#Get Rid of Anger in Seconds - Brand New Study

[neytirisheaven]

how could i ever compete with that?

warnings: no use of y/n, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of child abuse, strong language

regulus black x fem!slughorn!reader word count: 2k part two of “she’s all i wanna be so bad” (part one)

summary: as you wanted, regulus finally confronts you, but it doesn’t go the way either of you planned

notes: YES I’M ALIVE!!! this is literally so late AND I KNOW YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING and it didn’t go the way i originally planned for it to go but i think i like it a bit better than part one.. reader may be a bit dramatic but i really enjoyed writing this near the end so i hope you all enjoy!! (ps i’m so sorry in advance (and this is slightly proofread so if there are any mistakes i apologize!)) and for me, at least, this will be posted on thanskgiving day, so for all the people who celebrate thanksgiving, think of it as a thanksgiving gift :)

FOR THE PAST few weeks after the incident with Regulus and his new girlfriend, you haven’t spoken to him once. You tried, but he paid you no mind as he was too focused on his brand new girlfriend. He ignored you every day, and all it did was put a sour taste in your mouth. But you couldn’t get rid of the feelings you still had.

Eventually, though, you gave up. You switched seats with Adaléne in Potions, you bribed a boy on the opposite side of the Charms classroom to swap seats with you, and you stopped eating with him during your meals. He barely even noticed.

You spent all your time in the library with your nose stuffed in some type of book, either studying for your upcoming assessments or filling up your free time with the small bit of entertainment you had left after you reluctantly walked out of Regulus’ life. A bit immature and melodramatic, some would say, but it truly pained you to see him with her every second of every day.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a small sliver of hope to gain attention from your best friend—or ex-best friend—but you would never admit that. To anyone.

So, instead, you remained quiet in the presence of silence and the thousand of books that surrounded you, as well as a few other students in your year. 

After a while, you stepped outside the library to find a drink and quench your thirst, but your belongings were left sitting on the table. It only took you five minutes. You only stepped in the Great Hall for a minute and grabbed a Goblet. You didn’t notice that Regulus and Adaléne were gone, nor would you have cared even if you did notice. 

You weren’t even gone for that long.

But it was long enough for you to find the two missing people sitting at the table your belongings were at, and it was definitely long enough for them to be kissing shamelessly.

A scowl crossed your lips before you eventually mucked up the courage to walk over to your table and grab your things, preferably unnoticed by the obnoxious couple.

Regulus recognized your heavy footsteps even with his eyes closed and his lips on another girl’s, just as quickly as he recognized your things that lay on the table opposite of their seats.

Your head was a flurry of anger, annoyance, and agony all rolled up into one. You were hurting just as bad as you were when you first found them all those weeks ago in the Slytherin dungeons, and you had no idea how to make it go away. 

Your heart was beating as fast as the pain was shooting through you, your emotional pain translating into physical pain somewhere in your brain—possibly the same place you came up with the brilliant idea to fall for your best friend, who would never, ever, fall in love with you.

You held your breath in and squinted your eyes shut for a few seconds. Looping your arm through your bag and stuffing your borrowed books into its cotton material, you picked up your papers from your earlier classes and walked away. Your head was held high, and your body radiated confidence, but all you were feeling on the inside was dread and pain. Just being around Regulus and being unable to speak to him (mostly due to your own pride and embarrassment) was enough torture to last you years worth of suffering.

The curly-haired boy pulled away from Adaléne’s touch and sighed into her lips. She took it as a content sigh, but he knew what it really meant. While he pretended like he didn’t notice you hastily grabbing your things, everything about you was flooding his senses.

Your perfume overpowered his girlfriend’s by a large margin, even though he was pressed up against her instead of you. Or maybe he was just imagining it because he wished he was with you instead.

The doors to the library shut with a soft echo, signaling that you’d completely left the vicinity.

Adaléne leaned closer to Regulus’ face to resume their kiss, but he dipped his head away and squinted his eyes shut. Letting out a small exhale, he pushed himself off his seat and straightened the collar of his robe, gently pushing his girlfriend back down when she was beginning to stand up. 

“No, no, stay,” he spoke gently despite the strong fire burning behind his eyes. “You need to study. I just have a headache.”

Adaléne furrowed her eyebrows and began to stand up again. “I will take care of you—“

“Ada, I’ll be fine. Focus on your studies.” Regulus pursed a smile and pressed a kiss onto his girlfriend’s forehead before leaving the library. 

Immediately, he heaved the doors open and followed the faint sound of your footsteps, leading him to the dungeons and eventually, the Slytherin common room. You made it to your dorm room before the boy could catch you, so he used the lost time to his advantage and hurried to his own dorm room.

He could finally make it up to you.

And so, with that thought etched into his mind, he grabbed the bookmark that he had so carefully looked over for the past few weeks and held it gently in his hand. 

Pushing his door open, Regulus flattened his robes against his body and briskly walked to your dorm room, rapping his knuckles against the hard surface of your door. After a few seconds and a bit of muffled shuffling behind the thick material of the dorm room walls, you finally opened the door with glossy eyes.

Those same glossy eyes shot open at the mere sight of the dark-haired boy, your hands immediately coming up to your face to wipe away any stray tears that may have fallen without your notice. “Regulus,” you spoke breathlessly, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth. “What are you doing here?”

Before everything that happened, you would have never even thought to ask Regulus what he was doing at your dorm room door. In fact, he wouldn’t even have to knock. He could’ve just walked in wordlessly, and no one would’ve said a thing; not even your roommates (if they were there).

But things change. They did change.

“I—“ he sighed. “I just wanted to drop your bookmark off. I know it’s your favorite one, so you must’ve been looking for it for some time, yeah?”

You tried your hardest to hide the joy that creeped onto your face once you locked eyes with your beloved bookmark, not wanting to show any drastic emotions in front of the boy you used to call your best friend. “Thank you,” you muttered, taking the green ribbon from the boy’s hands. “Was that all you came here for?”

You could see different waves of emotion wash up on Regulus’ face, holding back the comments that were building up inside of you. 

Eventually, he spoke with great reluctance, “No. I actually wanted to talk to you about some things, if that’s alright with you.” 

Pursing your lips and contemplating how detrimental this would be to your relationship, you ultimately nodded your head and swung the door open a bit more, allowing him into the dormitory with a hesitant expression. 

You both sat on the edge of your bed, your posture perfect and proper, sitting as if you were a robot. You were clearly on edge, and your body language said everything. It made Regulus all the more uneasy, seeing your uncomfortable stiffness fill the room with even more tension than before. All he wished was for you to flop on the bed with a relaxed smile, to go back to when you trusted each other with your lives.

“So,” you began, “what did you want to talk about?”

The boy remained silent for a few seconds, trying to find the right words. It felt like everything was slipping just off the tip of his tongue. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he trailed off. “I, uhm, don’t think Adaléne’s the right girl for me.” He wrung his hands together, a nervous habit he’d been attached to since you were both small children.

A strained laugh slipped past your lips. “I don’t understand what this has to do with me, Regulus. I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“There is a girl that’s right for me, and I know it,” he began, locking eyes with you. 

You frowned. You knew where this was going, and you didn’t want it to happen. “This has nothing to do with me. I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“You do know why I’m telling you this.”

“No, I really don’t!”

“Yes, you do!” He was beginning to become impatient, and you could tell by his voice.

“I don’t!” You bit back in a frustrated tone.

And then, he finally snapped. “I love you! I don’t love Adaléne, I never did! I don’t want her, I want you! I need you!”

His outburst caused a domino reaction, immediately unlocking a new level of rage you didn’t know you had inside you. “You ‘need me’?” You laughed humorlessly. “Is this a joke?”

Regulus’ face immediately fell, “No, it’s not a joke! I would never joke about this—“

“You don’t get to throw away the years we had for a new girl and then expect me to take you in when you come crawling back and tell me that you ‘don’t want her’. I’m not a fucking second choice, Regulus!” You spat, anger bubbling inside you. “You didn’t even try to talk to me or come find me! You just ran off with her because she was your newest toy to play with! You didn’t even notice how I kept trying to keep contact with you! I waited and waited for you to come back and apologize, to tell me that you were sorry for ignoring me! But you didn’t.”

The boy stuttered, shocked by your sudden burst of anger, “I—look—I’m—I’m sorry, I really am.”

“‘Sorry’? ‘Sorry’ doesn’t mean anything! You can say sorry for the shit you did, but it’s not going to fix a thing! You replaced me with the snap of your finger, Regulus! I’ve loved you since we were eleven, and you didn’t even hesitate to leave me for some girl you’d just met!” Tears streamed down your face, but you could’ve given less fucks. “Why was she so much better, huh? What did she have that I didn’t? What did she do that was so much better than everything I did?”

Regulus was left speechless.

“Do you even know what I’ve done for you? Do you even care for the things I’ve done? Do you?” You harshly pushed your hands against the boy’s chest, causing him to lean backwards and fall onto the post of your bed. “Whenever your parents tortured you, I was the one that was there for you! When your father was drunk off his arse every night, and your mother sided with him, I helped you! When Sirius left you all alone with your parents, I stayed with you that whole night! When you came to me with a black eye and bruises all over your body, I tended to you! It was me! Not Adaléne! Me! It was always me!”

Your cheeks were flushed, your chest heaving from the pained speech that you practically screamed out. Tear stains ran down your cheeks and your chin, your makeup now effectively ruined. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before speaking through gritted teeth, “So don’t tell me you ‘love’ me. Because we both know that’s a lie. Now, please, get out of my dorm.”

Regulus knew there was no point in arguing. He ruined your friendship, your relationship, and there was no going back from that. 

So, with a heavy heart, he slowly pushed himself off your bed. He thought twice to ask you if you could still be friends after all this, but only a fool would think such an instance would be possible.

And after one last glance at your broken figure, he walked out of your dorm room, closed the door, and pretended he couldn’t hear the violent sobs that racked your body from the unbearable pain only he could have caused you. 

tags: @thatonegayloser616

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

--

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

--

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

--

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

--

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

[bansept]

Let’s dance

/NSFW WORK/

While it’s not the absolute worse, nor the absolute best I could come up with, it’s a pretty nice start of the maybe long series of NSFW scrabbles for my dear Ichihime fandom!

To anyone who was a bit thirsty, I give you this fresh refreshment that I hope isn’t that bad!

DANCER ORIHIME X STUDENT ICHIGO

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

Blurry windows and foggy mirror, heavy breaths and skin burning.

The light was shining on them, their sweaty bodies moving in rhythm with the music, the gentle voice of the instructor ordering them around, making each movement matter.

Now, if anyone had told Ichigo he would be taking dancing lessons, staring at his reflection in half anger, half concentration and listening to young teenage girls giggle behind him, he would have slapped them. Not because dancing was shameful, because frankly, it definitely was not. Well, except for some dances, like the macarena or shit like that. No actually, Ichigo would not have believed himself for agreeing to come to dancing lessons to stare at the instructor.

As in, gawk at her.

.

.

.

Ichigo Kurosaki’s week had started as normally as any other week : waking up early, drinking liters of coffee, going to work on some english literature thesis, eating with some friends and coming back home to work until way too late at night, and starting over again.

Yes, he had been told several times by everyone he knew that coffee was bad when it was too much, yes, he had been told to work better on his thesis if he wanted to study and teach Shakespeare. Easier said than done, and that was why his friends had kept rumbling about either taking a break, thank you Chad, or stoping any distractions and really work, fuck you Uryu.

He was sitting across them, stirring his lunch leftovers slowly while the tall half Japanese half Mexican giant was pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking around them as Uryu was probably talking to him. Ichigo tended to not care much.

“So you better get back on track before your old man decides to stop…”

“He’s not lending me money anymore. I work now, you know?”

Uryu threw Ichigo a quite unimpressed look, closing his mouth only to push his glasses up his straight nose. Chad was holding back a tiny smile, but Ichigo of course saw it.

“Giving lessons to kids and working part time in a dojo isn’t really enough to pay for important studies. Or keep you floating like now for the rest of your little life.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth together, a hand digging in his pocket to hold onto his phone, anything hard to stop him from throwing hands with his friend. He really wondered how or why he even talked with the blue-eyed man in front of him.

“Excuse me?” A voice came from the side, clear and ringing in his ear loud enough for Ichigo to turn his head around. Any distraction was good enough to momentarily wipe Uryu from his mind.

Ichigo felt his grip on his phone loosen, just like his jaw.

The angelic voice that had called them was probably the most angelic form of life on Earth, putting to shame anything renowned painters and, god forbid, even Shakespeare, had ever described. With long, fluffy and so exquisitely soft looking auburn hair, bright grey eyes surrounded by a round face, with subtile eyebrows, a cute little nose and, fuck, pillowy lips…

The young and oh so magnificent woman was slightly leaning towards them, an inviting smile on her face while her slender hand was handing over rosy flyers.

“I’m sorry to bother you, gentlemen, but we are offering free dancing lessons to promote the opening of our new dance studio.” A sweet smile and Ichigo felt his eyes widen further. “Would you be interested?”

With the push of his friends, and because he was perfectly unable to say no to such a goddess, Ichigo was the only one to accept, the other two finding some kind of weird excuse. But really, the young man was perfectly fine in agreeing to go alone there.

.

.

.

What a fantastic recruit they had chosen for the job, he marvelled, walking down the sunny streets with his backpack, staring at the flyer that the gorgeous woman had given him. He wondered if she would be here, in this class, jumping around in sportswear and doing whatever dance lessons did. Ichigo snickered when he realized he’d be one of the idiots doing those idiocities too.

After a good 15 minute-walk, the orange-haired man stood right at the front of a brand new building, the white walls making the golden-ish design of the sign shining in the sunlight. Windows with closed curtains made him raise an eyebrow, but he still entered the dimly lit building, the office desk standing elegantly, but alone.

“Hello?” He asked, voice calling out in the empty space.

God, he hoped he had not arrived too late. Or worse, too early. Ichigo hated to appear eager, even if his brain reminded him that, actually, he was.

A few quick steps rushed on the clean floor, the young woman appearing from the corner of a room, head out of a door, that certainly led to the dance floor. Damn, he hated that word, but like the way her face lit up seeing him.

“Oh! You came!”

Now, if his heart had jumped when Ichigo had first seen her, now something else did when she walked up to him in tight clothing, working out clothing, that hugged everything and didn’t leave much to the imagination. The man quickly got his backpack into his hands and placed it in front of his groin. Breathe in, you can do it.

“Well, huh, I told you I would come, right?” He chuckled airily, watching her smile again, her shoulders lifting up in happiness, her breasts bouncing NO DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

“Thank you for coming, sir. You are right on time for the 3PM lesson. Others should come, but classes are mostly in the morning. Though I could make an exception for you!”

She brought her hands together in a small clap, and Ichigo did blush but desperately hoped it didn’t show.

It did, and the young woman pointed at the door in the back, with written in both English and Japanese “changing room”.

“You can go get changed, here is the key. Please be ready in 10 minutes.” she bowed to him slightly and walked back to the studio, slower than when she came in, and Ichigo felt his eyes trailing after her, impossible to stop himself or walk ahead as long as she was in here.

“I’m fucked.”

.

.

.

Yes, he was.

His young, overactive and definitely way too interested brain had created this mental image of dancing lessons, yoga sessions and massages to be a place of filth, where people turned into beasts and let nature rule them over as one of them was bended over a table while the other pounded in them. Instinctively, the clever and thinking part of said brain had stopped the idea, assuring him they were only fantasies young people in rut had twisted to fit their horny selves.

Unfortunately, part A of the brain had been right, and part B admitted defeat immediately when the session started with stretching methods.

With the instructor showing, naturally.

Going up, down, to one side then the other, running around the room wasn’t that bad. It actually helped get rid of the incoming boner Ichigo felt growing, and he stopped at the end to breathe out, now completely calm.

Apart from the moment she had come up to him to gently help him get the posture right, expertingly taking his hands to place them where needed, showing him how to do the exercise, her butt for him to see, and it was easy to think it was simply a coincidence.

One that brought his hard on back.

Then Orihime Inoue, the instructor, who had given him her name at the very start of the session so they would stop calling each other “Miss” or “Sir” as if they were still in school, came next to him and asked him to do some squats.

“I don’t see how that helps the dancing…” He doubted, looking at her in the eyes, and she chuckled lightly, raising her hand to pick up his arms and place them in the air, in front of him.

“Dancing is beautiful and powerful when you have good leg muscles. And while you do have muscles, if they themselves are not powerful enough, you won’t last very long.” She explained.

He sighed, argument hitting the spot, and did as many squats as her, next to him. If he was going to do some body work, then it would have been better to simply just go to the gym…

“Come on, don’t day dream! Do 50 and then we’ll see how you dance.”

The world stopped, all the clocks ticking in the empty void, head turning to stare at her incredulously, catching her puffing out her cheeks and laughing out loud, holding on to his shoulder to avoid slipping on the ground.

“I’m kidding, Ichigo-san! Don’t worry!” She kept laughing in her hand, and the young man felt several things : first, shame for letting his fear sweat outside of his body. Second, amusement at her dorky laughter.

The third emotion was out before he could control it, pulling her close to him and taking her hand off her face. Orihime looked shocked by his actions, ears and cheeks reddening from the effort as well as embarrassament.

“What…”

“That’s enough exercising for now. Let's get to the real work.”

He looked into her eyes, who had kept on looking up and down his body for the last half hour, her hands who ran up his arms to land on his collarbones, mouth opening slightly to let out nothing but a tiny “yes”.

He had been on fire for multiple reasons in life : because of anger against his father, his friends, sometimes his sisters. Because of grief, when he had to help other family members carry his mother’s coffin. Because of anxiety and weariness, because of exercise.

But this time, when he walked the two of them to a bench by the side of the room, he was burning in need and hunger.

Orihime was also fever like, the nice and calm mask she had slipped on falling away with her tank top, leaving her in just a sports bra while she kissed Ichigo deeply, tongue easily giving up the dominance in favor of the man’s own flexing muscles.

The sound of the music all but disappeared when their bodies collapsed together, hungry kisses and nails like tiger’s claws on each other’s skins.

With a quick breath, Ichigo pulled away from her mouth to kiss her neck, lapping at it gently, her hand going to his hair while he touched the skin of her hips and stomach. Softness and hard muscles seemed hard to combine, yet there she was, smooth smooth skin covering powerful muscles, ones that he would enjoy teasing.

After the kisses, his head got lower and lower, caging her lower stomach, not touching in the slightest her breasts, that would come later.

