Ancient Scandinavia.                                She is now a City Council Member                                        and the owner of Böljande.

FC NAME/GROUP: Park Soo Joo / Model GOD NAME: Rán PANTHEON: Norse OCCUPATION: City Council Member, Owner of Böljande HEIGHT: 1.78 m DEFINING FEATURES:

Her eyes are of a cloudy gray.

She has a tattoo on her left forearm with 9 minimalistic waves

PERSONALITY: A careful face, but a tough attitude. As the keeper of drowned souls, Rán can be perceived as cold and unpredictable, and she carries the weight of this image well, not caring to hide her true nature to anyone. Nonetheless she is rather good company to keep because she can show warmth and empathy when these qualities are necessary. She is very animate with her facial expressions and hand gestures. A renowned great host, she loves to fill her home with guests for late night dinners or raves (at which she DJ’s). Quite ambitious and greedy, she was taught early in life of the importance of education and wealth, and as this idea grew on her, so did her voracity for money and power and all the luxuries that come with it. Her captivating presence suggests her as promiscuous and manipulative, a woman who could threaten both men and women, but with Rán seeing is not believing. Like the legends of her people, her life is an entanglement of secrets and half-truths, yet she shows no remorse when telling some of her embellished past-life stories. Rán sees herself as someone who is deeply caring and always listening when you think she isn’t, someone to have as an emergency contact when you need to bury your secrets deep in the mountains. Her words are in-adhesive to those who seek answers, her songs are beguiling to those that eavesdrop, yet they recapture the true tale of her troubled life.

HISTORY: [tw: briefly mentions domestic abuse, death, and sort-of cannibalism]

The cold moonlight shines on top of the black and blue sea

a young goddess, descendant of the red and blue, with eyes bright like moonstones and hair as silver and shiny as a coat of lynx. born of the North Sea and bound to it by blood, compelled to it by love. she is forever untamed like the creatures of the deep, always longing for an extra inch like the waves that wash up on the shore. it is a new day, for yesterday has been done away with and the sea-creatures of tomorrow are yearning for another chance. to prove themselves, to live like their mothers did — before their self-destruction.

The hand that couldn’t touch that ray of sunshine

born without wings, she never went too far. singing and daydreaming lying on her back in the beds of sand were how she spent most of her youthful days. the young Rán dreamed of becoming strong and glorious, with wings like Freyja a goddess she often envied. what could she do to have wings like the goddess of love; to have a reputation so destitute of monstrosity? the others made fun of her indifference, her inability to fly over the sea and shoot the breeze with their cousins. “how can someone like us even dream of such nonsense”, they said. “if we were meant to fly then what do we have these tails for?”, “maybe she’s too busy learning how to fly that she doesn’t have time for real scholarly work”. they teased her endlessly but she didn’t listen, her mind drifted into thoughts of touching the chariot of Thor.

The unfair stories

a chorus sings at dusk, their melodies are like the pouring out of smooth, fine waters. who could resist such an enticing sound? the sailors could not. it wasn’t so much that they were answering the call of the siren, but being hypnotized by the aura of it. surely no one on the island wished for their deaths, but merely company that they were after. visitors to bring spirits among other gifts. sadly, these visitors never left the island for the inhabitants were poor hosts, not knowing to feed their guests who seemingly had forgotten to eat. it is a sad coincidence such men traveled the coast, unaware of the dangerous creatures of the sea. her cousins, maidens who loved to play wicked games, attacked ships and drowned and often ate the flesh of the men, for fun. when word got around to the gods, her people were to blame for their songs that tempted the toughest of men. punishment was in order. and when it all was said and done, the others took to the seas and spread vicious rumors of the flesh-eating seductresses, “they’ll steal your goods and eat your heart out” they said. everyone laughed at them if they did not have pity, how beautiful fish-tailed songstresses were to turn into savages so easily. this was the tale she heard of her ancestors, and though she and the others on the island were but the offspring of the latter, the stories stuck like hair on her head. she would soon become the renowned fearsome ruler of the stormy seas, and in doing so maintained her status the same way her cousins did.

A black island is among the lowly settled water fog

perusing about on the coast of a small uninhabited island she frequented in her youth, in search of fresh meat, she came to realize prematurely that the shore had been blackened by waste and littered with the debris of human carcasses. surely her weekly antics haven’t caused this? what once was a haven for local birds and land critters alike is now what appears to be an ocean dumping, a burial site for a wasted lifestyle. the now older goddess emerges onshore with plastic bottle caps in her hair in lieu of seaweed. ultimately the toxic black waste would seep through into her body, penetrating through her lungs and corrupting her natural-given powers. it brought tears to her eyes to know this was only a sign of what the future is to bring, poisonous waters and death-clad shores. the others pretend not to know, the land-dwellers turn a blind eye.

A worn out and humid ferry, a small boat leaves

no longer was the island fit to rest on, no longer was the ocean, her home, as pure and flowing as her voice. the now frail goddess let out the call, that velvety magnetic cry that lured in men and women alike, the one her dear husband despised so. only this time her voice croaked, she was sure no one had heard her, not even the king of the seas. shortly thereafter, a lonely man appears on the coast, as is expected, you could see in his eyes the despair of her voice had not struck him yet until he reached the oil-slicked sand beneath her limp body. it wasn’t enough for him to help her escape for her life, he wanted to be a part of it. she was like nothing he had ever seen before, and he knew he would never see her again, not like this. an arrangement was made, once they reached land, dry and clean land, the goddess would exchange vows with this strange man.

The flower petals fall and the tears dry

a goddess who arranged a deal with a human so that she would not perish like her sisters, grew to adore the man whom she thought was sweet, sensitive and caring. he showered her with fresh flowers daily, clothing that showed off her womanly figure, and jewelry that matched her eyes. the man was so proud of himself for finding what he believed to be a treasure, he did not want to share her with anyone and soon the loving man became very possessive. he accused her of going out late at night to have drinks with other men and singing to locals that traveled by their house. sharing the wealth was what he called it, though one day came when she swore she did no such thing, the man would strike her in disbelief, this was not the first, but one of many occurrences. it was obviously time for Rán to cease playing house and deal with this man just like she did all the others, he had become like the poisonous waters of her past. honestly she surprised herself, living contently in the mundane life of a human, this was far from what she wanted for her life. she wanted to go back to the golden days, back when she and Ægir would get dressed up and throw ragers to entertain the gods in the home they built together. unfortunately, returning wasn’t so easy anymore.

My last move was to put down my long hair

Rán couldn’t stand to take another beating from a mortal who knew nothing of her life, once again she had to teach one of nature’s great lessons – don’t fuck with a goddess. for her there was no justification, similar to when humans get bitten by snakes and someone needs to suck the venom out to survive, this is how she chose to view this incident; sucking the venom out of her life with no other reason given the circumstances. only now the corollary was tremendous, the strength in her powers had returned except they were not the same as before, they were not only destructive but dark and consumed almost every aspect of her being.

The truth that can’t be hidden comes out

primarily to avoid persecution from the locals, she returned to the black island to lay the man’s remains to rest in her own way. the bottom of the small boat that once carried her away from this place was covered in black waste and debris. she could hear her daughters singing in the meadow, but their songs were not like the ones before, there were tears dripping down their faces. one song spoke of a massacre, brothers and sisters being choked with plastic rope, another was about beauty and how her daughter’s lips became blackened and they were losing their hair. there Rán stood shocked in silence, she realized she was not looking at all of her daughters, about a handful of them were missing. when the others finally ceased their singing and wailing, they cried out to her, “save us, help us! will you leave us here to die?” she could not answer without weeping for her lost children. the others pointed her to a pile of breathless sea-creatures with plastic rings around their necks and glass stuck in their skin. some had perished from eating toxic algae, others just from swimming in contaminated waters. day by day, the pile grew bigger. it is a new age, for an era has been done away with and the sea-creatures of tomorrow are yearning, for time, for life, for survival. Finally –after so many years were spent struggling to find understanding and acceptance among the land-dwellers, wandering and self-loathing and coming to terms with her life choices. she reluctantly returned to the waters, her home, for a final goodbye.

tears dry, time stops

If only I had insufficient comfort that means nothing

within the community of mount phoenix, a small company is born, to protect and maintain the life of living beings both in the sea and on land. a promise the goddess made to herself to give back what time took away. focusing on ethical production, reducing water pollution and environmental devastation, creating a way for people to indulge in luxury without destroying the habitat of others. Rán decided her time on the island would be better spent giving back to her community and using her platform to advocate for the creatures whose voices are seldom heard. truly though, she came to the island in search of something or someone. perhaps, if she could not return to her home – Aegirheim – she would make one here in Mount Phoenix.

a dark tale to be continued.

POWERS: Rán can create, shape and manipulate water of a spiritual or destructive nature. can cause natural ocean disasters such as tsunamis, monsoons, and whirlpools to manifest. She carries a net that she uses to capture and trap the souls of the drowned. A widely known power is her ability to transform her physiology to that of the merfolk and vice versa. Some of her merfolk abilities include aquatic life communication, hypnotic song or ‘beacon emission’ which can lure someone towards her, and depending on the mental capacity of the victim, can cause paralysis or dementia. She can also influence strong emotion with her singing voice or a musical instrument. As the personification of the sea, she is capable of returning to her godly form as a body made completely of the ocean, but is less likely to do so.

STRENGTHS:

Not afraid to go to the murky waters of the emotional and spiritually unknown.

Great at keeping secrets, has strong intuition and perception of others.

Values trust and a deep connection with others she considers as a friend or lover.

Electronically adept, her favorite way to escape is through casual gaming and social media so she does well with a smartphone and computer.

WEAKNESSES:

Despite needing to have complete and total control of a situation, she doesn’t have full knowledge or control over her newer, darker powers and will avoid transforming out of her human likeness because of this.

Craves deep emotional connections, but does not like to appear vulnerable so she is less likely to reach out first.

Claustrophobic.

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch x - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.” This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery. Written for @cssns​ 

Ch 10 / ?? - In which something lurks underneath the surface

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian rowed them ashore, where they were greeted by Lilly and a small group of curious onlookers. A tall man with a shock of dark red hair and dark skin watched them with an expression of amusement on his face that made Emma bristle at first, but as he watched them, she sensed a great sense of actual levity in the man's genuine smile. Another stood stoic, having the same facial features as the first man, though they were not softened by laugh lines or any sort of emotion. He had a lighter skin tone, and his olive green colored hair cut in a blunted angular style complete with thick fringe blowing in the sandy breeze. 

 "Welcome, finally. I forget how slow it is when you are unable to fly," Lilly greeted. The Dragon princess approached, hooking her elbow with Emma's which made her flinch, as she tried to swallow the look of surprise. "While I'm not sorry for earlier, I do believe that you will be my friend and forget our meeting’s misunderstandings."

 "I - Yes, that could be a possibility," Emma said, her smile unconvincing. 

 "To be clear, you were the one with all of the misunderstandings, and your culture’s proclivity of lying for comfort is the problem I speak of. Even now you are tense, and your annoyance with me smells like…" Lilly sniffed, grinning at Emma's face pinching into frustration. "Apple blossoms."

 "Well I never -" Emma tried to pull away, but Lilly held fast, giggling. The red haired dragon laughed as well, and Killian smirked as Emma looked at him with clear disdain.

 "Lilly, who are your compatriots? Will the king and queen be receiving us?" Killian asked, and the woman blinked, smacking a hand to her forehead with a groan. 

 "Fiore above, I am an idiot." Gesturing with her thumb she pointed at the red headed dragon. "This is my parents’ advisor, and my potential betrothed, Mushu."

 "Hello, and welcome to our personal piece of nothingness." His voice was a deep bellow, but full of humor. He put a hand on the olive haired man's shoulder, who did not break the icy stare he had focused on Emma. "My clutch mate, Haku. Our Harvest Festival begins, you must come." Waving his hand in a come hither motion, Lilly followed, practically dragging Emma into the courtyard where decorations were being placed on tall poles, and harvest vegetables littered available space. Cut branches and twine were tied to make a canopy that dripped fire colored leaves onto them as they walked. 

 "My parents will receive you tonight at the Harvest Festival. They are currently making the Kitsune leaders aware of your arrival."

 Haku did not take his steely eyes off of Emma, and she noted it with unease. 

 The other inhabitants of the island seemed sparse, and almost serf like, bowing and averting their eyes when Lilly passed as the Dragon princess showed Emma around. There seemed to be very few dragons actually on the island; the few Lilly pointed out either in their dragon form or ordering about the other Fae that lived there. Emma could not sense what type of Fae the others were, but their magic was different than any she had encountered in the United Realms or as she had made her way here in the Old World. It seemed to pull from the very air itself as opposed to the Dragon's quite literally 'rooted' earth mastery. 

 Lilly pointed out a cave that belonged to her brother, Elliot, who loved gems and was an expert on stones of all kinds, and introduced them to Tzalu and Tiamat, both gorgeous and raven haired dragons. They were aloof, but disdainfully polite, as they talked briefly about their skills in cooking for the village. They tended to a blacksmith and the kitchen with ease, fire breathing and ease of handle scorching earth, pleating and folding newly made metals in shapes like that of the paper animals they favored. Tiamat demonstrated with a small silver crane, folding a thick sheet of silver heated to the color of the golden leaves gracing their trees. While Emma was still tense and prickly by the end of the introductions, Lilly and she were openly bickering now, with Mushu adding flame to the fire. Emma seemed to be warming up to the other princess after all. 

 "So," Emma said, apple in her hand as they sat in the island's orchard. "I'm done with your cryptic nonsense. What the hell happened to make the Dragons end up here, and what does it have to do with my Mom and Regina of all people?" 

 Lilly groaned, flopping back, but the other two dragons tensed. For the first time in their meeting, Haku looked away from Emma to Lilly, a glint of something in his eyes. 

 "Alright, alright," Lilly grunted, stretching her arms and sitting back up. "Fine. You win. I'll tell you."

 Emma breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

 "Yeah well, don't thank me yet," Lilly grumbled. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then began to speak. 

"In the old days, we Dragons still weren't exactly plentiful, and we were especially not as plentiful as Fae. We take centuries to lay one egg, usually all at one time as a group thing like flocks of birds, and that's pretty much it for us offspring wise, mostly because gestation for the damn egg - which is giant by the way - has to be as a dragon past a certain point. Then, you have to nest around the egg, also as a dragon, and keep it at the proper temperature and make sure the angle it is laying is correct - "

 "I don't think they need a lesson on how we breed and raise our young," Mushu interrupted, shaking his head.

 "Alright well, anyway. It's an annoying process for everyone involved. We're rare, okay? So a war breaks out between all of you, and we decline to fight along with another rarity - the Kitsune. I'm sure you saw them around. We share this place with them."

 Killian looked up in surprise. 

 "Kitsune?" Emma asked, and looked at Killian for answers. He nodded, clearing his throat. Even with her knowledge of the many types of Fae and magical creatures, she had not been aware of the Kitsune surviving, or if they had been more than myth.

 "Fox spirits. Cousins of the Anisapi, but far more elemental and Fae than animal. Powerful, dangerous, and wily creatures. I don't even know what their gifts are magic wise, I've only heard rumors," Killian answered quietly. 

 "Yeah, well, they're not all that special," Lilly grumbled, rolling her eyes. "They're more Fae then elemental, mostly using spells of fog, mist, and smoke. Parlor tricks, sleight of hand, and making their illusions are all they're good for, besides their fancy talking like you and your people." Lilly directed a pointed look at Emma, who was scraping off dirt from her shift. Emma blushed, but said nothing. 

 "The war was looming, but when you live as long as we do, or as long as my parents and their parents, and my aunts and uncles have, taking sides in fleeting disputes isn't important. So we didn't, at least at first. Then the Goblins poisoned us with nightshade. Only a clutch of eggs and my parents survived, and only because of three things: Regina Mills, me, and the Dark One.

 "The Dark One was told to poison the Dragons and he did, but he poisoned the water supply with just enough to kill slowly, which gave the adults time. The Fae say it was due to him craving suffering, we believe it was a small mercy."

 Killian said nothing, his face impassive. 

 "My parents were trying to have me, and were otherwise occupied. It was painful, but the Mills' clan and the Equi clan who were sworn to us came at our call, easing the burden with their potions and magic. They were both renowned healing families who we traded our scales and whatever ingredients they needed to; sort of a symbiotic relationship, like those birds who clean the teeth of predators. That's where Regina comes in to the picture, she's of the Mills' clan. 

 "The Elder Dragon called a meeting, and while the Goblin menace was a terror, the Fae that had allowed us to die for their war and their consequences were named foe too. We would fight for ourselves, and my parents swore themselves to battle until they were bones bleaching in the sun. 

 "Except they lied. My mother's closest confidante and handmaid from the Mills clan happened to be the aforementioned Regina, who discovering that my mother was pregnant with me. Regina begged in secret for another way, and she hated your mother more than anything for stripping her family of titles and lands when she gained her house, but no one would listen. They were too sick and angry, too hungry for revenge. The Elder Dragon called on the Kitsune, our family intertwined by similarities and our indigenous lands, and their leaders Cruella and Isaac, came here happily to join us. Cruella hated your mother too, and believed she deserved more than her station. She had tried to climb in social standing, but could never reach far enough for her standards. 

 "Regina tried to convince my mother, the Kitsune, and the clans not to fight but they put on their armor despite her pleas. There was a battle at the cliffs near the Baelfire Barony, after the naval massacre by the hand of the Dark One. Daniel, Regina's betrothed, was killed in the battle by a Goblin horde. Many others died too, my father narrowly escaping death. After that, Regina begged for those left to disappear from a world where no one wanted them. My Mom refused, as did Cruella."

 "Regina went to Queen Snow, and swore herself to her in exchange for giving up this island's location, our nesting grounds. Together, Snow and Regina created a barrier that keeps us exiled here against our wishes."

 Emma laid her head in her hands, and Killian watched as her fingers massaged her temples. "I had no idea. No idea about so much of this, so much of what happened. I feel like I am running blind - do I apologize to your mother? I didn't do this, and it's been so long, maybe I can help break through -" she gritted out. 

 "Why would you possibly do that?" Haku hissed at her, his voice cold and clipped. "There is no gain for you. You all left us here as a warning. It was successful, the world has moved on. Releasing us to a world of mortals when we are so few is simply a slower slaughter."

 Emma looked at Killian, the anger in her eyes burning behind threatening tears. To her surprise, he licked his lips and began to speak. 

 "Things are changing again. The world is never going to return to where it was, but the Fae still left are wanting change," Killian said evenly, and her lips curved up into a small smile. "Princess Emma wants change, which is why she freed Ursula, brought Pann to justice, and it's why she refuses the Goblin Prince in his proposal -" 

 Haku snorted, rising to his feet. "Things haven't changed at all then. You Fae still cry that the world is changing while you ignore your own history, choosing what is recorded and what will be remembered by those alive to tell. You deserve your fall from the sun, the wax on your wings scalding. Some Dark One you are. I did not expect a doting sycophant who would recite sonnets for his royal tart." In a blur of white and green, the Dragon ripped through the canopy, apples falling and bouncing off of them as he rose. 

 "Ah. The oldest of the clutch speaks," Lilly sighed. "That was harsh even by our standards, but that's Haku for you."

