#{ i hope it's all right that i went with the gentle ghost 'masquerading as a human' verse }

[yinjiyang]

The Welcoming Waves of Home

"If you ever need a place to stay, let me know, okay?" -- @dreams-of-fate​ -- Lian Song -- In Case You Didn’t Know Starters

       Perhaps it was to his benefit that he could masquerade as a somewhat sickly heir, that his absences during the day and aversion to certain activities could be explained by his 'mysterious affliction'...and yet he was quite good at his nightly activities, defending a neighboring territory from monsters--sometimes in the form of men, sometimes in the form of creatures.  But with a recent onslaught of invaders, it was somewhat surprising to find himself fighting alongside one of the Emperor's highest ranking generals.  A recognition had trickled along the back of his mind amid battle, a very strong presence of water--perhaps the general had felt it as well--and perhaps that had been the catalyst behind the nigh-immediate bond shared between them, or perhaps it was the mutual connection and camaraderie one felt when fighting together.        What had not been expected, however, was this battle to last the entire night, and Feng Maoyin could feel the dawn quickly approaching, the blue hour upon them as the last enemy fell.  Feng Maoyin did not speak much during their encounter, though it was clear he was listening in the wake of battle.  Deep blues of sky faded to gray and just a tinge of red and rose.          If you ever need a place to stay, let me know, okay?        The offer had been unexpected and yet, in that moment, it had been a blessing.  As the sky gained more color, Feng Maoyin's flesh drained of his own, becoming all the more ashen as he wavered just a bit in an otherwise elegant stance, a slight sway reminiscent of the ebb and flow of tied to indicate an unsteadiness which he promptly concealed by straightening his posture once more and lifting his umbrella with a trembling hand.  "...would now be considered inappropriate...?" he asked upon a quivering whisper as he slowly sank to a crouch with a fluid motion, making himself as small as possible as he covered himself with the thick canopy to shield himself from the first rays of morning peeking over the horizon.  To anyone else, this may have been written off as someone exhausted and feeling faint after overexertion; but for someone who may have been a bit more in-tune with the exquisite over-abundance of Yin energy contained within the body of Feng Maoyin, the strong Yang energy of sunrise may have risen a much more prevalent concern.  Faint wisps of shadow wavered at the edges of the fabric, scarcely visible yet telling.

[sohin-ace]

Dio - Stolen Dance

For immersion, listen to the Dark Waltz Music - Vampire masquerade collection on youtube. Oh boy

Especially 'Tonight Ve' Dance' that shit hits the spot for this fanfic. Trust me.

"Would you honor me with a dance, Y/N?"

'Hell no', was what you craved to answer to this charming yet cruel man. Dancing with him meant selling your very soul. You were about to dance with the Devil.

But you had no choice.

You tried to run away from him, from his toxicity, from his poison, but he always managed to get you back and trap you in his web. And now he offered his warm, destructive hand for a dance, just a single dance with him.

And you had no choice.

You could not refuse. You had no right to. It was oh-so reluctantly that you had put your trembling, cold hand over his possessive one. He pulled you towards him as the music played in the luxurious ballroom.

He laid his large hand around your corseted waist, pulling you to him and bringing your bodies a little too close for your own comfort. Way too close for a gentleman to conventionally be from a lady.

But he didn't seem to care one bit as your heart pounded heavily in your chest. He could probably feel it from this proximity. And he most definitely drowned himself in it.

You hesitantly, and regrettably put one hand over his broad shoulder in what you could only call a ghostly touch. You barely wanted to touch him and potentially show him a form of validation from his wrongdoings.

He engulfed your other hand in his own, relishing in the adorable yet terrifying size difference. If he wanted, he could just close his entire hand on yours and claim it as his. Just how he could easily close the distance between you and claim you just the same.

People were around. The ladies and gentlemen of the World. High class society, partying mondanely through the night. Couples dancing, businessmen meeting, Madames chatting.

Oh but in these decorated mansions, the families yearned to see newfound lovers, for what a sight it was.

Some were watching you in earnest and maybe even admiration, glad to see how the charming, handsome Dio Brando of the Joestar Estate was gracefully swaying in rhythm with the gentle, beautiful Y/N L/N, daughter of the Lord L/N.

Your face felt warm, burning almost and it was not a comfortable feeling. Maybe it was the close proximity between him and you, maybe it was all the unnecessary attention you were receiving, putting pressure and forcing shyness upon you.

Maybe it was the rising anxiety that built viciously within you and made yout heart pump violently in your chest, or maybe it was the pure hatred you felt towards the blonde man holding you captive within this very dance.

It didn't matter what it was, it felt horrible, suffocating. You could barely breathe, the room was spinning.

You were always taught to look at your partner in the eyes when dancing, but now your partner wasn't just anyone. It was Dio Brando. There was no way you could look up at his soul-piercing amber, no, crimson red eyes. Like gems of blood.

If you looked at them, if you even glanced at them...

"You are quite tense, dear." He released your hand briefly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting cool air hitting your now more exposed cheek and temple. "Relax and follow my lead."

You wanted to scoff at his words. How could you relax when your only wish at the moment was to run away from him? Your family was nowhere to be seen, Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. No one was there and no one would help you.

"You stole this dance, Dio," You growled quietly, not wanting to gather even more attention to yourself. "But it will be the last thing that you'll steal from me. Heed my words."

You finally met his eyes to grace him with a glare and he only looked down on you with mockery and a hint of fondness. As if your anger was endearing to him. He hummed in amusement.

"Hmmm...? Do I take it that everything else will be graciously given to me...?"

Before you could even gasp at his scandalous assumptions, you missed a step and fell forward, right against his solid chest. He of course didn't waste a second in wrapping his strong arms around your small form.

You could hear the other guests whispering and chuckling, probably drinking in the sight and preaching how cute you both were. The beautiful Y/N L/N clumsily falling into the arms of the very handsome Dio Brando.

Like a princess and her prince, right from a romance story. It was really fresh to witness and people just couldn't wait to see you both engaged, you looked so perfect together. After all, in this mondane society, it was all about looks.

If only they knew the truth.

You tried to push yourself off of him as you laid your palms flat on his chest, but he held you there firmly. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and the blonde leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Let us go somewhere more private darling. I am tired of those curious eyes."

You felt like you were about to faint and really wanted to get out of that busy room, but surely not with Dio. As you didn't have much of a say in this, you let him guide you away, to one of the many chambers in the mansion.

He opened the door wide for you and you entered the empty, cold room bathing in darkness, not sparing him a single glance and went straight ahead to the large windows that lead to a beautifully decorated balcony.

You stayed inside though, as Dio closed the door behind him and went on his way to light a gas lamp that was laid on a night stand.

You gently pushed the silky curtains aside to glance at the moon outside. You stared at her magnificent silver light, completely forgetting where you were and that Dio was still in this very room.

You sighed, comforted by the moonlight. The moon was full on this cold night, it was the end of the year and it felt like the nocturnal satellite decided to show off all of her magic tonight.

Sometimes, you envied those legendary creatures who lived solely by the moonlight. Fantastical beings who could see the moon through all her phases and for as long as they lived. Werewolves, Vampires...

"...Beautiful, isn't it?"

You gasped, startled by his sudden deep voice so close to your ear. You swiftly turned around and glared at him, offended that his appearance tore you off your pleasant rêverie.

"Oh, please do continue. The moon reflects so deliciously on your skin, it is beyond mezmerizing."

"Yo-... you're losing yourself again, Dio!" You tried to sound strong and composed, but you couldn't help the slight whimper from escaping your throat.

"Maybe..." He lifted his large arm next to your head to fully open the curtain behind you, the sudden position flustering you as you felt trapped yet again.

You looked down as you contemplated fleeing. How many attempts was it now? You stopped counting after the 20th, but you wanted to flee again.

Not bearing the sight of his broad chest in front of you, you turned slightly back to the window and side-glanced at the beautiful garden.

There was a large maze in there. The thought of maybe trying to lose Dio there was very appealing. It turned your once melancholic and lonely expression into a softer, more relaxed one.

The moonlit maze alone filling your heart with an ounce of hope, the ghost of a smile reached your lips and eyes.

"What a sweet expression you are sporting, my love." The blond devil put his large hand on your cheek and turned your head to face him as he purred. "Although I delect myself more from your despaired expression."

Disgusting. This man was disgusting. You put a hand over his large wrist as a sign to tell him to let go of you, which he patently ignored.

He leaned forward, hovering dangerously over your face as he lifted your chin up, a soft smirk stretching his lips.

"Now tell me... what could my dove possibly be thinking about to make her look so beautifully blithe?"

You looked downwards to the red brooch on his tie, the ornament suddenly more distracting than his dominating burning gaze on you.

"I was thinking of getting away from you. It gets me going." You spoke the unfiltered truth with bitter sugar dripping from your voice.

The man before you froze upon hearing those words. Were you challenging him? Him?! The Dio Brando?

You drove him so crazy. Oh you drove him to such unfathomable frustration. His blood was boiling and pumping ferociously in his veins.

His entire body cringed, his fists balling tightly. He ground his teeth as his eyes widened in pure rage. Or was it rage? No it was deeper, more twisted than that.

It was lust.

He needed to gather all his self-control to prevent himself from breaking something or rather someone right this instant.

Yes... He could break you. Oh and it would be so easy and so satisfying, too. Nothing could quench his thirst more than destroying every inch of you at that moment.

You were such a nasty pest, you were so terribly problematic, no wonder he was so infatuated with you. So obssessed with you.

You were bad, maybe as bad as him. You pushed on all his buttons like no one ever did and yet, you played the cute little perfect girl in front of everyone else.

You made him so insane, so mad. He wanted you all to himself. He yearned for you to get your revenge on him, to be infuriated with him. He craved you right here, right now. He loved that you hated him.

Swiftly, he pressed his weight against you and pushed your body flush against the window as you gasped in surprise, barely able to even react at the forceful contact.

He was quick to catch your wrist and pin it next to your head as you tried desperately to push him away, your other hand uselessly resting on his much stronger arm.

You tried to squirm away, but his body meddled with yours in an emprisonning cage. You couldn't hide your panicked pants anymore.

"You damn woman..." He breathed in a shaky hiss right next to your heating ear, his tone way darker now and his eyes half-lidded. "Do you even realize what you are doing to me?" He spat with venom but also with dripping excitement. "You are in deep trouble, darling."

He nuzzled his face in your exposed neck, drenching himself in your sweet scent and you shuddered, his hot breath on your skin making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

Your heart hammered alarmingly inside your chest as his malicious hold triggered your Fight or Flight response. This was bad. Real bad. You struggled against his grip, writhing and pushing him.

But struggling against him was futile, useless. So useless, useless, useless...

"I hate you, Dio Brando. There's not a single piece of you that is remotely redeemable!" You growled in his ears through exhausted pants. "Hear me when I say this, I despise every inch of your disgraceful being, Dio-ugh...! I hate you with all my might...!!"

"Yes!" He grunted hungrily as he put his free hand around your hips, leaving no space between your body and his, feeling all of yourself against him. "That's it, that's what I want to hear! One more time... Scream it."

"You disgusting bastard... You have no shame..." You squeezed your eyes shut, you refused to cry. Never for him. He didn't deserve it.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N... Please." He was crazed, Dio lost himself, yet again. "Sweet Y/N, let me make you mine... Be mine... I know you want this..."

Just like that, the man above you craddled your body like his most prized possession, teasing the pulsing point of your neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. He clutched your hips and wrist in a bruising grip and you knew there was nothing you could do.

"I'm going to ravish you, destroy you..."

And so he did.

[cakesunflower]

Between The Aisles [Prince!Calum AU] One Shot

A/N: this is just a random piece i drummed up. it’s 5.3k which is relatively short for me LMAO. i MIGHT do a second part to this but i’m not too sure yet; it depends if i’m in the mood to write second person again since we all know how much i hate that. but anyways. happy reading hehe

        The palace library is where you felt most at ease. It was, unsurprisingly, the quietest part of the overwhelmingly large estate, and you spent countless hours roaming the aisles, fingers brushing along the spines of the books, before finding a comfortable spot or a leather chair and losing yourself to a book of your choice. There were large windows on one side of the library, the glass actually taking up the entirety of the wall, allowing for endless natural light to bathe the room. The view was that of the valley below, the greenery as bright as the sunlight that streamed in—save for this time of year, where snow blanketed the grounds in pristine white and provided a haze through the sky. And sitting on a chair by the window, the snow falling gently outside, a book in your hands, was your favorite way to spend your time in the library.

           Along with, of course, the moments the Prince caught sight of you.

           The shelves in the library were many and stood tall, full of any and every novel and textbook and document the royal family and its curators could get their hands on to stock up. And through the gaps of the shelves down the long aisles, you would catch glimpses of Prince Calum making his way through, though never towards you—despite his attention being solely on you. You could feel it, every time—feel him. The way his dark eyes burned on your skin, a delicious sensation that simultaneously warmed you and sent chills down your spine. His wandering through the library would appear innocent, but you knew it was anything but. Knew that he was a predator on the hunt and every time, it was you who he was after. And you were compliant every time.

           Sometimes, the Prince would join you by taking a seat across from you, a book in his own hands. You two would sit in the quiet of the library, both doing your best in keeping your interest strictly on the books you were reading, never giving away the glances you’d lay upon the other. It was a game; always wanting to look at the other, but never wanting to be caught.

           It wasn’t as though your dalliance was forbidden; you were the daughter of Calum’s father’s, the King, most trusted advisor. You’d been living at the palace for as long as Calum had, were practically treated as royalty—though, not to the same extent as Calum, of course. But the only relationship you showed the world you had with Calum was that of being his friend, nothing more. It was easier that way, less attention.

           You didn’t enjoy it—the attention. But if it was Calum’s, during your private moments, you reveled in it.

           You often thought of that first night, where your friendship had turned into something more intimate, where you crossed a line neither of you expected to. It had been during one of the many parties the royal family threw in the palace—you couldn’t hope to remember what it had been for—and unsurprisingly had grown bored of the festivities. You were more prone to spend most of the night reading rather than drinking and entertaining people, which was why you had snuck off to the library. As the daughter of a high ranking member in the palace, just below the King and Queen, you were expected to present a smiling face and adapt to the role you were given. Unfortunately, your pretty face also deigned the attraction of the sons of noblemen and local lords—sons you didn’t want to entertain. So off to the library you went, the wine you had drank giving you the motivation to do so.

           It hadn’t been long after until there was another presence in the grand library, and you had been surprised, that first night, to look up from the book you had been reading to see the Prince himself wandering inside. How you two ended up hidden between the aisles as he took you against the shelves was a blur—but the memory of it actually happening was one burned in your head.

           It wasn’t as though the library was the only place where your trysts occurred; you’d often fall into one another’s beds, or the various hidden spots around the palace you grew up finding together in your explorations. But the library—it was a mutually favored location. A spot amongst hundreds of stories where you participated in one of your own, just for your eyes.

           Tonight, you were lost in the corner where the wall met the historical fiction section of the library, your bodies hidden by the rows and rows of high rising shelves, the setting sun dimming the room. How easily had Calum slid the leggings off of you, hands gripping your bare thighs, rings chilly against your heated skin as your legs wrapped around his hips, while he devoured your moans with the kisses he gave you. He tasted like peppermint, smelled delicious, and fit in you perfectly, familiarly, as his hips drove into yours at a wondrous, greedy pace.