“Hmf, what are you... “

“Sh, don’t talk too loud, others might hear.”

He grinned from ear to ear, looking up as he licked his lips, her breath catching in her throat. Orihime’s hand suddenly caught his hair and pulled him up, as gently as possible, and they kissed again, one nibbling on the other’s lips, Orihime’s hands getting under the man’s wet shirt, feeling the tight muscles, the crease between each abs, the v line digging in his shorts.

“No one else is here… So, don’t hesitate to yelp, Ichigo.”

She murmured agaisn’t her lips before going deeper in her search, this time digging in his shorts to find what she seeked with a grin.

Ichigo yelped indeed, not expecting the woman under him to get so bold, yet there she was, feeling him up and stroking him in his damn shorts.

Fuck, would be the right word to use.

He didn’t utter a single vowel, bringing her pants and her underwear down rapidly, going back to kiss her as their lips found each other again, lost in moans and the electric touches of their tongues. Orihime kept on stroking him, gently pumping him up and down, the member in her hand turning even harder as she placed her thumb on the slit. Slick came out of it, and she chuckled at the man’s reaction : eyes closed and shaking behind the eyelids, Ichigo seemed ready to burst at any moment, but he groaned, not accepting an early end.

His finger, that had been on her lower stomach, stroking at her sensitive part, now had entered her, one by one. The long digits didn’t waste any time in looking for her gspot, that tender place inside of her that would make her see stars in seconds, if he was careful enough.

“Ichigo… No, not like, th-that…” She moaned against him, her free hand digging in his hair, pulling her face in his neck to try to resist the impossible pull on her body. “I… need….”

“I know, baby, I know… Let me take care of it…” He whispered back to her, placing one kiss on her forehead. His fingers came out of her, taking her own hand off of him, even if he twitched in insubordination. “You’re all good, Hime, you’re good…”

He reassured her, voice gentle like he knew she liked, hands lowering his pants to angle his cock to her. Ichigo finally freed her breasts from their confined space, letting them overflow on her chest, filling his vision with sights of her blushing face and exposed tits.

“You’re beautiful Hime…”

He smiled at her, rubbing her nose with his with a grin that she gave back, before entering her fully, nice and slow. She yelped this time, voice resonating in the empty room, but never stopping her sweet sound and words towards him as she dug her fingernails in his back, feeling him getting as deep as possible, filling her up to the brim, the end, to the heart.

She pushed her head out of his neck, and with a tiny frown, pouted.

“You didn't play.”

Ichigo winced, the tightness of hers squeezing just right around him, and nodded his head.

“I’m sorry… I tried, but you always look so fucking amazing in sports wear… fuck, I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t know my own fiancée!”

Orihime didn’t answer, couldn’t really, and pulled him back down against her generous mounds before he got started with his thrusts, rocking them carefully against the oh so fragile wooden bench of his future wife’s dance studio.

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

I’ll never forgive my playlist for making me turn what was supposed to be absolute filth into sweet love making on a bench.

Tell me what you thought of it, and how I can better myself!

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 19

Do Dead People Have Therapists?

By the time Ichigo was standing over Hiyori, her throat caught between two blades, there’s a thin sheet of sweat across his brow and his sleeves are long ripped off by her weapon. It’s a serrated butcher's blade, which fits Hiyori perfectly. 

She was stronger than Ichigo expected, and he can feel blood drying along his arms from where it's been stopped from flowing out of him, now white instead of black. He mentally thanks Tensa. 

Ichigo’s knee is on her stomach, keeping her pinned in place as if his blades weren’t enough for it. Her sword sticks out of the ground a few yards away. The rest of the Visord are watching from the sidelines, tense and ready to intervene save Shinji. Ichigo’s servants are much the same on the other side. They’re too protective of him. 

Not that they don’t have their reasons.

The first time they’d seen the mask that is slowly dissolving from his face he’d wrought destruction and nearly died right after. He knows they don’t like it, but it’s his power and he won’t give Nieve up for anything. 

It’s still disconcerting when he pulls it on. The shift of the world snapping into intense focus and the feeling of perfect balance and power coursing through him. There’s a pressure in his head that’s not painful but present, when Nieve is at the forefront. 

As the last flicker of bone falls from his face Ichigo falls against the ground away from Hiyori, his energy drained away. This was going to take some getting used to. But this time he’d lasted a full two minutes by his own estimate. It’s better than it was before. 

Even if it was only by thirty seconds. 

“Now can we be done with this bullshit?” Ichigo asks, casting an irritated scowl out at the other Visored.  

None of them seem inclined to challenge him further. There’s a man he hadn’t seen before, with pale pink hair, who is staring at his entourage with a little too much attention. 

A throat clears in front of him and Ichigo looks up to see Hirako standing over him. His smile is half quirked, not the strange, toothy grin he’d had before. He looks more genuine like this, and less like he’s trying to involve Ichigo in something seriously shady. 

His hand is extended down towards him while the other girl, Lisa, helps up Hiyori. 

Ichigo huffs and slides Tensa back into his sleeve before he takes Hirakos hand and uses him to pull himself up. His body protests and he’d like nothing more than a nap, but by the way everyone is starting to gather around him it’s looking like that’s going to be out of the question this time. 

Great. 

* 

Ichigo doesn’t know when it happened but at some point he became the king of ‘making doctors sleep’. 

It’s a crown he’d rath chuck in the ocean, but it’s one he wears all the same. 

In Chaldeas he’s the one who always bullies Romani into sleeping even when it means dragging him into Ichigo’s own bedroom. He’s made other medical staff leave their stations, and forced Da Vinci to take breaks when they were together, heroic spirit or not. (nevermind that she’s not a doctor. Close enough)

Now, it seems, his luck runs true because he finds Jeckyll passed out over a stack of papers that look like chemistry formulas and equations. 

Ichigo hadn’t gotten that far into school when he’d gone to Chaldeas, and he’s learning more mage craft than science now, so he couldn’t tell you what anything meant if you pointed a gun to his head. 

Still, he knows a sleeping scientist when he sees one. 

He shakes him gently by the shoulder. “Hey. C’mon, you can’t sleep here,” he chides. 

There’s not response besides and grumble and Jeckyll reaching to turn his gas lamp down and almost knocking it off the desk entirely. 

Ichigo manages to save them from a fiery death just barely, but it’s clean that Jeckyll doesn’t want to get up and move. 

Damn it. 

The things I do for my friends. 

Ichigo pulled the chair out and picked Jekyll up easily. He barely weighed a thing already, compared to Ichigo who had been fighting for well over a year now on top of most of his life. 

Ichigo takes him to his room, out of the study and up the hall before he deposits him in the sheets. 

It’s when he’s pulling back to stand that he feels cool steel against his upper thigh, right over an artery. 

He looks down to see bright red eyes. Hyde. 

* * 

Medusa and Achilles did not want to let Ichigo be alone with these people. Not even remotely. Ichigo insisted, after Hiyori finally calmed down and got something for the inevitable bruises that would form from Medusa’s attack. 

Ichigo was, naturally, completely ignored. 

Cu might have let him alone and trusted him enough to mind himself now that he could fight, but when the other two ganged up on Ichigo he threw his lot in with them. 

The filthy traitor. 

Ichigo sits on the couch in their living room area with Achilles to his left, medusa to his right, and Cu sits at his knee. It’s a wonderful show of force, except now no one is talking about anything, even though there’s clearly a lot to talk about. 

“So,” Ichigo says at last, “Why did you want me here so badly again?” 

It’s not the best ice breaker, but he can’t think of anything else. Shinji looks off put from where he’s sat beside Hiyori on the opposite couch from Ichigo. Two of the other Vizord took up residence in chair to left, a pretty boy with blond hair and the long fingers of a pianist and a gruff looking man with his hair shaped vaguely like a star. 

The pair on the couch was joined by a serious woman reading porn. A love seat on the other side of it had been moved to hold a gruff man who reminded Ichigo far to much of EMIYA and a green haired girl who looked ready to bounce away into the sky. 

“Your mask,” Hiyori snapped at him, “You told Shinji something stupid about your mask.”

“I told him the truth about my mask,” Ichigo corrected instantly. “What’s so weird about it? Didn’t you guys have to do the same thing?” 

“No,” Kensei said bluntly. “We didn’t just ‘talk’. We fought.” 

“...I mean, I did that too, but we were just playing.” 

“Playing?!” Hiyori sputters at him. “Playing! A hollow inside your brain and you played with it!” 

“Well shit, what did you do?” Ichigo finally demands, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. “He’s just me, right? A part of me. Like an arm or a leg or something more profound I don’t wanna think about right now.” 

“They are a part of ya,” Hirako admits reluctantly. “But inner hollows chew away at yer sanity piece by piece, just waitin ta devour you. They want out, they wanna kill, they wanna fight they want to take possession of everything ya have. They’re the darkest parts of ourselves, and if ya don’t beat them down and lock them away-” 

“Huh?!” Ichigo stares at him. Beat them down and lock them away?! 

“-They’ll come back and keep tryin’ shred your psyche. Ya make one wrong more, one slip up, let that box open even a crack and it’s over.” 

Ichigo and Hirako stared at each other for a long time. Ichigo leans forwards, steepling his fingers together. 

“Okay,” he says slowly, picking apart what the fuck was just said to him. “You are telling me that you have taken the darkest parts of you, the parts that you don’t like -anger, pain, desperation, every vicious killer instinct inside your body- You’ve taken the personification of them, and you’ve stuffed them into a box where you don’t have to deal with them anymore.” 

Ichigo looked straight at him. 

“Do dead people have therapists? Because you should really see one.” 

Hirako gaped at him. Ichigo had to duck one of Hiyori’s sandals. 

“Would you stop that! Damn, violent women,” Ichigo grumbled. “That’s like the worst coping mechanism ever. You don’t take all you trash, shove it in a closet, and think it’s just magically gone. Eventually it’s all gonna come back out, and now it’s hella rotten. What the hell.” 

‘Did you just call me trash?!’

‘I will say it again. Watch me.’ 

‘I’m still you, idiot!’

‘This is very strange,’ medusa cuts in. 

“There’s not other way to do it,” Rose, the pretty boy, says mournfully. 

Ichigo shoots him a look. “There clearly is. Since I didn’t lock Nieve anywhere and we’re just fine where we are… Ya ever read that book, Jekyll and Hyde?” 

Rose, Hirako, Lisa, and Hachi nod at him. 

“Yeah. Trying to rid yourself of parts you don’t like doesn’t usually end well.” 

He had the scar on the leg to prove it. 

“How did you do it then?” Kensei finally demands, looming over Ichigo. “You can’t really expect us to believe that you just talked.” 

“It’s not my problem if you believe me or not,” Ichigo is seriously starting to lose his temper here. ���I told you what happened. He’s me, he’s always been me. He’s my fear, he’s my desperation, he’s my deepest instincts.” 

“I’ve always trusted my instincts, even if I don’t listen to them all the time. It’s the same concept.” 

They’re staring at Ichigo like he’s just disproved gravity or something. 

Ichigo sighs heavily. 

“Can I leave now? I have other things to do, you know.” 

Before he gets the chance though the world tilts with a brand new pressure. A void and a violent rage slam into Ichigo’s senses. 

“...Are you fucking with me?” Ichigo demands, his temper coming closer and closer to snapping. 

* * * 

Ichigo can feel blood slowly leaking out of the shallow cut on his thigh. It’s barely an inch away from killing him and Hyde is staring up at him, his red eyes wild. 

Ichigo slowly pulls his hands away from him. 

“Sorry,” he says blandly, “Did I scare you?” 

“No!” Hyde snaps, digging the knife a little further. For a berserker he is remarkably accurate. Is it Jekyll’s knowledge seeping in? Ichigo’s not sure how they work entirely. How much does Jekyll remember? How much down Hyde? 

“Good,” Ichigo goes with it. He doesn’t show fear. Hyde might get off on that. Or be more temped to stab him. Ichigo’s not sure which one. “Wanna put the knife away?” 

“Fuck you,” Hyde snaps. Ichigo throws him off balance. Others flinch in warranted fear. Ichigo treats him like he does Medusa. 

Something else catches Ichigo’s attention. 

He reaches out, and Hyde doesn’t stab him deeper when he runs his fingers through his wild hair. 

“How does that work?” Ichigo asks abruptly. “I get that you change. You’re broader than Jekyll and stronger too. Your eyes are different. But how does your hair change that much without even touching it? What all changes?” 

The knife slowly eases out of his leg and a new light enters Hyde’s bright red eyes. 

He starts to grin, predatory. “Do you really want to find out? I love breaking in Jekyll’s things before he gets the chance to.” Ichigo can’t tell if he’s being flirted with or threatened. Maybe both. Probably both. 

Ichigo’s fingers twist in Hydes hair and he yanks his head back until Hyde hisses. “Don’t call me a thing,” he chides. 

Hyde grabs him by his shoulders and throws him sideways onto the bed. 

Ichigo realizes he’s going to have to get a little rougher if he wants Hyde to behave himself. 

Fine then. He can do rough. 

* * * *

By the time Ichigo reaches the clearing in the park Chad is unconscious on the ground and Orihime is standing defensively in front of him, her fairies floating around her in four points. Chad is laid out, his arm slowly piecing itself together again under Orihime’s healing dome while her three pronged shield barely holds to another attack. 

Ichigo doesn’t waste time. He’s come in from behind and he uses it to his advantage. The big one doesn’t notice him, but the smaller of the pair glances over his shoulder in time to watch Ichigo vault himself up and over the big ones head so he can use gravity when he swings down and drops with every intention of cleaving him in two. 

Zangetsu sings in his hands, Neive shrieking his delight inside his soul. The blade cuts deep, but it’s like cutting through stone instead of flesh. 

Ichigo bounced back, his eyes locked on the pair, and lands next to Orihime. 

“Hey,” he nods to her, “Good job.” 

Orihime flushes pink at the praise and looks away from him, but not away from their opponents. She’s too smart for that. 

“Not really. I tried to attack before, but he’s really strong. Tsubaki got hurt…” 

“Sometimes that’s how  it goes,” Ichigo says solemnly. “Watch my back?” 

She nods. 

The giant is screaming at Ichigo, curses that spit with no harm. What does he care what these people think of him? Ichigo eyes him speculatively. He’s not that worried about this one though. The smaller one is stronger, power packed into his body. Ichigo eyes them. Broken hollow masks and a zanpakutou. They’re some kind of hollow. A hybrid, too. The opposite of a Visord? Drosiv? 

“Ulquiorra,” the giant finally stops screaming to look at his companion. “Is this the one? The one with the orange hair and the sword as long as he is?” 

The smaller one, Ulquiorra, eyes Ichigo with disinterest. “Yes. That’s the one.” 

“Who sent you?” Ichigo asks, ignoring Neive snarling for release. He wants blood, and Ichigo is inclined to give it to him. Orihime is strong, she’s stood her ground but her hands are still shaking and Chad- 

His arm is in bad shape. If it were anyone other than Orihime treating him Ichigo might think he’s going to lose it. 

“I’ll kill you!” the giant snarled instead of answering. 

Ichigo swings upwards. A sharply concentrated Getsuga Tenshou tears through his arm entirely, finishing what Orihime had started. Vengeance for his fallen friend. Barely a minute into the fight and his opponent is down an arm, cut nearly in two, and bleeding profusely. 

“Damn you!” he snarled. 

Ulquiorra eyed his companion coldly. “You’re struggling. Shall I step in, Yammy?” 

“Shut up!” Yammy snapped at him. He grabbed his sword and clicked it out of its sheath. 

‘Cu, is the Bounded Field in place?’ 

‘It’s all ready for you. No one outside the park will notice anything amiss, even if you blow something up. A couple of yer friends are comin, though.” 

“That’s fine. Thanks.” 

“I wish you’d let us fight with you,” Medusa grumbled. 

“I know. But I want to do this on my own for now. If it looks like I’ll die,save me okay?”

She huffed, but he knew he’d already won that fight. 

Ichigo tilted the point of Zangetsu up and shifted his footing. 

“Now that I’ve taken your arm,” he said suddenly. “Let’s make a deal.” Before his friends showed up. 

“Fuck you.” But Ichigo wasn’t talking to Yammy. 

He was looking at Ulquiorra. While Yammy felt like fury, all rage stuffed into a body that was still somehow too small to hold it all in, Ulquiorra felt like a night itself. Cool and vast, he was several dozen times stronger than Yammy. Ichigo could stand toe to toe with him, but a victory would be hard fought if it came. 

Ulquiorra met his gaze squarely. “And just what would that be?” he asked, his voice smooth and flat. 

“You work for Aizen, right?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. It was obvious. Someone had sent them to find him, and Aizen had disappeared into a mob of hollows, the drama queen. “If I win I want you to take me to him.” 

Ulquiorra looked briefly between the pair of them before he closed his eyes. 

“So be it.” 

Ichigo lunged. 

* * * * *

Deep in a desert of snow white sand sat a legend amongst the hollow. 

It was a myth that sunk into their bones, a knowledge that was granted to them when their hearts tore themselves asunder and they were consumed by their own loss. 

The legend was powerful when it first began. The eldest hollow will tell it as fact while the youngest remember it as a bedtime story and little else. 

Decades and centuries ate away and the truth sunk deep in the depths of darkness. 

It was in that darkness that she waited. The immortal are patient creatures, and her wait was finally coming to an end. 

* * * * * *

[alolanrain]

Ash was gone, up and left that Sunday night. Delia knew, she always knew when her son up and left. May it be for a journey or just a simple outing with his friends. What’s strange is that Ash has already been to every Region in the world, there’s nothing left to explore. Plus it was Monday, at ten in the morning no less, and Ash hasn’t shown up to help his mother plant the new flowers he sent her from Galar like Ash had promised the weekend before.

Delia knows her son after all, she’s the one that had to raise Ash mostly all up on her own.

Delia also wasn’t surprised when dead bodies started showing up in the middle of towns and cities, all over the world for every to see. It was quite bloody, in fact, organs on the display for even the youngest babies to see. Nothing was left hidden.

It made it satisfying to her for some reason. Maybe it’s because she knew more than half of the people lying on their back or shoved in a town square water fountain. Or maybe it’s because of the vindictive feeling blooming in her stomach and making Delia smile down into her first cup of Joe in the morning, when she first turned on the current news and at the multitude of giant, or little, ‘R’s stitched into every fabric the corpses were wearing. Always on display.