 "So, uh, how about we show you that library?" Mushu said with a clap, the tension thick as another apple rolled off of Emma's head. She looked directly at Killian who wore a look of grim resolve, the thought of creating any sort of alliance dimming by the moment. 

 As they started walking out of the orchard, Killian intertwined his fingers with her own, giving them a squeeze. Emma looked up at him surprised, and he bent to whisper. 

 "We'll win them over yet, Swan. It will be alright." 

 He squeezed again, then moved to talk to Mushu who was leading them and talking about the library’s many treasures. Lilly fell back, taking his place. 

 "You guys are cute," Lilly whispered with a laugh. "And he's much better looking than our legends describe. I expected the maw of a crocodile and for him to trail blood from his wet clothes, his eyes as dark as charcoal."

 Emma blanched, looking at Lilly with confusion. "No, he's not - I mean the Darkness doesn't have control, or full control really, of him without the Vorpal Dagger. He doesn't - he didn't enjoy doing those things, Lilly. He's not a monster, he doesn't relish in blood." She paused, casting a sideways glance towards Killian. "And, we are barely allies. Our friendship, if you can call it that, is very new."

 "Wow," Lilly giggled, hand covering her mouth. "You are so stupid."

 "Excuse me?" Emma rounded on Lilly, her eyebrows both raised while she smiled with all her teeth, angry while full of disbelief at her bluntness. "I am not -" 

 "No, that's not what I mean. You are intelligent with books and whatever else, but you are so dense. I can literally smell the pining on you. It's gross, frankly." Lilly made a gagging motion. 

 "If you are always glib and blunt, you don't have to use 'frankly' before you speak." Emma sniffed, sending Lilly further into giggles. 

 "I'm desperate for courtly intrigue, Princess. Tell me, have you wrote him love letters you instead burned? Have you pressed a piece of clothing of his to your face, just to feel closer? Have you kissed him and then both pretended it didn't happen?" 

 Emma's cheeks went blindingly hot, and she began to walk quicker, looking down at her dirty slippers. Lilly grabbed her elbow, holding her back, grinning like a she demon. 

 "You did, you sly fox! I can smell it, you kissed him! Tell me everything -"

 "There is nothing to tell. I was drunk. We had just cheated death, and I had a potion in my system that made me silly and drunk. An accident," Emma hissed lowly. A large ornate building was quickly coming into view. 

 "But you both sleep together, and you cling to him like a little duckling, right in his shadow. Or cygnet in your case."

 "How did you know tha -" Emma snapped. There was no way anyone could have spied on them, or have seen without them knowing how they rested together. Even Killian wasn't aware of how she laid awake in between fits of restlessness and nightmares, watching his peaceful sleep or listening to him remembering his lost love. The Darkness occasionally pushed through, and Emma had found gently tracing his tensed muscles would soothe it away. He had never woken up to see her, but if he did, she planned to play it off as a strange dream. 

 "I can smell you both all over each other, and I know that the two of you have never actually done anything serious. You both are too clumsy around each other, and the idea of a kiss between you two sent you into a nosedive." Lilly shrugged. 

 "Please, stop smelling me," Emma managed to grit out as she massaged her temples, unable to form any other reply. Lilly let out a laugh, arm linked in her own again as the library loomed before them. 

 "You know, I don't think you're going to believe me, at least for now," Lilly whispered into her ear as Mushu and Killian stepped inside the large doors. "But now I definitely know that you and I are going to be great friends."

 Lilly laughed at Emma's grimace all the way through the doors. 

 *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 The library was like nothing he had ever seen. The college at the Naval Academy for the Fae had an expansive collection of books, and from Emma's descriptions of the palace library, it seemed that the several floors of books in front of them may even rival that. Killian glanced at Emma, her face was still slightly pink - no doubt from Lilly teasing her - but her verdant green eyes were wide as her lips parted in awe. 

 "This is our library, and collection of rare books. Or, as you Fae so kindly called it in the past, our 'hoard'," Mushu said with a flourished hand. "You are free to read at your leisure, Dark One."

 With a slight bow, Mushu excused himself. Lilly smiled impishly and whispered something into Emma's ear before bounding off herself, Emma sighing with deep relief when the Dragons were both gone. 

 "Well," Killian stated, and Emma groaned as she laid her body over a desk with a thunk. 

 "This, this is a lot," Emma replied, muffled by the table. After a moment, she gathered herself and stood, truly taking in the splendor of the place. "This place is stunning, wow. There are so many books. Are those inlaid with jewels or -" 

 Killian looked up, from running his fingers down the spine of a book. "I know, it's wonderful. I could live here, just reading everything." He shot a glance down the stairs to the atrium where she stood. 

 "I thought you always had to keep moving on, unable to sit still?" Emma teased, but he could not help but answer seriously, the ornate details on every binding, the amount of unknown informatiom lost to time and war, and the full amount of the potential knowledge the books contained too much to dismiss with anything but awe. 

 "This is perfection." Running a finger along another binding, he practically purred in satisfaction. "This place or somewhere similar, the ocean, and air. This sort of library, a fireplace, a good reading chair, and every night spent sipping a buttered rum while watching the stars, seeking new truths from the pages. That is all I need, for eternity." Emma hummed, turning the page of a huge tome laid out on another table. After a moment she chuckled lightly. 

 "So, a boat full of books, but on land." Emma stated bluntly. 

 "When you put it like that, sure love," he answered, with her same sarcasm. 

 She stepped closer, looking up to where he stood. "I might visit someplace like that. I like rustic."

 "Rustic eh? Not up to snuff for the magnanimous and beauteous princess?" 

 Emma shrugged. "It depends on how good the rum is." She replied sarcastically. "Read your books, I am getting fitted for some sort of Dragon style outfit because I'm currently 'unacceptable' per Lilly and her mother. I'll see you at dinner?" 

 "Aye." He nodded, pulling a book from the shelf. 

 "Don't forget, Elliot is some rock expert, or stones, gems - go see him with the locket. He's in that cave a bit back on the path," she called as she left, turning to give him a wave and a genuine smile. After watching her steeling herself all day, it was surprising that she would waste it on him, but familiarity seemed to win out more often than not as time went on. It was the only thing that the princess had left to hang on to, and that was important in the chaos that threatened her. If he was going to play protector and avoid Nil and Gold's clutches, keeping her in the best state of mind was a preventative measure in his view. 

 Piling more books onto a desk, he opened to read anything he could about the history of the Darkness. He found bits about disasters or tragedies that sounded like the Darkness or a Dark One's doing: castles falling in the dead of night as a sorceress laid siege, a curse whisking away an entire treasury and depositing it in a thieves den, a plague that ate away at cattle and crops unless the farmers surrendered to a new lord cloaked in shadow, all ending in the same way - a weapon controlling them was found, and either destroyed by a great amount of light magic, was used to mollify the creature, or was used to kill them. The weapon was specific in its making. 

  The Fiendish Darkness can be bound to an object, usually a hammer, sword, or dagger for ceremony. Regardless of the form, it must be smelted silver stolen from the ferryman for the dead, steel bent by liquid flame that ripples the very metal, diamonds cursed by avarice, and children's teeth, lost by plucking. 

 In an ancient grimoire of a Warlock, Killian found reference to summoning the Darkness into the world, chills racing up his spine as he remembered that night, the storm beating down on him. 

  When summoning, the loudest call for vengeance will be acknowledged and served a deal to ask for entry. These deals vary, and will be unique to the darkest desires of revenge that attracted the Darkness initially. Once a vessel is chosen, the Dagger will bind the Darkness and its host together until they are killed by the binding weapon.

 He had been full of rage that night, vengeance and trying to kill the Goblin King the only thing on his mind as he raced upwards and cut down any foe in his path. His own anger must have been more enticing than the King's, and his malleability or naivety had an allure that it couldn't pass up. There were times, long periods of sitting in that cell in the dark as it crawled through his mind that he wondered what it would be like if he hadn't slipped, hadn't lost precious time getting to his intended victim, if he would have died instead of living out the life of a slave to the book's described evil. 

 By the time he had found the small journal inlaid with onyx and silver, it was well into late afternoon. At first Killian thought the handwritten book was a waste of time, the scribbled words barely decipherable and the drawn charts or graphs not anything he could understand. He flipped through the pages, exasperated, until a drawing caught his eye: a rudimentary form of the Dagger next to various other examples of what must have been binding objects, and a passage on the page next to it. 

  There may be ways to force the Darkness into another host, but the attempts I have tried ended in failure. The Darkness seems to be affected most by light magic, and love, specifically True Love. In the case of the first queen of the Fae, Titania, her True Love for her cursed child, Puck, drove the Darkness away for some time. In retaliation, Puck killed Titania to prevent her from stunting the Darkness again, claiming the throne for himself until he was killed with the cursed object by the unnamed vessel who succeeded him. Centuries later, Eisolfe the Wise broke said object and light magic built the grand forests for years. 

  I have tried True Love’s Kiss on my darling Nimue, but she not only resisted, but made clear of her underlying intentions regarding our romance. This True Love was one sided, to my deepest regret. I have used a great amount of magic to seal her into the blade that controlled her, and broken it to assure that the Darkness in it has gone back to where it belongs. Nimue will rest, my love for her freeing her from the tethering - so, it was not all a waste. My heart breaks, and I cannot stand to stay in the shelter of Camelot any longer. I have accepted a request from the sisters of King Triton: henceforth I, Merlin, will be teaching the sisters of the sea esoteric magics. 

  I regret only that I could not study the Darkness further, at King Arthur and the King of the Goblin's bidding, but we part as amicably as one can in these times. No one currently knows if another Dark One exists, or remains.  

 Killian felt like he had been crushed, his lungs unable to take in air. Merlin. The pages after the passage were mostly spells and potions involving sea creatures and earth elemental magic, Merlin learning about his new world and teaching it to his students. When Killian turned the page to see a drawing of a nude mermaid, he shut the journal with force, not wanting to see anymore of what appeared to be a rendering of Ursula. Closing his eyes and trying to erase the image, he stood and stretched. Maybe that was enough reading for the day. 

 Walking down the path, he missed the cave initially, the barely trodden path to it overgrown. The cave's mouth was large and wide, the slope down steep as he slid and pebbles tumbled by his feet. 

 There seemed to be nothing, a great mossy wall and not much more. He wondered if he had missed the dragon. 

 "Hello?" 

 It echoed around the cave, until silence fell again. Killian went to turn back to the mouth of the cave, when a gust of air hit his back. He whipped around and watched the mossy wall shift, a pair of bright yellow eyes regarded him with curiosity. 

 "Lilly said you might come," the Dragon, Elliot, said. The mossy fur that covered him completely fell in front of his face, and he shook his head slightly. "I'm Elliot. Don't like to look like you Fae or Humans or Kitsune. I don't like being small. I don’t like not being able to hide."

 "No judgement here, mate." Killian shrugged, the Dragon's voice sounding much younger than Lilly's, as if he was a scribe or squire of a boy. "I, er, I came to ask you about this stone in the back of this locket."

 He held the locket in his outstretched palm, and Elliot approached with trepidation. He was huge, far bigger than Killian had initially thought. What he had initially perceived as wall was Elliot's body; it spread further into the cave as the Dragon moved. Killian focused on the locket instead, the Dragon's claws clicking on the stone floor. The Iron of Nil's attack had bent the silver, indented it slightly, the metal bending to release a small feather, and locks of hair inside along with the dull, perfectly smooth, milky colored oval of amber that had first caught his attention. The Dragon eyed it with a sudden hunger. 

 "You have an Emberamber? Those are incredibly rare, if their clarity is -" With his face inches away from Killian’s palm, Elliot squinted. He made an indignant noise, frustrated. "That one's clarity is shot. Someone's used it almost completely up. Oh well, I hope they used it for something worthwhile."

  "What are you talking about?" Killian questioned, confused. The Dragon rolled his eyes. 

 "So that is an Emberamber. They're used as, like, gem containers for magic or elements and what not. The Remel kind are really rare. They can hold memories and emotions, so that you can see them. You just need a fire and it'll make smoke; it's neat if you want to remember something, unload memories, or record history in real time. Since we're probably the last Dragons, it'd be nice to have one, but yours is all full. See?" Elliot extended a talon, pointing to the milky white swirls in the caramel colored stone. "An unused one looks like topaz or regular amber that you find bugs and things stuck in; you can see almost all the way through it." 

 "So this, this is full of memories?" 

 "I dunno," Elliot shrugged his massive shoulders. "You gotta throw it in a fire. This one's teeny, old, and really used up though, so it'll probably break after a few uses." 

 "How do I use it? Can I use it now?" Killian asked, pulling the stone carefully from the back of the locket. When it came free, he was surprised to see the etching on the back, a scratched etching of his name. 

  'For Killian'  

 "No. Use it out there. There’s a fire pit near where the pine trees start down the hill. I don't want to smell your smoke." Elliot sniffed, the air sending Killian’s hair askew. "I have sensitive nostrils."

 "Right. Well, I'll be off then. Thank you for your time." Killian gave a small bow, and Elliot grunted. 

 "Come back if you find something worth my attention," the Dragon grumbled, slumping down and shaking the entire cave as he blended back into the darkness. 

 Killian rushed down the path, finding the fire pit easily in a small grove of pine trees. It was easy enough to conjure flame, and a pile of logs lay nearby for use. Throwing them in the pit, he stoked a steady blaze, and threw in the emberamber. 

 At first, nothing happened and Killian felt his rage at being tricked start to heat like the fire before him, until in the shimmering smoke of the fire, Milah appeared as if he was watching her through a looking glass. She was faded slightly, as if the color had been pulled from the image and replaced with shades of gray, but her eyes were the same brown, and she looked at him as if she was seeing him - 

 "Killian," Milah began, seated gently before him with her hands folded on her satin gown, and he choked out a noise. "I don't know if you will ever see this, or if we will ever meet again. I was given this stone today by a gentle medicine woman. She helped me… She makes me my…" Milah trailed off, swallowing hard. "That's not important right now, actually. I'll - I'll come back to Agakktha later. It's been six months, and so much has changed. I heard what you've done, what you did to the fleet, and Rumple is livid about your capture. I guess a new king and queen have been crowned, and that you are… You are gone. No one knows where you are, and although I prayed for you to one day find me, well my heart? I don't any longer."

 "I know that isn't what you want me to say, or what you want to hear, but darling I - I know you wouldn't even care, but I can't face myself right now, let alone you."

 "The Goblin King, he is - Well, he is frankly a coward, and the worst kind of coward at that. He runs from battle, he cowers, he seeks strength without stop, he pushes others to the front to save his hide - And he hates that I will never stop reminding him of that. I am some puzzling prize that he hoards like the Goblin he is, seeking my favor. At first I resisted and fought, but I have had moments of weakness too."

 "You would tell me that it is not my fault, you would know what to say because you always do and always have, but nothing can absolve me of my shame when I tell you of my aching need to forget you in any way I could. I fell into spirits, luxe wines made from fruit that only grows in the absence of light. My misery was replaced along with my grief, anger, and common sense."

 "I made a terrible mistake, my love. I can say that while I was not forced into this situation on my own, my free will here is most definitely limited. What I wanted was companionship in this darkness, in this loneliness. What I got in its stead was…"

 "Agakktha makes me my beauty regimen, and two other traditional draughts the king's wife must drink. One for the beginning of the month, and one for the end. The first helps keep me healthy, and keep my body in good condition." Her face soured, her mouth in a tight line. "The second is a test to see if an heir is to be expected. I… Killian I'm… I'm - I can't do this." 

 She disappeared, appearing again in a different dress, her hair braided in a much more complex style. Where she had previously looked gaunt, here she had put on a healthy amount of weight, a glow surrounding her. She looked happier, her hands folded on top of her --- Killian froze, letting the realization wash over him. 

 "Rumple thinks my heartache is because the child isn't yours." Milah rubbed her swollen stomach, gently stroking where it moved and shifted shape. "At first, that was true, but time has been a gentle mistress. No, now I don't mourn for our possible children, or mourn this one. My heart aches because with each move, and kick, I love him more. It's a him, Killian. I'm having a son, and I am so happy. I miss you, I miss you so much and I will always love you, but how do I even explain this love? It's all encompassing. I love him with every part of me, and I haven't even seen him." Milah smiled, happiness alight on her features. She looked down for a moment, still tracing patterns on the silk over her belly. Her face fell, and she looked up back into the gem’s view. "The amount of tradition here is ridiculous, and I thought the Fae court was bad. At least while our society is gendered, we raise our children in families. To think I complained on more than one occasion about how strict it was for you and I to be chaperoned. Because of the law, Rumple will name him. That is not only a royal duty, but that of the male's duty."

 Milah gave a disgusted eye roll, continuing. "He's chosen the name Nil, but I will forever call my baby boy Baelfire after my father, and our house. Maybe one day a child of House Baelfire and a Lordling of the Blackwater will play together. The thought brings me peace."

 She appeared again, tiredness unable to cover her happiness at the babe wiggling in her arms. Bird feathers covered a good portion of one chubby arm, but his shock of dark brown curls and one brilliant brown iris matched her own exactly. 

 "Isn't he perfect? Rumple won't hold him, and the longing for you today has been unbearable after so much time without thinking about us. Is that horrible to say? Probably. I find myself so absorbed in other things that were once used as distraction and exhaustion from Baelfire, that giving thought to you as we were has fallen to the wayside. Time is not the only corrupter as they say. More often I wonder about your descent into madness and the Darkness, if you think about me, or if you will in your stubbornness never take another chance at love. Please, consider it. You would make a spectacular father, and have so much love to give another. I beg you, consider it, for my sake. Be happy. That is what I imagined for us, and what I try to imagine in any way possible now.” 

 Her next appearance was with the babe, now a toddler jumping in the background with snorted laughs. Milah caught him, tickling him while they both grinned identical grins, unable to stop their giggles. 

 "Baelfire my sweet, say hello."

 "Hellwhoa." 

 "Good job baby! You're so smart. I love you so much, Baelfire." 

 Milah paced in her next appearance, sitting down to face him with a sheen of sweat on her face, hair gone gray and a gray pallor in her skin. She adjusted herself in the seat with a slight wince. 

 "Killian, I know you will look for me until the end of time if you still live as my own and not what it is they whisper you've become - but I need you to know that I am happy, that I found peace in knowing that my son can be better… These old laws that only benefit the few, the fervent sycophants that think they might be rewarded if they believe enough in strong blood; this abuse of women of all species but especially Goblin women who are made to be the lowest status as a birth gift - I was terrified of bearing a girl, for no matter how monstrous, how can a mother bear the cruelty of having a child they wanted ripped from them for another to raise, all because of this fanaticism? I have begged for women to keep their children longer before they are taken to their gendered groups - How could I watch my daughter growing up to be taught to be quiet, stay out of the way, follow orders, and that her worth is that of nothing?" Milah coughed, hacking as she reached for a handkerchief. Bringing it to her mouth, she coughed for minutes more. When she was done, her face was clammy, and her breathing was shallow. She pulled herself up, laying a red and bluish-tan stained handkerchief aside. "There is no strong blood, there are only strong beings, strong mothers and fathers, children, and familiar ties that weave us all together. I will not let my Baelfire be afraid in the time I have left." He felt his heart drop, looking at her tired face.