           The world slipped away when it was just the two of you, and you tried not to think of how dangerous that was. To be so in tuned with the Prince, in how he made you feel, that everything else seemed second-best. But thoughts of anything else seemed impossible when you were with Calum, ever since you started seeking each other out for intimate companionship. You’d gotten a taste—more than a taste—and you were worried that you had grown addicted far quicker than anticipated.

           When you finished, heavy breaths mingling with his face buried in the crook of your neck, stubble tickling your skin as your fingers remained tangled in his growing blonde hair, you closed your eyes. Still joined intimately, you waited for your heart rate to settle, were all too aware of the electricity still coursing through your veins in the aftermath of your shattering release. That’s what it felt like every time Calum brought you to the edge—like the world had slipped from beneath your feet and you were falling, falling, falling.

           Calum pulled away as his dark eyes met your gaze, and the windows high on the wall behind you provided for just some of the setting sunlight to gleam against his eyes. His cheeks were slightly flushed, lips kissed. Your own gaze fell to them briefly, a tug in your chest to kiss him again, but you remained pressed against the wall, trying to ease your labored breathing. “You’re comin’ to the party tomorrow, right?” Calum asked, voice hushed and raspy, just a hint of breathlessness present.

           You reveled in the feel of one of his hands raising so the back of his knuckle could graze along your cheek, his touch gentle. A small, lazy smile tilted at your lips as you gazed up at him, appreciative of the rasp in his voice that always trickled in when he was with you. “Of course,” you answered, just as quietly. With a teasing tone, you added, “I wouldn’t miss your Highness’s twenty-fifth birthday.”

           He rolled his eyes, though the amusement danced in them, as well as in the tilt of his lips. Calum wasn’t too fond of you referring to him by his title—at least not when it was just you two, absent from the eyes of the public—but he was all too aware of your tendency to call him by such in a playful manner. He couldn’t lie, though—the look in your eyes when you did so, mischief glimmering in them, always stirred something in the pit of Calum’s stomach. Something desirable, something wanting.

           “You have the habit of running out of parties early,” Calum pointed out with a ghost of a smirk, heart thudding when the flush on your cheeks darkened.

           You leaned your head back against the wall, never breaking your gaze. Your voice was soft as you responded, “Nothing’s ever as riveting as what I find in this room.”

           Calum quirked an eyebrow, smirk widening. You often found him in this room, just as he did you, so Calum was inclined to agree with your statement. He leaned in, fingers dragging up the warm skin of your thigh as his lips brushed against yours, the electricity of the touch singeing his veins. In a low voice, he persuaded, “At least wait until after the cake’s cut.”

           A breathless laugh escaped you, knowing there was no significance in his request other than the fact that the cake was always cut hours into the party. Calum just wanted you to stay longer than you normally would. Since it was his birthday, you were inclined to let him have this. So you tilted your head, just enough to brush the tip of your nose with his, words coming out in a whisper, “As you wish, sire.”

           You had expected his gaze to darken at your words, had expected them to push him towards the desire that still burned him enough to kiss you again. It was why you’d said them, after all.

*****

           The party was more or less a masquerade ball. You knew it wasn’t Calum’s idea as much as it was his parents’, but you knew he didn’t entirely mind. The grand ballroom was decorated fittingly in blacks and purples, several tables along the sides of the room filled with delicious food, while the room itself was brimming with guests dressed in their finest suits and dresses, pairing them with intricate masks that covered their eyes.

           You had gone for a red dress, the top half lace with off-the-shoulder full sleeves and a long, slim skirt of tulle that swayed with the slightest of movements. Your mask was of a matching red lace against a white velvet, the click of your heels against the sleek floor drowned out by the music playing and the chatter of the guests mingling. In your hand was a flute of, rings and nails clinking against the glass when you had grabbed it, sharp eyes taking in your surroundings as you moved about. There was an odd sense of relief in your chest that came with this being a masquerade—maybe you could get away with not being the daughter of the King’s advisor but just you.

           Though every face was hard to place, there was one that you recognized right away—how could you not? Calum was the man of the night, and he certainly looked like it in his custom made black suit, the jacket glittering with swirling designs that gleamed under the bright lights of the ballroom. Even his mask, black with gold details, did next to nothing to hide his powerful personality. You recognized the rings on his fingers, the jewelry leaving imprints on your skin after every time you sought each other out for your private moments. You would know him anywhere by the way he carried himself, tall and proud and the next heir to the throne. You didn’t even need the stunning golden crown, bedecked in jewels of deep red and blue, to know that it was him. You’d know him anywhere.

           You hadn’t seen each other for most of the day, so you were patiently waiting for the moment to go up to him and wish him a happy birthday, to smile at him from under your mask without worrying too much of people looking at you too closely. And you watched, in that moment, as Calum glanced around after breaking away from a couple of people he’d been talking to.

           For a moment, you foolishly wondered if he was looking for you.

           But then, through the space of guests in gorgeous gowns and elegant suits, somehow Calum’s eyes found yours. You noted the curve of his lips, expecting to see a smirk, feeling the air get knocked out of your lungs at the sight of the grin that he wore. Then he made his way towards you, and you started moving towards him as well, stopping right when you were in front of one another. You smiled, sweet and adoring. “Happy birthday, Calum.”

           His smile widened when you uttered his name, raising his own glass to clink it against yours. “Hope you’re not planning your escape now that you’ve made an appearance.”

           Your cheeks flushed but smile remained, shooting him a mock offended look. “I would never,” you soothed, adoring the amusement dancing in his eyes.

           The music changed then, a whimsical ballad sweeping through the room as people sought partners to dance with. Calum’s dark eyes never left yours, and he offered his free hand with a gentle, “May I have this dance?”

           One simply doesn’t reject the Prince with such a request. Ignoring the escalating beating of your heart, you and Calum both put your glasses on a passing waiter’s tray, throat tightening as you placed your hand in Calum’s and his fingers wrapped around yours. You were all too aware of the gazes that weighed you down, the eyes on the Prince and the girl he was pulling towards the center of the room, whether they knew who you were or not. The attention wasn’t anything you enjoyed, though you should be used to it at this point, but you tried to focus on just one thing: Calum.

           He moved seamlessly through the crowd that made way for him, turning around to face you as his left hand grasped your right, your left resting upon his shoulder and reveling in his other arm wrapping around your waist, tugging you towards him, too intimate to be casual. But what the others in the room didn’t know just how far your intimacy went—far beyond the would-be innocent closeness of a slow dance.

           You tried to put it out of your mind, the stares, as you and Calum moved to the ballad amongst the other dancing guests, your body taut as your front pressed against his, your dress swaying with your movements. “You’re not nervous because of me, are you?” Calum questioned, the teasing tone easing into his voice.

           You were grateful for it, knowing that he was all too aware of your issues with too much public attention. Making light of it helped and he knew that. “You think too highly of yourself,” you replied quietly, a secretive smile curling at your lips.

           A smirk pulled at his mouth, looking down at you through the mask. “I’m a Prince—it’s in my nature.”

           “As is all this attention,” you said, almost breathlessly. You wished you could ignore the gazes completely, but it seemed next to impossible. With a small smile, you asked him, “Are you sure I can’t sneak off before the cake’s cut?”

           Calum raised his eyebrows, fingers holding a pleasant grip on yours, the metal of his rings clashing with your thinner ones. “You’d leave me to fend for myself?”

           A huff of a laugh escaped you, gently rolling your eyes as the small grin played on his face. “You’d be just fine without my company.”

           “Doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

           Your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your body because of Calum’s words—and his own front pressed against yours. Your gaze slid over to your joined hands, a clear picture of crossing the line of casual and treading into intimacy with the way your fingers were linked together. It was difficult to block out the images flashing through your mind of your hands joined exactly like that, except it occurring during the moments where he took you against the wall in the library or where you both were tangled in either of your bed sheets. It was the way Calum held you that always had your thoughts wandering into dangerous territory, wondering if it could possibly be something more than just the two of you biding your time with each other’s company.

           Was there room for something more? Did he want that? Did you?

           Deep in your heart, you did. You couldn’t hide that even from yourself. But he was the Prince. And you often tried to escape whatever spotlight you already had in the palace—being with Calum would only intensify it.

           The voice in the back of her head reminded you of what you already had accepted, He’s worth it.

           “Hey,” Calum said softly, giving a squeeze of your hand until your gaze met his again. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked curiously, “Where did you go?”

           When you got lost in your thoughts just then, you knew he meant. Calum had the ability to read people pretty well—it was something he learned to do effortlessly in his upbringing—and it never slipped your mind that he could do it exceptionally well where you were concerned. He could read you like his favorite book.

           You were surprised you didn’t quite trip on your feet as you took in the way he was gazing at you. Brown eyes soft beneath the mask that glittered against his golden skin, an encouraging tilt on his lips. But you couldn’t tell him where your thoughts had taken you, couldn’t speak out about the imagination that held you captive most days, cruelly making you think about a relationship you didn’t believe would ever come to fruition. Calum was a Prince—he was destined to be with someone of royal status, or close to it, despite the way you, yourself, were treated because of your close affiliations with the royal family. Your name bore no title; you weren’t worthy. Not of him.

           Before you could even think of an answer you could casually pass off, someone stepped up to you. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, loves,” Calum’s mother, the Queen, spoke with a smile, always kind. Her eyes went to her son from behind her emerald green mask. “But there’s some people who want to wish you, sweetheart.”

           Calum glanced at you as you pressed your lips together in a kind smile. You’d stopped dancing at his mother’s arrival, but your touches remained. Calum glanced at you, as if he needed your permission to cut the dance short, and it pulled something in your chest as you gave just the barest dip of your chin. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you excused herself, reluctantly stepping out of his grasp. You didn’t dare acknowledge the coldness you felt without the warmth of his body.

           You watched as he was whisked away, biting the inside of your lip as you made your way out of the dancing crowd. Like you had said, you grabbed another drink, this time going for some red wine as you found a spot to linger at by the wall. You watched, sipping your drink, as the Queen led Calum to a small group of people, and you knew immediately they were some of the local lords—their wives and daughters right by their sides.

           Calum smiled at them, that charming Prince smile that effortlessly melted people, and you could just hear the giggles of the daughters despite the distance between you. You were so busy watching them, observing them, that you didn’t even notice the person who came to stand by your side until Luke huffed out a breath. “And so it begins.”

           You glanced up at your friend, the silver mask making his light blue eyes pop as you raised an eyebrow. “What begins?”

           Luke jerked his chin over to where Calum was, a wry smile on his lips. “The matchmaking. He’s already twenty-five, which means they’re gonna try to marry him off before he’s crowned king.” Luke shot you a glance, raising a curious eyebrow. “Come on, you know this.”

           You did know this, and suddenly your skin flushed from embarrassment. He was the Prince—the next to become King, and everyone knew that it would be sooner rather than later. That in itself had never slipped your mind—the notion of him marrying, however, did. And you couldn’t understand how, not with the conversations the two of you sometimes had when you laid in bed, staring at the high ceilings of your rooms. Where Calum would talk about his excitement of becoming King despite the pressures that came with it, only ever worried about the thought of getting married.

           He had made it clear to his parents, you knew, that he wanted to marry for love. Calum was never one to take something as significant as marriage lightly, and his parents understood—they, after all, had married for love. Still, that wouldn’t stop them from introducing their son to daughters of high ranking members of their society in hopes that one of them would catch Calum’s eye. It never escaped you that when Calum did talk about marriage, he always ended the conversation—before it could even start, honestly—by simply stating he’d only marry someone he loved, someone who wanted him and not his title. He could easily tell which girls were like that—most of them were, he had said.

           And you’d just listen, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that loving Calum was easier than breathing—and that it was his very title that suffocated the confession in your throat before it could ever escape.

           Your eyes were glued to Calum, watching that easy smile on his face as he chatted away with the women, and your chest tightened almost painfully. Every single available woman, you knew, would trip over their feet for Calum’s attention, to be the one he takes a second look at and be curious for more. And it twisted something in your stomach at the thought of it someday happening—of it happening tonight.

           You and Calum—you weren’t anything. Just two friends who were fooling around, to put it crudely. Who were you to be allowed a seat next to him other than the daughter of the crown’s advisor?

           The truth—one you already knew—slapped you in the face as you forced down the rest of the wine. How could you have been so stupid, so foolish, to fall for the Prince? How could you have believed that sleeping with him on more than one occasion wouldn’t lead your heart into despair? How naïve.

           You barely managed another hour of the party when you finally slipped away, feeling some guilt pool in your stomach at not being able to stick around for as long as Calum had wanted you to. But he was busy; many beautiful women were surrounding him in hopes of securing a future—he wouldn’t miss your presence too much, you figured.

           Of course you ended up in the library once more—getting lost in a fictional world with made up characters sounded much more enchanting than being stuck in reality. It was empty, unsurprisingly, the music and chatter of guests in the ballroom muted as you ventured into the one place you felt most comfortable. Despite it being nighttime, the sky beyond the glass wall was light with the haze of snowfall, frost icing the glass.

           You ventured down a random aisle, deciding to pick a book by whatever its title was, hoping it would be enough to distract you from the weight that had settled in your chest. You didn’t know what you were going to do; you desperately hoped this feeling, this ache and yearning, would disappear soon for your own good. But it was wishful thinking, a bitter part of your mind reminded. Falling in love with Calum had been effortless; falling out of it seemed impossible.

           You didn’t dare acknowledge the idea of him not feeling the same way about you at all.

           Your retreat to the library remained undisturbed for about twenty minutes when, in the quiet of the room, you heard one of the large doors creak open. You had found refuge on one of the leather chairs, your mask sitting on the table beside you as a novel about witches and witch-hunters sat open in your lap, legs folded beneath you as your dress pooled around your lap.

           Your heart raced at the thought of who would come to the library while there was a party in honor of the Prince going on, and it damn near stopped when Calum himself appeared, his mask missing as his dark eyes found you.

           The breath hitched in your throat as he frowned, approaching you, features shadowed thanks to the dull lighting you’d set the room into. As you peered at him, your stomach sank when you saw the disappointment etched into his face, mixing in with the hurt you hadn’t entirely expected. You knew it was a shitty thing to do, to leave his birthday celebration so early, but you had been thinking with your aching heart. Getting away in order to free yourself from the view of Calum with potential suitors had become a selfish priority.

           He stood just a few feet away from you, shrugging bitterly as he asked, “Did you even try to see your promise through?”

           You wanted to tell him you didn’t technically promise him anything. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a muttered, “Didn’t think you’d even notice I left.”

           Calum frowned, eyebrows knitting together and lips pulling downwards. “Of course I noticed you left. I would’ve come here sooner but Mum kept me by her side.”

           Dropping your gaze back down to the open book in your lap, you scoffed lightly. “Right—to introduce you to a potential bride.”

           You were losing control of yourself, you knew, with how easily the sarcastic and bitter remarks were slipping past your mouth. It was pathetic how unabashedly you were letting your feelings be known, practically shining a light on your jealousy and resentment. And it wasn’t fair—not to Calum, that you’d fallen for him. That you never let him know that there was something more you wanted with him. That putting aside your reluctance of being in any kind of spotlight would’ve been so easy so long as he was by your side.

           “To introduce me to potential suitors, yes,” Calum corrected carefully, slowly, and you could just hear the bewildered frown in his voice. You watched from your peripherals as he took a step towards you. “But I’ve told you—and Mum—that if I were to get married, it’d only be for love.”