Instead of whoever was doing this, and she has a pretty good guess who was going out of their way, was working from the near top to all the way down to the bottom. The Admins for Team Rocket were the first to go, all four being placed in their home Region and City or Town center. Stretched or hanged for the people to see, to look upon the traitors of the world and point to them. Scorning their actions as piles and piles of internet doot prints were uploaded everywhere, on what felt like millions of accounts on all kind of apps and forums. No one that was affiliated in any good way with Team Rocket was safe.

Except for two humans, their Pokémon, and a talking Meowth.

Delia woke up at the crack of dawn like she always done, it’s been a habit ever since she opened up her little Deli shop in the middle of Pallet Town. Even though she’s gotten a lot more employees, especially for opening shifts because the older Delia gets the more she finds out how much she loves spending the morning with her Pokémon team since childhood, it’s a hard habit to break.

Leo, her shiny Sylveon, was already walking to the front door with a huff. His silk ribbons wrapping around the door handle while Delia walked up to it with a bit of curiosity and exasperated fondness filling her bones.

“Get in here you three!” Delia laughed. Gently nudging Leo away from the crack with her foot and opening the door up more so that the nervous beings could enter. Her smile was warm and soft as she took in their jump appearance.

“The Twerp said it was okay-“ the purple haired man, James, stuttered our but Delia stopped him.

“If it weren’t for you two, my son would have probably been laying at the bottom of the Primal Current dead and the world destroyed by the three birds and Lugia.” She reached out and pulled them in, kicking the door close with her feet while Delia motioned to Leo to go warm the rest of the tream. “So this home is yours, it’s always been yours since the beginning. Come sit down in the kitchen, I was just about to start breakfast.”

Delia has left them at the table, allowing them to sit in tear jerking silence as she went throug the motion of making breakfast. Delia had, unsurprisingly, no amount of anger towards them and what they’ve done in the past to her son. No, Her anger is directed at the head Honcho of the evil gang that’s been gripping Kanto and Johto long before she was even born.

Delia didn’t say anything, as she left the trio to their thoughts and very full dinner plates and extra in the kitchen, when she found an old tombstone broken and torn to shreds. But marks and cursed purple magic danced a little as she poked the broken cement with a nearby stick. Delia didn’t need to know who, or what Pokémon, went after it. She should have given Ash her team before letting him leave. They really need to get rid of their decades long anger and finally destress after all this.

She chose to ignore the muffled sobbing’s drifting from the kitchen window in favor of kissing Sunny, her beloved shiny Arcanine she had all this time since it was a baby Growlith as her second given starter after her first one was stolen, good morning and letting Miss Blue, Delia’s shiny Ninetails and her most pickiest is Pokenon partners, come between them for her own good morning kisses. Her big fluffy blue tinted tails wrapping around her legs and waist in Miss Blues version of a hug.

She didn’t even think about coming back into her house until all her Pokémon family members had gotten their hellos in and were now actively nudging her back towards the sliding glass door because it was breakfast time and they were hungry.

Soon enough, things changed.

Jessie, or Now just Jess, no longer wears tight fitting clothes and spending hours on end putting her hair up in that ridiculous hair swoop. Delia was proud of how fast she had regained her footing, and just how much faster she and Delia’s Houndoom, Soul, and her Togatic, Spots, has gotten along swimmingly. Jess now joins her for the rare jog-run she does on a few country dirt roads when Delia was feeling up to it. Delia also didn’t question it when an Arbol and a Weezing of all things showed up on her porch the next morning on the following Tuesday.

It also was the first day everyone had singly mindingly read the threat clear: Team Rocket will not survive, their rain is ending now and here. Blood shall run for the innocent who colored the streets by their hands. 

Delia has openly chuckled to herself when her guests were still asleep upstairs in Ash’s old redecorated bedroom. Her cold vicious sneer glared back at herself on the TV reflective screen as she watched the camera pan over Ariana’s cold blood drained body that was hanging off a weird metal sculpture that was in the middle of a Town Square in Johto. Silver had sent her a YouMon link that sent Delia to a video titled “The Witch Is Dead.”

Her laughter was louder and had woken up her guests, Delia made breakfast once more while shooing James our do the kitchen multiple times. Brandishing a spatula the entire time.

James took a little more time, it wasn’t until Tracey came around to study and practice her drawing skill on Delia’s Pokémon and spotted James did his healing transformation started. The poor young man was pulled on by a stubborn Tracey through Oalleg Town and to the Professors Ranch, to then for Tracey to to show James how to use an old polaroid camera and a mission to go talk to a few of Ash’s more friendly Pokémon.

Meowth has been inducted that following Wednesday, when the mutilated bodies of Team Rocket’s loads upon loads of scientist were scattered all over the world, by Gary’s sweet Umbreon. The poor cat Pokémon was picked up by the scruff and was bodily dragged to the ranch with Tracey and James following behind it. Tracey giving suggestions and some smalll pointers to James on how to work his new camera. Meowth was surprisingly greeted with open arms by Ash’s Pokémon, none held too much anger for the cat Pokémon since Ash had expressed time and time again of the trios predicament to them. Meowth has never cried so much in his lifetime, and this is including the moment when his mother had left him on the streets to fend for himself at three weeks old.

Delia has used her money, or just barely a fraction of what Ash sends her every month because he doesn’t know what to do with the money the League gives him besides give it to charity and spending it on his travels, to buy the house next door to her. Not the Oaks house down the road to her left, even when it’s barely used anymore and it’s mostly now just an extra house for Delia to house her sons guests in, no. She bought the one a little less down to her right. It was a two story house with just a smaller yard then Delia’s, though it didn’t stop her from smashing down the wooden fence and expanding her garden into their new backyard for James and Jess to join her getting dirty. It was perfect for them and Meowth, along with their plenty of Pokémon who happily greet her every morning just like her own team.

The following Thursday, over more than half a million Team Rocket members that were spread all over in the upper part of many governments and big name brands were killed or seriously maimed and disfigured in that short amount of time had sent Delia reeling back in over flowing motherly pride and love, Champion Lance and Orange Isles Elite Four Drake had shown up in her door. She had just finished teaching both James and Jessie how to properly set up wet clothes that needed to be hung outside on a clothesline is read of shoving them in a dryer at their new home that Delia practically forced onto them with some slight added Country Morther love.

She ushered them in, shushing Souls quite snarling and nudging Miss Blue our of the way, while asking why they were hear and they were just in time because Delia was about to make dinner!

Lance, ever her dumbest childhood friend, asked where Ash was. Or more like demanded by going off his tone of voice. Stomping his foot and declaring that Ash needed to come to the castle right this second.

Thankfully Gary was out of town visiting some other relatives of his sweet late mothers. He wouldn’t be to particularly angry if Delia had stayed that the newly minted Professor had taken Ash as a support human. It’s not like she’s technically wrong, Delia did know for a fact Ash was the one that’s going to pick Gary up on the incoming Sunday.

She had forced the two League Members into sitting down for dinner, steak with loaded potatoes and seasoned barbecued Leaks, Melony had sent her those in a special delivery when Rose’s shredded corpse was hanging off the Chairman’s main building in front of the sliding glass doors. The roses underneath the glass in the entry way were replaced with Blue Forget-Me-Nots, It was a subtle hint made towards Mr.Goodshow, something Delia had caught extremely quickly.

The next day Friday, where the first and only kill was made in Alola according the the news, the new Galar Head Chairman was appointed outside of all Galars previous Chairmen’s. Delia actually ment Chairwoman, Miss Chairwoman Myoso was a wonderful women from what she appeared on TV already. Maybe now Leon will have a less hectic schedual. That same morning a delicately made box wrapped in the finest of hand painted silk was delivered to Delia’s porch, she knew who had done it but it also wasn’t her place to voice the silent appreciation gift.

Her kitchen has never sparkled so beautifully in the middle of the day during lunch. And all she has to thank were the little flat glass figures of the island Tapu’s closed shells twirling and swaying, hanging from near her kitchen top window.

Delia never liked Faba to begin with when she had met him, while he and Sycamore were both still in college, all those years ago.

More small trinkets were popping up on her doorstep every morning. All wrapped in very nice clothes and one of them in giant thin leaves. They ranged from very beautiful necklaces, to even a few plants and cups, her favorite so far either had to be the colored glass blown Swampert figuring sitting o top of her new fountain in the middle of her garden. One she hadn’t built at all and knew just who exactly did that. Or the little green house but that popped up that morning as well, the only plant in it was a Kalosian flower that was red, white, and black with small pink crystals gently fused into the pot top thick edge.

She had breakfast with the trio on that Saturday morning, they were on the young adults new back patio when a streak for blazing fire crossed the sky. Flashes of green and purples bluish light soon followed after.

Delia chose to ignore it while the other three started to freak out a little. She let them have a few minutes before bringing them back to their cooking breakfast omelets Jess has made for them.

Later that night the reporter stated that multiple unapproved satellites where brought crashing to the Earth crust. Only stopping mysteriously and there were some very blurred photos of a giant green floating snake like Pokémon and two purple floating blurred next to the head. Delia had finally gone for her first and only scotch for that evening, since a thought about getting any more than half a glass had Mr.Mimey skittering out of a random hallway corner and babbling at her while getting Delia a glass of water and a Tylenol before rushing the woman off to bed. 

Sunday was the end all the river full of blood crashing through the streets.

Sunday was the day when the world woke up the sight of Giovanni’s head spreads onto a pole in Pallet Town Square. Directly in the middle of the giant water fountain and the blood slowly dripping down was making the cascading water turn a light pink color like someone just added food dye.

Sunday morning is when she had her son knocking on her door. With Gary, Daisy and her husband, Tracey, Misty, Brock, Ritchie, Professor Oak standing behind him. The trio, who she had fondly started to call them her kids just like Ash and Gary and the wrest of Ash’s friends, Ahmad let themselves in from the slide back door. Everyone ignored when Umbreon and Pikachu both trotted up and twisted themselves around Meowth, the pile for fur and limbs were purring. Especially since Pikachu had grown to half way between Sunny and Souls height.

Sunday was when Ash and Delia walked for an hour and a half out into an old path in the woods. Only to stop by an old broken down house with moss, vines, and even a few small tress growing inside with rubble all around the place. They were visiting Delia’s home before her parents had died, before she had to move in with Lance and his parents if Delia wanted to stay back in Kanto. Visiting a time before her first starter was stolen from her along with her innocence and late teen years as she struggled to get by while pregnant.

Sunday is the day she was reunited with her first starting, the first time she openly cried in front of her son as Delia felt the oh so familiar feeling of a sandpaper tongue licking her hands and face while a deep purring and mewling echoed around the destructed building. amber slots blown wide stared back into Delia’s own amber eyes, before both their eyes closed and Delia leaned forward to plant a lasting kiss onto her sweet Persians glimmering red gem on its silky furred forehead.

Sunday is the day Delia finally starts to heal from her past.

———————————————————————

Or better yet! Known as the Heaven Or Hell!AU where Delia’s first starter was a Meowth that got stolen by Giovanni when he ditched her later down the road and Ash found out and decided: fuck it, time to snap. Because no one fucks away with his mom if Ash has anything to say about it.

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 1: Sunrise + “no, come back!”

I couldn’t decide between doing OCtober (created by @oc-growth-and-development​) and Fictober (@fictober-event) , so I have decided to make this even harder by attempting to combine the two prompts as often as possible. Why? Who knows. Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment. But here we go...

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Character(s): Adiran & Riin

Adiran rarely remembered his dreams. Only flickers here and there, flitting behind his eyelids in those short moments after waking. As a child, this had bothered him more than he cared to admit, especially because the tighter he tried to cling to them, the faster they slipped between his fingers. Eventually, as he got older, he stopped trying. There were enough frustrations in his life without needlessly adding another.

But lately, things had started to change. At first he dismissed it as an abnormality. Then it happened again, and another time after that. He didn’t have the dream every night, but when he did, it was the same. The same place. Same time. Same people.

It began as it always did, with a sunrise.

Adiran opened his eyes and found himself somewhere south of Vetrose, where the splinterpines grew thick and dark, rolling like a landbound ocean as far as the eye could see. Adiran stood on an unusually tall hill that lay just outside the reach of the trees, as though the forest had wandered to its base, gauged the rise of its slope, and chosen to loiter at the bottom. Luckily for Adiran, he was already at the top, and spared the grueling climb. That was fine - most things in dreams didn’t make proper sense. 

Like the fact that Riin was already there, waiting for him.

“You made it.” The Kyriin didn’t turn. He simply stood, hands clasped loosely behind his back, shoulders relaxed. The way he always stood when he was thinking. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Always the same conversation. Every night.

“Neither was I.” Adiran said his lines as though they were brand new and moved up beside Riin, the featureless wind toying with the ends of his hair. “But then I pictured you standing up here all alone and the guilt nearly killed me.”

Riin laughed, the sound bright and startled. It took them both by surprise every time. Glancing across, Riin’s amber eyes caught the light dancing off the Pale’s glassy surface. Adiran had never seen the water so still. A raindrop could shatter it to pieces. “Well, I’m glad our eight years of friendship earned me a proper goodbye.” Riin hesitated, smile wavering as he turned his gaze back towards the sea that separated Talvera from the other kingdoms. “My time here went so much faster than I expected…” 

Before Adiran had a chance to speak, Riin caught himself and shook his head. Sighing, he reached across, laying a firm hand on Adiran’s shoulder. When he turned, his expression was approving but guarded, studying him the way an artist might admire a rival’s masterpiece. Adiran supposed that was fair enough. It was no secret that Riin felt no love for the Talveran royal family. Ten years was a long time to put up with their cold kind of selfishness. Some of that disapproval had to have bled across to Adiran, even if he hadn’t meant it to.

“Riin.” Swallowing, Adiran took a step back, and Riin’s hand slid from his shoulder. “Listen, I just came here to say…”

He hesitated. What did he always say? Goodbye? Safe travels? Divider guide you? The words usually came to Adrian each night, scripted and simple, but for the first time he actually found himself grasping. It was as though an invisible shackle around his mind had been loosened, granting him a rare moment of lucidity. Of freedom. This was important - it had to be. Surely he should be trying to use this moment in some way.

But for what?

“Adiran?” Riin, also off-script now, tilted his head to the side, a look of confusion and hurt flickering across his face. “What is it?”

It was a painfully familiar look. I’ve been responsible for it too often, Adiran realised, chest strangely tight. How many times have I made him doubt himself?

The thought - and all of its guilt - brought with it something new. A new word. Something unprecedented. Something that surprised Adiran even as it left his lips.

“Stay.”

In the span of a breath, the dreamscape shifted. The sound of the Pale suddenly flooded in, as though the water was lapping at the base of the hill rather than miles to the west. A low thrumming echoed in Adiran’s ears, distant and impossible to discern. Drums? Marching soldiers? A heartbeat?

Divider’s Own - what had he just said?

Stay.

Had he lost his fucking mind?

Everything in Adiran told him to run. To scoff and mock Riin for taking him seriously. To throw himself off the hill and beg his mind to just wake him up when he hit the ground. Just as his thought truly began to spiral, Adiran paused, a vital detail struggling to the surface. This was a dream. His dream. So, technically, it could be about anything he wanted. Anything he desired. The revelation was almost enough to make him laugh. What was he so afraid of?

“No.” 

The word arrived like a fist to the gut. Stunned, Adiran looked up to find Riin suddenly on the far side of the hill. His expression had changed. Hardened. It was closed off now, the way it was at court, where he was treated like a decoration; a strange spectacle to be ogled and prodded. It was the same look he had when the King had first assigned him to Adiran; the failure of the family. It was anger. Disappointment. Frustration. Betrayal.

No... this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“What?” Anger rose in Adiran now, bitter and indignant, forcing aside his panic. This was his dream, damn it. Was he really supposed to believe that, even in his own fucking mind, nothing ever went his way? “That’s it? Just ‘no’?”

Riin’s face was barely visible, now. When did he get so far away?

“This was always going to end, Adiran. I have to go back.” Riin shook his head. “You know this already. Why are you acting so surprised?”

“But I---”

---”Adiran.” Riin’s voice was like a thunderclap, unnaturally loud, stunning Adiran into silence, making him flinch. “Stop. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Despite the harshness of the words - despite the dagger twisting in his gut - Adiran knew Riin was right. Of course he was going to leave - he’d said it time and time again. It was like he was making sure Adiran never forgot. Maybe, deep down, Riin really did hate him as much as the rest of his family. Maybe he couldn’t wait to be rid of him for good.

Or maybe he was just trying to prepare him for the inevitable.

Despite the dream, despite knowing the only answers he could ever get were born from his own mind, Adiran found himself moving forward - walking at first, then running, bare feet pounding against the packed earth. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but when Riin continued shrinking into the distance, he that wasn’t it. “No, come back!” he called, but now Riin was so far and the sound of the Pale so loud, there was no chance he would hear him. “Wait!”

It was no use. Just like in every other dream, Riin was gone, swallowed by the blazing sunrise. He should have been used to it. But… no. This was different. This was the first time Adiran had actually told him to stay. The first time he had chased after him. Breathing hard, heart thumping, Adiran’s steps gradually slowed until he came to a complete halt, the wind whipping at his clothes, the ground beneath his feet suddenly stretching to eternity on all sides. The forest was gone. The sky. The sunset. Riin.

He was alone again.

This part of the dream happened every time, and every time it left him hollow and lost, like a spirit waiting for The Wanderer to guide them to the afterlife. But this time there was something else. A second truth that hurt so much more because it shattered the one delusion he had actually allowed himself to believe. The one thing that made him feel just a little less powerless; like he might actually have a say in what the future held.

But he didn’t. Riin, the only person he’d ever called friend, was going to leave.

No matter what he did.

No matter what he finally found the courage to say.

[starker-stories]

The Cold, Chapter 2 - The Messages Series

This chapter on AO3

By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​​

New chapters in the series post every Thursday.

All links are to AO3. You don’t need to be a creator to have an AO3 account. You can have one solely as a reader. But to read anything at all in this series, you can just be an anonymous reader and/or commenter.

The best way to keep up with The Cold is to subscribe to the story on AO3. And the best way to keep up with the Messages Series is also to subscribe. Click on the ‘subscribe’ button on each of the above links.

Tags: Tony Stark Feels, Peter Parker Feels, College Student Peter Parker, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Arc Reactor Kink, Peter Parker is a Mess, Spider-Man powers, Communication, They Finally Communicate!, And Fuck Of Course Look at Who It’s Written By Of Course They Fuck, Avengers Compound

The entire Messages Series.  All links are to AO3.