 "I have Lichen Lung. Do not blame yourself for this, Killian. I caught this as a child, playing in the bog by the House Baelfire's old estuary. It was always going to claim me, and they've made me very comfortable. I've lived far longer than I would have up there, or if we had... I've lived well here within reason. The fungus loves this damp and dark, and the Healers here specialize in fungal infection. They have the best remedies for this disease, and have eased so much of my pain. I wish I could assure you that as you live on it's alright to be without me." She stroked a finger over the heart tattoo that rested on her shoulder, a clear view of it beating under her pale skin as she turned. 

 "I want you to. I want you to be happy, to find joy in sunsets, to swim in the ocean without me, knowing that our life was worth everything. Every second that I was with you makes me more determined to stay alive, to raise Baelfire to be like you. I want you to love, Killian, to consider another person capable of forgiving you, of absolving you of the thoughts you've built up, of guilt and shame. I want you to consider loving them, of being open to the idea that maybe in our lives there is room for more than one love of a lifetime. I want you to have a family again, so you can know just how much that is true. I want you to let me go, but know I'm close, and wishing you a wonderful life."

 She appeared again, rail thin and gaunt, propped up in a bed. A teenage Goblin boy, very clearly a young Nil, sat at her side."I don't think I'll last the day, my heart."

 "Mother, it's alright." He held her hands, folding them gently on her lap. "Let me read to you, just relax."

 "How did I end up with such a wonderful son?" Milah sighed. "You were at the part about the Heart of all the Realms, the stories?" 

 "Yes. So, the Doctor and his wife theorized that there were realms they could open with magic, and that there could be infinite numbers of them. They may even be merged or created with powerful enough magicks, and be held in stasis against each other, meaning that they would have their own linear sequence of time. It was all hypothetical until they made one on accident. They experimented more, and found that different planes could be reached via portals or use of magic. These were used to create the first realms, that soon came to be known as the United Realms. They were the largest, most stable, laden with resources, and easiest to create travel through of the realms being found. This discovery gained the Doctor a title and great renown. The Whitehart family still stands to date as the only and last house created before the war. 

 The Whitehart family attempted dividing the portals by population, believing that eventually each species could be individually placed in one of the infinite realms. Space no longer became an issue, warring factions eased their battles to journey to a new world made for them. 

 It was great news until rumors drifted of realms no longer being reachable. Just like the stars in the sky are always remaking themselves, realms are too; new ones being born and dying in constant motion. Black holes are the eater of stars, and The Devourer is the thing that eats realms. It lives at war with the light in the middle of every realm, all time and space, each trying to keep balance. Knowing this, the Whitehart family stopped their work, leaving only the United Realms in their wake. This was a major catalyst in the war that led to the eventual banishment of the Goblins after the Vorpal Dagger's destruction. The Whitehart family name and their solemn family creed to keep the light alive lives on with the new Queen, even after her parent's murders and the attempt on her life by the Goblin King. From commoner, to being the utmost highest position of the land, the Whitehart family name is not lost under the N'lan banners with Snow Margueryte in the crown."

 "I hope that one day you meet her. I know what your father tells you, but life could be different for you. You could live above, you could change things if you just showed her the iniative. Imagine freedom, of choice - That's sounds like a grand adventure, Baelfire." Milah whispered, reaching up to tousle Nil's hair weakly. "You must go on a grand adventure some day, sweet boy of mine."

 Nil scoffed, looking at her with a strained smile. "Mother, you know that's impossible. We're trapped down here, for one, but the last time the Fae let us live outside of this accursed realm the result was the utter destruction of everything we created. Secondly, the Queen isn't well known for her forgiveness - and father was steps away from killing the her as she slept under that curse. You know why Father chose you, and why if I'm ever to marry, I owe it to our ancestors to - "

 "You don't have to follow the laws writ by vengeance's call. You don't have to follow in your father's footsteps, you can choose a partner that you love -" 

 "Mother. After what was done to us, my people demand penance. It's why the Elves, Pixies, and Anisapi still send tithes of women at our behest, defying their own King and Queen. Even they know that what was done to us and what their beloved Monarchy tries to keep hidden will not win them favor when we return." Nil pinched the bridge of his nose, and Milah sniffled quietly. "Don't cry, mother. Please. We've been through this, you said that you understood."

 "I understand why you think that you have to, but I promise you that love is worth far more than vengeance ever will be. You will wake up to a crying bride, a cold bed, and children that don't understand why their parents hate each other. I want more for you, Baelfire. I beg you to please - "

 "You truly hate father?" Nil asked, quietly. 

 "I do not love him, but the hate I had has grown dull over the years. I had love with another, so I know what it is to feel it. What your father has given me, even after your blessed birth, has never been love. I love you. You will know love, and you must never forget it."

 "Love isn't worth anything when your people lie dead at your feet." A voice hissed from the darkness beyond the emberamber's view of Milah and Nil. "Come, Nil. You have lessons. Maybe your mother can join you for your history recitation, as she forgets her people's responsibility in the making of our laws."

 "Get out of my bed chamber." Milah hissed, closing her eyes. Nil stood, kissing her on the forehead, and left with his father. 

 The view changed. Now alone, it was dark in her chamber as she faced him, straining to speak. 

 "I must confess to you my greatest secret, and let you know that it is not a regret. I have loved another, my son, and felt something for his Father on rare occasions. This led me to do what I had to do, and you must understand, you must try to understand. You are imprisoned, or were; if you ever do see this or it is transcribed for you: the decision was mine, Rumple's, and King David's. Oh, Killian. Life is a bitter root to chew when there is nothing else. David offered the women here - the women stolen - our freedom in exchange for letting the Goblins free again. 

 I was so very pregnant, and the women voted, we voted to stay. There was no longer a life we could live away from our children, our families, or we would simply could not survive put back somewhere. The threat of the Goblin reckoning was also too great; we were nothing but a bargaining chip to create more war - Rumple's face when he heard our no vote was a snarling hateful thing. Seeing that, I know the decision made was the right one. David agreed - they were having a child too - and Queen Snow kissed me on both cheeks, but Rumple would not let me say goodbye to you. I left knowing that you were somewhere below my feet, waiting, and I had burned that bridge for the sake of my child and the realms."

 "Please, forgive me. I fear that Rumple's patience has been stretched too thin. I fear that he is the one who made me much more ill, just for spite. I fear that my son who watches me die as this spreads through my heart and lungs will never know freedom or love or light when I am gone."

 "Please be an example of what I take from this world with me; please love someone just as much as you loved me. Don't let the Darkness in you win, don't let it eclipse you and everything you are. You are always and forever will be, my Killian Jones. Please don't let that be taken too. I love you, I love you, I will forever love you."

 The fire dimmed low, the smoke trickling back into the jewel. There were hot tears on his face, the stone burning his palm with its own intense heat as he pulled it from the fire, squeezing it tightly. Stumbling to get up, he slumped by a pine tree, letting the force of his sadness take him. 

 Walking for what felt like hours, he finally arrived back in the village. Emma approached him with two bowls of something that steamed, her face falling to concern when she came closer. She was dressed in a simple blue dress, similar to the fashion the common human folk had worn in their villages when he lived at the Blackwater. He ducked back into the shadows, but she pursued until he realized that it was futile, letting her catch up just outside of the village. Under the falling leaves they sat for a few minutes, before Emma turned to study his profile. After a moment, she asked a question. 

 "Are you hurt?" 

 Killian swallowed hard. "Not exactly. No."

 "Come here," she whispered quietly, and for once he did, falling into her and laying there against her chest as she lowered them to the ground. She soothed gently and slowly, running her hands over his shaking shoulders.

 Once he had calmed down, they sat in amicable silence eating their potatoes and meat, Emma giving him a large chunk of bread. She also produced a wine skein and a large chunk of cheese, both eating for what felt like the first time in ages. 

 Emma broke the silence, both of them simply basking in the decadence that was hot food after having none for so long. 

 "I don't need to know anything about what happened, but whatever it was..." She paused and stroked hair out of his face as he laid his head against her thigh. They had become so much closer since the situation with Ursula, trust in each other hard won, personal space a non-issue when living in close proximity on the ship as it drifted. "I am sorry that it hurt you."

 "Broke my heart, actually. What little of it that remains.” 

 Emma gave a low hum, sitting in silence as she continued to comb fingers through his hair. The calm the Darkness had fallen into since Emma and his close cohabitation finally broke, woken by his despair at Milah's revelations, the edge of its tumultuous presence creeping back into his world. 

 "You know," Emma began slowly, murmuring. "Your heart… If it's broken, it means that it can be fixed. That it still works. That regardless of everything, there's pieces of you that the Darkness cannot corrupt or destroy."

 Pulling away from her with a jolt, the Darkness seething under his flesh, his eyes flashed a warning. Emma pulled back slightly, fear in her eyes at his reaction - he'd acted like a skittish creature, an animal prone to bite, not Emma's ally. And they were allies, were they not? Even, possibly - 

  No, she's not your friend, she's just another in a long line of masters that holds your leash. You are no wild animal, just a pet. You trusting her is pathetic, you disgusting, lowly, cretin. She doesn't see you as more than a tool, and you let her talk to you about your heart as if you still have one. You have a piece of coal; there's nothing left for you to feel with. You have no emotions except hate, fear, melancholy so deep - 

 Emma's hand met his cheek, trembling while she looked at him with defiance. 

 "Killian. Come back to me?" Carefully, and slowly, she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. At first every muscle of his tensed, the Darkness letting out yowls and screeching sounds, but they faded as his tension did. His arms wrapped around her delicately and Emma beamed when she pulled away slightly. 

 "You shouldn't do that, Swan," Killian whispered.

 "Shouldn't do what?" 

 Killian cleared his throat, scratching at his ear slightly. "Listen, I don't want to - If I can't control it, or I lose sight and lash out, you could get hurt and I -" 

  You're pathetic, you absolute worm. Look at you, cowering from the strength of your power like a child. Do you remember how small you are? Your mother died and your father left you. You killed your brother in cold blood, and all those men in ships that you burned and cracked. Don't you want to remember all that blood in the water, and the smell? 

 "Killian. You don't have to listen to it. It's wrong. Whatever it's saying, it's wrong -" 

 "Shut up, just shut up!"

  Careful you good for nothing louse, don't want to hurt your pretty princess because you can't handle the truth of what you did, what you are. Remember what happened the last time you chose not to listen? We sunk to the ocean floor with Nil's iron through our chest, and before that, Elsa died because of you, because of this princess, and I warned you, didn't I? 

 "Open your eyes and look at me. Please. Please, you have to look at me, Killian don't let it -" 

  Yes, look at her. Proof of you being weak. You should have given her to Nil, but you tried to be noble . You aren't noble, you aren't good; no matter what this wench says, no matter what Milah did. 

 "Stop!" Emma's fingers wrapped around his mangled hand, but the noise would not stop, uncontrolled and like a cornered animal. The cackling pressed against the back of his eyes, both temples throbbing. Emma's voice was a low thrum cutting through a shrieking whine. "Please just stop, you're hurting him, stop -" 

  Oh, listen to her, pitying you for what you are! What you chose . Isn't it funny how your revenge has destroyed everything you ever cared about? Surely you aren't stupid enough to care about your worried little Swan?

 The Darkness had laid still, a snare in a bramble, waiting for Killian to relax and to think he had a chance to control it. This was a warning; it controlled him and he was its puppet, not the other way around. The sludge-like vines wrapped tighter, roots digging deeper as it cackled without relent. 

 There was a flicker, and the tiniest bit of sunshine touched him. Light pushed, separating the gnarled thicket even as it fought back against Emma's concerned plea. 

 "Killian, come back to me. Listen to my voice."

  I WILL NOT LET HIM GO, PRINCESS! WE ARE THE DARK ONE!  

 Everything built to a point of no return as Killian’s hand gripped Emma's too tightly. 

  You're scared you will hurt her, I can feel it. Yes, we will. We will hurt her, especially if she is a threat. Damn the shard and its protections. I'll eat away at them with ease. All barrier spells can be broken or corrupted, and this is just one more. I'll delight in both of your surprise when I can wrap your fingers around her neck, the Darkness knows no bounds but the dagger, I'll make you rip her apart piece by piece. Oh yes, I will weaken that silly protective charm, just you wait Dearie. I'll make you crush her heart as it beats in your hands. I'll show you how good it feels to feel the dust run through your fingertips. 

 The cackling stopped abruptly, and Emma's hand was yanked away from his as she sprawled backwards. The Darkness hit her with blunt force, the thud of her body hitting the ground followed by the whoosh of air leaving her in a moan. 

  I can hurt her easily, even now. You may have kept me at bay on that ship of yours, but now I am stronger than you. Your emotions make you weak. It won't be long until I can wound her, or break her just like I do to you. I can break her fingers one by one while she asks you 'why' - 

 "No!" Focusing with every bit of his concentration, Killian pushed the Darkness away, willed himself to hold it back. 

 Silence slowly returned to the confines of Killian’s mind, limbs falling out of their forced paralysis. Sliding over beside Emma, he frantically checked her pulse in fear, finding it fast under his fingers. Relief coursed through him. Emma's eyes fluttered open, meeting his as she flinched away from him in fear, staring at him in confusion for a moment before relaxing. 

 "I didn't mean to, Emma, I'm so sorry. I couldn't -" 

 "It's OK. You hit me good, but I blocked most of it. The tumble was what really knocked the wind out of me. We'll have to practice again in a softer space, I think." 

 "Practice again?" Killian scrubbed at his face, scoffing. "Absolutely not. No. It's not okay at all. I hurt you. Bloody hell I -" 

 "Is it like that all the time? I think I could almost hear it, that voice… it's so scared of you leaving it. It's like a wild animal. I think you can control it if we practice. It caught me off guard, but a throw isn't going to leave anything but a big bruise."

 "No. I can't ask that of you, and it is getting stronger the closer the clock ticks down to Nil…" Trailing off, Emma raised her chin in defiance, standing up with his help. "No, Emma this was too close -" 

 Stepping forward, Emma took Killian’s hand in hers, massaging his palm. "You can't kill me and I can't kill you. I promise you that thing is trying to rattle you. I'm fine.

 "I'm sorry that I couldn't control it, Emma. I swear I'll try harder -" 

 "Don't try. Just…" Emma chewed her lip, and took another tentative step closer. "You are now among the closest friends I've ever had, so I don't ask of you to try. Just don't hurt me. Don't let it be an option anymore. Don’t give in, especially if you believe it's getting stronger. We have to beat this. You can beat this; I know you can." 

 "Close friend? When did you decide that?" Killian smiled slightly, amused by the idea as the chimes rang out. Emma laughed, and rolled her eyes, standing and brushing off her dress. 

 "The second to last barrel of rum on the Jolly."

 "You must have terrible companions."

 "Shut up." Emma blushed. "I just trust you a lot more since you told me you were really going to be my ally, that's all. I can see you changing, trying to be better."

 "Then…" He looked for words instead of at her, a hand raking through his hair. "Thank you."

 "Whatever, you're welcome. Save me a dance tonight; Lilly says they have a wonderful fiddle player." She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh no, I told Lilly I'd change into some outfit - I'll be back, go on without me!" Before he could protest, she had run off towards a cave built into the cliffside that faced the ocean. 

 Killian wandered by himself to the square. It seemed that the entire village had gathered and were surrounded by twinkling lights, pumpkins, bushels of apples, barrels of what looked like some type of ale, cauldrons of mulled wine stirring themselves in the darkening sky, and a band setting up on the small stage. 

 He saw a short statured man with a receding hairline approach the stage nervously, fiddling with his bow tie, his gaze flicking around until they met Killian’s. He grinned, and Killian felt his neck hair stand, his body alert to a potential threat from some arcane magic. A hand touched his arm and he grabbed the person's arm roughly, realizing it was just Emma a second later. 

 *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 "Ow! Killian!" Emma hissed, rubbing where his fingers had dug in. He seemed distracted, looking over her for something or someone before truly taking her in. When he finally saw her, Emma watched his eyes widen while his hands began to fidget. She did the little spin Lilly had suggested, the flowing garment spinning around her.

 "Do you like it? Lilly says it's from last year, but that no one should notice. I've worn dresses with lace before, of course, but never anything this sheer or gauzy. It feels like I'm only wearing the night sky!" 

 To her surprise, Killian didn't say anything; he didn't tease, or give her a witty quip. He simply stared at her and the navy fabric that was covered in the lacy sheer stars. The dress was backless and deeply cut, but the silver and dark blue that bordered on black caught the candle light, adding gold and a true navy color into its flowing movement. It was much easier and lighter to move around in than the stiff, heavily layered gowns that her mother favored. 

 When Killian was silent for another moment, Emma rolled her eyes. "You're not funny you know. If you're going to act like you -" 

 "You look..." He breathed out in interruption, pausing to shake himself free of whatever his mind was doing, much to Emma's annoyance. "You look…" 

 "Nice?" Emma finished for him, hopefully. He swallowed, and she watched his neck bob, before he nodded dumbly. 

 "Yes, you look… you look good. Better than Pann's club and you… you look nice." He nodded and Emma burst out laughing. 

 "You've been drinking without me then, huh? No wonder you were so spacy. Lilly says there's some announcement and they do a ceremony, then the party begins. I'll meet you drink for drink then."

 He nodded weakly, and Emma shook her head. 

 A man she hadn't seen before took the stage, with Lilly and her parents shuffling behind him. He stepped up on a raised platform to a carved podium. 

 "Hello, and welcome to another Harvest," he spoke over the crowd. Everyone clapped politely, or so she initially thought until she saw Haku standing in the shadows glaring at the stage. He looked even more furious if it was possible. "I am Isaac, the Kitsune leader for our new guests, and Isaac the best apple cider maker to the rest of you." 

 Whistles and cheers cam from the crowd along with laughter at his titleage, and he held out his hands for quiet. "As always, we will be announcing the Harvest Maiden tonight, letting their will be done and come tomorrow, she will be prepared for her fall slumber. This year, we had a volunteer again, so lots will not be chosen. This year our beautiful Harvest Maiden is…"

 Isaac paused for dramatic effect, while a younger, dark haired woman led by a gaunt woman with a shocking black and white hairstyle was leading her onto the stage. 

 "Chihiro!" Isaac finished, and Emma watched as Haku swiped at his face, then slunk into the woods without a word. 

 The young woman stepped up on the raised platform Isaac stood on, taking a place at his side. She wore a simple white gown, Isaac producing a crown of greenery from the podium. Chihiro bowed again holding the crown on her head with a hand, looking around when she rose back up slowly. Her eyes seemed sad, but when they flickered back to her feet after searching, her face fell completely to a quiet wistfulness. 

 "The Harvest Festival Maiden will lead us in our dancing, choose their prince, and their fool, lead us in our feasting, and in the burning of our bad spirits. Tomorrow she will be pampered, spend time with her loved ones, and then be cleansed for her sleep."

 The village cheered, and Isaac led Chihiro down from the platform, Lilly and her parents shuffling after them. 

 Emma turned to look at Killian, as he watched the village bowing to the girl when she stood in the center of the dance floor. Chihiro looked around again, looking for someone in the throng of the crowd before whispering to Isaac. He chuckled lightly. 