           There was a burning in your eyes and you cursed yourself for becoming emotional. You couldn’t cry, not because of this. You willed the tears to keep at bay as you looked up once more to look at Calum. He was still frowning, confused as to what was happening, probably wondering what had gotten you in such a foul mood. Too quietly did you respond, “What’s stopping you from falling in love with one of them?”

           Dangerous. You were creeping towards dangerous, exposing territory, but you no longer found yourself caring. If he found out about your feelings, then so be it. You wouldn’t shy away, wouldn’t hide. Not anymore. He would know, and then it’d be up to him what to do with it. And maybe that was a coward’s way out, giving him the power so you wouldn’t have to make a decision, but it would make it easier to breathe.

           Calum’s lips tightened as his jaw clenched, the muscle feathering under the skin as he looked down at you. Emotions swirled in his dark gaze—too many for you to grasp. His crown glinted against the lights, but you couldn’t help but think his eyes glittered far more beautifully. His throat worked, voice a deep rasp as he held your gaze and stated evenly, “I won’t fall for any of them. I’m already in love with you.”

           The air rushed out of your lungs, almost audible in the silence that followed his unwavering confession. You were frozen where you sat, drinking in the sight of him as his words hung in the air. The honesty was bright in his eyes for you to see, open and true and needing you to believe the sincerity in his words—his feelings. Your throat locked as you took in the Prince before you—a King in every right—who had just laid himself bare in a few short words that meant everything.

           He loved you. Calum was in love with you.

           The tears you had tried to keep away ran freely down your cheeks. You didn’t even care that you could taste the salt on the corner of your lips. Something in Calum’s face crumpled when he saw your tears, and suddenly the Prince was on his knees before you, hands grasping yours in your lap as he looked up at you.

           “I’ve been in love with you long before we started finding each other in this library,” Calum said, his voice low and raspy and honest. His hands were warm around yours, the chill of his rings enticing as always. But all you could focus on was his brown eyes. On his earnest words. “It was torture—being with you but not being with you. But I kept it to myself out of fear that you didn’t feel the same, that you didn’t want the. . . Attention of being with me.” It was terrifying—and exciting—how well he knew her, in regards to his second statement, of course. Calum cracked a smile, small and hopeful. “Because holding you like that. . . Kissing you. . . and still being just your friend was better than the alternative.”

           Your heart was erratic in your chest, breath shaking as your trembling lips parted and you whispered, “You want to be with me? Outside of the library?”

           Calum tipped his chin up, maintaining your gaze, a softness in his eyes that melted your heart. “I want to be with you in any way you’ll have me.”

           You would be lying if you said there was no fear in that idea. It was present, of course, derived from your aversion to the attention you would no doubt receive by being at Calum’s side. You wanted him, not his crown, even though most would say it was one in the same. But if being with him meant being tied to the throne, then you would bear it. For your happiness, you would do it. For him, there was no question about it.

           Calum was waiting for your response, for you to say something, hands still clutching yours. And although this turn of events was unexpected, slightly frightening—it was all the more exciting and relieving. He loved you. He’d beensilently loving you, perhaps for as long as you have him, and you would have laughed at both of your cluelessness if you weren’t so deliriously happy.

           So you leaned forward, the book in your lap long forgotten, gaze never leaving Calum’s. The brown of his eyes was always so compelling, so alluring, his mouth waiting to be kissed. Your lips tilted up, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you told him quietly, “I’ve spent so long loving you between these aisles. I’m ready to do it out there, too.”

           The smile he gave you wasn’t the one he wore as Prince, wasn’t the one he offered to lords and noblemen and their daughters and the media. No, this smile was one especially reserved for you; a smile that softened his eyes and decorated the corners with those happy crinkles, a smile that sent your heart racing and skin warming. It was the smile he gave you when you were in bed together, one he would shoot towards you during events neither of you were particularly fond of and your eyes met from across the room.

           It was the smile he wore right before he kissed you for the first time since both of your feelings had been made clear, lips soft and eager. This smile was yours.

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @meetashthere​ @astroashtonio​ @loverofhood​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbabiesss​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @malumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @miss-saltwatercowgirl​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @mindkaleidoscope​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @tpwkcal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @notinthesameguey​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​ 

[honey-dewey]

Rodeo Romeo and Agent Juliet

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Kingsman Reader

Word Count: 2,118

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Jack was never a fan of classic literature, but when Agent Juliet comes in from Kingsman for the annual Statesman Holiday Gala and immediately calls him the ‘Rodeo Romeo,’ he may be a little bit, okay a lot, in love with the totally off limits woman. What he doesn’t know is that darling Agent Juliet is just as deep in it for her beautiful Rodeo Romeo. Expect many references to Shakespeare, and I promise no one dies at the end.

Author’s Notes: Based off a wonderful post by @pedrocentric that cursed me into writing 2,000 words in a day. I love you for the stab of inspiration I was given. 

The Statesman annual holiday gala was, in Jack’s words, a fancy pain in the ass. It was an excuse to get dressed up and horribly drunk, and while he knew his night would end in some beautiful woman’s bed, he didn’t want to go through the actual gala to get there. 

“This is bullshit,” he decided firmly, adjusting his hat and mask. Every year, the gala had a theme, usually pretty vague so people could get creative. This year, the theme was masquerade. Jack, at Ginger’s request, was wearing his usual tuxedo that he wore to every gala, his hat, and a gorgeous black mask with intricate silver details. It was a pain in the ass, but he had to admit, the mask made him look really good. 

“I know,” Ginger reassured, tying her own delicate golden mask. “But as two of the more involved agents, we have to attend.” 

Jack sighed. “Anyone new attending this year, or will it be a familiar crowd?” 

Ginger reached over his chest and readjusted his bow tie. “Kingsman is coming. Eggsy, Harry, and I think they’re bringing a new agent. Agent Juliet? They’re rebranding to have classic literature names instead of Arthurian legend names. Something about inclusivity, I think.” 

“Yeah well,” Jack mumbled. “I was never a fan of classic literature.” 

They left the room together, ready for the music and the lights of the party. It was a bit more toned down from last year, with quieter music and gentle lights. Plenty of Statesman agents filtered around, along with some of their business partners. Jack did what he always did at these parties. Started his night off with a glass of whiskey and went right into flirting with some pretty thing in a tight rose colored dress. 

“Heads up,” Ginger said behind him, sliding up to the bar as Jack’s rosey target walked away. “Kingsman’s here.” 

Jack turned, seeing the familiar two Kingsman agents he’d tried to kill. In his defense, he hadn’t been right in the head, and they’d both forgiven him. Apparently holding grudges wasn’t the Kingsman way. 

“Whiskey,” Eggsy greeted as he walked up to the bar. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Jack said smoothly. “Who’s the lady?” 

Standing by Eggsy’s side, chatting happily with another woman, was the prettiest lady Jack had ever seen. Delicate features barely hidden behind a midnight blue and silver mask, Jack traced down perfectly shaped lips lined in dusty pink and a beautiful silver necklace that laid across her collarbones perfectly. Her dress was a soft looking midnight blue, all flowing fabrics and cinching at her natural waist with a silver belt. The heart shaped neckline and semi-sheer sleeves lay across her skin in a way that made her look, in a single word, like a goddess. 

“This is Agent Juliet,” Eggsy introduced, nudging Juliet forward. “Jules, this is Agent Whiskey.” 

Juliet scanned Jack from top to bottom, her brows knitting a bit as she thought. 

“Oh!” She finally exclaimed. “Is this the one who couldn’t flirt for shit?” 

Immediately, Jack almost choked on his drink while Eggsy laughed out loud. “Yeah!” He said. “Something like that.” 

Juliet smiled. “From the looks of it, I’d say he’d a regular rodeo Romeo.” 

Just like that, Jack was deeply in love with her. The way the corner of her mouth quirked as she gave him the nickname, the way her hands clasped in front of her, the look she gave him. It was enough to ruin the newly christened Rodeo Romeo. 

“Jules?” An unfamiliar man came up, sliding a hand around Juliet’s waist. “Who’s this?” 

Juliet sighed, a deep and unsatisfied sigh as she shifted the man’s hand off her hip. “Darling, this is Agent Whiskey. Agent, this is my boyfriend, Agent Paris.” 

And with one word, she had broken his heart. Jack drew a breath in, an action that went entirely unnoticed by everyone but Ginger. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s wonderful to meet you Agent Paris. Jack and I are going to see if we can’t find Champ, I’m sure you’ll want to meet him.” 

Jack nodded halfheartedly as she pulled him off. Suddenly, he wasn’t very happy about meeting the new agents. 

———

You sighed, watching Agent Whiskey get dragged away. He seemed so nice, and his brilliant brown eyes were so deep, you could’ve easily gotten lost in them all night. Instead, your boyfriend had to walk up, ruining the moment. 

“Babe,” he said, kissing your neck, much to your disgust. “Want to dance?” 

“No thanks,” you said sourly, hoping he understood your tone as you walked away, heading towards the bathrooms. 

Sliding down the wall, you sighed, adjusting your shoes so they weren’t so tight, and finally abandoning them altogether. 

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice said, knocking on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” 

Unlocking the door and allowing Eggsy to slide in, you smiled, seeing him holding two drinks. Accepting one and immediately swallowing down the soda sweetened liquid, you collapsed back against the wall. “Fuck me Eggsy, I hate him.” 

“So break up with him,” Eggsy said plainly, joining you on the floor. “You’re an adult. Tell him he sucks complete ass and run right into the strong and manly arms of your cowboy Romeo.” 

You punched his arm playfully. “Firstly,” you said. “It’s rodeo Romeo. And secondly, I am not in love with Agent Whiskey.” 

Eggsy raised an eyebrow at you. “Yes. You are.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are to.” 

You burst into laughter. “We sound like children,” you realized. “What was in that drink?” 

“A bit of whiskey, some coke, a few ice cubes,” Eggsy recited. “Now go get your man.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood and smiled. “Maybe I will.” 

You headed off to the balcony, intent on clearing your head. It was barren, the cold weather deterring most from braving the outside. You sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at Statesman’s garden. It was beautifully kept, with fields of trees you assumed grew fruit in the warmer months. 

A rustling broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you saw Jack wandering the gardens, his mask still on. He looked up, seeing you and smiling. “Ain’t this like, a big part of your story?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You said, leaning over so you could see Jack better. “She’s wondering why he has his name, because that is the only thing preventing their relationship.” 

“Yeah I was never into Shakespeare.” 

You gasped. “Really? Romeo and Juliet is an undeniable classic! Hold on, I’m coming down, and when I do, you are in for one hell of a literature lesson.” 

Hurrying down the stairs and into the gardens, you met Jack under the balcony. “I cannot believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet,” you grumbled to yourself. 

“I never said that,” Jack said. “I’ve read it.” 

You smiled, following his aimlessly wandering feet. “It was Shakespear’s greatest comedy, a work of absolute genius.” 

“Back up,” Jack interrupted. “Comedy?” 

“Yeah, comedy,” you said. “Shakespeare was incredibly, well, I don’t want to say he was anti-love, but he wrote Romeo and Juliet to poke fun at couples who said they were soulmates. After all, Romeo and Juliet spanned about three days time from start to finish.” 

You continued to go into detail about the intricacies of Shakespeare, wasting away a good portion of the night. Jack was an excellent listener, occasionally asking a question that sent you on a tangent, but always quiet and respectful while you talked. 

Finally, when the clock tolled twelve, you two headed back to the gala. 

“It was nice getting to know you,” you said softly, not wanting to enter the building again. “Agent Paris is kind of a jerk about me talking to other men.” 

“Oh my god, is there any redeeming thing about him?” Jack asked. 

“Not that I can tell.” 

Jack took your hands. “So break up with him. Find a man who’ll treat you right.” 

You stared deep into his eyes, into the depth and complexities he kept hidden behind a deceptively simple brown color. “A man like you?” 

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he cupped your cheek and kissed you, molding his face to yours and satisfying that craving that had building in you since Paris. 

“Jules?” 

Jack broke away, sliding out of sight so quickly you had to wonder if you’d only imagined him. Eggsy came up to you, confused and a bit concerned. “Jules? Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Never better.” 

That night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The ghost of Jack’s lips kept waking you, until you were forced to pull a robe on and open your balcony so you could get some fresh air and hopefully clear your head. 

Settling on the stone and leaning your forehead against the railing, you stared out into the Statesman stables. “Romeo, Romeo,” you said, mostly to yourself as a comfort. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.” You had memorized large portions of the story in order to keep yourself calm during Kingsman training, and even now, the familiar passage eased your troubles.

At least, until someone responded. 

“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.” 

You stood, looking out at the stables. Standing there, lit by the light of his phone, was Jack.  

“Are you reading that off your phone?” You asked, a laugh bubbling in your throat. 

“You’re getting the lines wrong!” Jack called back, coming closer so you could hear him properly. 

Laughing, you leaned against the railing and stared at Jack. “You kissed me earlier.” 

“You’re still getting the lines wrong.” 

“Jack!” You said happily, unable to not laugh. “I’m serious!” 

Jack’s grin was obvious even from your distance. “I did kiss you earlier. Are you mad about it?” 

“No.” 

“So shall we make love like your namesake?” He asked. “Run away and get married after having known each other, what, a few hours?” 

You shook your head. “No. Because then we’d both have to die.” 

Stepping closer, Jack shrugged. “Yeah, that would throw a wrench in my plans to woo and marry you.” 

You yawned, and Jack smiled. “Does the lady need her beauty sleep?” 

You gave him a very ladylike middle finger. “Goodnight Romeo.” 

“Goodnight my fair Juliet.” 

The next morning, you went out for a walk with Eggsy and Paris, walking by the stables and admiring the horses. 

“Juliet!” 

You turned, seeing Jack atop a beautiful black horse. He rode with ease, as if he’d been doing it all his life. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he said. “Y’all sticking around?” 

Eggsy shrugged. “Jules wanted to stay for a bit. Airplanes make her wonky, so we’re leaving later tonight.” 

Jack’s face visibly fell. “Aw damn. I liked having a beauty like you walkin’ around.”!

“Leave off,” Paris said, wrapping you in his arms. “She’s taken.”

“Might wanna reconsider that one,” Jack said with a wink. “What’d’ya say Juliet? Wanna take a ride with your Rodeo Romeo? Saddle’s got room for two.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. Squirming out of Paris’s grip, you eagerly jumped the fence and joined Jack. “Just as long as we don’t die at the end.” 

Jack helped you up in the saddle, kissing you long and hard. “Well, like I said, I’m not one for the original story anyway.” 

He rode off with you, leaving Paris and Eggsy behind. Holding you tight as he jumped a fence, he continued out, beyond the orchards and the buildings, until you two had reached a small, run down church. 

After helping you off the horse, Jack pulled you inside, where there was light and warmth. 

“You’re really not helping our horribly cliche love story,” you said.

Jack raised an eyebrow, pulling you down onto a couch and wrapping you in his arms. “Am I? It’s been such a long time since I read Romeo and Juliet.” 

You laughed. “Clearly. Although this is very close to the part where they both die.” 

“And we definitely aren’t doing that, right?” 

You nodded. “Definitely not.” 

Jack looked around. “One day,” he said decisively. “I’m going to marry you. Right here, in this church. I promise.” 

Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Sure you will Romeo.” 

Three years later, he asked you to marry him. 

You, as if it were any question at all, said yes. 

After all, how could you say no to your Romeo?