Messages Unsent  (complete & posted)

Nothing More Than A Machine  (complete & posted)

Tomorrow  (complete & posted)

My Virgin (Revisited)  (completely & posted)

The Cold  (completely written) posts every Thursday  

Untitled Book 6  ( in progress )

Untitled Book 7  ( in progress )

Chapter 2:   Fencing Left Handed

As they neared the compound Peter asked him for the time, then resumed his position leaning against Tony’s arm and tracing patterns on his sleeve. He took a deep breath.

“Okay, so, things have been changing with me. Like, a lot. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for months, but there was never a good time. That’s not your fault, there were times I could have brought it up but I… like I told you, when I had to chose between sex and talking, I always chose sex. And it’s hard to talk about. I guess it’s... I could have tried to talk about it over the phone or emailed you... anyway.

“I guess I’m… scared. That you’re going to say ‘Oh Well, Yeah, That’s Just Growing Up’ and I don’t… and that’s stupid…”

“Please don’t do that,” Tony reached over and brushed his fingers over Peter’s hair, interrupting him. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Pete. Nothing you say is stupid. Nothing you’re going through is stupid, okay? A self-deprecating exterior can turn quickly into an interior one. I’m kind of an expert at tearing myself up with that.”

“Ok, but it is stupid. Like asking to be treated like a virgin in your bed and then still being too proud in the middle of it. Now I really wanted your advice and I’m also afraid of getting it… fuck.” He pressed his face into Tony’s arm.

“I won’t say it’s ‘just growing up’, whatever it is,” Tony said. “At fifteen you were more of a grown up than a whole lot of people I know.”

“Okay… okay.” Peter’s shoulders sagged for a moment in relief. Then he took a deep breath and tried. Again.

“Did you ever… “ He sat up in the seat. “I mean I know you didn’t because you went to MIT way early… so maybe you don’t. Because in the old days they let you skip grades. They wouldn’t do that with me, they had a whole long talk to May and Ben about it and I understood, at least I tried to. I pretended I did. But high school was like…

“In high school I stayed as busy as I could, with band and academic decathlon and all my totally illegal chemistry studies, and I guess it was okay. Not nearly as okay as it was when I got the spiderbite and I really had something to do, had a million brand new things to learn and a real reason for all those illegal chemistry studies, that was a good thing. That made it so much better. But every time I walked into class…

“Okay I know you hate it when I do this but I don’t know how else to describe it. You know that old movie where the man becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts and now he’s the best fencer in the world and he meets the OTHER best fencer in the world and they are both fencing left handed and they’re both going at it hot and heavy and they both tell each other, one at a time, that they’re not really left handed? Because both of them were trying to take it easy on the other guy, because they both know they’re the best and that’s just the kind of Good Guys that they are? I saw that on TV and that really stuck with me. That you don’t have to be the best in the business, the smartest guy in the room, the whatever. The big shot. You can play it dumb and maybe write your notes backward to slow yourself down or read your textbooks upside down or maybe never study for a test so when the test comes you aren’t the first one finished and faking writing down answers so your neighbors won’t feel so bad. You can fence left-handed. So you won’t be an asshole. Be like Westley and Inigo Montoya and give everyone else a break.

“So I did that. I fenced left-handed and invested most of my time in massive Lego sets and told myself it was the right thing to do. And then the spiderbite happened and I got a whole new life and that was amazing and then you came into my life and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And all my schoolwork came in a distant third but at least it was slightly interesting the way an old video game can be interesting. If you haven’t played it in years. You know, for about half an hour.

“But I didn’t worry about that because I was going to Columbia. And when I got to Columbia it would all be different. And I could go to real classes that were really hard and I could finally just start fencing regular.

“And Tony?”

He took a deep breath before he looked at his lover.

“It’s not getting harder. I spent my whole first semester going… wait… what? The fuck? And then I thought no, no, this is okay, this is all freshman crap. This is supposed to be like this. Not everybody gets through all four years, right? Except instead of like boot camp where they are trying to get rid of you maybe… I don’t know… maybe they water it down to make you feel good about yourself and ramp up the info later… I don’t know what I thought. And now I’m well into my third year and I don’t get it Tony… when does it get hard? The best part is doing my assignments online — I do them in my dorm room with the keyboard upside down just for fun. Swear to god I’ve been doing my Differential Equations work hanging from my dorm room ceiling because that’s how I test the dissolve-time of my new web formula. And there is so much group work, I mean it’s just fucking constant. I should be glad because it does slow me down but really all it does is give me more time constraints which interferes with my patrols. Homework, at least, I can do from New York rooftops. I can’t do group work that way.”

He laughed ruefully, gazing out the helicopter window. “At least none of this is pissing my professors off. I stopped righteously fighting to NOT be the first person in class done with the work. Fuck that. Now I just turn it in when I’m done and get on with my real job.”

“Don’t ever be ashamed of being the smartest person in the room, Pete. What’s happening with your education, that is a whole ’nother conversation we need to have at a later date. Because it’s wrong, avoidable, and most of all, solvable. I can fix it with a phone call, but I doubt you want me to do that,” Tony said, smiling. “What I’ll do instead is teach you how to fix Columbia. Because, as brilliant as you are? Your professors should be pissed off at you.”

“Okay… okay,” Peter groaned. He pulled Tony’s arm around him and snuggled into his shoulder. “Don’t swoop in and save me just yet because there’s more. I know that sounds like the main thing but it isn’t.. and I’m not ready to… there’s more. This is what this weekend is about… you can swoop in and save me later, absolutely, and then we’ll have awesome sex to celebrate. But please…”

He looked through the window, glaring at the view instead of glaring at himself. For weeks, for a month really, he had planned this conversation, and now that it was here he was doing everything he feared the most — sounding pitiful.

“Please just let me… this is hard.

“There’s… something else.”

Peter took a deep breath and tried again. The fields around the compound were coming into sight, maybe this would be easier to explain if they were walking down there? Peter craned his neck to see the landing pad from the window, judging the distance before he started speaking.

“People at Columbia, they aren’t… bad. The average person walking around Columbia isn’t bad. They’re just slow. I don’t know… maybe I’m just pissed off that Columbia isn’t everything I dreamed it would be.

“But the criminals of New York City? They’re just the same as they’ve always been. Only I’m beginning to… they’re starting to look different to me now.”

He sighed, almost growled, in frustration. Tony dealt with international terrorists, and here Peter was about to complain about street-level thugs. At least the landing pad was getting nearer, but now he feared this wouldn’t solve his problem. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to use the term ‘The Cold’ out loud, not with Tony. It made sense in his head, but it sounded ridiculous now.

“Remember when you called that press conference to announce to the world that I was the newest Avenger? And I asked you not to at the last second? Because I told you ‘someone has to look out for the little guy’? That was stupid. That was…” he choked on the hated word, but he forced himself to say it. “That was naive.

“On the streets when I’m patrolling, god, I used to get so… pissed. It seems so distant now. I was filled with all this righteous indignation, this anger that someone would pick on the ‘the little guy’. Now, I’m beginning to think that ‘the little guy’ is probably a piece of shit too.”

He didn’t have to say anything else after that. They had arrived.

The helicopter landed itself. New-Cap came to meet them. Tony and Peter stepped off the landing pad, as the helicopter was powering down, to where they could hear Sam. He asked why they were there. Tony didn’t know, so he didn’t answer, leaving his question hanging. He figured Peter would say, but when he didn’t either, Tony didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t unexpected of him to simply ignore whichever Avenger tried to engage him. To not speak or do something until he was damn good and ready to, rather than explain and justify himself to one of them.

Peter, usually ever-cheerful and friendly, looked decidedly uncomfortable. His eyes kept scanning the distant, grassy fields beyond the central cluster of buildings. When Sam asked again what they were doing there, with a little more annoyance in his voice due to Tony’s disregard, Tony simply said, ‘we’ll be in later’, and guided Peter in the direction of his gaze, letting him take over their destination as soon as they’d left New-Cap behind.

As they walked, it seemed like it wasn’t a serious conversation that was going to happen, but that Peter needed to talk about something difficult. The location might’ve been less than desirable, but being there to listen to whatever was bothering Peter? That was exactly what he wanted, what they had talked about a couple of days ago. Tony’s defensiveness fell away. He slipped his hands casually in his pockets as they walked companionably side by side across the lawn, heading out to the farther fields of the compound grounds.

“The else?” Tony asked, trying to bring their conversation back to where it ended when the helicopter landed.

Peter nodded, but didn’t answer that question. He seemed to be looking for something in what was nothing but open fields. Tony remembered, before the fall of SHIELD and the Avengers’ split, he and Cap and Fury discussed expansion plans into the empty land. But things happened. Then the world was gone. His world was dust. Tony walked away from all things Avengers.

“Where are we headed?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll know it when I see it. Thanks for this, by the way. Sam’s an asshole now. I don’t remember him being an asshole.”

“It’s not Sam, I don’t think. It’s the position. But I don’t know Sam. The only thing I know about him is that when he rolled in flight, Vision’s beam went straight through where Sam should’ve been and knocked out the War Machine armor’s arc reactor and Rhodey fell to the ground.” Tony stopped talking for a bit while they walked together. It was irrational to blame Sam. Of course he’d try to avoid the hit. But irrational or not, he blamed him as much as Vision.

“Sam and his inherited shield and his inherited HYDRA assassin can go…” Tony shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck,” he finally said, shaking it off, literally, with a shrug. “They’re not why we’re here. So they’re a distraction. Irrelevant. We’re here because here is where you wanted to be. I’m here because you have something you need to say and I want to hear it. Pete, I’m interested, okay? In you. In everything about you. Even if I have to hear it here.”

“Ok. I’m not… god I’m not trying to be all mysterious, really. I just need some… distance. There it is,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s still there.”

They had rounded the south wall of the main building Peter seemed to find what he was looking for — although it looked mostly like an empty field to Tony — and they set out.

They walked for some time in silence.

What Peter had told him in the helicopter was important. But it was clearly not the ‘why’ for why they were there.

“Peter, if all that was wrong was what’s happening at Columbia… or your feeling frustrated by the lack of challenge in your life… or even the inevitable disillusionment of realizing that the world is massively full of blurred shades of grey… we’d be talking about this in bed.”

Peter only nodded.

Tony paused and they walked a little farther. “There’s something else. And… if you think you’re ‘stupid’ for feeling a certain way… you’re not.” He paused again briefly. “I would love to know what’s going on with you. Baby, you are the most important thing in my life. There’s nothing going on with you that I don’t want to hear about.”

“What if it was bad?” Peter’s voice was small, breathless. Looking at his feet.

“Still want to hear it. Just as much.”

“I’m getting cold, Tony,” Peter’s voice broke on the word. “Really cold.”

That puzzled Tony. It was a bright, sunny day, and for early autumn, quite warm. “We can head indoors, if you’re cold.” His brow furrowed. There was something about the way he said the word ‘cold’. “That’s not what you mean, is it?”

“It’s me, Tony. It’s not Columbia or the Gangs of New York, it’s me. It’s in me. That’s why we’re here. I’m changing. I know it’s not just in my head. I need the training ground equipment to quantify some things… and I guess that will make it Avengers business. I don’t know, maybe it is Avengers business, at least it will be. But I needed to tell you first. I’m not… the same. And it’s affecting everything.”

Peter veered them right and Tony saw what they were headed to, a white berm that stood alone in the field of green.

“With MJ and Ned, we can still relax and goof off… they’re not studying the same things I am so it’s easy not to… let them notice but… they’ve noticed. I guess I don’t make the same kinds of jokes I used to. And word on the street is New York has noticed too.

“I used to talk to criminals, I guess I was famous for it. I mean you’re the king of Snark and Banter but I guess I did pretty good. And I couldn’t help NOT lecture them. But I never hit them, because I’d hurt them, that’s why the webbing. But god I can’t talk to them anymore — I don’t feel like making jokes. I feel like punching them — so I just stay away from them. Tony, I can’t trust myself to get close to any of them now. If I need to take someone out I have to do it from a distance, sometimes from a block away, if I’m any closer I have to, I have to web them up and keep moving. I can’t stop to talk. I’m not… safe anymore. Everything’s changed.”

[thefaithie]

WC, Chapter 4

Wrong Conclusions Chapter four: The Consequence of Seat Switching

Within a few hours, a movie was chosen as were a couple of pizzas. Seeing as that Beast Boy was the 'man of the hour', Starfire and Raven had both agreed that for once, they could splurge on more then one pizza and had gotten a 'meat-lovers' for Robin and Cyborg and a nice 'vegetarian dream' for Beast Boy. Raven usually didn't eat too much pizza to begin with, and Starfire ate anything if she was allowed to add her own personal toppings to it, so their choices weren't an issue. The movie itself was a horror flick, as per usual, but Beast Boy had made sure that it had nothing to do with any vampires. Every time Cyborg had mentioned the word, Beast Boy had come close to hurling.

Beast Boy and Cyborg had been the first to return to the Titans Tower. They had popped the DVD into the player and then went to forcefully drag Robin away from what he had claimed to be a breakthrough in their villain's identity. Starfire and Raven had appeared not ten minutes later with the pizzas and set them onto the table.

Now, the movie was about to begin, and Cyborg stood up in front of Robin (who was moodily tapping his fingers on his arms, which were crossed over his chest) to tell the Titans something about the movie. "This here's a brand-spanking-new horror flick. It's said that someone had a heart attack just watchin' it! It's all about zombies and ghosts -- but no vampires 'cause widdle BB's too scawed," Cyborg flashed a challenging glance at Beast Boy, who was leaning over the couch to watch Cyborg's summary with Raven and Starfire right behind him. To everyone surprise, Beast Boy just gave a weak laugh and scratched the back of his head.

"Er...yeah. Anyway!" Cyborg continued, tossing the DVD case carelessly to the side and sitting down on Robin's left. "C'mon! Sit down everyone, so we can start this thing!"

"Great. Another night of meaningless horror movies. How fun," Raven muttered to herself, watching Starfire float towards the couch. To her surprise, though, Starfire sat on the other side of Cyborg, rather than next to Robin. And what surprised her even further was that Beast Boy, after giving Robin a strange look-over, smiled meekly and sat right beside Starfire, himself, on the corner.

Robin, too, seemed a bit taken-aback by this. Starfire had always sat right beside him during horror movies... She usually used his cloak to shield herself whenever she got scared. Robin looked back at Raven, who merely shrugged and floated forward to take the last available seat, which was next to Robin in the corner opposite Beast Boy.

Cyborg, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the strange actions and merely continued on with the merriment. "About time. Okay -- let's go!" Cyborg pulled out a remote and pressed a button to turn the lights off, then another one to turn the movie on. Cyborg was into the movie within mere minutes. Robin was lost in the movie quickly as well, as it begin with somewhat of a detective mystery surrounding a strange murder, where as Raven was already beginning to pull out a black book and pretending to ignore the movie best she could. She was thankful for times like this, when she could spend time with her friends and all, but horror movies simply didn't appeal to her, especially after that time she had been frightened into losing her powers.

Beast Boy and Starfire, though, didn't have their attention averted quite so quickly. Both looked from the corner of their eyes at Robin and Raven sitting next to one another, both feeling stabs of jealousy, annoyance at themselves, and disappointment as they did so. Thankfully, it was dark, so none of the Titans noticed that the two were looking -- not even Starfire and Beast Boy. As far as the each knew, the other was lost in the movie, already.

As much as I hate to admit it, they do look good together... Beast Boy growled bitterly at himself, mostly for being so jealous of Robin in the first place. Dude, I gotta get over this! They like each other! Heck, they may even love each other! It's not like I can blame her...Robin's only, like, a million times cooler than me. And I can't blame Robin, either. I mean, if I fell for Raven, why couldn't he? Man, he probably made a move on her a long time ago, too. I should've been quicker! For all I know, it's all it would've taken for her to at least like me...

As Beast Boy mentally wounded himself further, Starfire merely let out and a small sigh and looked up at the movie. Beast Boy was clenching his hand in a fist, almost ready to literally hit himself in the face when he heard her sigh. She was right beside him, after all, and he needed something to snap him out of his mental self-abuse.

So once he heard her sigh, Beast Boy turned his head a bit to look at Starfire's face, which was just barely visible in the dim light emitted from the television screen. It practically ripped his heart in half to look at the poor Tamaranian's expression. She was usually so happy and peppy, but her eyes were so depressed and lonely at that particular moment...The look didn't suit her. At all.

What's up with Star...? Beast Boy asked himself, studying her for a few more moments from the corner of his eye. Within a second, he was mentally smacking himself in the face for not having realized earlier. Of course! Star's totally got the hots for Robin! Man, I forgot she likes him so much with the whole Raven thing going on. She must hate seein' 'em together more than I do! He clenched his teeth, angry at himself for being so self-absorbed recently. But the anger faded, as he looked at her expression again. I wish I could make her feel better... It isn't the same, when she's sad...

"...What is wrong, Beast Boy?" Starfire whispered, turning her head very slightly to look more directly at Beast Boy. He had an uncomfortable look on his face, and she didn't think it was caused by the movie. "Are you positive you are unharmed?"

"Huh?" The Changeling blinked in surprise, before shaking his head vigorously to rid it of any thoughts he had been having a moment before. He managed to lower his voice to an only-slightly-too-loud whisper. "Yeah, fine, fine! Just kinda tired from today. Must've spaced out!" Beast Boy let out his normal, high-pitched laugh while scratching the back of his head.

Cyborg growled darkly around Starfire and hissed, "Shut it, will you?", causing Beast Boy to go completely silent with a guilty expression.

"Well...If you claim so to be true," Starfire said quietly and went back to having her eyes on the movie, though she seemed to be looking almost past the screen instead of directly at it. With a small sigh and one last glance towards Starfire's sad face, Beast Boy finally began to do the same.

Two hours later, the movie finally ended. Raven had managed to ignore the entire thing, where as Robin, Cyborg, and Beast Boy were gaping in horror. Starfire was clinging to Beast Boy's arm and whimpering into it, although apparently, Beast Boy didn't even notice she was there.

"...Ugh, I remember why I hate zombies so much," Robin was a slightly paler color than usual.

"Dude, that was sick...!" Cyborg made a motion to vomit, but seemed to stop himself in time, a closed hand covering his mouth. Raven still scooted away just in case.

"Oh, man, maybe vampires WOULD'VE been better-" But Beast boy's commentary was cut off as his attention was drawn to the arm Starfire was clinging to. She had let out a whimper and dug her nails into his arm.

"Are the walking undead no longer on the screen...?" She managed to squeak out, causing Beast Boy and Cyborg to laugh a bit.