 "Our Maiden asks to break tradition, and to wait to announce her prince and her fool until after dancing and after the feast," he said with a grin. The crowd gasped, but he raised his hands to quiet them again. "While traditions are important, this is our Harvest Maiden! Who am I to deny such a request? Let us dance! Let us drink! Let us feast and be merry, the ceremony remains!" Isaac ended with a flourish, clapping his hands. In robes and gloves of black topped with white masks, servants brought out steaming trays of food, tankards and goblets being passed around as they were filled them with drink. Emma hadn't seen the servant class before, their shapeless uniforms and masked faces catching her off guard, but she had barely any time to think about them when the fiddle had begun, Lilly spinning her into a dance. 

 Emma had danced many group dances in the palace; the court was fond of them as icebreakers to allow the mingling of houses. This was not such a dance. Emma was spun and twirled rapidly, catching on to the footwork after several missteps. The women were lifted and placed to the side, their feet in a similar movement to the Elven jig, her stops for drink punctuated by Lilly pulling her back in as soon as she had gulped down what she could. Cold ale and honey mead washed away the heat of the apple whiskey and mulled wine, the dance becoming easier as the feast and the loosening of alcohol in her limbs began. She had lost track of Killian in the crowd, but he sat next to her as they broke bread, her body pleasantly humming while Mushu and Lilly told animated stories of growing up together. The stew of potatoes from earlier was plenty filling, leaving Emma picking at her plate as she listened intently. 

 Drink however slid easily past her lips as the Kitsune and Dragons taught them their traditions. Several drinking games were led by the Harvest Maiden with her giving a hand signal or yelling a word, everyone drinking quickly to avoid being forced to drink something called 'The Horned Flaming Dervish', a shot served in a thimble that made the King of the Dragons’ face go red when he was caught. The crowd roared with laughter as he had tears slip past his eyes, steam coming from his nostrils. 

 "You dare to target your King?" he rasped after, laughing. "I will repay you all by making sure my suffering has much company!" 

 Emma found herself unwilling to be among them. Killian seemed to sense this, and they both clued each other in when taking their long sips. 

 Dancing began once more, but the dance was different; partners switching less often after eating a full meal and having far too much to drink. The pairings she had were lost in a blur, until a familiar hand held her own, with the other one resting on her hip. 

 "You have a bad habit of not pacing yourself, princess," Killian whispered, and she laughed lightly. 

 "No," she replied, sighing. "I have a bad habit of not knowing how strong these drinks are. I'm doing much better with pacing, thank you."

 "True. You're able to stand, and even dance this time." He spun her gently, and she stumbled, his eyebrow quirking up. "Maybe I spoke too soon -" 

 "That was a rock, don't discount me over a rock!" 

 Killian smiled and she let him sway her as the next partner approached. To her great surprise, he turned and blocked the Kitsune from taking her elbow, taking the next dance himself, then the next several after. They talked about anything and everything as the music changed, while she let herself come down to the beginning of a drunken buzz. Killian probably felt similarly if her guess was correct, but he didn't betray anything to any of the islanders. Emma would not have known herself if they weren't as comfortable with one another; other then his willingness to be close to her and the way his shoulders lost their tension, he seemed as astute as ever. Emma couldn't find words to describe how much she appreciated that, her mind clearing in its fuzziness as she laid her head against his chest. 

 "Thank you," Emma sighed. "I didn't realize just how dizzy I was. How are you holding up? Are you still fighting with -?" 

 "No. I'm not. It's been quiet. I owe you a thanks for that, so we can call it even. You were right when you said we make a good team." His voice was low, and she tilted her head up to look at him, the way he looked down at her strange. His fingers traced the star patterns on her hip, as Emma realized she was right in guessing he must be tipsy or close to it after all. She let herself get caught up in how nice it was to be this soft with someone, unguarded, no longer questioning the amount of drink at festivities or his loyalty when it could be like this. 

 As if hearing her thoughts, he whispered in her ear, his breath warm as the night air grew chillier. "If you feel alright now, I thought I might go back and get a bit of cider with rum in it. It seems to be the best of all the choices by far." 

 A flash of white caught her eye, crossing behind Killian and into the woods. Chihiro was slinking through the shadows, disappearing into the forest with a look of anger that drew curiosity and suspicion from Emma. 

 "Not this second. I'm still not quite - Excuse me, I'll be right back." Emma said, pulling away and heading after the Maiden. Killian let her go, his fingers lingering on her wrist slightly, as if he was waking from sleep. 

 “Come now Swan. Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?” he teased. She balked, rolling her eyes. 

 "Not on your life, don't kid yourself," Emma laughed while pulling away from his grip entirely. Killian didn't follow, but instead turned the opposite way slowly, like he was debating whether to go with her. Emma rolled her eyes when she saw him return to the line for his drink. Following Chihiro, Emma carefully paced herself and tiptoed through the brush. Was this a secret part of the festival? The Maiden's stealthy rendezvous? 

 Coming to a small clearing, Emma hid in a thicket watching in silence, Chihiro pacing a ways in front of her. Haku appeared from the darkness on the other side of the clearing, and Chihiro turned to him with clear upset. 

 "I asked you to come," Chihiro said softly. Haku shrugged almost imperceptibly. 

 "And I said I would not," he replied coolly. 

 A breeze blew, their hair and clothes fluttering. 

 "But… I asked you to be there, and you -" Chihiro's face fell, and Emma heard her sniffle. 

 Haku exploded, yelling at her in a fit of anger. "I won't watch you celebrate this. I won't dance with you to honor your life, when all of us know - when I know -" 

 "This was my choice, I'm stronger than the others. We could leave this place and never look back. We could find where we came from and return there!" Chihiro cried, reaching for him. 

 Haku regarded her with more fury. "How am I supposed to do that? I won't. I love you, and I put in our names to be refused so we could have a life. You destroyed our chances for any of that by doing this!"

 "I did it for the same reasons! I love you so much, and I know that Cruella is counting on me. She would never let me leave my path to be with you!" Chihiro cried openly, heavy tears hitting the forest floor. "I have to come back to you, don't you think I know that? I will break this stupid prison. I just wanted to dance with you, why couldn't you at least do that for me?" 

 Haku rushed towards her, kissing her and holding her tightly for a few moments, before pulling away. 

 "I can't dance with you. I - I'm sorry, Chihiro. I can't participate in any of that, any of this stupid festival. I can't." Haku kissed her hand, and through Chihiro's begging and tears, fled into the night. 

 She stood, watching where he had pushed into the woods for a long while, until with a snap of her fingers, Chihiro cleaned herself up. A fake, smiling facade went over her crying tears in a glamor, her foot falls quiet in the brush as Emma tried to process what she had seen. 

 Pulling her stiff limbs up and walking back, Emma saw Chihiro head to the stage, pointing out two Kitsune to play her prince and her fool. After a dance with the prince that was awkward and stilted, the fool was sat on the stage. Chihiro had chosen a young woman to play the fool, and she painted the fool's face, until she vaguely resembled Haku, before dumping the entirety of three tankards over their head. The crowd cheered, and the fool laughed while sputtering. 

 Isaac took to the stage again with Chihiro in tow, well into the night as festivities wound down. Killian and Mushu had stepped away talking about books, while Lilly hung off of Emma shamelessly drunk and grinning. She pointed to the stage while nuzzling into Emma's neck. 

 "There's Cruella. I'm surprised she hasn't said anything to you. She's been watching you all night." Lilly pointed to the woman now on Isaac's arm, her hair a mess of black and white and nails painted bright red. A bright red pendant on a red choker circled her thin neck, shining even in the dim light. Emma hadn't noticed the woman at all the entire festival, let alone the woman watching her. 

 She was very hard to miss, tall and gaunt to Isaac's short and soft features, his hand on her waist tight as it bunched the slinky black material of her dress. For someone so conspicuous, Emma had barely seen this leader at all. 

 "Lilly, I don't think -" Emma started, but Lilly shushed her loudly as Isaac began to speak. 

 "We raise our hopes that Chihiro is successful in using her spirit to break the barrier." Lilly whooped and the village cheered. Isaac raised his hands, and the strange group of people she had seen earlied stood, all dressed in a dark black robes. They all bore the same black veil over their hair, similar to pictures she had seen of the mortal clergy, and a long white mask. Emma idly wondered how they dictated a servant class, but dismissed it as cultural or religious. "And as we do every year, we remember our past. We thank the husks for their perpetual servitude and the blessing of those who care for them." 

 The husks bowed all at once, taking off their masks as they came up. Emma squinted, taking a few subtle steps forward in the crowd, looking hard at the husks. There was something off about them with their masks off, their glassy and blank stares and inexpressive faces windowed in the black fabric lending to their drab outfits. Their eye color was gray, and Emma realized it covered their entire iris. They had no pupils, only the stone colored dot sitting in the white, unmoving and devoid of any kind of cognizant reactions. 

 They shuffled away, a few attendants pushing them when they seemed to lose focus. What were they? Who were they? 

 Her mouth suddenly dry, Emma tried to get away from Lilly and find Killian, but Lilly held fast. Cruella now gazed out at the crowd, her long crimson nails digging into Chihiro's shoulder. 

 "It is now time for the women and men to separate for spirits and sweets. Fairer sex, follow the Maiden - Men, follow your Prince! We will convene in the morning for the rites, but until then…" Cruella bowed deeply, her voice a wild timbre, "Happy Harvest!" 

 Before Emma could protest, Lilly dragged her towards a white tent, the inside full of sweets and cakes, and tea pots on every table. Rolled cigarettes in different colors lay on silver or crystal platters, their fragrances mingling in the breeze. Emma let Lilly pull her to a table, Cruella and Maleficent joining them with Chihiro in their grip. Chihiro smiled politely, but Emma could see the thin barely distinguishable line of a glamor resting over her jawline. It was likely she was still crying, or at the very least, her face was still wet with kohl lines staining her cheeks. 

 "Enjoying yourself, Princess Emma?" Maleficent purred, lighting a cigarette daintily. Her expression was light and blasé, but her eyes were steely, Lilly retreating in on herself as she poured tea for the table. 

 Emma nodded politely, for the first time seeing Cruella grin at her with a hunter's gaze, her eyebrows arched and teeth sharp. Taking a red rolled cigarette, Cruella placed it in a long filter extension, puffing on it with force. Her exhale was a great green cloud, Emma hiding her coughing under the guise of a slurp of her tea. 

 "You know, this could be your next good deed easily, don't you think?" Cruella hissed, another green cloud snaking its way over to Emma. Chihiro made a small noise, admonishing Cruella, but Maleficent nodded gravely. "If your mother and Regina," Cruella spat Regina's name like a curse, "Hadn't marooned us here and forgotten about us, we wouldn't have to do these silly rituals at all. It's truly fortuitous you are here, and you could step in to fix your family's grievous error. But you don't care about that, do you, Princess Emma?" 

 "I - I didn't even know until -" Emma stammered. The green smoke swirled around her, framing her in an oval before dissappating. Emma tried not to cough again, the smell of the pine stronger than gin and a heavy handed helping of chili pepper emanated from the fumes. 

 "Of course you didn't. You just destroyed Pann, freed Ursula, shagged the Dark One -" Maleficent drawled, stirring her tea idly. Lilly sunk in her seat while Chihiro began adding sugar cube after sugar cube to her cup without stopping. 

 "I am not shagging - I have absolutely no relationship with Killian outside of our alliance and I don't know how I could help here. I didn't know about any of this. I didn't know your history with my family at all -" 

 Cruella's eyes flashed, and she stood with a jolt. Smoke poured from her dress, as if it was breathing. "You don't know how you can help us? Oh, how rich. Why don't you royals put some of your oh so powerful magic to work where it counts! This should be nothing for you - "

 "I will do anything in my power to help if I can, but I don't know the extent of this magic. I barely know the history - "

 "So you let another bear its consequences?" Maleficent asked, seemingly bored. "Typical. Haku was right about you."

 "No! No, I wouldn't, I want to help -" 

 "Good, if you want to help, you can take Chihiro's place," Cruella said, licking her red lips. Smoke twisted around her head, like great reaching hands. "We'll adjust the ritual and you will fill in; everything will be fine. Simple even!" 

 "No, I want to see what these rites are, and consult with Killian -" 

 "Lilly," Maleficent snapped icily, pointing her tea spoon at her daughter. "Tell your friend how important this is, and how much it would mean to us."

 Lilly sputtered, stammering. "Uh, well, Emma it would be - we would - considering, you know, everything, you really should - I mean it's safe, mostly." Maleficent and Cruella's eyes both sharpened, and Lilly laughed nervously. "I mean it is safe, and someone would be there watching you at all hours - watch the rites tomorrow and do it, do it for our friendship and as a sign that you truly want our alliance." Lilly finished, and gave Emma's hand a squeeze. Maleficent smiled, reaching over and petting her daughter's hair. 

 "Well said, Lilly. I would be much more inclined to ally with someone who shows the crown has changed its ways, so I believe it's agreed - you will take Chihiro's place tomorrow morning - " 

 "Leave her be. I'm fine with my choice," Chihiro said quietly. Her cup was full to the brim of sugar, only the stain of tea in a few places to indicate it had even been there. She smoothed it with her teaspoon into a swirling pattern that Emma had seen in a few of the sand filled gardens they seemed to favor. 

 "It shouldn't have to be a choice. The Fae princess has already agreed!" Cruella growled. Emma looked down at her cup and saucer, her own tea almost completely gone. Chihiro stood and excused herself, the icy silence that followed her absence only broken by Lilly loudly crunching apple tarts while Maleficent and Cruella glared knives at Emma. Before long, the voices of the men grew loud, and Cruella and Maleficent were ushered outside by their partners. 

 "There is a way we all win, Princess." Cruella smiled, one thin stream of smoke curling from her mouth as she put out the butt in Chihiro's tea cup. Maleficent glowered at the ashy cup but kept her obvious irritation to herself. "Maybe tomorrow you'll decide to be a better person than any of the people who you call family. Take her place." The two leaders stormed away, and Lilly finally exhaled a long breath. 

 "That was awful," Lilly moaned, banging her head on the table with a thud. 

 Emma pinched her roughly, gaining a yelp. "Yeah, imagine being the person who that vehemence was actually directed at . And that creepy smoke thing, what was that about?"

 "That smoke thing is just something Kitsune do. They like to change forms, make glamors, trick others with their appearances. You should see what they can do with mist." Lilly shrugged. 

 "Yeah, well… Super unsettling." Emma shivered. Being deceived by a Kitsune was not something she particularly wanted to experience. 

 "Hmph, I mean, they're right in a way. You should take her place, and we'll make you really really comfortable. And you'd win our trust! Plus, Chihiro wouldn't turn into… Er…" Lilly shook her head, correcting herself. "She wouldn't have to go through the rite and could go be free to do what she wants."

 "It's no wonder Haku hates me. I saw them fighting, and he seems to really -" Lilly shushed her, dragging Emma outside. 

 "Don't talk about them in the open like that," Lilly whispered. "Dragons… We're not supposed to be with Kitsune. We're forbidden to, well, you know. The thing you are totally not doing with the Dark One."

 "Oh. Oh!" Emma's eyes widened. "We aren't though. Killian and I are not a thing, and I wish you would stop -" Lilly waved her words aside, scoffing. 

 "Sure, sure, whatever. You just danced with him all evening and he looked like he wanted to kiss the daylights out of you. It's nothing, totally nothing; strictly you both being absolutely oblivious when I can literally smell it on both of you - I'm on a tangent. Where was I? Oh, yes. More importantly in relationships - My brother thinks that is why Chihiro was chosen, because they are 'interspecies courting'. He's mad for a great many reasons, and I can't fault him." Lilly sighed, her breath a cloud in the cool air. "As your friend, I think you should replace Chihiro. That seems to be the best for all of us." 

 Lilly smiled, but it failed to come through as earnest. Emma hummed and toed a pebble in the ground. 

 "I'll think about it tomorrow. You can explain these rites to me, and I'll talk to Killian, examine the risks - we can go from there. Sound good?" Emma smiled at Lilly, but the Dragon princess looked even more pensive, almost sad. With a burst of energy, she turned to Emma, eyes stormy. 

 "You should leave. Take Killian, take your ship, slip away into the night and away from this place. Just go and never look back." Lilly stared at her, her words low, and her hands gripping Emma's tightly as she seemed to search Emma's face. Emma heard the truth there, the fear lying just underneath, but as soon as she sensed it, Lilly was laughing. 

 "Lilly, are you alright?" Emma asked pulling her hands away, Lilly's laughter bringing a smile to her own face despite herself. 

 "Oh, oh Fiore!" Lilly was almost doubled over with laughter. "You should have seen your face. Oh, I would have paid to have it sketched, you were so freaked out!" Her wheezing laughs made Emma sigh and laugh with her, eyes rolling at her ridiculous prank. 

 Taking a leaf from Lilly's book, Emma punched the Dragon in the shoulder. 

 "Hey - Ow!" 

 "You are an idiot." Emma laughed, and Lilly grinned. "It's a good thing that we're friends, or I'd have hit you in your smug face," Emma sniffed, and Lilly roared with laughter. 

 Suddenly, she stopped, seemingly struck by a thought. "Wait - you said we were friends? Truly, you agree that this is mutual?" Lilly asked, with quiet excitement. 

 "I did. Yeah." Emma smiled. She hooked her elbow in Lilly's, laying her head on her shoulder. "We're an odd mix, a 'strange bedfellows' sort of friendship as they say these days. But," Emma raised a finger, "I like it. You're different, but you’re real. You're genuine. The only friends I've had both at home and in my time here that have actually been my friends, have been like this. I need it. I need real in a sea of all this fakery and lying. So… Thank you." 

 Lilly looked at her feet, and Emma saw a small shadow of something pass over her face, but then she was being hugged by Lilly with force. 

 "You're my first friend. I guess that makes you my best friend," Lilly whispered. She pulled away, sniffing slightly. 

 "Well. Then it is an honor." Emma smiled, smoothing Lilly's hair. 

 "Don't tell anyone I cried, or I'll roast you."

 Emma scoffed. "I wouldn't dream of it. At least not until I have your clutchmates to protect me." 

 "I take back the best friend thing."

 "You can't, verbal contract. It's binding. Tough luck." 

 Bursting into giggles, they parted ways to head to their respective chambers. 

 *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 Killian met Emma on his way back from the gentlemen’s meeting, his head still buzzing from the Darkness, the cigar, and the several glasses of brandy toasting in his honor. In truth he had been buzzing all evening since Emma had helped to push the Darkness away, even without alcohol in his system. There was something else, something warmer than the feeling of the liquor in his stomach, the stars a bit brighter and the air a bit thicker. His mouth felt dry, and he felt as if his lips were too dry. In fact, his entire body for once felt starved of touch. Part of him felt like a fool stumbling over questions, while another felt genius for keeping the princess close, maintaining decorum, and protecting the alliance while still protecting her. When Emma took his hand in her own, it was an instantaneous relief like water for thirst. She lead them into the cave they were staying in, and he initially was worried they would be sleeping on rough slabs of rock. 