[sableflynn]

Out unseen - ch. 3

first | previous | next

guess who’s still writing this story ten thousand years later! once again this chapter doesn’t have anything explicit, but once things really get going it’s going to get a lot darker and heavier so please be aware of that.

cw: references to past noncon, noncon touch, drugging, vague pain magic, minor character death, blood, kidnapping

Also on Ao3

---

A cool autumn breeze stirred the air. The docks were silent save for the gentle lap of water against the boats, and the moonless sky was an inky void. Tucked in among the shipping containers, shrouded in shadows, Felicia and Marcus had a wide view of their surroundings while remaining hidden themselves.

She hoped so, anyway.

Shifting her crouched position to ease the cramping in her legs, Felicia glanced over at Marcus with what she hoped was a confident smile. She fidgeted with the camera in her hands, an old thing Kailo had managed to snag from the university (retro, he’d called it), held together with tape and some hodgepodge of homespun magic.

Just a few pictures, she told herself. Then they’d have what they needed, they’d have something they could use against Volkan, and she wouldn’t have to spend another second anywhere near him. She swallowed down her nerves and waited.

They didn’t have to wait for long. Volkan emerged in a swirl of cool evening mist, dressed in a sharp wool overcoat against the chill of the night. He stopped under the dull glow of a streetlamp and leaned against one of the shipping crates, looking for all the world as if he belonged there and was completely at ease.

Felicia’s stomach churned to see him, so smug and confident. Completely at ease with the monster that he was. She gripped the camera tighter, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and Marcus was beside her, silent and solid and comforting.

You have to promise me, he’d said earlier that day as they were making final preparations, promise me that if I get caught you will run and save yourself. And she’d forced down a shudder at the thought of it, and instead said, Of course, but you have to promise me the same thing. And he’d frowned, and hesitated a second before finally saying, of course.

It didn’t matter. Neither of them was going to get caught. They’d get their pictures and get out of there.

Felicia made herself look out at Volkan once again, grounding herself with the gentle touch of Marcus’s hand on her shoulder. Volkan wasn’t alone, she realized after a moment. He had two guards waiting with him, their casual posture belied by the intense sweep of their gazes across the area, and the guns holstered at their hips.

Then Becker arrived, and he wasn’t alone either.

The person with him had a bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back. Becker gave a harsh shove, and the other man stumbled into the light. Felicia’s eyes widened as Volkan stepped forward, pacing around the bound man as if sizing up a slab of meat at the market. He was talking, and she couldn’t make out the words from where they hid but there was no mistaking what was happening. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists.

“Marcus…” she breathed, finally tearing her eyes away from the sight to look back at him. His face was pale, and she could see the conclusion forming in his mind just as it had in hers.

Volkan was buying a person. He was buying a person, some poor soul who got on his bad side or dug too deep into something or maybe was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now Volkan would torture him or kill him or—she couldn’t bring herself to imagine what he was going to do. He was going to take this person, and there was nothing they could do. They had to take the pictures and get out before they got caught too, and then they would have something to use against him. They couldn’t blow this opportunity just to help one person.

And yet she knew there was no way they could just leave him.

Marcus’s expression was shifting, resolving into something more determined. Felicia set her camera down and took his hand with both her own. Her voice was a whisper, but firm. “We need to get him out of there.”

***

They’d had to move quickly. Their plan was barely a plan at all.

Felicia tried not to let that worry her; after all, they’d had a plan when they went to the masquerade, and that…

She stopped the thought before it could go any further, and forced back the terror that threatened to paralyze her. It was fine. Marcus was going to cause some sort of distraction—he hadn’t elaborated on how—and Felicia was going to grab the man and run and they’d meet back up later. It was fine.

No, it was stupid and reckless, but that didn’t matter. They still had to try. They couldn’t not. They couldn’t just leave, knowing what they knew, seeing what they saw.

Maybe whatever ruckus Marcus caused would be enough on its own. Maybe just the knowledge that someone was nearby, watching, would be enough to scare Volkan into calling off this whole deal. Maybe she would wake up in a minute and find that this was all a dream and she wasn’t about to run right under the nose of the man who had assaulted her.

Felicia peered over the top of the box she crouched behind, her fingers grasping tight to the edges. When Marcus left to cause his distraction, she’d moved a bit closer to the scene, hugging the shadows as she crept along the boxes. Now she waited, and there was nothing for her to do but watch and count her breaths while she tried not to let her mind wander. Volkan had stepped back from examining the man and was talking with Becker in a low tone, and the man stood shivering in the cool autumn air, and the bodyguard was casting a wary eye over the area—and Felicia’s breath caught in her throat, because there had been two bodyguards—

A gloved hand closed around her shoulder and she didn’t even think, she threw her elbow back and it collided with a crack and she was scrambling, throwing herself away from the assailant and towards the maze of shipping crates—

The hands were on her again and she thrashed against them, but then she felt the cold bite of metal at her neck and she stilled.

“Don’t move,” the guard hissed, pressed the gun further up into Felicia’s chin. She was frozen. She could barely breathe.

“Please,” she managed to whisper. “Don’t—I’m just trying to find my way home, I got lost—”

“Right.” The guard let out a derisive snort and adjusted her grip, one strong arm wrapped around Felicia’s chest in an iron hold while the other kept the gun trained to her head. Felicia’s hands rose automatically to grab at the arm wrapped around her, and the guard shook her, jamming the gun harder against her skin.

“Please, don’t.” Felicia didn’t dare fight back, not with the gun pressed against her, but as the guard started to drag her back to the group, she couldn’t stop herself from desperately reaching for some escape. “Please, he’s—he’ll—”

“What he decides to do with you is none of my business,” the guard hissed, and then she raised her voice to address the group as she dragged Felicia into the light. “Sir, I found this one sulking around in the shadows.”

Volkan turned to look at them, and the air turned to ice in Felicia’s chest. His eyes were on her, he was going to recognize her, he was going to touch her again and she had walked right into it.

“Let me get a look at her,” Volkan said, his voice a rumble. “And for god’s sake, put that gun down. You could kill someone with that.”

The second the gun was away from her face, Felicia threw her weight against the guard holding her, but she was stopped short as the guard twisted her arms painfully behind her back instead. Volkan watched in silence as the scuffle broke out, stepping closer to tilt Felicia’s head into the light as she panted against the guard’s grip.

“You’re the girl from the ball,” Volkan murmured, tracing one cheekbone with his thumb. Felicia swallowed down bile at his touch. “What was your name again?”

“It’s Fern,” she spat. They both knew it was a lie, but she didn’t care; she needed something, the tiniest semblance of control over the situation. Volkan shifted his hand and she braced herself for a slap or punch, but he reached behind her and pulled her hair loose from its ponytail. The amber waves spilled over her shoulders.

“Of course. Fern.” Volkan threaded his fingers through a few loose strands of hair. “Do you remember what I said to you that night, as you were leaving?”

If I have you again, I will never let you leave. His voice had been an echo in her mind since that night. She couldn’t escape it. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

He smiled at that, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. “I look forward to picking up where we left off, then.”

It’s not happening. I won’t let him take me again. I’ll—I’ll—Marcus was still out there somewhere, he wouldn’t let him take her, there had to be a way out of this. The guard’s grip was tight on her arms and she could barely move without her muscles aching from the strain of the position. Every nerve of her skin was alight, hypersensitive, the ghost of Volkan’s touch burning across her cheek.

“I don’t need this one anymore.” Volkan waved a careless hand in the bound man’s direction—because he was buying a person, that was why Felicia was here in the first place—but his eyes never left hers as he spoke. “I found something better. Kill him.”

The words had barely broken through the swirl of Felicia’s mind before the other guard stepped forward, knife glinting in the streetlight. The man was thrashing, yelling through his gag, and—a flash of metal at his throat, and a gurgle, and blood flowed freely, puddling on the cobblestones below. The man fell to the ground, dead. Felicia didn’t realize she was screaming until the guard holding her clamped a harsh hand over her mouth, smothering her.

Becker looked between the dead man and Volkan in shock. “You—I could’ve still sold him and gotten something!” Felicia was breathing heavily, leaning against the arms holding her, eyes locked on the body and the spreading pool of blood. She flinched at the touch of a warm hand on her face, and Volkan tilted her head to look at him once again.

“I’ll still pay you,” he said, his eyes gleaming on hers. “Indirectly, you brought me something much better.” He slowly smiled, and Felicia saw her hope flickering to nothing right before her eyes.

No. He wouldn’t take her again. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him. She took a shuddering breath, trying to still the frantic hammering of her heart. A man was just murdered in front of her, and if she didn’t act very carefully, she would be next. But if she didn’t act at all, she would get taken by Volkan to—wherever he was going to take her, and she would be trapped with him, and—

A movement among the shadows caught her eye, and then she saw Marcus, creeping closer to peer over some boxes. As soon as she realized what he was doing she averted her gaze, forcing herself to stare back at Volkan again, praying he hadn’t noticed where she was looking.

“Hey!” One of the guards called out, and Felicia’s stomach dropped. “Who’s there?”

Volkan turned to look, his hand still holding Felicia’s cheek. When he faced her again, his eyes glimmered with anticipation. “Ah, so your friend did come along,” he said. He finally released her face and she gave an involuntary sigh of relief; but then he addressed his guards, and his words filled her with dread. “Take him.”

The guard drew his gun and stepped out, and Marcus straightened up in alarm. Felicia’s pulse roared in her ears. Please, don’t leave me with him. Don’t let him touch me. Don’t let him take me. She steeled herself. “Run!” she yelled, throwing herself again against the arms of the guard holding her. “Get out! You promised!” Blood racing, she slammed her heel down on the foot of the guard and threw all her weight back, finally breaking free from the iron grip. She scrambled forward, desperate, panicked—and made it two steps before a powerful hand gripped her throat and slammed her back into a shipping crate.

She wheezed, eyes watering as she looked up into Volkan’s face once again. He held her neck with a single hand and barely seemed winded from tossing her around. His grip was tight, just shy of cutting off her air, and she scrabbled uselessly at his arm.

“Looks like he’s leaving you to the wolves once again.” He pressed her harder into the crate as his free hand raked down her side. Checking her for weapons, she realized as she tried in vain to push him off. “Some friend he is. After all you do for him.”

Volkan was gathering magic; she could feel the hum of it in the air, vibrating through her skin, and she thrashed harder against him in panic. She had no idea what sort of magic he practiced, but she knew just how cruel he could be, and the look on his face was bringing her back to a secluded alcove at a party and fingers prying her vulnerabilities apart.

“Do you think he’ll come back for you if you scream?” he asked, and he pressed his fingers into her collarbone.

The jolt of pure magic shot through her like a blast of electricity, and her vision went black as she collapsed bonelessly to the ground. She must’ve screamed; she could feel her throat, ragged and raw, but she was senseless beyond the all-encompassing pain pulsing through her. Every nerve of her body was white-hot, on fire.

She lay curled on the ground, heaving with sobs and trembling, as the pain receded and her surroundings slowly edged back into her awareness. She could hear talking above her, distant and foggy. “Shouldn’t we keep her quiet?” It was Becker, his voice concerned but deferential. “Someone will hear her.”

“No one is coming for her.” Felicia flinched at Volkan’s voice, and again at the soft nudge of his shoe against her shoulder. Weak, she rolled onto her back, and he crouched above her.

“I had this made for that boy back there,” Volkan murmured, and she saw a glint of light as he pulled something from his pocket—a syringe. Fuck. “But, well, it seems he won’t be needing it.”

Felicia tried to twist away from him, but her body still ached with the magic he’d forced through her and her movements were sluggish. Volkan held her head with a deceptive gentleness, and then she felt the telltale prick at her neck.

“No—” Her words were slurred. “What—”

“Relax.” He smoothed down her hair as he removed the syringe, and a wave of terror washed over her at the sight of it, empty, the tiniest bead of blood at the tip. Her blood. Her world was closing in on her. She saw only Volkan’s face, looming above her with an expression of mock-comfort. Felt only his arms, wrapping around her limp body and lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Heard only his voice, whispering just let it happen as she sank into darkness.

[freedom-shamrock]

Teacups and Firelights

This is my @atla-secret-santa gift for @wwjacksparrowd.  Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3

______________________________

Something was definitely wrong in Ba Sing Se, and just being in the city gave Ty Lee the creepie crawlies several times an hour. After a week of putting up with it, she was at risk of going all Azula once she found the cause. Aang's meditation sessions were probably the only thing keeping her out of an uncontrolled avatar state at this point.

Ty Lee didn't always look or sound the most attentive to details, something that had served her well in the past, but she didn't need anyone to point out when there was something rotten right beneath her nose. Much of what she took in from around her stayed in her head, swirling around with everything else until she was able to make the connections she needed. She wasn't always the fastest of the Ty septuplets at picking apart the tangles of political intrigues, but she was more often right than any of her sisters (she was right more often than her friends, too, but she'd been careful not to point that out). She was also consistently the fastest Ty in sparring, though that may have come from being the avatar, so it felt like a cheat.

She'd come to the Earth Kingdom capital with her unlikely companions for a number of reasons, all quite pressing. Their top priority had been to share intelligence with the Earth king and his generals as part of Sokka's rather brilliant plan to take down the firelord. They'd gotten a meeting scheduled with King Kuei, and flaming monkey tigers, the Fire Nation had nothing on the Earth Kingdom's bureaucracy!  If that weren't enough of a reason to come, they desperately needed time to recover from weeks of things going terribly, horribly wrong. That couldn't happen if they were being chased around the world by her Royal Fire Academy best friends (and the sister she'd left in her place with the circus to avoid raising suspicion when she went off to pursue her destiny). Not even General Iroh had been able to penetrate the ringed city's great wall, and while Azula was brilliant, she wasn't yet up to his standard. Her attempt involving a massive drill had failed, and the princess retreated, so they were safe from that quarter… for now. Their final reason for being in the vast city was to find Appa, her chronologically 112 year old airbending master's sky bison and one of the companions who had been with her since early in this convoluted adventure.

With two of their three goals addressed, or at least pending, they'd all split up to search for any signs of the ten-ton creature (who really shouldn't be this hard to find, even in Ba Sing Se). While out and about they were also gathering information on the general oddness of the city. Joo Dee's messed up orange aura and creepy smile sent a message that they'd all picked up on. Their extremely anxious neighbors, who quietly advised them to not ask questions and most of all to avoid the Dai Li, had flaming red auras. Living in the central ring of the city among the very wealthiest and most influential, they had no reason to show such fear. Well, unless King Kuei's court was as literally cut-throat as Firelord Ozai's but less open about it.

As she skipped down the clean and tidy streets of the inner ring, she noted that while the architecture was different from home, it was no less opulent than the capital she was most familiar with. She idly wondered if they used earthbending to suffocate out any undesirable plant growth, the way fire was used back home. Everything here was so orderly, or as Aang put it, inhibited to the point of joylessness. Even Toph, who was intimately familiar with Earth Kingdom upper class manners found it creepy.

She turned a corner and heard cheerful chatter unlike any she'd encountered during their stay. The Ba Sing Se social elite were quiet and dull, or perhaps they were deathly terrified to lose face and power from whatever was wrong here. Hearing people sounding like they did in every other part of the world was definitely something to investigate. Across the plaza and up a short flight of stairs was a tea shop. It's exterior had clearly been freshly painted, gleaming green and gold under the late morning sun. A cup of tea would make her day's work more pleasant. Pursuing her destiny had sounded a lot more fun before she'd spent weeks on end chasing one lead after another, without the time to really enjoy the places they stopped. They barely had time to bathe for most of the trip.