"It's only a movie, Star! And yeah, it's over," the Changeling said with a laugh, as Cyborg joined in. Starfire whimpered again while hesitantly pulling her face away, but refusing to un-dig her nails from Beast Boy's arm.

"But...but I fear they may return!" She cried.

"Yeah, Star, you can deal with vampire-boys flyin' around without so much as yawning, but when it's a guy in a lot of make-up and rubber, you head for the hills," Beast Boy taunted.

"Ooh, don't let the scary make-believe-man get me! Out of my way, sludge beast, I'm hiding from a guy with make-up!" Cyborg imitated Starfire, causing her to smile a bit at her own silliness.

As Beast Boy and Cyborg continued to lightly taunt Starfire's fear of movies but her lack of any fear during battle, Raven and Robin both looked over at the three, having slightly different reactions. They didn't feel like teasing Starfire.

Robin accidentally crushed a piece of crust he was holding in his hand, a sudden wave of anger washing over him. He didn't know why, but every second Starfire continued to hold onto Beast Boy's arm seemed to send a new wave of rage pulsating through his veins. It shouldn't have been a big deal; Starfire hugged people all the time, and that had never bothered him before. But there was some form of territorial voice going off in Robin's head, telling him that Starfire was supposed to be clinging to HIM, to HIS arm right now -- not Beast Boy's. She always sat next to him during horror movies for protection. Why... why was the suddenly avoiding him and going to Beast Boy, of all people, instead?

In Raven's head, a small twinge of annoyance kept going off. She didn't know why, really, and merely assumed it had to do with Beast Boy and Cyborg's taunting. After all, Raven had not had it any better when they had made fun of her fears. They had no right to go after Starfire in such a way, after what happened with Raven. But then again, Starfire was sort of asking for it, sitting right between Beast Boy and Cyborg, rather than Robin...

...Why WAS she sitting next to Beast Boy rather than Robin?

Raven blinked a bit as her eyes focused in on Starfire's hands on Beast Boy's arm. She felt another annoyed twinge in her system. "Nngh," She let out an uncomfortable sound, suddenly slamming her book shut, and causing Beast Boy and Cyborg to go quiet mid-joke.

"I'm going to bed," the half-demon said calmly. "Everyone else probably should, too, with that vampire-guy still running around and everything." With that, she began to float off towards her room.

Robin hopped to his feet instantly, happy to have an opportunity to break Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Starfire up. "Raven's right. We should all go to bed after that fight today. Especially you, Beast Boy," the Boy Wonder gave a smile; half because Beast Boy had done so well that day, and half because Starfire had finally let go of the Changeling's arm. He didn't know why, but the latter caused a cool feeling of relaxation to quickly spread through his body.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Beast Boy let out a small laugh, hopping to his feet. Cyborg stood up as well, and Starfire simply hovered a few feet above the couch.

"Mm," Robin gave a small nod before turning to walk off. "I think I'll call it a night for now, too. Good night," He waved lightly to his friends, only Starfire waving back. A few moments later there were two recognizable 'Fwoosh' sounds, as Robin's door opened and closed behind him, Raven's door doing the same right after it.

"I should go catch some Z's, too," Cyborg said with a small yawn. "All that chasin' after you was pretty annoying, BB," He snickered lightly, walking off before Beast Boy could think of a retort.

That left Beast Boy feeling pretty frazzled, and he crossed his arms over his chest to pout at the robotic Titan's back. "Stupid Cyborg always having to have the last stupid shot because he's so stu-"

"Are you truly alright, Beast Boy?"

"Huh?" Beast Boy turned a bit to look into Starfire's eyes. She was giving him an uncomfortably worried-filled glance, and he backed up slightly out of instinct. Why's she starin' at me like that...? ...Or does she always, but I never really bothered to notice before...? Aw, man. Beast Boy's thoughts were cut off by the sounds of Cyborg's door opening and closing behind him. "Uh, of course, Star! I mean, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, after the battle with the Trigon, you have had the Querchok eyes."

"...The what?" By now, Beast Boy was more than accustomed to Starfire's Tamaranian terms, but he could have sworn he'd never heard THAT one before.

"The Querchok is a creature on my planet whose eyes are always filled with sadness and despair, despite its mouth always being up-turned, like a smile. When someone's eyes are filled with the same sadness, though a smile is on the face, that is the term we use on Tammaran," Starfire shrugged innocently, as though she assumed Beast Boy would have known this.

Beast Boy felt his eye twitch, feeling caught. Man, Starfire's a lot sharper than any of us give her credit for... "Really, Star, I'm fine," Beast Boy finally said. "I just...started to think a little more, y'know? And since I'm not used to doing that, it's makin' my head hurt," He laughed a bit, Starfire giggling as well after a brief pause. She was one of the few people who appreciated his jokes...whenever she understood them, anyway.

"Well, if that is what you say," Starfire began to float towards her room, but out of nowhere, Beast Boy's gloved hand gently caught her wrist. Starfire's eyes widened, and she turned back to look at Beast Boy's strangely anxious face. Starfire had no idea, but Beast Boy was dying to know if she was going through the same thing he was. If she was feeling the same pain he felt over Raven's loss, only over Robin's. It may have been a 'misery loves company' thing, but then again, making Starfire feel better could've let Beast Boy forget about Raven, and they could both be their old selves again.

"But...What about you? I mean, I heard Robin talking about you getting totally awesome at your Starbolts all of a sudden, and your eyes are like Kweerchak...Quarche...That thing you said's too!" Beast Boy hadn't meant to be so open about it, but he hadn't thought before blurting everything out.

He flushed darkly and let go of Starfire's wrist as suddenly as he had caught it. Beast Boy spoke up again before Starfire could even reply to his prying question. "Sorry! None of my business. Night, Star!" Beast Boy turned and ran off, feeling horribly embarrassed with what had just come over him, leaving Starfire alone in the living room before she could have even said 'goodnight' back.

Starfire stared blankly after him, but sighed once he was gone, turning towards the window and rubbing her arm lightly. "So, it is obvious that I, too, have the Querchok eyes...?" She asked her reflection, getting no response as she gently pressed her fingertips near the corner of her sad eye.

Disclaimers:

Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, Robin, Cyborg, Silkie, and pretty much everything but the plot at hand belongs to © D. C. Comics/Cartoon Network/Kids WB

9/2019 Update:

Whoo, another one down. It's weird remembering high school stuff as I read through this.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: The Magpie's Store

---

Jo knew she’d been accused of it several times. That she’d been told that she was a thief. That she was a hoarder, a collector. That she was a magpie slowly pinching and storing away things. And Jo knew it wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

It wasn’t so much that she took things - that she went out of her way to find a specific item, or that she would nab whatever it was that took her fancy - but more that she found herself acquiring things. A great many things in the form of gifts and presents, some in the form of discarded pieces that no one would miss or ones that no one asked for back.

Her jewelry box was filled with them. Or perhaps that was the wrong title for it, but the velvet-lined base of the box and the many drawers in its three tiers held many an item that belonged there and some that didn’t.

---

The top drawer - the one that was opened most frequently and that she always asked her lover to retrieve this or that from when they would go out - was the most easily explainable items. Things that were not surprising for her to have and that held both items of sentimental and items of non-sentimental value.

It was where she’d deposited her so-called ‘sparkles’. The earrings and necklace that held gems she had never bothered to investigate the validity of. The set that had been an unintentional gift but despite the usual tricks of a Trickster vanishing in due course, these never seemed to disappear without a trace. Always where she’d leave them or he’d place them gently, frequently taken out and infrequently cared for in the way that other items that housed inside the little tower were. 

Those were joined by the bright sunflower earrings that were a new favorite of hers, the backs of them pressed and held in the folds alongside their sparklier competitors. Those came out much more regularly than other items, slipped on and worn before being tucked away carefully. 

Alongside them were her little pink compact mirror that she would slide into her purse for their Date Nights and her favorite ‘special’ lipstick - the thick red color that was bright enough to match her cheeks each time she would leave a trail down the pale, lean expanse of chest and leave a band like a brand around him. There was the pink tube as well that his sister complained didn’t match her complexion and Jo snatched up for herself, and the small foundation pad she used to use to cover her bite marks but now only the odd blemish rather than to disguise her scars anymore.

There were other items in there as well - the odd necklace with her initials or other pendants like pearls or golden circles, a small collection of rings that ranged from small golden vines to silver bands wrapped around one another, and the odd bracelet she’d bought on a whim - but most of those came and went, replaced or removed over time while those earrings and her shiniest baubles remained.

---

The second drawer held the less auspicious trinkets she’d collected but ones that she couldn’t bear to throw away as of yet. Ones that she barely remembered where and how she’d gotten them, others that she knew exactly where and who she’d received them from. 

The delicate silver chain was curled in one corner. It had been taken off so long ago, and yet she couldn’t make the move to remove it from her collection altogether. Its little teardrop had rested so perfectly against the tip of her palm when she used to wear it, where she could just feel the cold touch of it with her fingertips to calm her back then. It had been hardly any time before she took it off, hardly any time that she had worn it - the gift an apology to her for the demon’s actions. The actions that were so inconsequential in the face of the actions he’d taken after then. An apology she barely got to acknowledge before he’d done much, much worse.

It had been lost for some time - she had even forgotten all about it during the worst of his crimes - but when she’d found it again, tucked into the inside pocket of a leather jacket she hadn’t worn for ages, Jo had stared for a long moment before placing it away in her little jewelry tower. Jo hadn’t given in to the flash of anger that had wanted to throw it into the trashcan instead. She also hadn't given in to the flash of an idea to wrap it around her wrist again.

Alongside it was a tube of lipstick she didn’t use any more. It didn’t suit her, she didn’t think. The color too dark, too rich, too then. She’d stopped wearing it after the last time it was smeared across her lips and chin with the equally dark but different smear from the foot to her face. It had been the first color she’d picked up upon getting back, but it had brought her nothing but bad luck - first the slew of nameless men she barely remembered mussing it, then the shadow and everything that came after. But the packaging was pretty, and she often found herself wanting to try it again. So far, it had been wiped off hastily with the back of her hand.

Among the odd heart-shaped rock and a few dried flowers that sat in the tray alongside them was also a strand of pearls that, if asked what they meant to her, Jo couldn’t give a real reason for the importance behind them. They weren’t hers, but they were special to the hunter who gave them to her to keep a hold of. Bobby had been excessively drunk that weekend when she stopped by on her way back from a shifter case en route past his. He’d been drunker than she’d ever seen him, and half the things he had said were stories she had never heard before. The pearls had been shoved into her hand with a look she remembered starkly, sharp and painful, from the last time she’d seen him before the run on the devil. He’d asked her to hold onto them for him. He told her that she was as close to a daughter as he was ever going to have around a hiccup. That he wanted someone to wear them again one day.

---

The bottom drawer though she barely opened unless it was to place something new in there. She didn’t open it for access like the first, or to reflect on things like the second. The bottom drawer was for the things she couldn’t get rid of but were just too painful to brush against or that she knew she’d be better off without.

One side of the drawer was taken up with a stack of Polaroids. Ones that she didn't have ticked away in her hunter's folder, ones that she didn't have in a photo album or hanging in a group frame around the house. They were snaps of those she didn't want someone to stumble upon, an array of photos that she needed for herself and herself only. They weren't like the naughty ones she'd taken and gifted at Christmas. Though the very top one was from Christmas day itself - with all her favorite people crowded together in front of the tree. Bobby had had an arm over the top of Shada's shoulder, while Dean and Sam had been ribbing at one another, and front and center with that smile that made her heartache with love was Grey. The others underneath though were all murky, dark photos taken in the bar with the same dark shadowy background and dim lighting but always with her smiling face and whoever else was in the photo. Her and Harry sticking their tongues out, Rufus' lips pursed and grouchy in the face of her grin, there was even one of the redhead she didn't even think of anymore with anything but disdain.

Beside them was the handle that had been something she found on the street on her way away from that cursed thrift store. It had been black and almost hidden in the small stubble of grass that marred the base of the post, but something in the shape right outside the hardware store caught her eye. Jo had picked it up, under the watchful and bored eye of the demon, and had almost dropped it feeling the engraving under her thumb. It went straight in her pocket, and she’d almost cried the moment she was alone and the shiny metal still held her father’s initials and was as bright and gleaming as it had always been. The blade had been sharp enough to cut at the mere press of her thumb, and she’d sucked on her finger like a child as she sat down on the hotel bed that the Scotsman had set up for her. It had felt like her life had really returned to her, having the little pigsticker back, like the missing piece that made Joanna Beth Harvelle real again was back.

Right beside that charred handle was a tiny piece of paper, equally darkly stained in the intricate pattern Jo could barely remember any more. It was smudged now, from how long it had spent crumpled in her purse until slowly the fear that maybe she would need it on hand had slowly faded. The day she moved that into the small drawer had felt like the weight of her fears had lifted just a little more, it had been on an ordinary day but as Grey'd kissed her cheek and swung her hand in his on the walk with Nana to get a late-night coffee and it had fallen out of her purse as she got the change out. Her love had handled it to her and asked if it was important and that had been the moment she knew it wasn't anymore. But she couldn't throw it away. One day she might need it.

The last of the items tucked away in that drawer, right at the back, was one she knew that would be almost as hard as the banishing symbol to explain just why she had it. The shiny surface, beautifully etched mother of pearl and the thin silver of the blade’s back was all that was visible along with the tang of the other end. It was one of her most taken items, it was the only one that she kept there that had been truly discarded and thrown away that she'd scavenged for her own. But it was too beautiful a piece to be in a bin, it was too important, it was more than just a tool and deserved to be saved in her mind. Jo couldn't have left that in the trash, and while it had stayed for a while in her hunting pack and then her study - when she tucked the piece of paper away, she'd moved the razor in as well, shoved into the back as invisible as possible.

---

Jo didn't often think about her habit. Her little collection of trinkets, shiny things her beady eyes would latch onto. Her treasure trove of things she couldn't part with, her collection of memories all bunched and thrown in together. 

A jumble of pieces that made up important elements for her that if anyone had asked, she could say how and where every single piece had crossed her path and come into her life. A little tower of her new life that she was still adding to.

---

[emma-nation]

Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 8

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott, @fal-carrington, @crazzyplays, @honorablebicycle​, @teja-desai​ (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

“Party, Allison?” Mr. Wheeler questioned. “This is how you intend to catch a serial killer? By taking her to a party?”

“Dad, first we need to get the seller,” she explained. “And what place is better than a party to catch a drug dealer?”

“I did not assigned you to the mission so you could hang out with her. You have a fiancé, don’t you remember? And besides, there will be alcohol, sex and...”

“We’re no longer teenagers, dad. We know what we’re doing, right Mona?”

Mona was not even paying attention. She was sitting on the couch, focused on Allison’s laptop. She wasn’t hearing a single word of the argument, she just kept a concentrated look on the screen, while she typed uninterrupted.

“What?” She finally asked. “In case the two of you haven’t noticed, I have an essay to finish.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” Mr. Wheeler told. “Bring me more suspects, more evidence. This is what you’re supposed to be doing in college. Once the mission is over, you’re out.”

“Right, I forgot that wasn’t for people like me,” she scowled, closing the laptop. “Thanks for the reminder, Pops.”

Mona left to the bedroom, leaving Allison alone with her father.

“Dad, she has been so engaged with this college thing. Why did you have to ruin it?”

“I didn’t ruin anything, Allison. That’s the truth. They’re only allowing Mona there for the mission.”

“B-But can’t we arrange anything, after this is over? I mean, look at her essay. She’s so incredibly smart. All the teachers are commenting her performance in classes. It’s the first time I really see her finding pleasure in anything, other than... her past habits.”

“I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t my business and neither should be yours. She has made her own choices and there’s nothing we can’t do to change it.”

Allison went to check on Mona, but after the argument with Mr. Wheeler, she was no longer social or even accessible. She followed to the guest room, where she was supposed to have one final conversation with Griffin about their engagement. Though he was online, he took a long time to pick up the call.

“Allison, baby. Hey.”

“Hey Griffin,” she sighed. “Do you finally have a moment so we can speak? It has been days I’ve been trying to...”

“I’m sorry, I’m very busy right now. Yellow Fever epidemics. Too many patients to check.”

Another excuse. Allison rolled her eyes. It was almost like he knew what she was about to tell him.

“It’s only for a few minutes,” she insisted, losing her patience. “Come on, you had time to fly to Spain over the weekend, but you don’t have a minute for me?”

Griffin’s expression suddenly darkened.

“S-Spain? I’ve never been in Spain, Allison. I’m trapped here in this small village, without internet signal most of the time. Trust me, we barely have water to drink!”

“Well, your phone was displaying a different location a few days ago.”

“Oh...” he looked down for a moment, pensive. “I had to sell my old phone. That’s it, the new owner must have forgotten to disable my ID. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem, now can we...”

A message of lost signal was displayed on her screen. Allison punched the keyboard, frustrated.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

----------

When Mona woke up in the morning, she was still in a bad mood because of the Detective, who was only using her to do the job he was unable to. Things only got worse when she had an accidental meeting with Allison. In the bathroom. When she had just finished. What lead them to be awkward around each other for the next hour.

"My bad," she was getting used to pronounce those words.

"There'd be no problem, Mona," Allison's cheeks went red again, "if you hadn't stared for so long."

"I was only appreciating the view. I hadn't seen it in a while, so..."

"No! Please, can we just forget it?"

"It'll be kinda hard, but I promise I'll try my best."

"Mona!" Allison's face was reaching a new shade of red.

"Consider it unseen," she spoke as Detective Wheeler arrived in the kitchen. "But I liked it," she whispered.

Allison's father interrupted them with another command. The University's basketball team would be hosting a 'Welcome Game', though Mona didn't have the smallest interest in attending, now she'd be forced to.

"Keep an eye on your suspect," he ordered, "and on this guy."

He showed the picture of a slender young male.

"He's the star of the team. Has been reported to be exhibiting abnormal behavior over the last few weeks. Watch who he speaks to, before and after the game."

She didn't have much work, as soon as they arrived in the University, the famous basketball star was casually chatting with Brian, who went back to his dorm carrying a small package.

"It'll be easier than I thought," Mona thought, snapping some pictures.

Later in class, she finished her lab experiment before any other students, so she took the time to search for places to take Allison after the game, as an apology for the morning incident.

"How do you even do that?" Her lab partner whined by her side.