 Instead, to his pleasant surprise, they were roomed in a small tented space inside the cavern, the Dragon’s lavish style clear from sumptuous pillows filled with feather down on a raised platform, silken sheets and soft furs, and a scented oil lamp that could be adjusted. A carved pool that trickled with hot water lay behind a curtain, the water never running cold and allowing for a soak. Several varieties of oils, soaps, and other sundries lay on a ledge that made up the back of the pool, and towels lay near a dressing room where several outfits hung. He quickly washed himself and dressed, but Emma took longer, taking advantage of the soaps and hot water provided.

 Emma stepped out from behind the curtain in a simple shift, looking up from braiding her wet hair, and pointing to the raised platform. She almost glowed, and the steam mixed with her soaps smelled divine. He had to be drunk, maybe too many toasts or too many cordials were had, his mind swimming in how beautiful she looked. 

 "I made you a bed, next to mine. If you need to move I can just -" she started, gesturing toward the large headboard that took up the back of the room. The size of it made it clear it was a dragon's bed, and he was sure if he checked in what had been his offered suite, he would find his own. Killian took a long couple of strides, hugging her tightly, and she fussed against him, pushing him off. 

 "Enough of that, what the hell - you're going to mess up my braid you menace. You're so weird, come on, where is your decorum, sir?" She flicked water at him with a laugh, but he did not relent. "You need sleep and I don't want to deal with you tomorrow being stressed and brooding. They have toasted chicory, and I would prefer to share a cup with you in better spirits than today."

 "Bringing out the big guns, like decorum, hm? I must be more of a threat than I thought to her majesty to tempt me with hot beverages. You are too good to a wretch like me." He groaned, and she smacked him playfully until he let go. 

 "Yeah, I am, so don't push your luck. Gods, this has all been a disaster. A complete, unmitigated, fuck up." She laughed, pushing herself into the mess of blankets and pillows. 

 "I'd agree, but this bed makes up for it, and it's a burden I'm willing to bear while you speak political alliances." He laughed, and Emma snorted. 

 "You can't spell terrible without 'T' - and oh, was that tea terrible. You're lucky I survived, and that is not an exaggeration."

 "I cannot say I fared worse. The cigars were fine, and the brandy was excellent. The cordials were even better. The Dragon King can put away drinks too, unlike that Kitsune leader. I don't trust that man, he seems… weasel like. He does make a good cider though, so he's only on the short list for potential enemy." Her laughter at his words, sent him into chuckling easily as he put out the lamp. Killian laid in the bed beside her, tension escaping as they made themselves comfortable. It was easy in the softness provided, no hard floor, small bunk, deck, itchy straw, or rocks against the spine they'd grown accustomed to. 

 After a moment of basking in the softness while making obnoxious noises of bliss, Emma turned slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. 

 "Hey, Killian?" 

 "Hm?" 

 "After all this, regardless of what happens… You know that I still want you to be my friend, and I will defend you as long as we are."

 "Sometimes reality is not that simple." Killian sighed, playing with the end of her braid. "I'd like that, but I don't want you believing that we will have any obligation to each other once you are returned and the Goblin menace is dispatched. I'm not exactly going to be welcomed back into the court, let alone be allowed near the crown princess. Most likely, you may get me a pardon or at least a few days headstart to escape, but regardless, I wouldn't stay or be caught anywhere near the court. I'll disappear to wherever I desire, and you will go back to your princess regimen - If we even survive." 

 Emma was quiet for several minutes, to the point where he almost thought she had fallen asleep. 

 "Well, if we survive, your heart's desire then. Friends or not, pardon or not, you disappearing or not," she said firmly, giving a nod. He laughed slightly before moving slightly, both adjusting into their sleeping positions. 

 "Yours too, princess."

In the morning, Killian stretched as the princess snored. Glancing at her, he rose quietly trying his best not to disturb. Emma curled in her sleep, an arm outstretched to where he had been a moment before. She didn't wake, exhaustion easy to understand as her fingers flexed slightly and her breathing steadied. Throwing on a clean set of trousers and a linen shirt, he headed out of the cave and into the light of day. 

 There were only a few souls out, the black clad, habit-like hooded, masked 'husks' cleaning the aftermath of the festival. Another set stirred porridge in a large pot while their partner served it with a ladle, their methodical rhythm almost mechanical. He stood in line, grabbing two bowls, only a few Kitsune in front of him. 

 "Good morning." He greeted the masked workers, but they did not respond, only plopped porridge into his offered bowls. "... Have a good day?" he said tentatively, but they gave no indication of understanding. He shuddered and returned to the cave after grabbing a pot of toasted chicory he balanced carefully. 

 Emma sat up at his return, her hair a wild mess as he handed her a bowl and poured the hot liquid into mugs. 

 "Looks like you got a good sleep, hm princess?" he asked, humor lacing his voice. He felt good, a feeling of lightness blooming in him. 

 "Shut up. Lemma eaf." She mumbled, shoveling porridge into her mouth. Swallowing, she turned to him. "I'm supposed to go with Lilly all day today and observe these rites that they perform. I know we didn't discuss it last night, but the Dragon Queen and Cruella, the non-cider Kitsune leader, were awfully persistent that I take Chihiro's place in whatever they're doing -" 

 "Have you talked about what the process entails? If there's risks involved or one of their rituals is dangerous, we can't just agree."

 "Well that's what I wanted to talk about, they want me to watch, but they are so forceful -" 

 "Emmmmmmmmmmm-ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Lilly screeched from the mouth of the cave, the echo like nails on a chalkboard. 

 Emma winced, throwing blankets aside to leap out of bed, slipping on a robe like gown that tied around her waist. With a flick of her wrist, her hair was styled. She looked at him as if waiting for approval. 

 "Well?" she asked, gesturing to herself. "Do I look alright? Not too hungover, or -" 

 He chuckled, her nervousness somewhat endearing. "You look fine Swan. You don't have to be this worried, it's probably just some tea ceremony or the ilk. I mean after last night, Mushu said that everything gets very quiet while they wait." 

 "It doesn't sound like a tea service, they said they have someone -"

 "EMMMMMMMMMMM! AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Lilly roared, and Killian swore under his breath as rocks fell from the ceiling. Emma cringed visibly, her shoulders rising. 

 "I'll explain later." Throwing on her shoes, she offered a quick wave to him. "I'll see you later, around lunchtime maybe - Meet me at the library? Knowing you, that's where you'll be anyway." 

 "Most likely, yes. There or talking to Mushu at his residence, but the library first and foremost." Killian nodded. 

 "Okay. Plan on lunch then." Emma smiled, and turned, running towards the entrance. "Coming Lilly!" 

 He shook his head, laughing slightly to himself. After the festival the night before there was a sense of giddiness that he couldn't shake. Finishing his breakfast in silence, he returned his bowls to a mask clad attendant in the washing house as he made his way towards the library. The four masked Kitsune did not regard him, only continued their monotonous labor to an unseen beat. He initially tried counting the husks, but found it was trickier than he initially anticipated. They all looked identical, blurred together, and seemed to move in shifts. Killian found himself wondering just how many husks were on the island and how they had been designated. A plague maybe? With the strange veil it could be a religion of some sort. Either would explain the masks. The feeling of something sitting right below the surface that he could not shake resonated in him, their hollow actions mimicking their given name. Unable to shake off the feeling of arcane sorcery and the low buzz of elemental magic the dragons drew upon, he fled for the library with no intention of stopping. 

[mayuzumi-yukino]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

TAGGED BY: @aragakisan, on technicality. TAGGING: Whomever reads it, presumably!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Concern; often worry for the disenfranchised.

Rationality and reason.

Anger; bull-headed and stubborn.

Humor, often sardonic with a touch of observational wit.

Protectiveness. Yukino is defined if nothing else by her compulsive need to keep those around her safe.

GREETINGS:

"Hey!” Familiarity, often spoken loudly and accompanied by a wide grin.

A smile, tender and crinkling on strong features. Those she’s closest to get to see the softest sides of her.

“What’s up?” Casual and intrigued, a means to strike up a conversation and show interest in the other party.

COLORS:

Slate gray. The color of her St. Hermelin uniform and the color of her favorite hat and armored coat -- Yukino isn’t much of one for fashion, and utility often comes before style. The color of metal, iron resolves and unbreakable walls.

Orange. The color is warm and welcoming, reflected often in the forms of both her Personae and portraying the fire in her spirit. Open arms and the rising sun on the horizon.

Brown. Dark like her eyes, lighter like the coffee complexion of her skin. Earthy and rugged, not unlike her own rough disposition, and far from flashy as it gets. It’s a humble, unassuming tone.

Mustard yellow. Yukino’s lack of fashion sense reflects the most firmly in her gaudy yellow jeans, hugging her muscled legs more tightly than they should.

Crimson. A hue often associated with anger and malign -- her temper is short and her vengeance is quick, just as easy to smile and open her arms for an embrace as she is to scowl and swing her fists.

SCENTS:

Smoke. Compulsive need to be a good role model be damned, Yukino smokes and the stench clings to her clothing like a bad reputation. As much as she tries to keep her habit a secret, the scent is damning as catching her in the act.

Chemicals. When not out documenting the world around her, Yukino often retreats into the darkroom to develop her film. The stench of Kodak D-76 is burned into her nostrils by now.

Snow on grass and concrete. Wispy nights on the streets of Mikage-cho with only the flame of a cigarette lighter to warm her; the hours spent under St Hermelin’s occupation of frost and ice.

Blood. Others’ blood on her knuckles or on the ends of her knives, her own blood dripping down her chin and running down her throat from a broken nose.

Burnt ozone. Yukino’s Personae specialize in the power of nuclear fusion, and as such any time they make themselves known the very atmosphere around her is sure to burn.

CLOTHING:

An armored jacket, grey with prominent shoulder blades. Ever since Yukino got jumped by who she thought were her best friends she’s always come prepared, and the armor helps to accentuate her bulky frame. It sends a message: not to be fucked with.

A black turtleneck tank top; sleeveless and cut off above her abdomen. Odd a choice of garment as it is, it’s a matter of vanity: it shows off her musculature, Yukino’s physique something she’s grown quite proud of.

A grey beanie, branded Ostrich with the appropriate brand insignia above it. Yukino is rarely seen without this on account of her mess of hair: without it it’d be all over the place and in her face, black curls snugly restrained under the cover of her favorite hat.

Yellow jeans, with a black stripe down either outside seam. Tacky, garish and questionable, it says all you need to know about Yukino’s fashion sense.

OBJECTS:

Four throwing knives, finish tarnished and blades nicked from constant use and frequent throws. She’s owned these knives since high school, and they’re one of the last remaining relics of her Yanki years. They’re never far from reach, Yukino constantly paranoid that she’ll encounter a situation where she needs to use them.

A vintage analog camera. This is Yukino’s prized possession: it was passed down to her from her mentor and idol Shunsuke Fuuji upon his tragic death. The stories this camera could tell, the things its lens has seen are unspeakable; Yukino can only hope to one day be of worthy skill and passion to be able to use it.

Yukino’s scrapbook, filled to the brim with memories of the past and present, with room to grow for the future. Yukino began taking pictures compulsively in high school as an extracurricular credit, and she’s made a habit of tucking away her memories in the old, worn-out scrapbook for safekeeping. She’s always made a habit of remembering where she’s came from and where she’s going, and the scrapbook reflects that.

A set of bisonskin drums, a relic from the St. Hermelin incident. The rhythms played upon these drums are what first enabled her to awaken to Durga, her true self and Ultimate Persona -- she swears that the resonance of the drum heads are identical to that of her own heartbeat.

A letter from Mrs. Saeko, written as congratulations when she finally graduated from St. Hermelin. Mrs. Saeko is... important to Yukino, to say the least, and beyond this sentimental reasoning it’s a source of pride that Yukino was recognized for her strive and success.

VICES & BAD HABITS:

Reacting with anger and hostility at the first sign of strife. Yukino’s old habits as a yanki die hard, and she’s unable to escape the frustration and violent thoughts her former life of crime was born of. Like her compatriot Tatsuya, she prefers to speak with her fists before asking questions.

Cigarettes. No good street gangster is without her smokes, and Yukino fit the image perfectly. When she left that life behind, this is one vice she was unable to shake: the comfort of nicotine often provides her a much-needed dulling of the edge her nerves right on, a moment of calm in overflowing rage.

Unshakable insecurity and uncertainty. While comfortable and confident enough in her own skin, traumas and internalized negativity often rears its ugly head. Yukino has a chip on her shoulder regarding her homosexuality and is pensively self-conscious of her sapphic preferences, and questions whether or not she has a future at all in any of her passions.

Yukino can often come across as patronizing or overbearing when her “big sister” instincts come into play, self-righteously believing she knows what’s best for all those around her. Even if her intentions are pure and benevolent, she can often stick her nose in business that isn’t her own and find herself in over her head.

Misanthropy and vengeful, spiteful envy. Yukino subconciously hates those who has what she wants but can’t have, as she considers them reminders of her failures. She secretly yearns for the demise of those who have it better off than she does, and  takes a secret joy in seeing others knocked down a peg.

BODY LANGUAGE:

Confident, self-assured posture. The woman stands fairly tall for her gender and age, augmented by a prideful swagger in her step and a dense musculature.

One hand often clutching her camera, the other usually planted firmly upon a hip. Gotta be prepared in case you get a great shot at a moment’s notice...!

Observant, analytical eyes. Yukino isn’t the most book-smart in the world, but her street smarts have taught her how to read a room and get a grasp on what any given opposing party might be up to.

Frequent head-and-neck gestures, more animated with tilts and turns of her head than anywhere else. Her black curls often wave and follow her head as she speaks and reacts.

Strong, almost exaggerated facial expressions and bodily gestures. Yukino’s smiles are warm and wide, her scowls are full of raw malign and hatred, her laughs are loud and from the belly, and her sadness is raw and from the heart. Her arms and body often contort and move errantly as if at the whim of her emotions.

AESTHETIC:

Utilitarian - Yukino is more liable to favor the practical and reliable over the frivolous. Hand tools, simple leather jackets, function over form.

Inner city streets. They’re like home to Yukino -- they’re where she spent her youth, and where she often spends her young adulthood as a photographer.

Sapphism. She’s gay, folks, and it’s a pretty big part of her identity and vested interest -- more butch-leaning with a stated interest in more traditionally feminine women.

Magazines, photo albums, art installations. Inspiration for her half-hearted passion, constant fuel to get better and do better.

Family structures and dynamics. For one reason or another Yukino often finds herself in found families and alternate group situations, and usually takes a socially dominant role with that in mind be it a “big sis” or a matronly figure.

SONGS:

A Perfect Circle - ...keeping me from killing you // and from pulling you down with me //  in here, i can almost hear you scream // give me one more medicated peaceful moment // because i don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility

Smashing Pumpkins - what moon songs do you sing your babies? //  what sunshine do you bring? // who belongs? who decides what’s crazy? //  who rights wrongs where others cling? // i’ll sing for you // if you want me to // i’ll give for you // it’s a chance i’ll have to take, it’s a chance i’ll have to break //  i go along just because I’m lazy // i go along to be with you //  [...] // i’ll hear your song // if you want me to // i’ll sing along // [...] // i’m in love with you

Bjork - i follow with my eyes ‘til they crash // imagine what my body would sound like // slamming against those rocks // and when it lands, will my eyes be closed? // i go through all this // before you wake up // so i can feel happier // to be safe again with you

Pianos Become The Teeth - because i say it all // when i say nothing at all // so let’s say nothing some more

Touche Amore: i swear there’s nothing innocent in these eyes // because i’ve seen dead friends // and i’ve seen murder // and i’ve done things i wish i hadn’t done // but that’s not to say i’m not afraid // of long nights dwelling on past mistakes // because with life moving as fast as it does // i’ll still have stories to fucking tell

[mayuzumi-yukinoo]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

TAGGED BY: @aragakisan, on technicality. TAGGING: Whomever reads it, presumably!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Concern; often worry for the disenfranchised.

Rationality and reason.

Anger; bull-headed and stubborn.

Humor, often sardonic with a touch of observational wit.

Protectiveness. Yukino is defined if nothing else by her compulsive need to keep those around her safe.

GREETINGS:

"Hey!” Familiarity, often spoken loudly and accompanied by a wide grin.

A smile, tender and crinkling on strong features. Those she’s closest to get to see the softest sides of her.

“What’s up?” Casual and intrigued, a means to strike up a conversation and show interest in the other party.

COLORS:

Slate gray. The color of her St. Hermelin uniform and the color of her favorite hat and armored coat -- Yukino isn’t much of one for fashion, and utility often comes before style. The color of metal, iron resolves and unbreakable walls.

Orange. The color is warm and welcoming, reflected often in the forms of both her Personae and portraying the fire in her spirit. Open arms and the rising sun on the horizon.

Brown. Dark like her eyes, lighter like the coffee complexion of her skin. Earthy and rugged, not unlike her own rough disposition, and far from flashy as it gets. It’s a humble, unassuming tone.

Mustard yellow. Yukino’s lack of fashion sense reflects the most firmly in her gaudy yellow jeans, hugging her muscled legs more tightly than they should.

Crimson. A hue often associated with anger and malign -- her temper is short and her vengeance is quick, just as easy to smile and open her arms for an embrace as she is to scowl and swing her fists.

SCENTS:

Smoke. Compulsive need to be a good role model be damned, Yukino smokes and the stench clings to her clothing like a bad reputation. As much as she tries to keep her habit a secret, the scent is damning as catching her in the act. 

Chemicals. When not out documenting the world around her, Yukino often retreats into the darkroom to develop her film. The stench of Kodak D-76 is burned into her nostrils by now.

Snow on grass and concrete. Wispy nights on the streets of Mikage-cho with only the flame of a cigarette lighter to warm her; the hours spent under St Hermelin’s occupation of frost and ice.

Blood. Others’ blood on her knuckles or on the ends of her knives, her own blood dripping down her chin and running down her throat from a broken nose.

Burnt ozone. Yukino’s Personae specialize in the power of nuclear fusion, and as such any time they make themselves known the very atmosphere around her is sure to burn.

CLOTHING:

An armored jacket, grey with prominent shoulder blades. Ever since Yukino got jumped by who she thought were her best friends she’s always come prepared, and the armor helps to accentuate her bulky frame. It sends a message: not to be fucked with.

A black turtleneck tank top; sleeveless and cut off above her abdomen. Odd a choice of garment as it is, it’s a matter of vanity: it shows off her musculature, Yukino’s physique something she’s grown quite proud of.

A grey beanie, branded Ostrich with the appropriate brand insignia above it. Yukino is rarely seen without this on account of her mess of hair: without it it’d be all over the place and in her face, black curls snugly restrained under the cover of her favorite hat.

Yellow jeans, with a black stripe down either outside seam. Tacky, garish and questionable, it says all you need to know about Yukino’s fashion sense.

OBJECTS:

Four throwing knives, finish tarnished and blades nicked from constant use and frequent throws. She’s owned these knives since high school, and they’re one of the last remaining relics of her Yanki years. They’re never far from reach, Yukino constantly paranoid that she’ll encounter a situation where she needs to use them.

A vintage analog camera. This is Yukino’s prized possession: it was passed down to her from her mentor and idol Shunsuke Fuuji upon his tragic death. The stories this camera could tell, the things its lens has seen are unspeakable; Yukino can only hope to one day be of worthy skill and passion to be able to use it.