With a bit of a hop, she was able to vault over the railing, bypassing the stairs entirely. It was not entirely proper decorum, but she was dressed in a way that marked her as an outsider. She and Toph had spent hours comparing social rules and drilling them into Katara's head (the Water Tribe girl was quick to both mock the foolishness of the conventions and to demonstrate she could fit in with even the most elite social climbers). Ty Lee had a surprising number of things in common with her earthbending master, and her bluntness was no worse than Mai's, so they'd fallen into an easy alliance. Katara was something else all together. Despite their countless differences, she'd become a better friend than any Ty Lee had ever had. It was a given that she was a lot nicer than Azula, but she'd never met someone so focused on doing the right thing regardless of the risks, with no other motivation.

Ty Lee skipped up to the open doors and peeked in. This was unlike the other tea shops she'd visited in the city. The waiters were constantly in motion, delivering cups and pots of steaming tea to the many full tables of happy visitors. There was energy and enthusiasm here, not the fog of apathy. The dining room held the gentle fragrances of teas that were familiar and some that she was sure she'd never had. This would definitely clear her mind enough to start connecting all the weirdness of the city. While her friends were good at coming up with plans (spirits knew that they would have died in the desert if not for Katara, and Sokka's use of Wan Shi Tong's knowledge was flat-out brilliant), she felt that she really needed to be pulling her weight. She was the avatar, after all. It was bad enough that they had decided early on to let Aang masquerade as the avatar to take the pressure off her. If she wasn't at least coming up with some of the plans (beyond the completely random trips to spiritual centers), what good was she?

"Hello." A cheerful young man's voice called her out of her own head. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Our special for the day is Ba Sing Quon, a soothing tea for the refined palate."

She looked up into a very familiar face. "Zuko?" she squeaked. There was no way he could be anyone else. Even if he had a double here in the earth kingdom, there was no concealing the scar his father left on his face, and as one part of a seven-piece matched set, she was never fooled by look-alikes.

He sucked in a breath, his face going pale as he took a step back.

Her hand darted out and caught the long brown sleeve of his uniform before he could flee. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, keenly aware of the other staff and patrons around them. When she'd last seen him, Aang had knocked him out in the North Pole shortly before she and La had merged to obliterate the Fire Nation navy. Aang had run afoul of him a time or two since then, but she'd managed to stay out of his sight.

She could see in his eyes that he was weighing his options. Zuko had always been smarter than Azula wanted to believe. "What are you doing here?" he countered. "I thought you were hunting down the avatar with my sister." His remaining eyebrow arched.

"I'm on vacation," she said airily. "And what about you?  Aren't you supposed to be on your own hunt?"

"Only if I want to return to court," he said with a sneer. "Which I don't."

She stared at him in awe. That was not something she'd ever expected to hear out of Azula's serious older brother. Frankly, his temperament was better suited to leading the country than her hot-headed school friend.

"I'm making my own destiny, and I'm done chasing ghosts for him," Zuko said firmly.

She offered him a small smile. "I'm happy for you. You deserve your own happiness."

He looked surprised.

"He was always a monster to you, and it wasn't fair," she said. She'd seen favoritism spoil the relationship she and her sisters could have had, and that had been nothing compared to what happened in the firelord's children.

Zuko shrugged. "Like father, like daughter."

Being chased all over the Earth Kingdom by Azula had given her a whole new perspective on her once best friend. "You're not wrong."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She leaned back in her chair. "I know. I'm supposed to say she's an acquired taste and that she's not that bad, but… if I've learned anything the last several weeks, it's that Azula's been turned into a dangerous weapon that your father will turn on whoever he feels like." It had been frankly terrifying to have that weapon turned on her.

Zuko stepped back. "I'll be back with your tea."

She watched as he walked stiffly to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a curtain. He looked so much better than he had in the north. He actually looked happy. Moments later he returned with a small tray holding a single red-glazed white teacup.

"Your tea, miss." He placed it gently on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Zuko."

"Lee," he said.

"What?"

"My name is Lee. This my uncle Mushi's tea shop." He took a slow breath. "We close at dusk."

She flashed him a cheery smile. "Very good to know. Thank you."

⁂

Ty Lee sat on the raised edge of the fountain in front of the Jasmine Dragon tea house, watching the sky turn a spectacular peach color. It had taken some pretty heavy assurances before her friends had been willing to let her go off and meet her Fire Nation contact solo. To be fair, they were all a little on edge. Even without Ba Sing Se's creepy aura (who knew a city could have its own aura?) they'd been hunted, chased, and attacked a little too often (especially recently) to just do as they pleased.  She'd refused to share information on her contact, but agreed that they should come look for her if she wasn't back in an hour.

Paying close attention to the vibrations in the thin soles of her dance shoes, she looked up to see Zuko and General Iroh step out of the tea house, working together to close and lock the grand doors. She stood up and waited for them to approach. Zuko moved a little stiffly, but his uncle was as steady as always. He was difficult to read, but his white-streaked violet aura was reassuring. He'd shed the heavy mourning he'd still carried when she'd last seen him, well before she realized she was the avatar. They weren't here with Ozai's blessing or knowledge, then.

"Ty Lee," Iroh said quietly. "You are not someone I ever expected to encounter here in our new home."

She beamed at him. "Then it's a pleasant surprise for all of us," she declared.

Iroh stared at her for a silent moment. "I certainly hope that's the case. My nephew and I have settled in nicely, and I feel we've really found our place." He paused for another moment. "It would be a shame to have to uproot ourselves yet again."

She held out her hands to both of them. "As I told Lee," she smirked at Zuko, "it's nice to see you so happy. I obviously don't know what you've been through on your travels, but it seems to have smoothed out the difficulties life brought on you both."

"How are you even here?" Zuko asked, blunt but without the heat she might have expected. "Last I heard, you'd joined up with Azula to terrorize the avatar."

Ty Lee clapped her hands together. "Yeah, so I've heard."

"She doesn't let people leave her service," Zuko noted. "So I have to assume you're here on a mission for her."

She laughed a little and shook her head. "That situation is not at all what it seems to be."

A small but totally gleeful smile appeared on Iroh's face. "So her companion is one who shares your likeness?"

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think my best friend would be able to tell me and my sisters apart." She gestured to Zuko. "Lee knew it was me immediately." To give Ty Lao credit, she'd fooled everyone, including Mai and Azula, who should have seen through the masquerade.

"That still doesn't answer how and why you're here, though," Zuko pointed out.

"You aren't the only one seeking a different path," she said quietly.

Iroh's large callused hand wrapped around one of hers, and when she looked up, she could see understanding in his eyes. "I believe it is safe to say that none of us are a threat to the other."

Ty Lee nodded. "We're only here until we can meet with King Kuei, and I haven't even told my friends who I'm meeting with tonight."

"So you aren't alone, then?" Iroh asked. "That's good. Safer."

"Who are you traveling with?" Zuko asked, clearly more suspicious than his uncle. He'd never liked unknown variables.

"No one you know, silly," she replied easily. "It's just a small group of friends from all over the world."

"It's been wonderful to see you, my dear," Iroh said. "And I would love to stay and chat, but I've been on my feet all day. Why don't you and Lee catch up." He turned to Zuko and raised his eyebrows in question. "And do be sure to stop back in before you leave Ba Sing Se."

Zuko's shoulders drooped a bit and he nodded.

"How long have you two been here?" she asked once Iroh was gone.

"We're new to working in the upper ring," he explained. "But we've been in Ba Sing Se for several weeks now."

"We've only been here about a week," she said. The silence was uncomfortable. "So, I bet you know of some of the nice sights that we haven't found yet."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. Why don't I show you the Firelight Fountain. It's in the lower ring, but it's actually really nice." He glanced around. "Less stuffy than the places in the upper ring."

"Sounds great," she agreed, following as he led the way to the nearby monorail station. "How did you come to Ba Sing Se, anyway?" When his face closed off again, she clarified. "I don't need every step of your journey. Just… how did Lee and Mushi end up here?"

He visibly relaxed and nodded. "Uncle knows people all over the world, and he got us new identities. It was easy to join the groups of refugees traveling here." He was silent for a moment. "I didn't really want to come here. I still thought honor was something my father could actually give or take away. But I wasn't in a position to argue with Uncle."

"The Dragon of the West is a formidable opponent," she agreed.

Zuko snorted. "I've come to understand that."

Ty Lee laughed, delighted to see him making something of a joke. 

"Whatever we may think of the Earth Kingdom, they manage the people of Ba Sing Se well. They had apartments available and there's a communal kitchen for newcomers who don't have work placement yet." He shook his head, looking a little awed. "It's a far cry from what happens to refugees in… well, you know."

She did know. In the Fire Nation, being in a poor situation was seen as the culmination of poor choices, and aid wasn't freely given to people who had called misfortune on themselves. Her journey had helped her reframe all of that. No one person caused an earthquake or mudslide. Some people made all the right choices and still ended up poor.

"We still live in the lower ring, in one of the refugee apartments, but we're on a waiting list to move to the middle ring," Zuko continued. "I'm not really in a rush to move, because we don't need much. And I don't care about the status." He looked out the window, blind to the blur of the city passing beneath them. "But it would be good to make the apartment available to someone else. There's so many refugees coming into the city right now."

"I really mean it," Ty Lee said, leaning over to look out the windows as the carriage came to a stop. "I'm glad you're finding your own happiness."

He looked at her for a moment. "Thanks." He got up and gestured that this was their station. "And what about you? Are you finding your happiness?"

It was a fair question. She hadn't been exactly unhappy, not since joining the circus. "Purpose," she decided. "I enjoyed entertaining people, but it wasn't enough." Especially after her extra bending potential spontaneously manifested one evening, and she knew she was meant for more.

"And you needed to travel the world to find it?" he asked.

"Not really. Not to find it," she replied. "It's more that the traveling gets me to where I need to be, to… uh, engage in my purpose." That was vague enough, right?

"What is this purpose that can't be done back… home." That last word came out sounding distasteful. The Fire Nation probably hadn't felt like home since even before he was banished.

"Helping others," she declared. "It's more than I could do with the circus, and definitely not something I could do with Az… your sister." It would probably be best to avoid the name that was known the world over. She'd seen the Dai Li lurking on rooftops during the day. While most people didn't tend to look up, she was an acrobat and preferred to go up when she needed an escape. The buildings were taller here, and maybe lower ring inhabitants were less worthy of close monitoring, but she couldn't risk it. "She would've frowned on it, because I'm not just helping people she would have seen worthy." 

Zuko nodded. "She's pretty selective in who she sees worthy of helping, and there's usually a reason behind who she chooses to help, something not remotely altruistic."

Ty Lee nodded. It was something she'd never liked about Azula, even before she'd learned more about herself. "She only watches out for herself and isn't really interested in real balance." It had been why she hadn't gone to her friend for help when she discovered she was the avatar. She knew Azula would cast their friendship aside as easily as she discarded an out-of-season gown, if it would curry favor with her father.

"Balance?" Zuko let out a huff. "You sound like Uncle." A rare smile found its way onto his face. "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say about you."

"I suppose." She laughed a little. "I'm both surprised and unsurprised that he supports balance."

He gave her a look that clearly begged her to explain further.

"The stories I've heard about his military days are very different from the man he is now." She shrugged. "I guess we can all change."

Zuko nodded. "He taught me to redirect lightning," he said in a low whisper.

She stared at him in surprise. "You can do that?!" She hadn't even heard it was possible.

"It's critical in facing off against my sister, or my father, for that matter."

He wasn't wrong. But how had she not found anything on that technique in all the many firebending scrolls she'd covertly read?  Not even the Fire Sages' library contained that information. Spirits, she needed to learn that. But how could she do that? How could she get that information without telling Zuko more than he needed to know?

"Hey Lee!"

Ty Lee looked up to see a  girl their age waving at Zuko from across the street. She wore her hair in paired braids and was dressed in Earth Kingdom green.

"Who's your friend?" Ty Lee asked, delighted by the blush she saw in his cheeks.

"Hello, Jin," he called back, waving awkwardly. It was enough encouragement for the girl to scurry over to them.

It might break Mai's heart if she knew what Zuko was up to in Ba Sing Se, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And Ty Lee wasn't in any position to tell her, not that she was inclined to.

"How have things been at the new tea shop?" the girl asked. "We've all been so excited to hear about it."

"It's going really well," Zuko said. It really was nice to see him happy as he chatted with the girl who clearly had a crush on him. "It's been better than even Uncle hoped for."

"That's wonderful!" The girl exclaimed. She turned to Ty Lee. "Hi, I'm Jin."

"Oh," Zuko looked a little nervous. "Jin, this is my, uh, cousin."

Ty Lee grinned. "I've known Lee practically all my life."

Jin's eyes and mouth went round with surprise. "Were you in the circus with him?"

That was his cover story? Ty Lee almost burst out laughing. This was too easy, and would give her something to tease him about for years. "I was in the circus."

"Were you in the juggling act with him?" Jin pressed, looking all the more eager.

Ty Lee shook her head. "No. I'm an acrobat." She demonstrated by bending backward to stand on one hand for a moment.

Jin clapped enthusiastically. "Oh wonderful." She glanced at Zuko for a moment before leaning in to whisper, "He's out of practice, so maybe don't ask him to show off his skills."

"Thank you for the warning," Ty Lee whispered back. She winked at him before speaking regularly again. "Lee is taking me to see the Firelight Fountain."

Jin clasped her hands together over her chest. "Oh, I'm just coming from there. You won't be disappointed." She turned back to Zuko. "It's all lit up tonight."

"Do you, uh… want to join us?" Zuko asked reluctantly.

"I'd love to," Jin said with a sigh. "But I should get back, and I'm sure you and your cousin need to catch up without strangers around."

"Thank you, Jin," Ty Lee said, bowing gratefully to the other girl. "We do have an awful lot to catch up on, and you know how families can be." She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Petty infighting and back-stabbing."

Jin laughed. "I'll see you another time, Lee. I'd love to hear more about the Jade Dragon."

"Jasmine Dragon," he corrected. "Like the tea."

"Oops. Yeah, Jasmine." Jin waved and continued back up the road the direction they'd come from.

"She seemed cheerful," Ty Lee said.

Zuko nodded, awkward again. "She's friendly. Happy."

"She likes you," she pointed out sincerely. There was no need for teasing just now.

He looked both pleased and a little embarrassed. "I know."

"I'm glad some of the people here are seeing who you really are." That certainly hadn't happened at home, not after his mother vanished.

He glanced at her in alarm. "She doesn't know… who I am."

She waved off his concern. "I'm not talking about where you came from or what you can do." She wiggled her fingers at him. "I mean who you are as a person."

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "You really sound like Uncle." He looked closely at her. "You're not the person you used to be. Not at all." 

They stepped into a circle that could only be the Firelight Fountain. "It's lovely." The simple feature beautifully displayed three of the four elements at their best. A warm glow shone from the ring of lanterns, reflecting in the stone fountain's sparkling water.  All that was missing was air, and Ty Lee could see small rings on the lanterns that had probably once held streamers to dance in the breeze. The designed balance was as askew as their world, and it broke her heart a little. She'd need to keep Aang away from this place. He didn't need reminders that he was the last of his kind.

"Hey," Zuko said softly. "Are you all right?"

Ty Lee sniffled a little and quickly rubbed at her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't think you were the type to cry over a pretty fountain," he said.

"It's not just that." She sighed, trying to figure out how much she could tell him and how she could bring up lightning again. "It's… it's a painfully accurate representation of the world," she finally said. "It wants so badly to be balanced. But it isn't."