His name was Leon, the leader of the RPG club, and only member too. He bonded with Mona for being rejected by the rest of their classmates as well. Later, they found out they had more in common than they could’ve imagined. He was in love with a med student, who was already committed to another guy.

"Using my brain?"

"I'm using mine, but it just... don't react!"

"Like this," Mona did all the procedure again, triggering the correct chemical reaction.

"B-But..." Leon stared at her in shock. “I followed all the instructions!”

"Now write your report, I'm not doing this for you either."

As they finished writing, they began to chat. She learned Leon had good computer skills, what could be useful at some point, in case they needed to hack Brian's phone to obtain proof.

"And how are things going with Allison?" He wanted to know.

"The same," she told, hopeless. "She hasn’t broke up with the douchebag yet. I guess I’ll just have to force him out of my way.”

"Are you bringing her to the game tonight?"

"Yes, I was kinda planning something special for after the game, but I don't really know what she likes."

"Bowling Alley," he suggested. "They have this fabulous milkshake and I've managed to achieve success with a couple of dates in there."

"Thanks for the tip."

---------

"So let's recap the plan," Allison said before they entered the stadium. "I'll seduce Brian, while you break into his dorm room and get pictures of the drugs."

"He's a bastard, Allison," Mona disagreed. "I couldn't let you do this alone. You're coming with me, I've assigned someone else to keep an eye on him. While he's distracted at the game, both of us will break into his dorm."

"D-Did you told someone else about the investigation? My dad said we should be as secretive as possible."

"We could use a hacker. Besides, Leon is like a fluffy unicorn. Loyal as a puppy."

Before they follow to the basketball game, Mona inhaled deeply, getting courage enough to ask.

"Hey Allison, would you like to do something after the game? Leon suggested we should go to the Bowling Alley, but he has been developing this stupid game, and... I don’t wanna go by myself."

She knew things didn't end well the last time they went out, but this time was different. Allison had clearly expressed she was no longer interested in keeping her engagement.

"No. Way." Allison frowned, scaring her a little. Then, her expression softened again. "You're not allowed to make such an effort yet, remember?"

"Oh, the doc's back," Mona smiled. "Anyways, he said they have a great milkshake. We don't really have to play it."

"So I'm definitely in!"

Leon was sitting in a strategic spot as combined between he and Mona. For her surprise, and displeasure, there was somebody else among the crowd, sitting in the VIP area, her father.

"What on earth is this guy doing here?" She angered. "He's clearly stalking me!"

Soon she got her answer. Before the game started, he was announced as the team's new sponsor. He looked at her and winked.

"I wish I could just go down there and pull this smirk out of his face!"

"Hey," Allison held her steady. "Focus! You said he's no threat. Let's stick to our plan."

Through his laptop, Leon sent her a message. Brian had arrived and was sitting only a few meters away, in the middle of a group of girls.

"We're good to go."

Leaving the stadium, they followed straight to the male dorm. The game was only getting started, what meant they'd have a decent amount of time to search for evidence.

"Do you have his room's number?" Allison asked.

"Yes," Mona answered. "It's right around the corner."

At the corridor, they bumped into another person. Krista. She was just leaving one of the rooms.

"Remember, Doug. Ezekiel 18:21 for our studies this week. See you there!"

"Hide me, please," Mona begged, but it was too late. She had been spotted.

"Mona, hi!" The girl greeted. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the game."

"I... uh... Leon, my classmate. He forgot his wallet in his dorm room. I came here to get it for him."

"And this is...?" She looked at Allison.

"Allison," Allison introduced herself. "You look strangely familiar, have we met before?"

"Hmmm, I don't think so."

"Yeah, I'm much older than you anyways."

"Hey Krista," Mona decided to mess up with her a little bit, as a payback for the other day. "I've decided to get rid of my sinful car. I'd like to purchase one exactly like yours, how much did you pay for it?"

"Good for you, Mona," she looked a little bit unsettled. "I don't know how much it costed, it was a gift from my godfather. Anyways, I should go now. I have an essay to finish."

With a satisfied look, Mona followed to Brian's room where she started picking the lock.

"Remember, your dad said I could do anything to obtain proof. Right?"

"Yes," Allison confirmed. "I'm your witness."

As the door opened, they both covered their noses.

"Ugh, it smells like rotten cheese," Allison commented.

The room was an extreme mess, it was hard to decide where to start looking for evidence. Mona started by Brian's computer, where Allison opened opened some drawers.

"No way I'm touching that pile of clothes in the corner of the room," she told. "It stinks like something died under it."

"It can't be more disgusting than that," Mona pointed to the computer screen. "He's ranking the freshmen girls and... I've got a 10, for the tough girl attitude?"

"Not even Brian could resist you, huh?"

"No one can, babe. No one."

There was nothing on his e-mail, except for Football Newsletter and party advertising. Mona sighed frustrated.

"If you were hiding your drugs, where would you hide them?"

"Under the mattress?"

"Good one," Mona lifted up the mattress a little bit, to find... romance books. "Really?"

"Come on, he deep down he must be a softie! So, in the closet maybe?" Allison suggested, but before they could even act, the door opened. Brian was back earlier than expected.

“What are you two doing in my room?!” He shouted. “I’m calling campus security, right now!”

----------

“Will you, bad boy?” Mona teased, in a intimidating manner. “Because I’m sure the last thing you want are the cops here, in your room. Am I right?”

“Oh, do you think a little thief like you? I’d like to see you prove, before I get your ass expelled from the university.”

Allison stood frozen, looking at them both. Mona had that look on her face, from when she was ready to get in a physical fight with someone. That would jeopardize the entire investigation, besides getting them both kicked out from university. Without thinking any longer, she made a decision. This is exactly what a brainless moron like Brian would like to see.

“Actually,” she removed her shirt off, revealing a lacy violet bra. “We were preparing you a surprise.”

“Excuse me?!” Brian asked, staring at her features.

“Mona told me about you and how irresistibly hot you are...” she pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him. “I’m sorry she isn’t good showing her feelings. I decided to give her a little hand.”

“P-Please, go ahead...”

Brian was smiling broadly. Allison winked to Mona, who was in extreme shock, inviting her to go along with her plan.

“What would you like us to do now, huh?” Allison asked him, in a seductive tone. “Anything you want.”

“M-Make out. The two of you. Please!”

Allison looked at Mona, to see if she consented. She was too dazed make a move or gave her any answer. Instead, she took a step ahead, cupping Allison’s face between her hands carefully, before placing a small kiss on her lips. Allison knew that wouldn’t be enough. Not for Brian, and especially for herself.

She pulled Mona by the waist, bringing her closer as possible and deepening the kiss. For a long time, she hadn’t felt so much pleasure in her life. The softness of Mona’s lips devouring hers, their tongues moving together, it all brought her that burning sensation she had been desiring for years. She wished that moment would never end, prolonging the kiss as much as she could, until they were both out of breath.

“Now, take off your clothes!” Brian ordered, bouncing in excitement.

“Let’s finish this...” Mona grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her pockets and restrained him on the bed post.

“Hell yeah, baby! It’s gonna get kinky here!”

“Where did you get those?” Allison asked curious.

“I stole from your father. I thought they could be useful at some point. Now go, finish searching his desk. I’ll check to the closet.”

“Wait...” Brian was confused. “What’s going on here? Are you guys cops?”

“Sort of,” Allison answered, irritated, “and if you open your mouth again, I’m going to gag you!”

Mona emerged from the closet, with the package she had previously seen Brian carrying in the morning.

“The party is over, bad boy.”

“No, please,” he begged as she unwrapped it. “D-Don’t tell anyone, I-I... I’ll pay you! My dad has a lot of money.”

“Oh shit,” Mona exclaimed, staring at the content. Allison approached, noticing some familiar blue pills.

“Really, Brian?” Allison tried to muffle a laugh. “We thought you were a drug dealer and you...”

“Can’t get it to work properly?” Mona completed, bursting into laughs.

“I have a medical condition, okay?! And if you ever tell this anyone, I’m going to kill you both!”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.”

“As long as our secret is safe too. And stop harassing girls, I mean it.”

After uncuffing him, the three of them sat down to talk about their task and what had been going on. Brian assured he wasn’t involved in any kids of drug dealing and would warn them in case he noticed anything suspicious, as long as his big secret was safe.

“I felt bad for him in the end,” Allison said as they left the room.

“Yeah, me too. All this jerk act he plays is because he...” Mona started laughing again, “has issues down there.”

Suddenly loud screaming and a big commotion started coming from all places in the University. Mona and Allison’s phones started ringing at the same time. The basketball player had fallen unconscious in the middle of the game. He had been hospitalized in a life-threatening condition.

“Stay where you are,” Mr. Wheeler ordered through the phone. “We need to check his dorm for evidence.”

----------

The police wasn’t able to find anything at the young athlete’s dorm, every evidence had been professionally cleaned. Their only hope were the surveillance cameras footage, that could’ve been caught who last entered his room.

Mr. Wheeler asked them both to go home. There was nothing else for them to do in there. Mona remained silent inside her car, blaming herself for aiming at the wrong suspect. Allison insisted and they stopped at the Bowling Alley as planned.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told Mona, as they shared a milkshake. “It happens all the time with my dad and he has been a high-skilled detective, for years.”

“I should’ve known better,” Mona shook her head in denial. “We’re dealing with an expert, Allison. A psychopath. They don’t usually show this dark side of them. We need to start aiming for someone more... normal.”

“Any suspects?”

“None yet, but I’ll be thinking about it.”

Allison let out a deep and weary sigh.

“Jeez, I never thought this could be so intense and emotional. Even if we were just faking all the time.”

There was something else that wouldn’t leave Mona’s mind. That kiss. Was it only part of the role or Allison had true intentions when she decided to go deeper into it?

“Were we faking all the time?” Mona asked.

Allison looked down, avoiding her gaze for a moment.

“Not at all,” she finally answered, biting her lower lip.

Mona approached her, lifting up her chin.

“Would you mind doing it again? Only to be sure it was real?”

Mona leaned forward, her lips only one breath away from Allison’s. She hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Mona’s chest and slightly pushed her away.

“Would you mind waiting only a little longer? I still need to break off my engagement. I feel bad for doing this to Griffin. While I no longer have feelings for him, we had an entire history together.”

“I’ve waited eight years,” Mona grinned. “What’s only a few more days, right?”

“Yeah,” Allison grabbed her hand, “until the weekend I’ll be free. I promise you.”

As soon as they got home, Detective Wheeler was already waiting for them with a scowl on his face. He advanced in Mona’s direction, pinning her against the wall.

“You! You’ve ruined my investigation!” He yelled. “I’ll assure you’ll get severely punished for that!”

“Dad!” Allison shouted, pushing him aside. “What are you saying? We followed the wrong lead, and so did you, multiple times!”

“Allison, she included a total stranger in the investigation. This kid named Leon. The security cameras’ footage is gone. Considering his computer skills, he’s our main suspect now.”

“L-Leon would never do that,” Mona argued, Allison could tell she was somehow scared. “I-I was in contact with him the whole time... he was sitting at the stadium, watching the game for us!”

“While he hacked into the security system and erased everything! Now, because of your irresponsibility, we’ll need to contact the company in charge of campus’ security and attempt to retrieve footage from their server. It’s going to take weeks! Do you have any idea of how many people will die until then?”

Mona stared at the open tab on the Detective’s laptop, the security company’s website and then she realized...

“Leon didn’t do it. This security system is 99,9% impossible to be hacked. And don’t worry. Until the weekend you’re getting your footage, Detective.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“My mom developed this security system and trust me, you don’t wanna mess with her tech skills.”

[gaysparklepires]

25. Favor

Read on Archive of Our Own - Links up top!

It was only a little while later that Edward reminded me of life outside our new home.

“Are you ready for my birthday gift for you?” He smiled.

“That wasn’t it?” I teased. But I sighed. “I suppose we should go make an appearance at least, right?”

He smiled, “Go get dressed, love.”

“Okay,” I probably looked like a cartoon, the way I sprung up, then looked back at him—his diamond body faintly glinting in the diffused light—then looked away to the west, where our family waited, then back at him again, then back toward the big house, my head whipping from side to side a half dozen times in a second. Edward laughed.

“It’s all about balance, love. You’re so good at all this, I don’t imagine it will take too long for you to find that balance.”

“And we have all night, right?”

He smiled wider. “Do you think I could bear to let you get dressed now if that weren’t the case?”

That would have to be enough to get me through the daylight hours. I would balance this overwhelming, devastating desire with real life—as real as life could be given the circumstances.

I didn’t even pause at the ornately carved double doors to catch my breath before finding out what Alice had done. I just burst through, intent on wearing the first things I touched. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Which ones are mine?” I hissed. As promised, the room was bigger than our bedroom. It might have been bigger than the rest of the house put together, but I’d have to pace it off to be positive. I had a brief mental flash of Alice trying to persuade Esme to ignore classic proportions and allow this monstrosity. I wondered how Alice had won that one.

Everything was wrapped in garment bags, pristine and white, row after row after row.

“To the best of my knowledge, everything but this rack here”—he touched a bar that stretched along the half-wall to the left of the door—“is yours.”

“All of this?”

He shrugged.

“Alice,” we said together then laughed.

“Alright,” I muttered, and I pulled down the zipper on the closest bag. I sighed in exasperation when I saw the silk suit inside—baby blue, no less.

Finding something normal to wear could take all day.

“Let me help,” Edward offered. He sniffed carefully at the air and then followed some scent to the back of the long room. There was a built-in dresser there. He sniffed again, then opened a drawer. With a triumphant grin, he held out a pair of artfully faded blue jeans.

I dashed to his side. “How did you do that?”

“Denim has its own scent just like anything else. Now... stretch cotton?”

He followed his nose to a half-rack, unearthing a long-sleeved white t-shirt. He tossed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said fervently. I inhaled each fabric, memorizing the scent for future searches through this madhouse. I remembered silk and satin; I wouldn’t much need those.

It only took him seconds to find his own clothes—if I hadn’t seen him undressed, I would have sworn there was nothing more beautiful than Edward in his own jeans and white button up shirt—and then he took my hand. We darted through the hidden garden, leaped lightly over the stone wall, and hit the forest at a dead sprint. I pulled my hand free so that we could race back. He beat me this time.

Royal and Emmett were sitting at the table, talking quietly to each other. Alice, Jasper, Esme, and Carlisle were sitting on the couch, in a much deeper conversation.

“Good morning,” I called as Edward and I walked into the room.

“Well, well, well,” Emmett grinned. “Look who actually showed up.”

“We weren’t expecting you today,” Royal said, sounding surprised. Then he bit his lip and looked away, trying not to laugh. I could see Emmett starting to shake with silent laughter, sending vibrations through the foundations of the house.

I kept my chin high, “Esme, thank you. So much. The house is absolutely perfect.”

Esme beamed, “I’m glad you like it.” She sighed, “I wish I had been able to figure out something to do with that extra room, though.”

“About that,” I grinned. “We were thinking maybe a kitchen?”

Esme’s eyes lit up with excitement, but before she could respond, Emmett was laughing again—it wasn’t silent this time.

“So the house is still standing?” he managed to get out between his snickers. “I would’ve thought you two had knocked it to rubble by now. What were you doing last night? Discussing the national debt?” He howled with laughter.

I glared at him but focused on keeping calm. I had better things to do than lose my temper at Emmett. Of course, Emmett wasn’t as breakable as some of my friends.

Speaking of, “Where’re the boys today?” I glanced out the window wall, but there had been no sign of Liam or Seth on the way in.

“Jacob took off this morning pretty early,” Royal told me, a little frown creasing his forehead. “Seth followed him out.”

“What was so urgent?” Edward asked. There must have been more in Royal’s memory than I’d seen in his expression.

“I don’t know,” Royal shrugged. “He woke up this morning and seemed like he had a lot on his mind—just sitting there with his mouth hanging open like the moron he is, and then he just jumped to his feet without any kind of trigger—that I noticed, anyway—and rushed out. Iwas glad to be rid of him. The more time he spends here, the less chance there is that we’ll ever get the smell out.”

“Roy,” Esme chided gently.

Royal ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We won’t be here that much longer.”

“I still say we should go straight to New Hampshire and get things set up,” Emmett said, obviously continuing an earlier conversation. “Beau’s already registered at Dartmouth. Doesn’t look like it will take him all that long to be able to handle school.” He turned to look at me with a teasing grin. “I’m sure you’ll ace your classes... apparently there’s nothing interesting for you to do at night besides study.”

Royal giggled.

Do not lose your temper, do not lose your temper, I chanted to myself. And then I was proud of myself for keeping my head.

So I was pretty surprised that Edward didn’t.

He growled—an abrupt, shocking rasp of sound—and the blackest fury rolled across his expression like storm clouds.

Before any of us could respond, Alice was on her feet.

“What is he doing? What is that dog doing that has erased my schedule for the entire day? I can’t see anything! No!” She shot me a tortured glance. “Look at you! You need me to show you how to use your closet.”

For one second I was grateful for whatever Jacob was up to.

And then Edward’s hands balled up into fists and he snarled, “He talked to Charlie. He thinks Charlie is following after him. Coming here. Today.”

Alice said a word that sounded very odd in her trilling, ladylike voice, and then she blurred into motion, streaking out the back door.

“He told Charlie?” I gasped. “But—doesn’t he understand? How could he do that?” Charlie couldn’t know about me! About vampires! That would put him on a hit list that even the Cullens couldn’t save him from. “No!”

Edward spoke through his teeth. “Jacob’s on his way in now.”

It must have started raining farther east. Jacob came through the door shaking his wet hair like a dog, flipping droplets on the carpet and the couch where they made little round gray spots on the white. His teeth glinted against his dark lips; his eyes were bright and excited. He walked with jerky movements, like he was all hyped-up about destroying my father’s life.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted us, grinning. It was perfectly silent.

Liam and Seth slipped in behind him, in their human forms—for now; both of their hands were trembling with the tension in the room.

“Edward,” his name came through my clenched teeth. Wordlessly, Edward came up behind me and placed both hands on my shoulders; half-comfort and half keeping me in place in case I should lose my temper and decide to throw Jacob through the glass wall.

“Charlie’ll be here soon,” Jacob said to me casually. “Just a heads-up. I assume Alice is getting some bronzer or something for you?”

“You assume waytoo much,” I hissed. “What. Have. You. Done?”

Jacob’s smile wavered, but he was still too wound up to answer seriously. “Blondie and Emmett woke me up this morning going on and on about you all moving cross-country. Like I could let you leave. Charlie was the biggest issue here, right? Well, problem solved.”