Yukino’s scrapbook, filled to the brim with memories of the past and present, with room to grow for the future. Yukino began taking pictures compulsively in high school as an extracurricular credit, and she’s made a habit of tucking away her memories in the old, worn-out scrapbook for safekeeping. She’s always made a habit of remembering where she’s came from and where she’s going, and the scrapbook reflects that.

A set of bisonskin drums, a relic from the St. Hermelin incident. The rhythms played upon these drums are what first enabled her to awaken to Durga, her true self and Ultimate Persona -- she swears that the resonance of the drum heads are identical to that of her own heartbeat.

A letter from Mrs. Saeko, written as congratulations when she finally graduated from St. Hermelin. Mrs. Saeko is... important to Yukino, to say the least, and beyond this sentimental reasoning it’s a source of pride that Yukino was recognized for her strive and success.

VICES & BAD HABITS:

Reacting with anger and hostility at the first sign of strife. Yukino’s old habits as a yanki die hard, and she’s unable to escape the frustration and violent thoughts her former life of crime was born of. Like her compatriot Tatsuya, she prefers to speak with her fists before asking questions.

Cigarettes. No good street gangster is without her smokes, and Yukino fit the image perfectly. When she left that life behind, this is one vice she was unable to shake: the comfort of nicotine often provides her a much-needed dulling of the edge her nerves right on, a moment of calm in overflowing rage.

Unshakable insecurity and uncertainty. While comfortable and confident enough in her own skin, traumas and internalized negativity often rears its ugly head. Yukino has a chip on her shoulder regarding her homosexuality and is pensively self-conscious of her sapphic preferences, and questions whether or not she has a future at all in any of her passions.

Yukino can often come across as patronizing or overbearing when her “big sister” instincts come into play, self-righteously believing she knows what’s best for all those around her. Even if her intentions are pure and benevolent, she can often stick her nose in business that isn’t her own and find herself in over her head.

Misanthropy and vengeful, spiteful envy. Yukino subconciously hates those who has what she wants but can’t have, as she considers them reminders of her failures. She secretly yearns for the demise of those who have it better off than she does, and  takes a secret joy in seeing others knocked down a peg.

BODY LANGUAGE:

Confident, self-assured posture. The woman stands fairly tall for her gender and age, augmented by a prideful swagger in her step and a dense musculature.

One hand often clutching her camera, the other usually planted firmly upon a hip. Gotta be prepared in case you get a great shot at a moment’s notice...!

Observant, analytical eyes. Yukino isn’t the most book-smart in the world, but her street smarts have taught her how to read a room and get a grasp on what any given opposing party might be up to.

Frequent head-and-neck gestures, more animated with tilts and turns of her head than anywhere else. Her black curls often wave and follow her head as she speaks and reacts.

Strong, almost exaggerated facial expressions and bodily gestures. Yukino’s smiles are warm and wide, her scowls are full of raw malign and hatred, her laughs are loud and from the belly, and her sadness is raw and from the heart. Her arms and body often contort and move errantly as if at the whim of her emotions.

AESTHETIC:

Utilitarian - Yukino is more liable to favor the practical and reliable over the frivolous. Hand tools, simple leather jackets, function over form.

Inner city streets. They’re like home to Yukino -- they’re where she spent her youth, and where she often spends her young adulthood as a photographer.

Sapphism. She’s gay, folks, and it’s a pretty big part of her identity and vested interest -- more butch-leaning with a stated interest in more traditionally feminine women.

Magazines, photo albums, art installations. Inspiration for her half-hearted passion, constant fuel to get better and do better.

Family structures and dynamics. For one reason or another Yukino often finds herself in found families and alternate group situations, and usually takes a socially dominant role with that in mind be it a “big sis” or a matronly figure.

SONGS:

A Perfect Circle - ...keeping me from killing you // and from pulling you down with me //  in here, i can almost hear you scream // give me one more medicated peaceful moment // because i don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility

Smashing Pumpkins - what moon songs do you sing your babies? //  what sunshine do you bring? // who belongs? who decides what’s crazy? //  who rights wrongs where others cling? // i’ll sing for you // if you want me to // i’ll give for you // it’s a chance i’ll have to take, it’s a chance i’ll have to break //  i go along just because I’m lazy // i go along to be with you //  [...] // i’ll hear your song // if you want me to // i’ll sing along // [...] // i’m in love with you

Bjork - i follow with my eyes ‘til they crash // imagine what my body would sound like // slamming against those rocks // and when it lands, will my eyes be closed? // i go through all this // before you wake up // so i can feel happier // to be safe again with you

Pianos Become The Teeth - because i say it all // when i say nothing at all // so let’s say nothing some more

Touche Amore: i swear there’s nothing innocent in these eyes // because i’ve seen dead friends // and i’ve seen murder // and i’ve done things i wish i hadn’t done // but that’s not to say i’m not afraid // of long nights dwelling on past mistakes // because with life moving as fast as it does // i’ll still have stories to fucking tell

[ssundeadau]

Chapter 2 ~ Changes and Cryptids

Content Warning: Some gore and death

Thomas, Roman, and Patton looked up, alarmed, as Virgil and Logan ran in.

“So, there’s been some… developments,” Logan told the others. “Virgil, would you like to go first?”

Roman, Thomas, and Patton watched with wide eyes as Virgil moved the hood of his jacket aside. The blood had stained his neck. It left a red, splattered pattern around two small puncture wounds. Around the wound, the skin was pale, and a faint trace of skin was visible through the transparent flesh. The black eye shadow which was once for dramatic effect now hid the blue circles under his eyes. A small hint of red shone in his pupils.

As he placed the hood back on his neck, Patton glanced at him with sympathetic and worried eyes. He glanced back, hoping to reassure his friend. As he did so, Logan began to roll the bottom of his left pant leg up.

Roman drew in a bated breath. Thomas and Patton’s faces contorted in horror. The injury below Logan’s calf was worse than the one on Virgil’s neck. A large chunk of flesh was missing from his leg. The serrated edges of the hole gave it the appearance of a bite. The layer of skin left at the bottom of the wound barely covered the muscle underneath. The hair around the wound had grown thicker and unkempt. He had an alert look in his eyes, which in themselves looked lighter. 

An awkward silence fell on the room as Logan rolled his pant leg back down. It transpired for several seconds, and was only broken by Roman.

“So, uh… Are we going to sit here awkwardly or move on from that?” He asked the group.

“How do you two feel?” Thomas asked Logan and Virgil.

“Tired,” Virgil responded.

“I feel quite the opposite, actually,” Logan remarked.

“I’m also very confused,” Virgil added. “None of this makes sense. Like, how is Logan okay after that-” He gestured at Logan’s leg-”happened to him?”

“Does it hurt at all?” Patton asked Logan with a concerned tone in his voice.

“It stung when it was fresh and feels weird when things come into contact with it now. Other than that, it doesn’t bother me too much,” Logan replied.

As everyone let the news sink in, Logan and Virgil disappeared into Logan’s room. They began to research what could’ve happened. Virgil started to become frustrated as his research led him nowhere. His head suddenly snapped up and he let out a disgruntled moan. Logan looked over to him, worried.

“Virgil?” Logan addressed him.

“I haven’t found anything.” He complained, staring at the screen of his laptop. “I’ve looked up types of snake bites and the symptoms I’ve been having, but I haven’t found anything.”

“Well, even if you haven’t found any answers, you’ve ruled other possibilities out. So, you have made progress.”

Virgil felt a sharp pain in his canine teeth, causing him to wince. As his hand shot up to his mouth, all the hairs on Logan’s neck stood on end. His thoughts fell on their walk in the woods.

“The medallion,” he said, struck with a realization.

“The medallion?” Virgil asked, hoping for clarification.

“It depicted a mouth with a normal and elongated canine tooth.” Logan blurted out, finding a lead on Virgil’s plight. “We have to go get it.”

“Last time we were in the woods we almost died. Are you sure it’s safe for us to do that?”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon, if we don’t go in too far we should be fine.”

“Don’t you think we should bring someone else with us to make sure nothing happens?”

“I suppose that would be wise. Who should we take?”

“Probably Patton. He’s Thomas’ morality, so if anyone’s going to stop us from going in too far, it’s him. And if we take Roman, he’s going to want to go in father and explore.”

They found Patton sitting on the couch in his cat onesie. 

“Patton, we need you to come with us,” Virgil told him.

“You should take the onesie off,” Logan suggested.

“Aw, why?” Patton asked, disappointed.

“It’s going to get dirty in the woods,” Logan told him.

“Wait, you guys are going back in the woods? You got hurt last time,” Thomas remarked, worried.

“That’s why we’re taking Patton with us,” Virgil reassured him.

“Why are you taking Patton and not me?” Roman petitioned, offended.

“You’d want to go farther into the woods, Roman. We can’t risk that again,” Logan disclosed to him. 

“Fine,” Roman said in a drawled out groan.

As Patton, Virgil, and Logan left the house, Roman and Thomas exchanged worried glances.

                                                        ~ ~ ~

When they entered the woods, Virgil’s heart began to race with rapid, uneven beats. Even with Patton’s usual happy attitude and Logan’s newfound alertness, he couldn’t shake the sensation. He didn’t know if there was something there or if it came from his previous experience in the woods. Logan seemed to sense something too, as he looked at Virgil with a hint of suspicion. Far into the woods a stick snapped. 

“Did you hear that?” Logan asked the others.

“No,” Virgil answered. He glanced over at Logan, and noticed a yellow tint in his iris, along with a few wispy hairs on the side of his face.

“Wow, it’s awesome in here!” Patton exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before!”

“We have to be careful. We still don’t know what’s in here.” Logan said. As a small breeze passed, he felt a strange tingle on his face, and he felt small, delicate hairs below his cheek. He noticed Virgil looking at him, as if to tell him he saw it too. As they came upon the stump, Logan picked up the medallion.

“We found this when we were in here last night. We don’t know what it means,” he explained to Patton. Taking a closer look at the medallion, he noticed strange writing on the bottom. The characters looked like a mixture between those of the Greek and Latin alphabet.

“Virgil, do you have your phone on you?” Logan asked him.

“Yeah, why?” He responded.

“Can you take a picture of this? We have to find out what it says.”

Virgil took his phone out and took a picture. As he did so, Logan’s eyes widened as he heard a faint rustling from behind them. Figuring it was a squirrel, he ignored it. The noise grew louder, catching the attention of the rest of the group. Logan and Virgil turned to each other and Patton turned around, gasped, and fell silent. His body hit the ground with a thump. Logan picked him up and they ran out of the woods.

                                                        ~ ~ ~

  Logan paced around the living room. Virgil, Thomas, and Roman stared with pale faces at Patton’s lifeless body. A slick layer of blood dripped down his throat. Everyone was too shocked and confused to react. Virgil hid his face in his hands, feeling as though it was his fault. Logan began to speak.

“This is all my fault,” he groaned. “If I hadn’t decided to go in the woods the three of us would be fine.”

“You never would have known this would happen, Logan,” Thomas said.

“Patton’s dead, Thomas! He’s dead because of my decisions!” Logan burst. His tough, emotionless exterior was broken. 

“I’m the one who talked you into taking him with us,” Virgil said, his voice weak and cracking.

Deceit appeared in the living room, startling everyone. As he surveyed the room, he walked to Patton’s body. He picked up his cold, clammy hand and laced its fingers with his own and held it for a moment. With a sullen expression on his face he slowly let go of Patton’s hand. He slunk away, disappearing from the living room.

Everyone exchanged curious looks. Roman broke the silence.

“What should we do?” He asked. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“We have to bury him,” Logan said. “He deserves a proper burial.” He picked up Patton’s body and carried him to the back yard. He set him down on the glass table on Thomas’ deck with tears in his eyes. He grabbed a shovel from the shed and dug a hole in the back corner of the yard, where no one would walk over it. He placed Patton’s corpse in the grave and began his eulogy.

                                                        ~ ~ ~

No one slept that night. A bleak atmosphere fell upon the house. Logan and Virgil spent the night researching the strange medallion from the woods. Logan remembered the conversation he had with Roman, Thomas, and Patton that morning. Roman had said Patton brought up the idea of Banshees residing in the woods. He began to think it may be something paranormal. His nails clacked on the keys of his keyboard. That was the first time he had noticed it. His nails had begun to turn dark black in color, and had grown past his finger tips.

He brought his attention back to his research. Clicking on an article by Folklore.com, he found what he was looking for.

“Virgil,” he said, breaking the silence that had lasted in his room for several hours. “Look what I found.” The screen of his computer displayed an old drawing of the medallion they found. The caption read: “A vampyre medallion. Engraved with the universal mark of the species and a phrase written in their language.”

“Do you really believe it’s something paranormal? Doesn’t that defy logic?” Virgil asked.

“All three of us had something happen to us in the woods. We didn’t even see what killed Patton. We’ve been experiencing changes to our bodies that wouldn’t happen if we were bitten by animals.”

Virgil surveyed Logan’s face. The small, wispy hairs on his face had grown thicker, despite Thomas’, and therefore the Sides, inability to grow facial hair. Similar hair had begun to grow on his arms and legs. His eyes were now almost completely yellow. His pupils had the same red tint as Virgil’s. Virgil turned his attention to the mirror in front of them. His ears began to form a point at the tip. His skin was even more pale and transparent. He opened his mouth enough to see his canine teeth, which were beginning to elongate into fangs.

“I guess so. I’d have no other way to explain it.”

While Logan and Virgil researched, Thomas lay restless on his bed. His thoughts wandered. He thought of Patton, and Virgil and Logan’s strange injuries. As his thoughts raced, he heard a loud bang from the kitchen. He summoned Roman to his room. As he drew his sword, the two cautiously went to the kitchen. The refrigerator and a few cabinets and drawers were open. A bag of white bread and jars of peanut butter and Crofters jam were placed on the counter. Thomas summoned Logan and Virgil.

“Neither of you were in here before were you?” Thomas asked them.

“We were in my room researching,” Logan answered, confused.

“I heard noises coming from the kitchen, so Roman and I went to investigate. No one was down here, so I had to summon you guys to see if it was one of you,” Thomas explained.

“Do you think it could be Patton?” Roman suggested.

“With what we found in our research tonight, it’s possible,” Virgil commented.

“How can we tell if it’s him?” Thomas asked.

“We have to ask,” Virgil replied. “Is there someone here that would like to talk to us?” A cabinet began to open. Thomas, Roman, and Logan exchanged inquisitive looks.

“Is this Patton?” Virgil asked, his voice full of hope. The cabinet flew open, and a plate slid out. Logan caught it and turned to Virgil, his eyes wide. The air in front of the cabinet was colder than in the rest of the kitchen, causing goosebumps to form on his arms.

“Patton, could you do something else? I give you permission to touch my arm,” He told the spirit. The air in the room became colder. The sleeve of his jacket began to crease and puff out. A chill shot down his spine. He turned to the group and said:

“It’s him.”

[burstingchrysanthemums]

The Daily Task of Preventing My Disciple from Turning to the Dark Side: Chapter 2

Seeing that Mu Chen agreed, Gu Yunjue happily put his arms around Mu Chen's neck. Pointing to the distant dark cloud test peak, he asked, "I do not need to participate in trials? Those big brothers said that as long as I climb this mountain, I can find immortality.”

Not used to being so close to another person, Mu Chen was somewhat irritable and turned his face away, his expression a bit awkward. His words are overbearing and irrefutable: "Does my disciple need to climb the mountain like a mud monkey?"

In his arms the little thing is thin, his body doesn't have much meat, therefore the urgent task is to raise the child well.

This metaphor amused Gu Yunjue. Squinting his eyes, he looked at Mu Chen's handsome face that is very near. Stretching out a finger, he poked gently. The skin of his teacher is quite white and nearly transparent. This time has the master has absorbed the nine-Yang Hades fire? Are you already suffering from that fire? And in the master's body, there is a familiar force that is attracting him, the attraction can be felt in ... the chest area.

The little hand moved from the face to the chest, and placed it at the place where Chen's heart was beating.

Mu Chen bowed his head, looking at the child in arms. His eyes fell on the hands on his chest. This boy just touched his face and now touched the chest, what is this?

"Shizun?"

"......"

Being called Shizun, Mu Chen suddenly felt strange, temporarily did not care about the small claws. His gentle eyes looked at Gu Yunjue for some time, not knowing what to say, but he did not know that the heart of the person at his bosom is also full of complex feelings.

"Shizun is hot, so good." Gu Yunjue smiled around Mu Chen's neck, his small face looking up, intimately rubbing Mu Chen's cheek. Unseen by Mu Chen, the dark eyes flash red.

The master's warm heart is again beating. It's not a gradually cooling corpse in Gu Yunjue’s arms. Gu Yunjue feels no guilt at the destruction of the three realms, the only thing he regrets is that his master was implicated. Although he knew that time would go backwards, he hadn't expected that he would return so many years before. In fact, if he had traveled five years more, there would be no such a person here.

Looking at his little hand, Gu Yunjue knows he will have to start all over again.

Everything should be in his control, but Mu Chen appeared ten years ahead of time. This is something that he needs to think about but it is undeniable that the living person is once again standing in front of him, so close.

Master, he was the only salvation/redemption before the rebirth. (TN: The only good thing in his life before his rebirth.)

After rebirth, it is the obsession of this life.

Not knowing that a lot of suffering had made the heart very fragile and that he was poking a raw nerve, Mu Chen patted the child's back and shifted him to a more comfortable position, saying: "Only the dead are cool, the teacher is naturally hot."

"Shizun?"

"Uh huh."

"Shizun?"

"Uh huh."

Thinking that the small disciple might be afraid of heights, Mu Chen's facial expression softens, the corner of his mouth moves slightly, and he gently stroked Gu Yunjue's head. The child's looks a bit starved, the hair quality is very bad. In his mind/imagination flashed countless images, the small child disciple being bullied, worked hard but not given enough food. Mu Chen, in distress, decides that whatever his disciple likes, he will try to get for him.

Rubbing Gu Yunjue's head, he plans to grant his disciple a wood hairpin with a protective spirit.

If others know this idea of ​​Mu Chen's they will think that he must be crazy.

Cultivator's weapons are ranked thus: the major categories are defense, support, and offensive. There are low-grade goods, high-grade goods and best quality goods. Weapon refiners of Mu Chen's level are rare. They are the kind who are aloof and lofty. Who among them would refine a spiritual device hairpin for a child?

It's not that no one is willing to refine that, it's just that it is too extravagant for a child. To raise an apprentice like that, it's even worse than spoiling a son.

Gu Yunjue felt Mu Chen's unique gentleness. His mouth curved charmingly, a pair of beautiful peach blossom eyes became crescent moons, like a little fairy of the heavenly healing department.

Mu Chen's face was a little softer, the little disciple is really naive, and must now be taught well so that his path will not be crooked.

-----

A person who has always been arrogant and cold, the legendary cultivator whose only concern is alchemy, one of Cloud Gate's highest ranking sect members, suddenly appearing at the registration area holding a little, thin child in his arms like a baby caused an uproar.

Moving to the table with Gu Yunjue in his arms, Mu Chen said: "Register Gu Yunjue as my personal succeeding disciple."