"Hmmm." He looked closely at the fountain again. "Did you know that the avatar is still alive?" he asked, his gaze intentionally turned toward the water. "He's traveling the world on a flying bison."

"Oh… yeah." She nodded. That bit wasn't exactly a secret. "I'd heard that. I'm pretty sure that's who your sister is chasing after."

"I saw a flyer the other day," Zuko continued. "I guess his bison is missing."

"How… unfortunate." She'd forgotten how good he was at intrigues, just because he didn't care for them. Had she let slip too much? While it was known in the upper ring that the avatar was there, she didn't want her friends to have to dodge Zuko or Iroh. Her firebending had come a long way, but she was no match for either of them. It was just another reminder of how ill prepared she was for taking down Ozai.

"Do you suppose he's found a firebending master yet?" Zuko asked, glancing at her before looking away again. "I imagine that's been a tough element for him."

"He's the avatar," she pointed out. "Shouldn't he already know how to bend all the elements?" They'd encountered that mindset more than a few times, and as the person trying to meet everyone's needs, it was incredibly frustrating.

"I don't think that's how it works." Zuko shook his head. There was a long moment of silence. "I met him once… well, more than once." He looked embarrassed again, as if he were cringing away from his past actions.

"Really?" Aang had shared all his encounters with the angry banished prince, and the boy always seemed disappointed about something.

Zuko sighed. "I wish I could meet him again, now." He met Ty Lee's eyes. "I owe him an apology."

"Really?" How did he keep surprising her like this?

Zuko nodded. "He offered me friendship and I threw fire at him. I hurt him and his friends when I was still desperate to complete my father's errand. It was wrong, and I see that now."

"You just wanted to come home," she said, internally forgiving him for the things he'd done as a result of the abuse he'd endured.

"Yeah, and I've come to realize that a place where you're expected to do things that you simply can not abide because they are morally wrong no matter how you look at it, that's not home," he declared.

"Has Ba Sing Se become your home, then?"

"It's closer," he admitted. "But not quite my home. Not yet." He moved to settle on the edge of the fountain.

"You might just need a bit more time," she suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else I should be doing. Something more I could do to help restore the world's balance."

"Oh?" She wasn't sure how to bend that back to what she needed from him. "So what else could you be doing?"

"Teaching the avatar how to firebend," he said, his voice soft and matter of fact. "Like I said earlier, I think that being able to redirect lightning is going to be crucial." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I've been going out at night looking for signs of his bison, Appa, I think is its name. And while I'm not fully sure I've found it, I might have a decent lead."

Her heart leapt in her chest and her throat felt tight. Appa was a creature of very few words and much wisdom. "Why… why would you do that? Look for Appa?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Zuko said earnestly. "I've done the wrong thing so often, I have a lot to make up for. And I think it's going to take something monumental to get his friends to let me talk to him and offer my skills."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything to say to that. How could she bring this up with her friends? Would they be willing to give him a chance?

"Because of the missing bison flyer, I know the avatar is in the city," Zuko went on. "Do you think it's wrong to hope that he might show up in the Jasmine Dragon one day?"

Her breath caught, and it was a struggle not to show it. "No." She coughed to clear her throat. "Stranger things have happened."

Zuko nodded. "You should get back to your friends before they start to worry." He stood up.

"Yeah." She did not want them coming looking for her.

"It was nice to see you, Ty Lee," he said, offering her a small smile. "Nicer than I would have expected."

"I'm glad I bumped into you," she said.

"Be sure to stop by the tea house again," he suggested. "Before you and your friends leave the city."

She smiled, feeling content for the first time in a while. "I will." She had a lead on both a firebending master and Appa's location. Perhaps those two details would be enough to get her friends to take a chance on adding a new member to the group. Maybe things were finally moving past the point of hopelessness, and she actually stood a chance at becoming a good avatar. 

"I'll see you soon, Lee. I promise." She turned and walked up the street toward the monorail.

_____________________

This was fun to write, but also a challenge.  I have never written from Ty Lee's perspective before, and I'm not sure I really nailed her character, but I'm hoping it's close enough.

[otomefoxystar]

Relaxation

Fandom:  Masquerade Kiss

Pairing:  Kei X MC

Warning: NSFW

Genre: Smut 

Word Count:1,443

Written by: @otomefoxystar

It had been a long week, and _ _ _ was more worn out than she normally was. She dragged herself to the home her and Kei shared. She slipped her high heels off as she closed the door behind her. The cold tile felt good under her sore feet. She headed towards the bathroom and turned on the shower. All she could think about was how the hot water would help loosen her tight muscles. She unbuttoned her silk blouse and unzipped her pencil skirt. She dropped her clothes to the floor and sighed. She looked into the mirror seeing how tired she looked. “ Did you just get back?” She looked over to the doorway. Kei stood there with a smirk on his face, and he walked into the bathroom. As she looked over at him he gently caressed her cheek. “ You look tired” He cupped her cheek with concern swimming in his eyes. She looked away, letting her hair down from the bun it was in. “ I’m fine, I just need to take a hot shower and go to bed.” He glared at her “ Don’t lie to me”

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra sliding it off her body and dropping it to the floor. “ Get in the shower, I’ll join you and help you relax.” She pulled her panties down and got into the hot shower dousing her hair in the water, closing her eyes feeling the tension leave her body. The shower door opened and Kei stepped into the shower sliding the door shut. “ Turn around” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “ I'm going to wash your hair.” She turned around cautiously and Kei massaged her scalp as he worked the soap into her hair. Her eyes fell shut and he began massaging behind her ears and her neck. “ Jesus woman your muscles are all out whack.” “Mmmm it feels good” He kept massaging, then detached the showerhead, and rinsed her hair. She conditioned her hair and washed her body as Kei washed himself, and once they were done she went to turn the shower off, but Kei sprayed her in the face with the showerhead. “Hey!” Then he leaned in close and kissed her on the lips he put the showerhead back up. He kissed her slow and forced his tongue into her mouth. He put one hand on the back of her head and one on her cheek. His tongue searched her mouth, swiping along her tongue and teeth. He withdrew his tongue and bit her lip. “Kei...” He smiled and ghosted a finger over her nipple. “ I want you to relax, you’re so tense.” He kissed down her neck to her collarbone, he pinched and rolled her nipples. “Mmm” He brought down the showerhead and turned it to the massage mode. “ I want to try something” he brought the showerhead down to her heat. “ Spread your legs a bit” She did as he asked and spread her legs slightly. He held onto her back as he sprayed the water directly onto her heat. “You’ve got to tell me where it feels good” She took his hand and positioned the showerhead at the right place. “ Yes, right there...Oh god,” Kei smirked. He began moving the shower head up and down her clit making her head fall back. He brought the showerhead up right against her only to take it away again and did that over and over again. She started heating up, and put her hands on his shoulders and dug her nails into his skin. He could tell she was getting close and kept going with his ministrations, and as bad as she wanted to have an orgasm she wanted his hardness inside of her more. She felt down his toned chest and abdomen to his growing erection. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and began pumping. He groaned as she teased his sensitive head. “ _ _ _ if you do that, I won’t be able to make you come with the water.” She took the showerhead out from his hand and put it back on the shower turning it back to shower mode. She kissed down his hard abdomen until she reached his hard cock, and licked the head circling her tongue around it. “ St..stop” she looked up at him with concern “ What’s the matter?” He brought her back to a standing position and backed her up against the wall. He took his cock and rubbed her clit up and down. “ This is for you, I want to make you feel good.” She grimaced “ That doesn’t mean you should sacrifice your own pleasure.” He removed his cock and replaced it with his fingers, pushing them into her core, and pumping them in and out. “ I won’t, being inside of you is enough pleasure for me, you make me come too fast anyways.” She raised an eyebrow “ Is that why you always do so much foreplay?” He pushed his fingers in hard, hitting the rough patch. “ Yes” She rolled her eyes back and grabbed her breasts. Kei kissed down her throat where she was especially sensitive. “mmmn... Kei” “ hmm?” He hummed as he sucked on the side of her neck. He lifted up the choker that adorned her neck and smiled, he licked the shell of her ear. He moved the hand that was on her back to her ass. Feeling the soft skin and grabbing it. “ You look like you’re about to melt” He pumped his fingers then took his thumb and rubbed her clit. She leaned into his hand and he put more pressure onto her clit. “ Kei...I...I...need you...NOW!” He removed his fingers from her core and kissed her entwining his tongue with hers. He released her lips with a small nip on her lower lip. He lifted her by her hips and wrapped her legs around his hips. He pushed her against the shower wall and bent his knees and pushed up to push slowly into her entrance. He put her arms above her head and held them there with his large hand. “ I don’t have anything to tie you up with so my hand will have to do.”   He gave her another sloppy kiss, and he pushed himself all the way in to the hilt. They both moaned at the feeling. He could feel her cervix he was in so deep. It was an angle they never tried before. He pulled out to thrust back in. “ I ... ahh...can feel...you...in my...belly” she moved her hips in sync with his thrusts. At first, he thrust slow and gentle into her, but soon he started moving in quick rapid movements forcing her to move up the shower wall. Water poured over them as their passion took hold of them. Every time he thrust into her she moaned so loudly it echoed in the bathroom. His shaft rubbed against her clit every time he entered her. “ Oh! I’m coming.” She tightened her legs around him, and they started trembling. Then his hips started snapping into her with a force he’s never used before. Something about it seemed frantic, needy almost. She couldn’t believe he had been holding back this whole time, but Kei had a way of being sensual and working her up to her high slowly. He only let his guard down on rare occasions, and right now he was seeking his own pleasure in her. Her walls tightened as her orgasm came crashing down on her. “ Kei, ohhh!” His lips curled up when he realized he had just made her come harder than she ever had before. Her legs were shaking and she dug her nails into the hand that held her arms above her head. Her toes curled and her vision went white. Kei was watching her coming completely undone, and that was the biggest turn on. He thrust into her at an intense speed chasing his high that was so close but not yet close enough. She tightened her walls intentionally and heard him groan. “ That’s why I come too fast, is because you do things like that. Not that I mind I love it when you do it. ” He had a focused look on his face, and then he thrust into her particularly hard, and his body jerked as he spilled inside of her with a grunt. He placed his forehead onto hers as their heavy breathing slowed. He released his grasp on her wrists, and gently put her arms around his neck. He looked into her eyes with sincerity and kissed her lips gently. “ I hope I helped you relax."

@iluvsexyvoltageguys 

[blackarmyslave]

Masquerade [IkeRev]

Pairing: Ray Blackwell x Alice

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Notes: really trashy writing oof

Pshh dont act so suprised its another ray thing

Alice hated masquerade balls.

She hated them with a passion. There was just something irritating about them... how those disgustings pigs, commonly referred to as men, often tried to lure her into bed; or how, every time she talked to women, their conversations would almost always end up in gossips about her family's riches that were acquired with bloody hands, and how they killed countless people under a single man's orders, not knowing the person they were talking to about it is part of said family. Yet despite her loathing for occasions like these, Alice would still have to attend, for it was the only way she could fraternize with others. Her family was shunned by society for being such a hideous and brutal one. But here, in masquerade balls, she can wear a mask and pretend to be someone else and mingle to her heart's content. Nobody would know it was a girl from a bloody household.

Once or twice, Alice had danced with a few nobilities she considered decent enough for her. Those who weren't pedophiles, she conversed with. Those who were purely sober, she'd bonded with. But it was way past midnight now and she had gotten bored of the ball. A woman can only take so much soulless dancing and meaningless political talks. Not to mention the rough mask that hid her face from bashers, was starting to irritate her sensitive porcelain skin.

With a forced smile, the young descendant of the country's most infamous household excused herself from the festivities and went to the garden. Truly, it was a beautiful garden. The flowers were in full bloom and the breeze was refreshing. Alice stretched, in a way that was very undignified. Yet she couldn't care less. Her muscles were sore from keeping up a flawlessly upright posture all this time, and she was bored beyond measure.

The itch on her face that was long there reached its peak, and Alice couldn't take it anymore. She moved to dispose her mask until a voice warned her, "It's rude to take off your mask in a ball like this."

It was a man's voice, smooth like the waves and light as the garden's breeze. Undoubtedly, it had belonged to a young man... a cool young man. But Alice despised people who dared talk to her so fondly. She swirled around to reprimand whoever it had been.

"I don't recall holding responsibility to oblige," she retorted, her prissy tone leaking with every syllable. One corner of the man's lips slowly curled upwards in an amused smirk.

"Then by all means, go embarrass yourself."

Alice scoffed with irritation. Who does this man think he is? Yes, it's true that taking off your mask is a big no in a masquerade ball, but--

Oh.

She suddenly felt like smacking her forehead. If she takes the accessory off, she's to reveal her identity. And no doubt receive countless ridicules. And Alice didn't want that, especially from a man like him. Her cheeks flushed in realization. Suddenly the girl wanted to keep it on and couldn't feel the itch anymore.

"You're from the infamous Bright household, aren't you? Alice Bright, if I'm correct; twin sister of Edgar Bright, the Jack of Hearts and known as the Gentle Demon." surprise mf

Alice took her time studying the man. How had he known about her? What gave it away? What had she done to inform him of her identity? Most of all, who is this bastard? He was handsome, without a doubt, even with a mask on; black hair and intense emerald eyes, containing a youthful aura, but at the same time holding himself with such composed regality. His body was carved to perfection. He wore a simple yet dazzling dark sapphire mask with round diamonds literring it, the suit on his body looking ridiculously expensive.

Dark and regal... only one name clicked in the girl's head: the popular and widely loved King of Spades.

"I take it you're King Ray Blackwell...?"

The man rolled his eyes distastefully at the attached title. But he made no move to deny his identity, something that's against tradition. 'How hypocritical,' Alice thought dryly.

"Forget the King part, it's too preppy for my tastes," he said. "Just Ray is fine."

Alice rose a thin eyebrow. For a king, Ray Blackwell was too casual. She's always depicted him as cold and dignified, with no intention of fooling around; just like the opposing King of Hearts. Yet here he was: the Black King himself who didn't give a horse's muck whether people found out about his identity or not, speaking informally as if he'd known Alice all their lives.

'Charming-- I mean, preposterous! Ghastly!'

Well... what can she say? It's her first time meeting a man like Ray; someone true to himself and didn't stumble foolishly in a vain attempt of becoming the perfect gentleman.

But no. In the Bright household, emotions were a mortal sin. It was the biggest crime. And Alice grew up all her life believing it.

Naturally, she ignored her fluttering heart.

"So," Alice walked around the garden with Ray. She hadn't even noticed how her irritation with him had suddenly faded after witnessing his genuine personality. "The King of Spades is a fan of balls, then?"

Ray snorted. "Heck no. What makes you think that just because I attend 'em, I like 'em? Isn't everyone only here for the sake of making connections?"

"Probably." Alice would be damned if she voiced her agreement. "And does that rule apply to you as well, sire?"

Ray gave the girl a disgusted look. She only blinked, urging him to voice out what took him aback.

"Okay. One, it doesn't. I'm just here to let loose for a bit. Second... Cut that formality out! It's creepy." "Why so? Do your soldiers not address you that way?"

Ray's green orbs took on a fond light, giving Alice the answer right away, as if his memories of his subordinates were all warm and cozy. One could tell he was a good leader and a true king by just a glance of that. And maybe, she thought, he was a brother, too; a brother to the rest of his army. Alice wondered how they treated each other... did they eat at the same table? Did they disregard ranks and fraternized comfortably? Was it like a home in the Black Army's headquarters?