“Do you even realize what you’ve done? The danger you’ve put him in?”

He snorted. “I didn’t put him in danger. Except from you. But you’ve got some kind of supernatural self-control, right? Not as good as mind reading, if you ask me. Much less exciting.”

Edward moved then, darting in front of me to get in Jacob’s face. Though he was half a head shorter than Jacob, Jacob leaned away from his staggering anger as if Edward towered over him.

“That’s just a theory, mongrel,” he snarled. “You think we should test it out on Charlie? Did you consider the physical pain you’re putting Beau through, even if he can resist? Or the emotional pain if he doesn’t? I suppose what happens to Beau no longer concerns you!” He spit the last word.

Edward’s words finally cut through Jacob’s strangely electric mood. His mouth dropped into a frown. “Beau will be in pain?”

“Like you’ve shoved a white-hot branding iron down his throat!”

I felt like he was layering things on a little heavy now. I remembered back to the hiker in the woods, the pain hadn’t been thatbad.

“I didn’t know that,” Jacob whispered.

“Then perhaps you should have asked first,” Edward growled back through his teeth.

“You would have stopped me.”

“You should have been stopped—”

“This isn’t about me,” I interrupted. I stood very still, keeping my hold sanity. “This is about Charlie, Jacob. How could you put him in danger this way? Do you realize it’s death or vampire life for him now, too?” My voice trembled and I was surprised that tears still formed in my eyes.

Jacob was still troubled by Edward’s accusations, but mine didn’t seem to bother him. “Relax, Beau. I didn’t tell him anything you weren’t planning to tell him.”

“But he’s coming here!”

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Wasn’t the whole ‘let him make the wrong assumptions’ thing your plan? I think I provided a very nice red herring, if I do say so myself.”

My hands tensed at my side. “Say it straight, Jacob. I don’t have the patience for this.”

“I didn’t tell him anything about you, Beau. Not really. I told him about me. Well, show is probably a better verb.”

“He phased in front of Charlie,” Edward hissed.

I whispered, “You what?”

“He’s brave. Brave as you are. Didn’t pass out or throw up or anything. I gotta say, I was impressed. You should’ve seen his face when I started taking my clothes off, though. Priceless,” Jacob chortled.

“You absolute moron! You could have given him a heart attack!”

“Charlie’s fine. He’s tough. If you’d give this just a minute, you’ll see that I did you a

favor here.”

“You have half of that, Jacob.” My voice was flat and steely. “You have thirty seconds to tell me every single word before I throw you through the wall.”

“Jeez, babe. You didn’t used to be so melodramatic. Is that the vampire side of you?”

“Twenty-six seconds.”

Jacob sighed and shifted awkwardly. Seth and Liam seemed to move slightly with him; Liam’s eyes were on me, his teeth slightly bared.

“So I knocked on Charlie’s door this morning and asked him to come for a walk with me. He was confused, but when I told him it was about you and that you were back in town, he followed me out to the woods. I told him you weren’t sick anymore, and that things were a little weird, but good. He was about to take off to see you, but I told him I had to show him something first. And then I phased.” Jacob shrugged.

My teeth felt like a vise was pushing them together. “I want every word, Jacob.”

“Well, you said I only had thirty seconds—okay, okay.” My expression must have convinced him that I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. “Lemme see... I phased back and got dressed, and then after he started breathing again, I said something like, ‘Charlie, you don’t live in the world you thought you lived in. The good news is, nothing has changed—except that now you know. Life’ll go on the same way it always has. You can go right back to pretending that you don’t believe any of this.’

“It took him a minute to get his head together, and then he wanted to know what was really going on with you, with the whole rare-disease thing. I told him that you had been sick, but you were fine now—it was just that you’d had to change a little bit in the process of getting better. He wanted to know what I meant by ‘change,’ and I told him that you looked a lot more like Carlisle now than you looked like him.”

Edward hissed while I stared in horror; this was headed in a dangerous direction.

“After a few minutes, he asked, real quietly, if you turned into an animal, too. And I said, ‘Beau wishes he was that cool!’” Jacob chuckled.

Royal made a noise of disgust.

“I started to tell him more about werewolves, but I didn’t even get the whole word out —Charlie cut me off and said he’d ‘rather not know the specifics.’ Then he asked if you’d known what you were getting yourself into when you married Edward, and I said, ‘Sure, Beau’s known all about this for years, since he first came to Forks.’ He didn’t like that very much. I let him rant till he got it out of his system. After he got calmed down, he just wanted two things. He wanted to see you, and I said it would be better if he gave me a head start to explain.”

I inhaled deeply. “What was the other thing he wanted?”

Jacob smiled. “You’ll like this. His main request is that he be told as little as possible about all of this. If it’s not absolutely essential for him to know something, then keep it to yourself. Need to know, only.”

I felt relief for the first time since Jacob had walked in. “I can handle that part.”

“Other than that, he’d just like to pretend things are normal.” Jacob’s smile turned smug; he must suspect that I would be starting to feel the first faint stirrings of gratitude about now.

I struggled to maintain my serious expression, fighting the reluctant appreciation. It was premature. There was still so much wrong with this situation. Even if Jacob’s intervention had brought out a better reaction in Charlie than I’d ever hoped for...

Jacob seemed to sense I was still angry at him. He walked past Edward and right up to me, waving Liam and Seth off when they started to follow him. He looked at my eyes, his expression showing more repentance than before. “Beau,” he began in a soft voice. “I guess it doesn’t help much if I say this was supposed to be my birthday present to you?”

I couldn’t help but let a slightly maniacal laugh escape my lips. “Birthday present? Really, Jacob?”

He sighed. “Everyone was talking about leaving, and I could tell you were really upset yesterday talking about Charlie—about not seeing him and missing him. I wanted to fix it for you, Beau.”

He stared at me with half a smile, waiting.

“I’m not going to say thank you,” I told him. “You’re still putting Charlie at a huge risk.”

“I amsorry about it hurting you. I didn’t know it was like that. Beau, things are different with us now, but you’ll always be my best friend, and I’ll always love you.”

From behind Jacob, I could see Liam tense in an odd way, I made a note of it in the back of my head to try and analyze it when I wasn’t so occupied.

Jacob continued, “But I’ll love you the right way now. As your friend.” He smiled his very most Jacob-y smile. “If we’re still friends?”

Try as hard as I could to resist, I had to smile back. Just a tiny smile.

He held out his hand: an offer.

I took a deep breath and put my left hand in his. “If I don’t kill Charlie tonight, I’ll consider forgiving you for this.”

“Whenyou don’t kill Charlie tonight, you’ll owe me huge.”

I rolled my eyes.

Alice raced back through the door then, her hands full and her expression promising violence.

“You, you, and you,” she snapped, glaring at the werewolves. “If you must stay, get over in the corner and commit to being there for a while. I need to see. Beau, I need you over here with me.”

Undiluted fear ripped through my stomach as the enormity of what I was about to do hit me. I was going to gamble on my iffy self-control with my pure human father as the guinea pig. Edward’s earlier words crashed in my ears again.

Did you consider the physical pain you’re putting Beau through, even if he can resist? Or the emotional pain if he doesn’t?

I couldn’t imagine the pain of failure. My breathing turned to gasps. “Coming,” I gasped out.

Jacob frowned, concern wrinkling his forehead. He gestured to the others, and they all went to the far corner of the room. Seth and Jake slouched on the floor at once, but Liam shook his head and pursed his lips.

“Am I allowed to leave?” he griped. He looked uncomfortable in his human body, wearing the same dirty t-shirt and cotton shorts he’d worn to yell at me the other day, his short hair sticking up in irregular tufts. his hands were still shaking.

“Of course,” Jake said.

“Stay east so you don’t cross Charlie’s path,” Alice added.

Liam didn’t look at Alice; he ducked out the back door and stomped into the bushes to phase.

Edward was back at my side, stroking my face. “You can do this. I know you can. I’ll help you; we all will.”

I met Edward’s eyes with panic screaming from my face. Was he strong enough to stop me if I made a wrong move?

“If I didn’t believe you could handle it, we’d disappear today. This very minute. But you can. And you’ll be happier if you can have Charlie in your life.”

I tried to slow my breathing.

Alice held up a round compact and a make up brush, “Thankfully your eyes aren’t toomuch of a problem. I did have some contacts prepared just in case, though.”

“When did you—”

“Before you left on the honeymoon. I was prepared for several possible futures. Now hold still and close your eyes.”

I nodded, closing my eyes. I heard the pop of the compact opening, I could smell some sort of makeup product inside it. Alice was brushing it on my face in lightning quick motions.

“There,” she said, “Open your eyes and tell me what you think.”

When I opened my eyes, she was holding the compact open towards me. It was a lightly colored powder of some sort with a small round mirror in the top half of the compact. She had warmed up my pale skin with the makeup.

“How do I look?” I asked Edward, the makeup felt strange on my skin. I had never worn makeup in my human life, but I imagined it didn’t feel as strange on the skin as it did now.

Edward smiled. “You look gorgeous. Of course—”

“Yes, yes, he always looks gorgeous,” Alice finished his thought impatiently. “You’re not as pale as us, but you’re still paler than you used to be. Be sure you don’t wipe it off, I imagine you don’t like the feel of it. If you do, excuse yourself to the downstairs bathroom for a touch up. Which might be a good idea anyway, because humans need bathroom breaks.” She shook her head. “Esme, give him a few pointers on acting human while I put this in the powder room.”

“How long do I have?”

“Charlie will be here in five minutes. Keep it simple.”

Esme nodded once and came to take my hand. “The main thing is not to sit too still or move too fast,” she told me.

“Sit down if he does,” Emmett interjected. “Humans don’t like to just stand there.”

“Let your eyes wander every thirty seconds or so,” Jasper added. “Humans don’t stare at one thing for too long.”

“Cross your legs for about five minutes, then switch to the other leg for the next five,” Royal said.

I nodded once at each suggestion. I’d noticed them doing some of these things yesterday. I thought I could mimic their actions.

“And blink at least three times a minute,” Emmett said. He frowned, then darted to where the television remote sat on the end table. He flipped the TV on to a college football game and nodded to himself.

“Move your hands, too. Brush your hair back or pretend to scratch something,” Jasper said.

“I said Esme,” Alice complained as she returned. “You’ll overwhelm him.”

“No, I think I got it all,” I said. “Sit, look around, blink, fidget.”

“Right,” Esme approved. She hugged my shoulders.

Jasper frowned. “You’ll be holding your breath as much as possible, but you need to move your shoulders a little to make it looklike you’re breathing.”

I inhaled once and then nodded again.

Edward hugged me on my free side. “You can do this,” he repeated, murmuring the encouragement in my ear.

“Two minutes,” Alice said. “Maybe you should start out already on the couch. You’ve been sick, after all. That way he won’t have to see you move right at first.”

Alice pulled me to the sofa. I tried to move slowly, to make my limbs more clumsy. She rolled her eyes, so I must not have been doing a good job.

“Do better.” Alice commanded.

Edward took a seat beside me and put his arms around me. He leaned into me and kissed my neck gently. “You can do this.”

“I can do this.” I said, but it sounded wrong.

Jacob chuckled.

“Maybe you should leave, Jacob,” Edward said coldly, glaring in his direction. Edward hadn’t forgiven Jacob, because Edward only knew how bad the burning of thirst was from his perspective and as far as he knew I would be suffering terribly.

“I told Charlie I’d be here,” Jacob said. “He needs moral support.”

“Moral support,” Edward scoffed. “As far as Charlie knows, you’re the most repulsive monster of us all.”

“Repulsive?” Jake protested, and then he laughed quietly to himself.

I heard the tires turn off the highway onto the quiet, damp earth of the Cullens’ drive, and my breathing spiked again. My heart ought to have been hammering. It made me anxious that it continued it’s slow, steady pace—an entirely wrong reaction.

Instead of fighting my new body’s natural reactions, I tried to embrace it. I concentrated on the slow, steady thrumming of my heart to calm myself. It worked pretty quickly.

“Well done, Beau,” Jasper whispered in approval.

Edward tightened his arm over my shoulders.

“You’re sure?” I asked him.

“Positive. You can do anything.” He smiled at kissed me.

It wasn’t precisely a peck on the lips, and my new, wilder reactions took me off guard yet again. Edward’s lips were like a shot of some addictive chemical straight into my nervous system. I was instantly craving more. It took all my concentration to remember the talk at hand.

Jasper felt my mood change. “Er, Edward, you might not want to distract him like that right now. He needs to be able to focus.”

Edward pulled away. “Oops,” he said.

I laughed. That had been my line from the very beginning, from the very first kiss.

“Later,” I said, and anticipation curled my stomach into a ball.

“Focus, Beau,” Jasper urged.

“Right.” I pushed the trembly feelings away. Charlie, that was the main thing now. Keep Charlie safe today. We would have all night...

“Beau.”

“Sorry, Jasper.”

Emmett laughed.

I continued to focus on my heartbeat, the more I focused, the more relaxed I got. Then a thought came to the forefront of my mind and I couldn’t help but turn to Jacob.

“Jake. You stripped in front of my dad?”

Jacob opened his mouth to speak, then his face darkened with a blush. “I didn’t want to ruin my clothes…” he mumbled.

Despite my nervousness, I couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh.

The sound of Charlie’s cruiser got closer and closer. The second of levity passed, and everyone was still. I crossed my legs and practiced my blinks.

The car pulled in front of the house and idled for a few seconds. I wondered if Charlie was as nervous as I was. Then the engine cut off, and a door slammed. Three steps across the grass, and then eight echoing thuds against the wooden stairs. Four more echoing footsteps across the porch. Then silence. Charlie took two deep breaths.

Knock, knock, knock.

I inhaled for what might be the last time.

Carlisle answered the door. His stressed expression changed to one of welcome, like switching the channel on the TV.

“Hello, Charlie,” he said, looking appropriately abashed. After all, we were supposed to be in Atlanta at the Center for Disease Control. Charlie knew he’d been lied to.

“Carlisle,” Charlie greeted him stiffly. “Where’s Beau?”

“Right here, Dad.”

Ugh! My voice was so wrong. Plus, I’d used up some of my air supply. I gulped in a quick refill, glad that Charlie’s scent had not saturated the room yet.

Charlie’s blank expression told me how off my voice was. His eyes zeroed in on me and widened.

I read the emotions as they scrolled across his face.

Shock. Disbelief. Pain. Loss. Fear. Anger. Suspicion. More pain.

I bit my lip. It felt funny. My new teeth were sharper against my skin than my human teeth had been against my soft human lips.

“Is that you, Beau?” he whispered.

“Yep.” I winced at my bell-like voice. “Hi, Dad.”

He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Hey, Charlie,” Jacob greeted him from the corner. “How’re things?”

Charlie glowered at Jacob once, shuddered at a memory, and then stared at me again.

Slowly, Charlie walked across the room until he was a few feet away from me. He darted an accusing glare at Edward, and then his eyes flickered back to me. The warmth of his body heat beat against me with each pulse of his heart.

“Beau?” he asked again.

I spoke in a lower voice, trying to keep the ring out of it. “It’s really me.”

His jaw locked.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Really and truly great,” I promised. “Healthy as a horse.”

“Jake told me this was… necessary. That you were dying.” He said the words like he didn’t believe them one bit.

I steeled myself, focused on my steady heart, leaned into Edward for support, and took a deep breath.

Charlie’s scent was at first a fistful of flames, punching down my throat. My mind instantly went back to the scent of the anonymous hikers from before. Charlie’s blood was just as tempting, and he was only a few feet away.

But it wasn’t unbearable. Not as unbearable as I had prepared for.

This was a relief. Edward gave my shoulder a squeeze as he sensed my body relaxed, and Jacob shot a hopeful glance at me across the room.

I collected myself and ignored the pain of the thirst. Charlie was waiting for my answer.

“Jacob was telling you the truth.”

“That makes one of you,” Charlie growled.

I hoped Charlie could see past the changes in my new face to read the remorse there.

“Dad,” I began, but I couldn’t think of what to say that would justify how much I had lied to him.

His eyes met mine, and he stared deeply into them for a moment. As he examined my eyes, something in his expression wavered. Of course, my eyes were still mine but they had changed—I had noticed it immediately—they had a surreal luminous quality to them. His eyes wandered from mine to examine the rest of my face—Surely he could see the lack of imperfections.

Charlie started hyperventilating. His lips trembled. He was trying to understand something beyond understanding. Trying to force it to make sense when he didn’t have all the information.

Jacob got up and came over to pat Charlie on the back. He leaned in to whisper something in Charlie’s ear; only Charlie didn’t know we could all hear.

“Need to know, Charlie. It’s okay. I promise.”

Charlie swallowed and nodded. And then his eyes blazed as he took a step closer to Edward with his fists tightly clenched.

“I don’t want to know everything, but I’m done with the lies!”

“I’m sorry,” Edward said calmly, “but you only need to know so much. It’s to protect Beau, to protect all of us. No more lies, but can you go along with some necessary unknowns? For Beau’s sake?”

The room was full of statues. I crossed my legs.

Charlie huffed once and then turned his glare on me. “You might’ve given me some warning, kid.”

“Would it really have made this any easier?”

He frowned, and then he knelt on the floor in front of me. I could see the movement of the blood in his neck under his skin. I could feel the warm vibration of it.

Jacob reached out to pat Charlie’s shoulder, subtly pulling Charlie back away from me in the process. “Need to know, Charlie.”

Charlie cringed away from the contact.

“Oh, c’mon, Charlie,” Jacob groaned. “I’m the same person I’ve always been. Just pretend this afternoon didn’t happen.”

The reminder make Charlie’s lips go white, but he nodded once. “Just what isyour part in all this, Jake?” he asked. “How much does Billy know? Why are you here?” He narrowed his eyes at Jacob.

“Well, I could tell you all about it—Billy knows absolutely everything—but it involves a lot of stuff about werewo—”

“Ungh!” Charlie protested, covering his ears. “Never mind.”

Jacob grinned. “Everything’s going to be great, Charlie. Just try to not believe anything you see.”

My dad mumbled something unintelligible.

“Woo!” Emmett suddenly boomed in his deep bass. “Go Gators!”

Jacob and Charlie jumped. The rest of us froze.

Charlie recovered, then looked at Emmett over his shoulder. “Florida winning?”

“Just scored the first touchdown,” Emmett confirmed. He shot a look in my direction, wagging his eyebrows like a villain in vaudeville. “’Bout time somebody scored around here.”

I fought back a hiss. In front of Charlie? That was over the line.