"Personal succeeding disciple..." The steward in charge of registration, trembling, put out a jade token, his laughing face full of wrinkles, like a wild chrysanthemum devastated by the autumn wind. "Congratulations to the Fifth Elder!"

Mu Chen frowned, leaned away slightly, the steward's laugh is too fake.

The steward is not bothered, moves his twisted face close to Gu Yunjue and said, to flatter him: "Little lord, good fortune!"

Gu Yunjue bent his small body, narrowed his eyes slightly, and similarly despised the steward: Little lord? Ha-ha, this old man has obstructed the teacher's attractive eyes, might as well butcher! (Translation: This guy is an eyesore, might as well kill him.)

The steward wanted to say something but suddenly felt a chill in his heart seeing the child opposite him staring at him with no expression in his face. It was as if a sharp sword was pointed at him, making his hair stand on end. The steward in charge closed his mouth immediately, does not dare to speak idly anymore, and hurries to give Mu Chen the jade token.

Mu Chen received the jade token which was engraved complex symbols and the size of the palm of the hand. He grabbed Gu Yunjue's hand, forced out a drop of blood, and let it drip onto the jade token. The jade hummed, lighted up, and the symbols became a scarlet sunshine pattern, unusually beautiful.

This token signifies a disciple's rank as a personal succeeding disciple. It gives the disciple access to all of the majority of the sect's resource areas and the disciple can freely go in and out of most places. As Mu Chen wants to raise a freeing-ranging child, this point is very important.

At the same time, Cloud Gate places in the high tower of disciple a soul jade sign, in the long empty fifth palace's place, quietly raised a soul lamp. (TN: No idea what this means. A ritual, I guess.)

Mu Chen is satisfied, with this jade token Gu Yunjue is now a high-ranking disciple and no one can bully him.

After Mu Chen left the steward patted his chest, wiped the cold sweat from his face, looked at his trembling hands, crying without tears. For the head of the Sunshine (Fifth) Palace, taking in a personal succeeding disciple needed the approval of the sect master but Mu Chen simply ignored this requirement. Since the sect master does not know that a five-year-old disciple has been registered, who will be blamed for this? How can he excuse himself?

What's most embarrassing is that Mu Chen's disciple will now be ranked fifth among all the disciples. The sixth ranked disciples, who are older, will have to call him senior. Thinking of this, the steward touched his neck where goose bumps have formed.

The sect leader Yue Ming Ze, after receiving news of this, was very much surprised. Choosing a personal succeeding disciple is not normally done so casually. The background must be checked to see if it is pure, the conduct needs to be inspected, and a five-year-old young animal who does not know how to cultivate, how can he be taught?

In the current crop of disciples, there are several with very good talent. Gu Yunjue is actually not the best. Moreover he is too young, for this reason he received many doubting looks at the trial. Mu Chen's temper is cold. He does not like to speak so how could one see him as the type who can take care of others? With Mu Chen raising a child, Yue Ming Ze's experience tells him that his younger brother Mu will certainly randomly feed the child. Gu Yunjue's long-term safety will be an issue.

Mu Chen hasn't really thought about this issue, to him raising a disciple just means to give the best to him to raise him right.

Bringing Gu Yunjue back to the Sun Palace, along the way countless disciples fell off their flying swords. From time to time, he patted Gu Yunjue on the back, constantly frowning at how thin the child was, his mind affected by thoughts of how the child must have had such a difficult life. In a few days he can refine some medicine to nurse the child back to health.

"Do you have any family?" To Mu Chen, Gu Yunjue is still too small, such a small child cannot have gone to the Cloud Gate trial alone. No matter what family members he has, Mu Chen does not mind. He is willing to raise several people. (TN:Not sure?) He can let Gu Yunjue get the care of relatives.

In the past, Gu Yunjue did not feel anything called affection. Such a young child needs both his parents to take care of him. Being away from home might also have been a cause of his temper distortion. But Gu Yunjue smiled, shook his head, and said: "Only two old servants brought this disciple here, they have already left."

"Your father and mother?"

"My mother was killed by my father, dad has more than ten sons, I am the most useless." Gu Yunjue's slightly upturned mouth looked like he was talking about someone else. There was no trace of anger. He didn't want to lie to his teacher. If the opposite party asked him about trivial matters he will tell the truth, but now since he has the appearance of a child, he can act like a spoiled brat to the teacher.

Mu Chen's heart sank. He hesitated, patting the small head, comforting him: "You have master, don't be afraid."

Gu Yunjue grabbed Mu Chen's hand and felt the warmth of the palm and the satisfaction of the smile. No matter how many things he has gone through, the young teacher's temperament still has not changed. He always has an indifferent face, does not love to talk, also does not love to laugh, decisive, a killer who does not have compassion for his enemies. This makes people think that his unfeeling temperament is bad, that he is not good to get close to.

Actually, the young teacher is a gentle person.

How regrettable. From now on, it's enough to understand him.

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[scyrel]

A 2D-Bendy Illustrated Fanfiction

Inspired by @squigglydigglydoo and @shinyzango, Written and hand-drawn by myself. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER 2: Part 1

    Henry lay square on his back, looking up at a deep tunnel of flickering lights above; ink droplets stung his face. He let out a loud sigh, afraid to move, thinking a fall like this could have seriously broken his back. Henry stayed there a moment longer, contemplating his options.

    “That last step sure was a doozy, eh?” Squeaked a little voice out of the blue. Henry’s eyes darted around, trying to find this familiar disembodied voice that he’d been hearing. The voice became impatient, “Are ya just gonna lie there all day or are we gonna get going? Can’t say now’s the best time for a nap!” This made Henry sit up, not realizing his back didn’t even protest at the speed in which he moved.

    “Who’s there?” He growled in an exhausted tone. “Come on out, I’ve heard your little voice all day and I don’t have time for this!” There was a clear snap like a pair of fingers clicking together; the little paper in his front pocket trembled.

    “In here, Chief!” Henry fumbled for the paper sticking out of his pocket, pulling it out to look at the little Bendy drawing. The old man couldn’t believe his eyes, the doodle started to move. Performing a quick smear before his big key action, Bendy dropped low on the page and then jumped up, waving his gloved hands and shaking his little head and tongue. “BOOOO!” He shouted, almost giving Henry a heart attack. Startled, Henry dropped the paper onto the ink stained floor. He must have really hit his head this time. He sprang up, rubbing his face vigorously and smearing ink up and down his cheeks and brow.

    “Ey, DOC! Don’t leave me down here!” Bendy pleaded, “I promise not to spook ya again, just get me off the floor!” Henry looked down to see the living doodle trying to avoid the dark spots of ink seeping into his little frame. When Henry picked up the paper, Bendy twisted his hands behind his back and rose a little foot, cocking his head to look at Henry in a most charmingly cartoonish way. “Gee, thanks! You’re a real pal!” Said the little devil. The dark ink blots seemed to fade away from the paper as Henry held it.

    “How’s… this possible?” Henry asked, turning the paper over and sideways in his hands. Bendy protested, his body bouncing along the edges of his invisible white box.

    “Whoa there! Don’t you see this is my space? Yer throwin’ me around too much!” He wrinkled up a pair of black sleeves against his black arms, throwing up his dukes and puffing out his chest. “How’d ya like it if I gave ya good wallop, huh?” The inky demon hopped around like some silly bird displaying a mighty dance.

“Alright, alright. Take it easy there.” Henry gestured a stopping motion with his hand. Bendy stopped his fighting dance to bring his legs at attention, arms folded and face sporting a heavy scowl. “I’m a bit nervous, okay? Being trapped in the studio is not what I expected to happen to me today. Also, I’m not accustomed to my drawing’s animating themselves…” Bendy softened his face and took a little bow.

    “And it’s a nice new design of me too, thank you!” Henry made a light chuckle, this was quite surreal. Bendy stood back up and snapped his little fingers again, the paper trembled. “Look there, Buddy! You might wanna take that axe on the wall. I spied it when you dropped me on the floor!” Henry looked over and lifted the dusty thing off its plaque. In front of him was a door heavily boarded up with wood. “Chop, chop! There’s no exit in this room!” Bendy whistled, clapping his gloves together. In his left hand, Henry held a talking doodle of Bendy and in the other a small wooden handled axe. If there had been a mirror in the room, he would have a chance to see if he looked as crazy as he felt.

THUNK, THUNK, THUNK!

The axe came down heavily on the planks of wood blocking his path.

    “Gee, you got a real swingin’ arm there!” Bendy cheered him on. Henry skillfully kept his hits centered with each strike and pulled away any board fragments that may be in the way.

    “Well, when you’re as old as me, you pick up a few things.” Henry opened the door and made his way down the long stairwell into the basement. The wooden boards protested with each step and the air seemed to get a little thicker and cooler as he descended. “How deep does this place go?” Concern was coming through Henry’s voice. “I could’ve sworn there was a small basement we kept the music department in, but this many floors down seems ridiculous.”

    “Can’t really tell ya.” Replied Bendy. “Most of my eyes are upstairs. I can see some stuff down there, but not so much.” Henry thought a moment.

    “So you really were watching me through all those cutouts. That’s creepy, kid.” Bendy giggled.

    “I liked your dance.”

    Henry opened the door he thought was the entry to the basement and stopped before entering half-way into the room. A black pentagram scrawled in ink was on the floorboards, surrounded by candles and two coffins. His heart skipped a beat.

    “What– what’s going on down here…?” He struggled to get the words out. Bendy’s smile wavered only slightly.

    “Looks like someone’s been a bit of a busy-body!” Bendy appeared unphased.

    “Shit.” The little demon was suddenly taken aback. Sweat beaded above Henry’s brow, his eyes darting side to side, waiting for something to come out and jump him. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” Henry’s voice was beginning to shake. He brought Bendy up to his face, frustration and fear etched into the weight of his brows and the corners of his mouth. “Do you have ANY idea about what’s going on here? The letter from Joey, the fact I’m talking to a toon right now, this–… this… ritual crap?!” Bendy’s black eyes seemed to shrink till the majority of his face appeared to be white; a little sweaty ink bead dripped down his forehead. The toothy smile on his face seemed uncertain whether it should move up or down. “Tell me I’m crazy…” Henry’s face fell in defeat. He was trying way too hard to understand his predicament.

“You’re… crazy?” Bendy raised a doubtful finger, not sure where to input some comedic humor. It came off incredibly awkward and more so when Henry made no facial expression. The little demon cleared his throat, pretending to fiddle with his bowtie. “Tough crowd.” He thought.

    Henry threw up his arms suddenly, waiving poor Bendy and his axe like a madman. “I’ve LOST my mind! This has got to be a dream right? So if anyone’s going to jump out at me, do it NOW! PLEASE! I am too old for this!!” He strode into the room with the pentagram and jumped up and down on the graffiti. The old man didn’t notice the rumbling surrounding him.

    “Hey! LOOK OUT!” He heard the little voice of Bendy cry out, but not in enough time before something hard knocked Henry squarely in the back of his head.

    Everything was foggy for a moment; the pain in his head seared the back of his skull, rippling forward into his eye sockets. A weird flavor sat on his tongue, iron mixed with something else familiar. Henry spat a mix of blood and ink to the floor. Reaching back to the tender spot on his head, his hand pulled away with blood.

    “You okay?” Came the little familiar voice.

    “Oh, it’s you.” Henry groaned, “I’d hoped that hit would’ve knocked some sense into me.” He chuckled slightly upon getting up, readjusting his glasses. He walked back towards the stairs, just hoping that maybe there was some kind of exit back the way he came. To his dismay, the entire stairwell had collapsed from the weight of the ink pouring from the machine upstairs. It dribbled and pooled under the swollen planks of wood. Henry said nothing as he passed Bendy’s piece of paper lying near the coffin on the floor. He picked up the axe, throwing it over his shoulder.

    “Where ya goin’? Bendy asked. Henry’s hand was gripped around the knob of another door. He paused.

    “This is really happening isn’t it?” He spoke in a low resolute tone. “You really are alive on that piece of paper… talking to me.” Henry turned to look down at the paper. His face showing his age. Bendy stared back from his sitting position, his grin now a small dot on his face.

    “That I am.” Getting up, he was like a perfectly animated cartoon of Henry’s, all on his own. Henry sighed, then bent down next to the cartoon.

    “Well, seeing as I wasn’t fully understanding of what transpired, let me properly introduce myself. Name’s Henry; I used to work here as an animator when I was a young lad. Me and Joey both had a hand in coming up with you and your little friends when the company got started.” He gently placed a finger against the paper near Bendy’s gloved hand. The little demon looked at the finger a second, then back up at Henry. In one unimaginable moment, two worlds came together as creator and creation. The old man could feel a slight contact with the paper from Bendy’s gloved hand touching him back.

    “Bendy… Bendy the Dancing Demon. But… you already knew that.” The little devil replied with a genuine smile and look of awe. He plopped down on a thin line just under his shoes as Henry picked the paper up off the floor.

    “I know you don’t want to be cooped up here any more than I do, so lets find us an exit.” Henry smiled.

They descended even deeper into the basement, but this time it appeared as if the rooms were a little brighter from all the candles glowing within. The hair prickled along Henry’s arms and neck again, seeing the Bendy cutout next to what looked like a makeshift altar using a shelf. All around them the walls groaned; the sound of steady dripping could be heard somewhere in the ceiling. Looking through the rest of the room, there was another set of coffins and pentagram nearby.

    “Okay,... those coffins. Who’s in them and are they ritual offerings? Henry faced Bendy towards what he was seeing.

    “Um… I’m not really sure. I don’t really like looking at those.” Bendy tried to shy away from the sight. Henry walked quietly around the room, making sure no one was waiting around the corner.

    “All these pentagrams look like summoning circles. Are you part of any of this or a byproduct?” The look the little devil gave him seemed like he recoiled at the word. “What I mean to say is, when did you become conscious? You weren’t jumping off the page on your own while we were still making the shows.” The little demon shook his head.

    “I dunno. Funny thing is, I have flashbacks of moments of a time when… I think you and the studio were still in operation. The attention meant everything to me. I didn’t realize then as much as I feel it now, but I knew people were watching me. It’s like, going from observing everything mindlessly and then suddenly… poof! I can think for myself!” Henry could see an actual white sparkle twinkle on the side of Bendy’s eyes. A squeaking noise above forced Henry to pick up his pace and get farther from the room with the coffins. “Henry?” The old man looked down at Bendy sitting on his thinly drawn line. The demon’s face was more serious than before. “Why did you leave us?” Just before them, the phrase, “The Creator Lied to Us”, was scrawled hastily in ink along the wall. Henry’s mouth fell agape. Bendy’s posture looked like that of a child trying to understand. He twirled the tips of his fingers together in his lap.

    “Bendy...–I, I went off to serve. I didn’t want to leave.” Sudden footsteps that didn’t belong to Henry seemed to draw near. Running to the nearest door, Henry hurriedly jiggled the knob, but it was locked. He moved towards another until Bendy directed him to an unlocked door on the other side of the hall. He slipped in and closed it quickly, holding his breath to listen to the footfalls pass by. The little room in which he hid was crammed with a tiny desk covered in papers, a small old radio and a tall, but thin cabinet full of Joey’s attempt at promoting a line of Bacon Soup using Bendy’s face. The footsteps passed the door and down the hall, but Henry wanted to wait until he could hear them no more. He looked down at the desk where Bendy sat quietly on the edge of the paper. He appeared to be deep in thought. “Something on your mind kiddo?”

“Did... you want to come back?” Bendy spoke almost too softly for Henry to catch. The old animator thought about this one a moment, pulling out the wooden chair as quietly as possible and settling down.

    “I would have loved to.” Henry began. “But, times changed. I suppose you don’t completely understand the business in which we work.” Bendy shook his head, yet seemed afraid to look directly at the old man. He drew his legs closer to his chest. “You see,” began Henry. “There’s a big difference between the folks who do the creative work, versus those who strictly run the business. If those guys on top don’t get enough money, the creative fellows struggle to continue what they love doing.”

    “Then… Joey was one of them?” Henry paused. “I remember, something about the liveliness of this place. It... started to die, my world, everything I loved, ...crumbled and decayed.” Bendy’s little frame began to droop. “There was a lot of yelling, anger... rushed shows that made us look and feel… crummy. Like we weren’t our true selves anymore. Then, people started to disappear. Everything simply stopped. We were abandoned.” Bendy hid his face from view. Henry couldn’t believe how innocent his character sounded. Then again, Bendy was designed with children in mind. Had the toon existed in three-dimensional space, he would have patted the little fellow on the head.

    “I’m sorry.” Henry spoke after a time. “I never really thought about how fragile life can be, especially for a cartoon, where all you’ve known has been drawn within strict limitations.” Henry noticed Bendy seemed to be either crying, or melting. Ink was slipping off his body into a pool underneath him. Concerned, Henry moved his index finger over to the demon’s shoulder and tapped on it gently. “Hey now, don’t melt on me, Buddy. I’m sorry things were so rough, but if you help me, we can both get outta here. You’re my toon, after all, you got a little bit of me inside of you.”  Bendy turned his head, the dripping ink receding back into his body. The little cartoon wore a look of astonishment.

    “I have some of you… inside of me?” Henry gave him a soft smile and the little demon’s face brightened. “And, you promise to take me with you?” His hands clasped together, looking like a little black angel.

    “As long as you can help me get out of here, yeah.” Bendy’s eyes widened with excitement.

[jamesjohneye]

Prompts request #3

For @canoncannon , who once made me clap my hands and laugh out loud because she'd commented on my fic. One of my favorite authors.

Prompt: Jesus + Dare kissing him.

Title: Mortified

It’s easy enough to get out of his make-shift prison, easier still to break into the armory and check it out. The amount of weapons there makes his head spin. Rows and rows of automatic guns, a crate with grenades and boxes filled with bullets. There are radio’s, flashlights and flare guns, two crossbows, various knifes and machete’s. Batteries are charging in a corner, there’s a barrel filled with bolts.

He takes one out and twirls it around. It looks handmade.

With a small frown, Paul quietly slips out of the house again, heading to his next destination. The door to the garage rattles a bit when he pulls it up but he rolls under it and Alexandria sleeps on. Moonlight falls through the small windows, just enough to allow him to see the various shelves. Almost all are empty.

They’re running low on food, Paul realizes. It makes them less interesting as a trading partner for now but he knows that everything can change. Maybe their harvest will be spoiled, maybe the kingdom won’t be able to deliver, maybe these people hit a goldmine somewhere down the line. Or maybe Hilltop will need those weapons after all, if Gregory ever changes his mind.

Allies are more important now than ever.

He thinks about Rick Grimes, who had bound his hands together and had left him on the side of the road. Anyone else would have needed a couple of minutes working on those ropes, but they would have gotten away eventually. He hadn’t left him to die. Of course the ropes had been loose the second Rick had walked back to the truck, but that’s not the point.

He thinks about the boy, too. Daryl, who thinks he might be fifteen but isn’t sure. Strong and capable, obviously used to being Rick’s right hand man in tight situations. His youth had only showed when he’d mourned his smashed soda cans. He’d said it had been a request but Paul couldn’t be sure he had been telling the truth. He’d left him with a broken, half-empty can though. In case he got thirsty.

They hadn’t killed him. Hadn’t robbed him of his knives, leaving him defenseless with the dead. They hadn’t left him to die out there.