"They address me as a king during official business, yes," he replied. "But we're just ourselves around one another for most of the time. Parties every week or so, lots of laughter and pranks... it's like a brotherhood."

The faintest trace of a smile ghosted the girl's lips. "It sounds lovely."

From there, it went on and on. Ray asked Alice what was her favorite animal, to which she replied cats for they were elegant and had the cutest little mewls; and much to her surprise, Ray shared her thoughts. She, in return, asked him what he thought about table etiquette, and he laughed at just how preppy Alice was being. Nevertheless, he answered her, saying "I think dining fancily's fine if serious stuff are going on, like funerals or oathtakings. It's a way of showing respect. But people shouldn't be judged by how they act at the table. In fact, class shouldn't even be a social judgement or something. 'Course, this is just my opinion. And I think table manners should be kept to a minimum. People deserve to enjoy their food and time without fear of being critiqued of how classy or polite they are. They should be able to be just themselves in a table, because after all, that honesty's bound to form really tight relationships real quick, no?"

A bit more of talking and before she even knew it, it had been past 3AM now. Alice never thought it would be so fun to converse with the king. He was honest and frank, yet still respectful and even funny. They shared a lot of opinions about several topics, and one's answer changed the perspective of the other. The Bright lady wished to the twinkling stars high above she'd get another chance at talking with Ray in the future.

Now, Alice knew she shouldn't be rooting for the opposition. Her household is a Red through and through. In fact, her brother's the Jack of Hearts himself! At the back of her head, the ever-obedient little prodigy of the Bright family screamed at her to get away and cut off all connections with Blackwell. 'What do you think you're doing?!' a part of her screeched.

But right now, she wasn't really a Bright. She was just Alice. Little ol' Alice, who came to a masquerade ball in hopes of being able to talk to whoever she wants without her status bothering her. And she wasn't ready to throw that away just yet, and return to her uptight lifestyle.

'Just not yet, please,' she pleaded with her own self.

Suddenly, a slow, hopeful, smooth tune took on. It was faint and distant, coming from the ballroom many yards away. Yet she and Ray both heard it, the melody carried by the wind to their ears, and Ray took the cue.

"May I have this dance, Alice?" He asked her, the gentlest, most handsome smile on his lips, offering her his hand, and the girl's heart skipped a beat.

Had it been any other man; a pretentious, try-hard fake gentleman or a drunk bastard, she would've slapped. But no... not this one. He was a bastard, yes, the feisty part of her claimed, but he was a good bastard. A modest, decent, alright bastard.

Alice let her face be lit up by a grin. It had been her first in so long. She placed her hand on top Ray's and they both started dancing to the slow, almost-romantic music, everything else fading and all they could feel was this blossoming warmth in their souls.

And long after the song was over, and all was said and done, they still remained in one another's embrace. Red and Black forgetting their blazing feud for even just a moment; even in just a masquerade ball. They're just Alice and Ray, each silently praying dawn never comes and they'd never have to say theeir goodbyes.

Alice giggled under her breath. She'd decided. Maybe masquerades aren't so bad after all.

[mostpopulardisneygirl]

Aftermath

Julian Devorak and Fem MC WARNING Upright Ending Spoilers NSFW “...Let’s go home.” After we all defeated the Devil, Julian got his body back, and a wave of exhaustion hit us both. Portia ushered us to my guest room in the palace, the sound of the Masquerade dying down. Everything seems quiet. Julian and I sit on the bed while we remove our shoes. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back down and enjoy the rest of the Masquerade?” Julian lies on the bed, arms behind his head, sighing softly. “No, I think I’m all partied out. I’d figured you’d be too.” I stretch my arms lightly and let out a gentle yawn. “A little...but I don’t think I should sleep in my costume.” Julian gets up from his spot and stands. “Oh, good point. I might get feathers on your pillows.” I help him out of his coat and he’s back in his loose white shirt. After I’m out of my costume, I change back into my regular clothes. We both lie down on my bed, facing each other. A thought crosses Julian’s head. “MC?” “Yeah?” Julian lifts his hand to move a strand of hair away from my face. “What would you say if I decided to open a clinic next to your shop?” My eyes widen at him in shock. “Julian...” “We would be close. I could see you any day I wasn’t busy, you could just walk next door...” I stop him mid-sentence with a kiss. “You basically read my mind. I was going to ask you if you wanted to stay with me.” Julian’s eyes widen at my in shock. “Really?” I nod, holding him close to me. “If we’re going to have a future together, why not start now?” Julian chuckles lightly at me before wrapping his arms around my waist. He presses his forehead against mine, our noses brushing against each other. “MC, I’d be delighted to be with you. I’ll never leave you.” Julian wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me in for a lingering kiss. When we part, I rest my hands on his chest, and he lets out a small shudder. “What’s wrong?” Julian looks at me with a small blush. “I-it’s your hands. They’re so...” I start blushing and I pull back my hands. “A-are they cold? I’m sorry. Here, let me just...” Before I can place my hands together, Julian takes my hand and places it back on his chest, over his heart. “They’re so warm...” My cheeks glow cherry red as he moves my hand to his lips and kisses the inside of my palm. “Perhaps you’d like to use magic to warm me up.” My blushing face turns into a mischievous grin. “I think I have something else in mind.” I kiss Julian deeply and run my fingers through the back of his hair. Julian rolls me on top of him and hold onto him. “Julian...” Julian sits up, holding me close for me to sit on his lap. He leans close to my ear and whispers softly. “I’ll be gentle...I’ll be good...For you, my love...” Julian gently traces my neck with his lips, kissing lightly as I untuck his shirt and remove it. I place my hands on his chest as he moves his hands to the hem of my shirt, removing it slowly and lightly kisses my shoulder after he tosses it to the floor. His hand trail down my side and spine, removing my bra as he goes. I rest my head on his shoulder, wrapping my hand around his neck, letting his hair run through my fingers. Julian moves to my neck again, nipping lightly and pulling me closer to him. “Am I going to fast...?” I shake my head gently and lie him down on the pillows. “You’re doing fine, Julian...” His hands find my hips and he slowly removes my pants, exposing my naked body to his eyes. “You’re so beautiful...” I lean down to kiss him and slowly removes his pants. Julian position us to the proper angle until I can feel him inside me. I let out a small gasps and breathe out his name. Julian bucks his hips back and forth and I close my eyes, enjoying the gentle pleasures he gives. I lie on his chest and roll him over, placing him on top. “MC...?” I pull his head close and kisses him. “Don’t stop...keep going...” He holds me close and kisses me deeply. I take a deep breath as he continues thrusting back and forth in me. I feel his hand stroking my spine and he moves his lips to my neck. Sweat is running down our foreheads and our breath gets heavier. “MC...” I open my eyes slightly to look at him. “What’s wrong...?” Julian bites on his lower lip. “I-I’m close...I just don’t want it to be over so quickly...” He lowers his forehead to mine and I close the gap between us with a kiss. “It’s okay, Julian...” He exhales deeply and rests his head against my shoulder, fully reaching his climax. “Julian...” Julian looks at me and smiles lightly, causing me to smile back at him. He runs his hand through my hair, pulling me close for a lingering kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck. “Promise you’ll never leave me...?” Julian presses our foreheads together. “Never in a million years will I ever leave the love of my life...” I lie us both down on the bed and pull the blankets over our shoulders. “I love you, Julian Devorak...” Julian wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. “I love you too, MC...” He kisses my temple and we both close our eyes and drift to sleep in each other’s arms. The morning sunlight beams slowly in the window. I can feel Julian’s nose against my shoulder, and I can’t help but let out a small giggle. “Good morning...” Julian kisses my temple gently and I turn to face him. “That tickles.” “Good. My magic must be working.” I laugh against his lips, before we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. “Ilya. MC. Are you in there?” It’s Portia. I put my finger to my lips and shush him. “Nadia invited us down for breakfast.” Julian looks at me and nods softly. I speak to Portia through the door. “Okay, I’ll be right down.” I can feel Portia crossing her arms behind the door. “I know he’s in there with you.” Julian starts blushing softly as he grabs his pants from the floor. “I’ll see you downstairs, you two.” I grab my clothes from the floor and places them on one by one. “Glad she didn’t come in.” Julian lets out a laugh as he buttons his jacket. “You’d be surprise at what she can find.” I place my boots on and smile at him. “You can tell me that story later.” “Who said it was a story?” Julian gets the door and walks out with me. “After you, my dear.” We join Nadia and Asra downstairs for breakfast. Portia is seated to Julian left while I’m on his right. “I trust you two had a good night sleep.” Julian takes sip of tea and smiles at me. “It was...eventful.” I can feel a light nudge on my foot from his boot. “Well, it’s not everyday you come back to life, fight a ghost, and bind the Devil. All in one day.” Nadia laughs lightly at Asra’s remark. I take a sip of my tea and look at Julian. “Well, luckily for us, it’s all over. And we can all look forward to the future.” Nadia looks at Julian and I. “Speaking of which, I have something for you, MC.” Julian and I exchange a look. “For me?” Nadia waves to a servant and they present us with a case filled with a big pile of gold. “Nadia...” “A reward for all your hard work, with tokens of my gratitude.” I look at Nadia in shock. “Nadia...I-I can’t accept this.” Nadia finishes off her tea and smiles brightly. “Of course you can. I am the Countess, a woman of my word. And besides, how else would you be able to open Doctor Devorak’s clinic next to your shop?” Julian and I start blushing. “Who’s been eavesdropping on us?” Portia and Asra start snickering behind their teacups. “I really don’t know what to say.” Julian nudges me and smiles. “How about ‘thank you?’” I smile at Julian and Nadia. “Thank you, Nadia.” Nadia grins lightly at us. “Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I do believe we were promised a swim? Care to join me at the fountain?” Julian looks between Nadia and Portia. “Wait, now?” Portia rushes past him. “I’m right behind you, milady!” I follows behind. “Don’t start without me.” I turn to see Julian behind. “Julian, are you coming?” Julian looks up and smiles softly at me. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” I follow Portia and Nadia to the garden, while Julian talks to Asra. “Asra, do you have a minute?” Asra looks at him, curiosity raising. “What’s wrong?” “Well, after I went to the Hanged Man’s realm, and regained my memories...I remember this...promised I made to MC, before she died. My only concern is if she would remember what it was, and if she doesn’t, I don’t know if I should tell her.” Asra raises an eyebrow at him. “That...does raises the question. What was it?” Julian rubs the back of his neck. “I promised her I would take her to Nevivon...once the plague was over. Now that I have my memories back, and she’s back in my life...maybe...maybe I could keep that promise.” Asra looks between Julian and the gold Nadia has given to us. “I’m pretty sure there’s more than enough to keep your promise.” Julian smiles at Asra and rushes past him. “Well, we shouldn’t keep them waiting!” A week later, Julian has fully moved in with me, setting his clinic right next door to the shop. Our routine was the same as everyday. Open the shop and clinic, close at night, and meet each other for dinner. Tonight, Julian said he wanted to surprise me, so after I closed down the shop and cleaned everything down, Julian came in the door and smiles when he sees me. “I’m home.” I dust myself off and walk up to him. “You look exhausted.” Julian chuckles lightly. “Maybe, but I can always find the energy to see you.” He kisses my cheek and hooks my arm with his. “Now, then. I believe I have a surprise for you.” “Do I have to close your eyes?” He grins mischievously at me. “You can save that for later. For now, how about a drink?” Julian takes me down to the Rowdy Raven for dinner. This must be really special for him. “So, what’s the surprise?” Julian takes a small drink from his stein before he takes my hand. “MC, I don’t know if your remember this, but...three years ago, before you died...I-I made a promise to you. Do you remember what it was?” A vague memory teaches my mind, followed by a slight tension in my head. I place my hand to my head a rub gently. Julian jumps up and places his hand on mine. “Are you alright? Is it a headache?” I look at Julian and smile softly. “Yeah...but...I think...I think I remember what your promise was...” Julian lowers his hand and looks at me in shock. “Y-you do?” “Nevivon...you were going to take me to Nevivon when the plague ended.” Julian chuckles tearfully. “You remembered...!” I hug him close and let a tear fall from my eye. “I want to keep this promise. Once I earn enough from the clinic, I’ll take us to Nevivon. You, me, Pasha, and Mazelinka.” Julian rubs his thumb on my cheek to wipe away a tear. “This I promise you.” I place my hand on his and smile tearfully at him. “I love you, Julian...” Julian holds me close to him. “I love you too, MC...I always will...”

[prosodiical]

Newt/Graves, T. Prompt: purgatory.

Newt thinks he probably wouldn't be so stuck on what happened in New York, if it weren't for the dreams.

They start on the steamship back home to London, as far as he knows. He'd fallen flat in a bed from exhaustion the night everything had happened, after he'd seen the sun rise and the day dawn anew, and maybe he'd had the dream then, but it would have been eclipsed by the still-tight worry and regret bundled in his chest, tied to every thought that went through his head. And the days after were much the same, though he'd pulled himself to terms with the knowledge he'd done all that he could, and then the dreams -

They're strange, disjointed, hyper-real. Newt dreams with lucidity only rarely, but every night since he's found himself aware that he's dreaming, aware that this, whatever it is, isn't real. The expanse of his dream is white and grey, washed of all colour but that what he brings himself, the brown of his suitcase and the blue of his coat and the pink of the blood under his skin.

Newt wonders if it's regret made manifest, or the warning Grindelwald left him with before he was carted away. Sometimes the man speaks, words muffled as though he's underwater, as though he's speaking through layers of cloth, a plea for a hearing when all Newt can hear is his own response echoing in his ears. Sometimes he just looks at Newt, studies him with that same furrowed-brow frown, and Newt wonders again why he's here as the man reaches across the table and his hand passes seamlessly through Newt's own.

"I don't know what you want," Newt says to him once more. "And - I don't know why you're here. Or why I'm here."

All the color is washed out of him, his dark hair stark against his pale skin. Newt wonders who he was, the man Tina once respected, that Grindelwald could mimic well enough to fool everyone he knew. Perhaps this man, too, would have sentenced them to death as Grindelwald did without censure whilst wearing his face; perhaps Newt isn't only imagining the deeply shuttered longing and regret in his cool, dark eyes. "I don't have anything for you," Newt says. "Grindelwald is captured. Percival Graves is dead."

The man watches him, entirely still, completely silent. Newt feels the weight of his gaze like a curse on his shoulders until it drops, the man's mouth curling at the corners, knowing and faintly wry. Newt feels a flush of regretful empathy in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Newt says. "If you are - him - I would help you, if I could. But this…"

Newt isn't sure he wants to; he isn't sure if he should. There are enough tales of malicious magic masquerading as a memory, of the folly of making unconsidered deals that he wonders if it's wise to even think it, but there's something about the resigned tilt to the man's eyebrows and the gentle crow's feet around his eyes that makes him seem more person than threat. The edges of him are hazy, like a ghost on the edge of letting go and moving on, and his gaze is distant, almost lost.

And he isn't Newt's regret. Perhaps that's what decides him.

Newt rises to his feet, his chair scraping on a non-existent floor. His heart is racing jackrabbit-fast as he steps around the table and reaches out, deliberately, and the man considers him for a long, taut moment before he takes Newt's hand. Newt tugs him upright not thinking of how he's able to do it, the faint resistance of his skin again Newt's own, the spark of magical awareness that raises hairs on Newt's skin, his gaze instead fixed on the curious tilt to the man's mouth, the deepening lines around his eyes. On a quick, adrenaline-fuelled inhale, Newt says, "Please don't make me regret this," and kisses him.