Paul wonders what the world has become that just that fact makes people good.

It’s time to find Rick Grimes. They should talk.

    He only knows that he’s in the right house when he picks the lock of a bedroom door, steps inside and spots the shadowy figure of Daryl on the bed. The boy is asleep, face turned towards the window, wild hair covering most of it. His mouth is slightly open, slack with relaxation. One of his hands is resting on the softness of his belly, fingertips dipping below his waistband of his jeans. The other hand is next to him on the pillow, fingers twitching in his sleep.

He’s still wearing his boots and belt. The large knife is almost hidden in the darkness, save for the soft gleam whenever the boy moves his hips.

Paul glances around the room.

There’s a faint smell of cigarettes lingering in the air.

His gaze falls on the magazine on the end of Daryl’s bed.

He turns around with a slight smirk playing around his lips and shakes his head a little as he moves towards the next room. Teenagers, he thinks. Some things never change.

    There is something utterly fascinating about Daryl Dixon, Paul decides when they pile back into the RV. Not even fifteen years old but fearless and determined. Sure of himself as he’d led his group from the wreckage to the right building where the people from Hilltop had been hiding. Grim determination in his eyes when he’d drawn his knife and taken his spot right behind Glenn.

When they’d first met, Paul had thought that the boy was Rick’s. Their easy banter and way of working together reminded him of family ties. The matching blue eyes turned out to just be coincidence. Of course he belongs to the man’s group, his family, but Paul smiles when he sees the boy with Maggie and Glenn.

The way Maggie will absent-mindedly adjust the backwards baseball cap while the boy eats his disgusting oatmeal cookie, or lick her finger before rubbing some dirt off his cheek. The boy barely notices even though he still looks a bit wary when Abraham claps him on the shoulder.

It’s even easier to see with Glenn. Their conversation flows easily, sometimes silently with glances and smirk and quirked eyebrows which will leave Daryl giggling silently while Glenn shakes his head fondly. Or the way Glenn nods at Maggie before they head into the building, a silent promise to look after their boy.

And Daryl did the same thing, having the man’s back.

They came out of the building, knives dripping with blood. Daryl had burst through the door first, a big grin on his face as he vaulted a small cabinet and looked up at the sun, soaking up its warmth. The rest had followed suit.

Less than ten minutes and the building had been cleared. When Paul had gone over to thank the teenager, he’d shrugged it off. There had only been ten walkers inside, no big deal.

He’d missed the look of pride Rick shot him as he trudged back to Maggie’s side.

And now he’s sitting with his family again, next to Maggie while talking animated about something. Blue eyes sparkling, the horror of dark building and walkers already forgotten.

The boy is tough and soft at the same time, Paul thinks. He’s fearless in the face of walkers but still ducks his head shyly when Harlan thanks him. The youthful innocence still lingering in his bones. It shines brightly when Daryl doesn’t understand a word and kicks Glenn’s boot to demand an explanation.

The fact that Glenn doesn’t need to ask what he wants makes Paul smile.

    It doesn’t take long before Paul sees Daryl in action himself.

One moment the boy’s eyes light up when he gushes about the fact that Hilltop has a cow, and the next moment he twists someone’s arm hard enough to break it. The eyes are dark and cold when he hears the bone snap and the guy scream in agony.

He doesn’t seem horrified when Rick slashes Ethan’s throat, or when his leader stands up, covered in blood to look around and check on his family. He just draws his gun and puts his foot on the man’s chest, mindful not to touch the broken arm but still pointing the weapon at his face.

When the situation is under control, the boy helps Abraham to his feet again.

‘You’re one tough son of a bitch, you know that? Thanks, kid,’ the burly man says as they clasp hands.

‘Ain’t no kid,’ Daryl counters.

And Paul fears he might be right.

    The process of creating a partnership with Alexandria is hard and Gregory is not making things easier at the moment.

Paul slowly walks up the staircase of Barrington House, one hand trailing over the banister. It’s been a long day. There’s so much going on at the moment. Rick’s new group and Gregory’s injury, their missing man who has been taking hostage, and Negan himself looming in the background. There are whispers about Gregory’s leadership he needs to address with his own people. There are people asking him about the runs, about the next shipment, about chores and tasks and everything else.

He needs some time to figure it all out.

So he heads up the staircase and then up another and another until he reaches the attic.

He’s surprised to find someone else sitting on his spot. Daryl Dixon, with his boots on the railing, sketchbook in his lap and pencil clenched between his teeth. The dark hair is kept out of his face by the backwards cap, faded due to the sun and almost black in the faint starlight. He’s doodling, rubbing his finger over the page to smudge a line, feet wobbling a bit to a tune that isn’t playing.

Fifteen, Paul marvels again because he can’t quite wrap his head around it. Not when he’s seen the boy break someone’s arm like it was nothing just a couple of hours ago.

A part of him wants to leave. The boy seems to be drowned in thought and Paul suspects he came up here for the same reason he has; for some peace and quiet. But he can’t help but be intrigued. He tells himself that he needs to get to know this new group better, that that is why he searches for something to say now.

He settles on something he has already figured out, curious about how much the boy will tell him himself.

‘So you’re Glenn’s,’ Paul says as he steps into the light of the moon and stars.

Daryl glances up warily. His eyes are small, little slits now that has narrowed them suspiciously. The shoulders are broad but curled in a little bit, his posture atrocious as he hunches over his sketchbook.

‘I didn’t know what to think when Maggie asked me for some paper and a pencil,’ Paul offers with a smile, trying to come across as friendly and harmless to soothe the boy’s nerves. ‘You like to draw?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ He looks down at his drawing and adds a detail in the right corner.

Curiosity drives Paul closer. He wants to see what the boy is drawing but doesn’t want to ask. So he sits down next to him, carefully watching his facial expression for any signs of hostility or even fear. There is none. The boy doesn’t look at him but keeps working on his drawing. He holds the pencil wrong but that doesn’t stop him from drawing fluid lines on the paper.

‘When I first saw you, I thought you were Rick’s,’ Paul says when he sits down. It’s true, of course, but the answer he gets surprises him.

‘Ain’t nobody’s no more.’

Unease creeps into Paul’s spine, making him grip the railing a little tighter. He’s not sure why that is. ‘Did something happen between you and Glenn?’

Daryl scoffs. ‘No. I just ain’t his, a’right? I’m a Dixon, just…. I’m a Dixon, not a Rhee, or Grimes or Ford or… not a Walsh, even. A Dixon.’

‘Abraham said you had a brother,’ he recalls. One that is old enough to drive, the man had joked. The other Dixon, so Paul guesses that it’s just the two of them now.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl looks down at his drawing, letting his pencil tap against the paper.

‘Blood matters, right?’ He hates himself a little for the stereotype the boy conjures in his mind, but the teenager seems to come from a family where those things still had great value. ‘You’re both Dixon’s, so…’

‘We always say that, right?’ Daryl bites out bitterly. ‘The most important thing; blood. But then shit happens and they know things and suddenly it doesn’t matter at all and you’re just… not, anymore.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Paul says softly.

‘Pretty soon I won’t be a Dixon at all, I think. Just Daryl,’ he lets the pencil drag over the paper, creating a stark, jagged line over his drawing. ‘It don’t matter,’ he wipes his hair out of his face and glares at the stars, and then at Paul. ‘Stop stickin’ your nose in. Ain’t nothing to you.’

He still doesn’t understand but decides not to push the matter. There’s anxiety practically radiating from the teenager and Paul hates the way his mouth turns into a thin stripe as he presses his lips together. It almost makes him want to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, telling him that whatever it is, it’ll be okay.

For a second he thinks about calling Glenn or Maggie up but he disregards that thought too.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ he asks instead.

‘No.’

The answer is short but said without hesitation. Paul is glad. He likes being up here and tells the boy why. To escape from everyone who wants something from him, to just have a moment to think. He’s always been that way. As much as he loves parties and dinners and get-togethers with his friends, he used to love spending time on his own, too. Just a couple of hours to recharge and be able to pull that smile off without looking like he is faking it.

It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Daryl. He listens, sharp eyes trained on him even though he doesn’t quite meet his eye. There’s shyness in the way his gaze flickers over his face before landing on his shoulder.

‘Why’d you do it then?’ he asks when Paul tells him that he was never really into all the social obligations.

‘Peer pressure,’ the scout shrugs. ‘Believe it or not; I’m actually very easy to like.’ He flashes the teenager a grin.

‘When you’re not stealing someone’s stuff.’

The spark of humor and teasing surprises Paul. He huffs out a breath of laughter as he watches how Daryl ducks his head shyly again. There’s a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

They talk about Paul’s fear of ending up alone but longing to be out there, without all these people wanting something from him. About the freedom that can’t be had inside walls like these.

‘I get it,’ Daryl says and Paul doesn’t doubt him.

A quiet ‘yeah?’ get him talking, too. About a place they used to have, different from Alexandria and with lots of people. He’s vague about something he’d done to give him the reputation of being wild. Paul wonders whether it was really something Daryl had done. The boy practically oozes the wild, from his clothes to his body language, to the ease with which he moves. He’s graceful, light on his feet but strong.

Paul frowns when Daryl mentions that people had known his dad, that that hadn’t helped his reputation. But the reputation hadn’t caused people to leave him alone. They had wanted to talk to him, to get him to teach them things. Paul smiles when Daryl says that he used to explode into fits of anger every five seconds.

‘Shane let me hunt on my own. That helped,’ the teenager says softly before he gnaws on the back of his pencil just to have something to do. ‘Taught me how to politely tell them to fuck off, too, so…’ he trails off.

Paul laughs. ‘That helped, too?’ he guesses and gently knocks their shoulders together to show that he’s just teasing. Then he twists around to check on the gates before turning back to the boy. ‘Who is Shane?’

He hopes it’s the brother because there’s fondness in the way Daryl says his name.

‘Was,’ Daryl corrects and Paul closes his eyes briefly, cursing himself. ‘He was my friend, took care of me. He was Rick’s partner on the force, before.’

‘I’m sorry you lost him,’ Paul says. ‘I didn’t mean to…. I’m just trying to figure your group out.’

There’s not much to figure out, Daryl tells him and for a moment Paul thinks that he’s crossed the line. That he really is sticking his nose in this time, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind right now. He was twelve when it all started. Paul feels a little sick. He knows some kids survived of course but he can’t imagine having to grow up in this world, with a childhood marred by the world ending.

He eyes Daryl. It’s made for some tough kids, that’s for sure.

Shane took him in, looked after him, and then they found Rick, Maggie, Michonne, all the others.

‘Now I’m just… everybody’s,’ Daryl says with a small shrug. ‘Nobody’s.’

Paul gives him a hesitant smile. ‘What about Glenn? You seem pretty close.’

The teenager snorts. ‘Was the first person of that group I met. My dad, ya know, didn’t like him much.’ He looks away, almost as if he’s ashamed of it. ‘Glenn bein’ a chink and all.’

Paul keep his expression neutral despite the slur. ‘But you liked him?’

‘He gave me an oreo.’

The answer is so unexpected and childish that it makes Paul laugh. The shy grin Daryl shoots him causes fondness to swell in his chest. The blush is back too, and Paul realizes that the teenager feels a sense of pride at being able to make him laugh. It makes him want to reach out and ruffle the dark hair despite the cap being in the way but he knows he’s still too much of a stranger to do it, regardless of the heart-to-heart they’re having.

‘So that’s the way to your heart, huh? Chocolate.’

‘Yeah,’ the teenager smirks. ‘I were in the middle of eatin’ some when you went stomping around on the roof of that truck. It went down with it. ‘s why I hate you.’

‘You don’t hate me,’ Paul grins as he knocks their shoulders together again.

‘Nah,’ Daryl admits. ‘You’re all right.’

‘High praise indeed,’ he teases before leaning closer and reaching out to push one of Daryl’s hands off the sketchbook in his lap so he can look at the drawing. The page is covered with flowers. Black and white and gray but so vivid that they might as well have been in color. There are vines snaking up and down, curling around pedals and pushing leaves aside. Thorns shine dangerously in the patches of light. ‘Talking about high praise,’ Paul says with a smile, ‘this is really good. Beautiful. I should get you some colored pencils as well.’

Daryl hums and shrugs.

Paul thinks about where he might find them. Someone must have a set here, stuffed into a drawer, dusty from disuse. It doesn’t surprise him that the teenager doesn’t ask for them, or urge him to find some for him. A child of the apocalypse; grateful for just food and water and with no real need for nice things that don’t help with their survival.

He’ll find some for him, Paul decides as he looks at the page. He can’t wait to see what he can do with them.

‘Shame about this,’ he runs his finger over the jagged line in the middle, one he’d drawn out of frustration and anger earlier.

Daryl says he can cover it up but then dismisses the whole thing as being something stupid, just something he likes to do. ‘I do other shit now,’ he says. ‘I hunt! Build traps, too. I used to drive a motorcycle.’

‘Really?’ Paul asks because he can’t quite picture it. The boy is small for his age, but he’s already shown his strength and doesn’t seem to be a liar. There’s teenager eagerness in the way he talks now, so eager to prove that he’s older, strong and capable.

He built it in Aaron’s garage by himself but someone stole it from him.

‘Shame,’ Paul murmurs. He wonders whether it were the Saviors but doesn’t press. ‘Can I have it?’

Daryl frowns at him.

‘The sketch,’ Paul clarifies. ‘I’d like to have it.’

He can, but he should wait until Daryl has covered up the ugly mark. Paul agrees and watches how he blends the line a little, turning it into the stem of another flower, one without thorns but with strange leaves. He works quietly and not as quickly as before. In the end, he’s just fussing around with little details until the blush deepens again and he says ‘okay,’ before ripping the page out. ‘Here.’

Paul takes it. ‘Thank you, Daryl,’ the full name sounds almost too formal and Paul gets why everyone calls him Dare. It’s a nickname he hasn’t shared with him yet, though and Paul wonders whether it’s just a family thing. ‘It really is beautiful.’

‘They’re poisonous.’

Paul lifts an eyebrow, ‘they’re real flowers?’

‘Hmm-hmm,’ Daryl swings his legs nervously. ‘They used to grow in the forest behind our trail- home. Our home,’ he says.

Paul notices the quick cover up. Trailer. He used to live in a trailer park.

Puzzle pieces start to fall together.

None of that matters anymore.

‘So it’s a self-portrait in a way, then. An origin story,’ Paul smiles as he smooths the paper out once more before leaning forward on his knees, eyes on the stars again. ‘Thank you,’ he adds but he’s not just talking about the sketch.

‘You’re welcome,’ Daryl nods as he swings his legs again.

Paul thinks about all the boy has said. About his dad who had had a bad reputation, how he hadn’t liked Glenn for being a chink. But still, the boy had liked the man because he’d shared a cookie with him. How he’d casually mentioned that he’d worked in Aaron’s garage. Maybe they’re friends too, Paul muses. He knows that Rick’s group was together before they got to Alexandria, that they had survived together all this time. Ties of family forged among death and desperation.

Suddenly Daryl leans closer.

Paul has barely time to react before he feels dry lips on his cheek. A quick kiss and-

More puzzle pieces sliding together.

‘Ah,’ he says softly because he now understands that it hadn’t exactly been pride at being able to make him laugh that had made the teenager blush. He slowly turns his head a little so he can see the boy’s face. He looks horrified at what he’s done. Eyes wide and scared.

‘I’m sorry,’ Daryl says immediately. ‘I didn’t –‘

‘Don’t run,’ Paul answers softly. He wants to reach out and grab the boy’s wrist but knows that would have the opposite effect. ‘Please don’t run. Why did you do that?’ The teenager doesn’t move but doesn’t answer either. ‘I think I have the right to an answer, Daryl.’

He doesn’t know. He just wanted to.

Paul can’t help but smile at that. He’s seen the boy break another man’s arm without a second thought but knows there’s no cruelty in him. He’s strangely soft in this harsh world. His eyes go a little wild when Paul tells him that not everyone’s intentions are so pure.

There’s hopefulness in his eyes when Daryl clumsily asks whether he is gay.

‘I am,’ Paul nods. But he has to put a stop to this as quickly and painlessly as he can. ‘And you’re going to hate me forever for saying this, but; I’m very flattered and think you’re great, but… I’m,’ he laughs, ‘I’m old, Daryl. I’m almost twice your age. And while it’s not really I could have been your dad territory, it’s close enough that I fear for my balls when Maggie finds out.’

The teenager groans and drops his head to his shoulder. He’s not seeking any affection, Paul realizes when Daryl screws his eyes shut. He’s just trying to hide at this point. The defiant ain’t when Paul says that he’s a kid just serves to prove his point.

Before, he’d agreed with him. He’s not a child when he fights, walking tall next to his family members and running to their aid, delivering it swiftly, with a fierceness that speaks of love and loyalty. But this is a whole other level. This is different.

‘Someone is going to be very lucky to have you at their side, one day,’ he tells the teenager. He doesn’t shake him off, doesn’t force him to sit on his own, can’t make himself move away either. He remembers the first time someone had shot him down and wishes someone had been gentler with him, then. So he lets Daryl recover for a couple of minutes before he realizes something. ‘First kiss?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl murmurs into his shoulder.

Paul laughs.

‘Stop.’

He does. Instead he tells Daryl the story of his own first kiss to brighten the mood and feels very pleased with himself when the young hunter actually laughs. Rejection can be painful, Paul knows that all too well, and he doesn’t want Daryl to never try again with someone else. Doesn’t want him to think back about this and wince.

So he’s glad that the boy talks to him still. He sits up, on his own and the fierce blush he’s sporting slowly ebbs away.

‘Can we stop talkin’ about it?’ Daryl asks, when Paul tries to pry some more. He hides his face in his hands. ‘You don’t like me. Fine. I get it. I won’t do it again.’

Paul wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that he actually likes him a lot. Just not like that. ‘Sure. Okay,’ he says instead to not give him the wrong idea. ‘How are you feeling right now?’

‘Mortified.’

Paul laughs again.

They talk some more. About the fact that Daryl is bisexual but that it doesn’t have to define him, or change him. That it’s just who he is. The fact that Daryl is scared of telling his brother, afraid that he’ll try to hurt him, causes Paul’s heart to clench painfully. Only the fact that Maggie, Glenn and Rick will be right there with him when he goes back eases his mind a little.

They’re good people.

And Daryl won’t run anymore.

Paul takes his hand, kisses it, and then walks away.

  He lobes down the stairs, lost in thought and with the sketch of poisonous flowers in his hands. He stops on the bottom step, surprised to find Michonne standing there. She’s leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of her chest and a pensive look on her face.

‘He wasn’t in the room,’ she says by way of explanation.

‘He was drawing,’ Paul answers and wonders how long she’s been standing there.

Her gaze flickers to the sketch in his hands. ‘Right.’

Paul nods. ‘He’s a good kid.’

‘Yes, he is. How is he?’

The scout smiles at her, ‘do you remember the first time someone turned you down? I think he mentioned being mortified but he was smiling again when I left, so I guess he’ll get over it.’

After a second, the woman smiles back at him. ‘Good,’ she nods before walking away.

Paul watches how the katana blinks dangerously on her back and thinks about how he might never understand all the ties that hold that family together.