The breath Newt exhales into his mouth floods him with life. It's a warm mouth against his own, then the weight of his hands on Newt's hips, pulling him in close. Newt has to force himself not to lean into the bright new warmth of him, the solidity of his presence and body pressed against his own, but when he pulls away he doesn't get far as the man buries an astonished laugh into Newt's jaw.

"Thank you," he says, sounding awed, "thank you."

There's a warmth to the life in Graves's face, the new colour in his skin. His eyes are a deep brown, his mouth a startling red, and Newt shoves his hands in his pockets to stop himself from holding on to him. "It's - quite all right," Newt says, and adds tentatively, "Then you are him? Percival Graves?"

"Yes," Graves says, "yes, I hadn't thought - how did you know?"

"I didn't," Newt admits, a little sheepishly. "But - you seemed like you needed it, Mr. Graves."

He hasn't yet let Newt go, as though he's afraid he'll fall back into this dream-world if he does, and Newt feels almost embarrassed at Graves's expression, full of startled wonder before he manages to collect himself. "And you're… Newton Scamander, aren't you?"

"Newt is fine," Newt says, quickly. "But - do you know how you're here? I'd thought…"

"I," Graves says, "think I felt you, there. I was trapped in this - half-life, this slow fade into obscurity away from memory, but you - you were clear. Bright."

Newt says, "Mr. Graves - "

"Percival," Graves says.

"Percival, then," Newt says, and presses his lips together, feeling strangely conscious of the way Percival is watching him. "I'm still not sure - where this is. Or how to get you out."

"Why did you think that would work?" Percival says. "The kiss."

Newt says, "It's magic."

"Then believe in that, if nothing else," Percival says, and leans forward until their noses are brushing, until Newt can feel his breath against his lips. "It needs no explanation. It's magic. You're - "

"You've made your point," Newt says, his face warming, and closes his eyes and thinks firmly of waking as he kisses Percival again.

The dreams may have stopped, after that, but the strange emptiness in Newt's chest after waking and finding himself alone hasn't ceased. He sets it aside, as he does most things, in favour of his creatures and his manuscript and his life. But the thought lingers when Newt writes out quick letters to Tina and Queenie and scrunches up the note to Jacob before tossing it in the fire, and it stays with him even as Theseus's owl flies off again after stealing the bacon directly off his plate.

Theseus does like dropping by without notice, and has a vast array of comments to say about Newt's faint melancholia: "Pining?" he wonders, to Newt's half-hearted denials. "Newt, you'd better introduce me to that poor sod that's got you moony-eyed - "

"Oh," Newt says, "and what is this I hear about you getting married?" which is enough to make Theseus bluster and laugh, though he doesn't stop watching Newt with a too-curious eye.

So when there's a quick knock on Newt's flat door, he isn't expecting anything new; he answers it dishevelled in his shirtsleeves, a complex maneuver with a darling baby kraken in his arms, and then nearly drops it and the bottle he's feeding it with when he finally manages to open the door. Percival - Graves - looks at him, and then the kraken, and his expression flits through a complicated riot of emotion to end up as something Newt thinks might be quizzical. "Hello," Percival says, "am I interrupting something?"

"Ah," Newt says, somewhat belatedly, "no, I'm - it's fine, come in, please, I'll just - "

He does drop the bottle, then, in the rush to clear the doorway, but Percival hands it back to him with a rather showy bit of wandless magic. "Here," Percival says, and, "I thought - should I come back later?"

"No," Newt says, quickly, "no, it's - it's good to see you. I… hadn't heard."

"The transition hasn't been as smooth as I'd hoped," Percival says, and casts a curious glance over Newt's small flat, the kappa tadpole he rescued yesterday still in a glass on the table, Pickett peeking his head out from Newt's coat draped over his case on the floor, Theseus's kneazle sunning herself in the windowsill. "Though - considering I'd thought I was dead…"

He watches Newt with a thoughtful intensity that Newt feels as a strange thrill across his skin. He quickly, carefully sets the poor kraken back into his case before he straightens again, tugging at his sleeves self-consciously as he runs a hand through his hair. "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"I woke up," Percival says, simply. "I hadn't known I was sleeping, but perhaps I was - cursed, I think, to live in that place until I vanished from life itself. Grindelwald had hidden me well, though I can't say much for my Auror's awareness considering you were the only one who noticed."

"And," Newt says, tentatively, "why me?"

Percival's mouth quirks in a wry smile. "Maybe it was some last-ditch attempt at escape," he says, "your takedown of Grindelwald, that you were the one who revealed him - but I'm happy to call it magic."

"Magic isn't quite so inexplicable," Newt says, a flush of anticipatory delight making him bite back his smile, and Percival lifts a shoulder in half a shrug as he steps forward, setting a hand on Newt's hip, his body solid and real, perfectly close.

"It's you, then," Percival says, and kisses him again, this time with the warm colour of life.

[angededesespoir]

We can’t always get what we want

A/N:   For Day 1- Past/Then and Now.  

.....Tfw the characters go off script & you just kinda have to roll w/ it and rework your plans.

(Anyway, so despite my original intentions, this wound up becoming Jesse pining after Jack & Gabe, and instead of Jack and him getting together like I originally wanted, they wind up becoming really close friends (w/ Jesse still having feelings for him.....and Jack’s feelings are a bit ambiguous, I suppose).  This is mostly centered on Jack & Jesse, but I will say that Gabe and Jack are together in this fic. [briefly & in implied statements] because I’m a multishipper & despite trying to suppress it, one of the OTPs had to emerge, I guess.  (*Glares at myself*  Can you not do one thing right?)  

I’m thinking I’m probably going to try writing another thing for this prompt, too, where I can actually manage to get Jack & Jesse together.

For now, complicated friendship will have to do.)

Anyway, hopefully this is okay.

(Can be read on AO3.)

He’s just turned twenty when he starts to notice the feelings emerge.

It happens suddenly, after a particular incident, late one night when he had gone to deliver a report to Reyes.  He approached the open door quietly, about to knock when his eyes locks onto the pair.  He instinctively moves back into the shadows, watches the commanders as they tenderly kiss, hands lovingly caressing eachother.  He knows he should probably leave, but he can’t seem to make himself turn away.  

He has never seen the two so gentle, so seemingly at ease.  He has only seen them hard at work, focused and serious (the occasional joke or smile, of course, but nothing like this).  

There’s a sudden pang in his heart as he watches.  ‘This is love,’ he realizes.   This is love, and it hits him just how badly he wants a taste.

He hastily moves back down the hall (he’s already seen too much, and he doesn’t want to risk getting caught), heads to his room, original task forgotten.

He cannot get the image out of his head.  He can’t help but fantasize- an alternation of Jack’s soft lips and Gabriel’s cracked ones against his own, what their muscular bodies would feel like pressed against him.

He keeps flicking back to Jack, though.  He doesn’t get the privilege of seeing him often, of interacting with him much.

He wants that more than anything.

--

It’s a few months later when he finally works up the nerve.  

He’s rattling on about a report and when he reaches the end, when he still holds the commander’s full attention, he asks him on a date.  Nothing big- just a dinner date over a movie on TV.  

(He figures that few to no people know about the two commanders, and he doesn’t quite know how to approach Gabriel, how to voice his desires, how to face possible rejection.  But with Jack, there’s still distance.  If something goes wrong, he’s easier to avoid.  It’d be easier to pretend like nothing happened.

And regardless of how things went, he figures this is the easiest way of killing two birds with one stone.  Jack will have to tell Reyes about the encounter, he thinks.)

Jack looks stunned.  “This is.....unexpected.”

Jesse rubs the back of his neck nervously, but tries to act flippant, like it doesn’t matter to him if the man accepts or not.  “It’s nothing serious or anything.  I just thought you could use a little break, a little fun.  If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can invite Commander Reyes to join us.”

He swears for a second that Jack looks like he’s seen a ghost, but then he’s composed again.  “Why would I-”

“It’s okay,” Jesse cuts him off.  “I know about the two of you.  Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Jack tries not to show any emotion, but Jesse can sense the uneasiness..

“Listen, Jack,” he gives a pause, tests the water.  Morrison does not object.  “I like the two of you.  A lot.  I reckon it’d be nice to spend some time with y’all outside of work, where we can toss aside titles and just enjoy time together as equals.  There’s no pressure.  Take your time to think it over, discuss it with...Gabriel.”

Jack shifts in his chair.  “.....Jesse, listen, I like you.  You’re a good agent.  But have you thought about this?  How it would look if I-  I mean, with our positions, not to mention age...”

Jesse rests a hand on the desk, leans forward.  “Jack, I’ve thought about this.  I thought about this for months.  Listen, I’m not a kid.  I know there’s possible repercussions.  But I trust you two.  And I trust we can all keep work separated from our personal lives.”

Jack smiles, shakes his head.  “You act as if that’s a simple thing, McCree.  But for both Gabriel and I, our lives are our work.”

He clears his throat.  “Listen, Jesse, I appreciate your.....admiration, but I don’t think I can reciprocate in the manner you desire.  If you wish, we can try to be friends, but I don’t think anything more would be appropriate at this time.”

McCree shifts.  “It’s the rank, ain’t it?”

Morrison smiles sympathetically.  “It’s many things.  I’m sorry.”

Jesse shrugs, looks down at his feet.  “Well, I guess I’ll be going.”

Morrison looks like he’s about to say something; Jesse doesn’t give him a chance.

He’s too busy trying to hold back tears.

--

It’s two years later.  He’s managed to grow closer to Jack.  The desire still burns, and sometimes when he catches sight of his smile, there’s a fluttering in his chest. (It’s the same thing with Gabriel, but his smile is much more rare.  It’s a beautiful sight to behold, for those lucky enough to see it.  He does what he can to receive such a blessing.

He has not told Gabriel his feelings.  If it didn’t work for Jack, it probably won’t for Gabe, and besides- he doesn’t want to cause any conflict between them.

Reyes has never confronted him about his conversation with Jack.  Jesse does not know what this means.

He tries his best to crush his hope, to keep his desires in check.)

He meets Morrison when they can.  They share some coffee and sometimes Jesse can convince Jack to eat a pastry or a bagel.  (It worries him, how little the commander seems to eat, how dark the circles are under his eyes.)  He tells him about missions, he tells him stories, he vents.   Jack listens, but he rarely talks about his own workload or his personal life.

Jesse doesn’t press him.

--

It’s a year later and he’s standing at the door of the office, two mugs in hand, about to announce himself.

He freezes in place.  He has never seen the commander cry, but here he is- face flushed, tears streaming, choking on sobs as his frame shudders.

He can’t think, so he acts.  He’s rushing forward, placing the mugs on the desk, and cautiously approaching the distraught man.  He starts whispering his name, hand hovering above Jack’s bicep, half-hesitant to make contact.

Jack turns, startled.  He frantically begins wiping at his eyes, the tears refusing to stop.  “J-Jesse.  Sorry, I must’ve forgotten about our meeting.”

“Jack, it’s okay.”  He finally works up the courage to rest his hands gently on the still trembling arms.  Jack does not move or protest, so he takes it that this is acceptable.  “What’s wrong?”

Morrison avoids his eyes, wipes at his face again.  “It’s nothing.  Nothing.”

“Jack, this doesn’t look like nothing.”  He hesitates.  “Listen, you don’t haveta tell me, but it ain’t good to bottle up so much emotion.  You should finish letting it out. I can stay, if you need, or if you’d rather I go, I can do that, too.”  He rubs an arm reassuringly.  “Just know I’m here for ya, if you need me.”

The tears are still coming, and Jack bites his lip.  After a pause, there’s a weakly whispered, “Stay, please?”

Jesse nods.  “Of course.  I’ll stay as long as you need.”  

He pulls the man towards him, embraces him lightly.  Jack’s head is resting on his shoulder.  He can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, the shuddering chest against his own, struggling for air between sobs.

He doesn’t know what to do or say, so he pulls him closer, begins a mantra of, “It’ll be Okay.”  He repeats it until the words lose meaning, until Jack is still against him, his face stained, but drying.

He continues to hold him.

--

This begins to happen more frequently, as the cracks begin to show.

--

He’s nearly 25 when he decides to leave.  He hates seeing the rise in corruption (barely veiled by this point), hates to think that he might soon find himself in another gang masquerading as an organization.

It also pains him to see Jack unraveling by the day, to watch his relationship with Gabriel crumbling.  There’s nothing he can do, and at this point, little comfort he can provide.

He sees a part of Jack dying when he delivers the news.  (Gabriel was easier.  Serious, somewhat stoic, but in a way,  gentle, supportive.)  He nods solemnly, gives his okay.  

Jesse wishes he can take him from this place, too.  Take Reyes away with them.  This place has destroyed the two of them, robbed them of their once brilliant light.

They deserve more.

He turns away.  There is nothing he can do for them.

--

He’s back in the states, drinking in a bar, when he hears the news.  There’s been a explosion back at the Swiss Base.  There don’t seem to be any survivors.

The images of Jack and Gabriel overtake his mind as he stares at the rubble on the screen.  He feels sick.

He calls the bartender over, orders another bottle of bourbon.

--

In the morning, he still remembers.  

--

No matter how much he drinks, he can’t forget them.  The voices fade with time, but the scenes still play out.

Sometimes when he shoots he can hear Gabriel’s voice, either a praise or a warning.  When he tries to form a strategy, he thinks of what his commander might have done.

Sometimes when he sits atop a train, the people in the train cars below him, munching on food and talking, he is transported back.  He remembers  Jack’s infectious laugh, his scowl when he drops a pastry and the jam stains his shirt.  (Jesse remembers holding back a laugh, going to wet a napkin, trying to help Jack while the man half-heartedly protests, telling him he doesn’t have to.  Jesse smiles, tells him it’s not a problem.  And it isn’t.  It allows him an ounce of the contact he craves.)  He remembers Jack cringing when he adds some whiskey to both of their drinks after a particularly rough day.  Jack protests, but drinks it anyway.

Sometimes McCree wonders if these memories are a curse or a blessing.  Overall, he tries not to dwell on them.

--

It’s a little over twelve years since he left when the call comes in.  

He’s tired of constantly running.  He wants to go back to the only place he could call home, even if the people he loved are no longer there.

It takes him awhile, but he returns.  There are few who have come back; still more left to find.

He lights a cigarillo and closes his eyes.

--

He’s still alive.

He feels too much and nothing at all.  Angela’s confession plays over and over in his head.

He stands in the shadows, looking out at two ghosts, knowing that a third is still out there.

Jack’s changed.  But so has McCree.  They’re both not exactly the same men they once were.

But under the rough exterior, McCree wants to believe that the essence of Jack still remains.

When Ana leaves to get more tea, he approaches, drops down by Soldier’s side with a, “Howdy,” and the tip of his hat.

Soldier doesn’t look, takes a sip of his drink.  “Angela told you.”  It’s more a statement than a question.

McCree is somewhat taken aback by how different the man’s voice sounds.  Deeper and rougher, the style more curt, less friendly and open.  “Yep.”

There’s silence.

“It’s good to have you back, Jack.”

He sees the hand tighten on the mug.  “That’s not my name.  I’m just a soldier now.”

‘You were never just a soldier.  Never to me.’  “Sorry,” he says.  He looks around for a second, then asks, “You down to see a movie?”

“I have work to do.  We have a mission coming up.”

He watches the man get up, joints a little stiff.  The mask covers his face, again.

McCree nods.  “Another time, then.”

He made it work back then; he can make it work again now.  It will just take time.

He can wait.