But Charlie was beyond noticing innuendos. He took yet another deep breath, sucking the air in like he was trying to pull it down to his toes. I envied him. He lurched to his feet, stepped around Jacob, and half-fell into an open chair. “Well,” he sighed, “I guess we should see if they can hold on to the lead.”

[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chasing Tails

Part Fourteen

Kisuke suppressed a sigh and picked up the pizza box.  It looked like Ichigo wasn’t coming after all.

He had to admit he was a little surprised.  He hadn’t expected Taka-chan’s brand of persuasion to work so well on the redhead, but then Ichigo didn’t have any history with the man. He looked normal enough.   Successful. An empire builder.

Unfortunately, he was also a psychopath.

Another sigh threatened. Was it really too much to ask to have one thing in his life that Okura Kagetaka couldn’t ruin?

Kisuke? Yoruichi murmured in his ear. Ichigo just arrived downstairs.

Apparently not. The pizza box trembled a little in his hand.

He was probably heading up to his apartment.  There was no reason to expect him to…

“Oh, thank God, yes! Give me that!” Ichigo exploded through his door on a wave of kinetic energy and Kisuke spun on his heel, holding the box up to grabby hands. “I am starving.  This whole super spy gig takes way too much effort.”

Kisuke stepped back from the table and watched Ichigo slip into a chair at his table and inhale a slice of pizza. “Super spy gig?”

Your heart rate has risen ten percent. Yoruichi said, but Kisuke ignored her. It wasn’t important. Ichigo had come.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned around the bite in his mouth and Kisuke shook his head. No one should enjoy pizza that much.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “I had a bitch of a time getting rid of the Yakuza following me. At least I think it was one of Mamushi’s men, but it could have been someone else, I guess.  Whoever it was, he stuck to me like Yuzu when she wants me to buy ice cream.”

He ate his second piece slower, apparently now convinced that it wouldn't disappear if he didn’t eat fast enough.

“Once I lost him, I went to the gym. The cleaning guy knows me, and he let me in to call Renji from their phone.  Luckily he was studying so he didn’t mind the interruption.”

As the second piece disappeared, so did the edge of Ichigo’s frantic energy.

“He was already at the apartment, so that made the next part easier, but still.” He pushed back from the table a little. “I had to explain some of what was going on and honestly, considering how little I actually know about what’s going on, that didn’t go so well.”

He shrugged a little and didn’t meet Kisuke’s eyes, and the blond could tell he wanted to ask a thousand questions, but he wasn’t going to push.  Yet.  He wasn’t going to wait for very long, though.

“Okura-san told me to have the papers looked over, so…”

Kisuke interrupted. “I’m sorry. Papers?”

Ichigo’s eyebrows rose a fraction.  “Oh yeah.  You don’t know about that.  Huh.  I guess I’m too used to you knowing everything.”

That was a loaded statement if Kisuke'd ever heard one. It was fair, though.

“Focus, Ichigo, if you would.  What papers?”

Ichigo took an extra-large bite and stared at Kisuke challengingly, forcing him to wait while he chewed.  It had been a long time since anyone had been so openly defiant with him.  Probably since Yoruichi had left on her current mission. It was… cute.

“I am sorry, Ichigo-kun,” he bowed his head a little, quietly teasing the redhead in return, “whenever you’re ready.”

Ichigo swallowed and shook his head.  “Like I’m ever going to be ready for you.” He froze realizing what he said, and Kisuke couldn’t stop a grin from forming.  Ichigo apparently decided that ignoring it was safer than denying it, and rushed on.

“Well, Okura-san tried to convince me that you were a dangerous man who had broken in to their labs and stolen or destroyed his work.  He claimed the two men who jumped you at Como’s were over-zealous employees there to escort you to a meeting he'd arranged to try to get his property back, and they were only there as a safety precaution because you’re too dangerous to be allowed to come alone. Then he bemoaned the fact that I, a poor defenseless bystander,had been involved, and cried mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”

“He said that since it was only because of his employees’ mistakes that I was entangled in this brouhaha, he wanted to make sure that I had the financial wherewithal to escape  your clutches, now that you’ve decided I am a useful pawn.”

He put down the remainder of his pizza slice and Kisuke moved into the kitchen to grab a napkin for him.

“Thanks.” He wiped his hands clean and looked at Kisuke.  His eyes were well-lit by the overhead lamp, and Kisuke could just see the little golden freckle that sat in the corner of one of the warm brown irises. “He gave me a settlement offer of eleven million yen to ‘cover damages’ and then a potential future position within the Okura keiretsu that would pay my tuition to med school, when I decide I want to go back.”

The two men stared at each other silently for a moment.

“Then he suggested that I have someone I trust look over the papers, so I gave them to Renji.  He’ll go over them and make sure there’s nothing hidden in the legalese, like selling the guy my first-born son or something.  He seems like the type who’d do something like that.”

Kisuke felt something in his chest loosen at the words.  Ichigo hadn’t believed Taka after all.

“Children have never been Taka-chan’s currency of choice, but I learned long ago not to put anything past him.”

Ichigo snorted at that.  “Yeah, he did the whole song and dance routine with enough skill that it was clearly something he’d practiced long and hard.  Only people who have things to hide go to that much trouble.”

Kisuke wondered if he was that transparent to Ichigo.  He’d practiced dissembling even longer and, arguably, to just as troublesome ends as his misguided protégé.

“Stop that.” Ichigo stood and walked the few steps into the kitchen proper, grabbing a water glass from the shelf and filling it from the tap. “You’re not the same.”

Kisuke looked at his defender and shook his head with a sad smile. “How can you be so sure, Ichigo-kun?  I am not, and I’ve lived in my own head for quite a long time.”

Ichigo rinsed the glass and placed it on the drain board. “That’s your problem.  You’ve been stuck in your head with all this crap for years.  It’s no wonder you can’t see it.”

He started putting the leftover pizza away with the economical movements of experience, and Kisuke wondered whether it was a skill he'd developed during his time raising his sisters, or from bachelor life.

“Can’t see what?” Kisuke was almost afraid to ask.

Ichigo wet a dishcloth and moved to wipe down the table. “That you’re not Dr. Frankenstein, and if this guy, Okura, is a monster, he isn’t your creation.”

His face was unusually serious, the mobile lips held tightly as he stared at Kisuke, trying to make him understand.

“He didn’t tell you anything that was too far from the truth, Ichigo-kun.” He didn’t ever want Ichigo to feel like he’d lied to him. “I have broken into his offices and destroyed things.  I have thwarted him at every turn, and I have every intention of continuing to do so. I am not innocent in all this.”

Ichigo rinsed the towel and wrung it out, placing it carefully, and Kisuke could see the tension in the other man’s posture.

“The bastard knew about my dad.  My sisters.  He very carefully didn’t threaten them, if you know what I mean.”  His eyes darkened and Kisuke was surprised by the depth of anger he could see there. “If you hadn’t set yourself against him, I’d be very disappointed, anata.”

***

Ichigo spent the next hour recounting details.  Kisuke loved details.  Luckily, Ichigo had a good memory.

“The butler was impressive. I’m pretty sure she was armed—it looked like an asp like mine, maybe the shorter version?—and even Masuda-san was careful around her.” He shook his head, remembering the Yakuza’s warning. “When a gangster says to be careful around someone, I’ve learned it’s in my best interest to listen.”

Kisuke nodded. “Not a bad lesson to learn. How long did it take you to learn it?”

Ichigo grumbled. “I learned it.  That’s what matters.”

Kisuke laughed, the first truly relaxed sound Ichigo had heard from him since he’d arrived.  “Very true.”

Ichigo had felt more than a little bit of pride when Kisuke complimented his actions after leaving Okura’s offices.  He’d half expected the blond to laugh at his gleaned-from-fiction approach to things—ditching his tail, switching computers, changing his clothes—but he’d just nodded and said, Good, good.  Did you take a shower?

Ichigo didn’t want to think about why he might have needed a shower; he might never leave the apartment again.

“I don’t think she touched me, but with the backpack it’s almost impossible to tell.  I wasn’t thinking about trackers or anything when I first got there, honestly.  It wasn’t until I was on the way out that I remembered how she followed me into the building rather than leading me.”

Kisuke moved to put water on for tea. “Is that why you left your bag at your old apartment?”

Ichigo nodded.  “I figured, if I wanted them to believe that I believed them—can this get any more convoluted?—I couldn’t come straight back here.  I could have gone to my dad’s, but that’s the last place I want their attention focused.”

“So,” he said, taking his mug and looking over the rim at Kisuke and sipping slowly, “you’re going to need to put new trackers or sensors or whatever it is you use on my new stuff.”

Kisuke’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.  “I would normally deny such behavior in the most strenuous of terms. However, since you wouldn’t believe me and I wouldn't insult you by insisting that it was true, I will simply agree and thank you for trusting me.”

Ichigo reached across the table and squeezed Kisuke’s hand. “You’re welcome.”  He let the corner of his lip quirk up in a half-smile. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Kisuke met his gaze and then bowed his head . “I will do my best not to.”

***

It was late before they finished the impromptu debriefing, and Kisuke could see Ichigo’s shoulders slumping. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of thing and as sanguine as he was pretending to be, Kisuke knew it was taking its toll.

“Kisuke?” Ichigo asked.  “This thing you stole. What was it?”

The blond twisted in his seat so he could see Ichigo better. “Taka-chan was working with me when I first came up with the idea for Yoruichi.” He laughed a little. “Maybe I’d seen too many video games, but I was convinced that I could improve upon the normal concept of a security AI. You’ve seen a little of what Yoruichi can do hooked up to a known system.  The complete version allows someone to embed her into a system on the fly so you can use your enemies’ security against them.   It then runs a scorched earth protocol cutting all contacts with the existent hardware except for those that Yoruichi is using.  It basically subverts any computerized security system, turning it into a zombie for me to use.”

“He didn’t want to stop there.  Taka thought that accessing the system during an operation wasn’t enough. He thought we should use it, attack with it remotely, and leave the original system’s owner looking guilty of an unprovoked attack.”

Kisuke stirred a little restlessly.  “He always believed that pitting targets against each other was the way to destabilize situations enough that someone could come in and take over with minimal effort.”

Ichigo stiffened a little.  “Like the yakuza turf wars?”

Kisuke nodded.  “Exactly like that.  It started small.  I think he was experimenting.  He engineered a falling out between two Onmi agents.  One was reprimanded and lost his position.  He…” Kisuke paused and tried to find the best way of explaining, “he didn’t take it well.   He figured out that Taka was behind the machinations but couldn’t prove anything.  He tried to beat a confession out of him.  Taka allowed him to do substantial damage, and then pressed charges against him.”

Ichigo frowned. “Allowed? You mean he could have stopped it?”

Kisuke nodded. “Absolutely. Taka-chan was better than anyone in the Onmi at hand to hand combat—including me. He could have ended the assault in less than a minute, but he didn’t.  He wanted the injuries as testimony. He also knew that the constant reminder of the agent’s loss of control would make everyone else uneasy. It is his gift, you see, the ability to read his opponent.  However, it is also his greatest weakness.  Once he has evaluated a situation, he becomes inflexible.   Predictable.  But never underestimate him.”

“After that, I kept a closer eye on him.  I was impressed with his ability to read situations and people, but I disliked how little he considered the consequences of his actions on others.  The Director, though, saw his indifference as an asset.  When it became clear that the local yakuza groups were choosing to organize amongst themselves against law enforcement, he sent Taka in to shake things up.  It was a perfect fit in many ways.  Taka’s mother worked in the soaplands in Nakasu. She died when he was young, and he worked his way up from the lowest ranks into a position of relative respect by the time he was in his early teens. That was when I found him and persuaded him that a life outside the yakuza would be preferable. It wasn’t hard.  He hated the men who took advantage just because they could, not because they were better, or smarter, or even stronger. He knew he was smarter than any of the people he had to bow and scrape to, and it burned.  The Director knew it, knew Taka’s hatred for the yakuza and his penchant for creating chaos, and sent him out anyway.”

Ichigo frowned. “So, you’re saying that the Director wanted a turf war?”

Kisuke shrugged. “Turf war.  Assassination. Anything that would stop the gangs from working together.”

“And it didn’t matter who got hurt in the crossfire.” Ichigo rapped his knuckles on the table. “Like my mom.”

Kisuke sighed and nodded. “Like your mother. She knew the locals—some more than others—and believed that she could reason with them, but once Taka got into someone’s head, it rarely turned out well.”

Ichigo sat back and rolled his shoulders. “Sounds to me like it is time for your Taka-chan to learn a lesson about messing with people’s lives.”

Kisuke gave him a sideways look.  “He isn’t my Taka-chan, you know.”

Ichigo didn’t look at him. “But he was. You still call him Taka-chan," he practically spit the name out. "Clearly he means something to you.”

Kisuke moved closer and put his hand on Ichigo’s arm until he acknowledged him.

“You’re wrong, anata. There is nothing between us. Yes, he was interested in pursuing a relationship at one time, but it was never more than a question of politics and power, and that was not a game I have ever had the time or inclination to play.”

“As far as why I call him Taka-chan, I do it because it gets under his skin. He hates being subordinate to anyone, but at this point he truly hates being beaten by me. If he had his way, I would cast aside my too-familiar ways, grovel and call him Okura-dono as he so clearly deserves, and then beg him to allow me to follow him into his brave new order where the last man standing is the only one worthy.”

Ichigo appeared mollified, but Kisuke made a mental note to try to reinforce the message when he could. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to think there was some twisted attraction beneath the animosity between him and Taka-chan.

“The only thing that Okura Kagetaka is to me is a threat that must be dealt with.” He wanted Ichigo to understand.  Needed him to understand. “I might not have created the monster, but I gave him skills that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.  So, it falls to me to make sure he doesn’t use those skills to sew more chaos.”

The redhead looked at him and slowly nodded. “I can see that.  Just don’t get too caught up in it, okay? I’ve seen you working. I don’t think moderation or perspective were subjects they taught you in spy school.”

“No,” Kisuke couldn’t muffle a laugh. “No, they weren’t.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until Ichigo turned to him and raised and eyebrow.

“I wonder… was there a class in how to steal your boyfriend’s clothes? Or did that skill just come naturally?” The sparkle was back in his eyes, the dark brown shining with amber again, and Kisuke smiled.

“Oh Ichigo, do you really need to ask? It comes naturally.” He slanted a wicked grin across the table. “Plus, if I’m wearing them, you can’t be.”

Ichigo blushed. “You are so full of it…”

Kisuke stood up and started walking down the hall.  “If you want it back,” he stopped in the bedroom door, “come and take it.”

His Ichigo was never one to back down from a challenge.

[melchior-caito-blog]

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ event update. the meteor shower.

Below: In which in which Melchior runs into his burning childhood home. 

There’s too many familiar faces up on that hill and so they decide to forgo tradition. Leave. They walk and walk and they stop with the taste of their recent encounters souring their mouth and the cold air against their cheek. They’re standing across the street from the Caito estate. There’s no room for anger at the muscle memory of their body, only wariness. Their eyes flutter closed and the world washes in around them, all dark and lonely grey. That’s what they think at first - how lonely their old home looks, how static.

And it does. Until there is fire.

Melchior first sees the meteors when he’s six. That year, Balthazar takes them onto the hill at the edge of town, and in the dead of night, by the moon’s light, they wait.

Melchior lays in the grass and snow, underneath the sky, with his hands clasped on his stomach, staring up at moon’s size and its tangerine-orange colour.

His father’s head moves into view, eclipsing half the moon. Balthazar grins with a mouth like a jack-o-lantern. “You ready?”

He breathes in deep. “What if I miss them?”

“You won’t. I promise. They’re like streaks of fire across the sky.”

What a thought. Melchior looks up at the sky, imagines it cracking down the middle and igniting. 

Twenty years later, the stars blink bright, their light shrouding the world with the promise of fire. 

Melchior stands across from the Caito mansion in delirious pain.

They can breathe, of course. Their heart works. Their hands and their legs too, and their veins are still pumping blood. This pain is sudden and it only blooms like the fire they see in the second story window. They needed to scoop the fire out. Needed to let it bleed from them. No— they should just wait for the firetruck. No— the world of Savages and Cobras? It’s is not theirs any more. No— that legacy died with Balthazar Caito and they are a slave to their blood no more —

They’re barreling through the front door and up the stairs faster than their feet can carry them. 

“You’re a killer kid, you can’t deny blood.”

His father’s words rattle around in his chest and realign his bones. 

They take the stairs two at a time. How many summers spent, running up and down these very stairs? There are others in their vicinity, but all have the sense to move away from the fire. 

Melchior doesn’t head for the front door to the study. Bad idea. They curve around a different corner. There’s a side door, less noticed and connected through a different part of the wing. It’s the long way around, but less likely affected by the flames. 

When they were younger and they had nightmares, they’d stumble out of bed and into the study through this door. Balthazar would be working late. Jason would bring in a spare blanket and Melchoir would find peace from the nightmares curled up on the couch that smelt like home.

It’s a nightmare that might as well be a memory.

Everything is dressed in warm colors, like living inside of a lantern—flickering oranges, reds, and golds. The edges are fuzzy, like old film, underdeveloped and blurred. His stomach always flutters and he can hear the murmuring and clink of champagne glasses. It starts faint, like everything is far away, muffled, as if he is underwater, swimming towards the surface.

And then, everything breaks wide open. He’s dancing, spinning fast around the room to the sound of a band. His graduation. All the women’s dresses bleed into their partner’s black coats until they are just a messy swirl of black, the edges now gold and red and pulsing with light.

Melchior looks down and Marcelline is smiling up at him. Her skin is golden, her cheeks glimmer - reflecting the red of the decorations, making her skin look like its holding fire in it. And isn’t that always so true of Marcelline anyway? They cling to each other as they twirl, fighting over who gets to lead, Melchior can feel his feet moving closer to hers, almost stepping on the inside of her heels, but never actually doing so. The two of them are good at this - this back and forth that they do.

He blinks and his arms are dropped lower, Jason - all paternal warmth - has taken Marceline’s place. He doesn’t speak, just smiles - but Melchior can see the warm lights dancing in this eyes and feels his chest expand so big he’s sure it will explode.

The dancing seems to last forever, the songs melting into each other, his partners morphing from one person to another in seconds that last hours.

Suddenly, everything stops.

Like the end of a roller coaster,  Melchior is lurched to a standstill. It is quiet now and he has a glass of champagne in his hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jason in Balthazar’s study.

His father is a few feet in front of him, talking, but he can’t hear the words. It’s just the three of them.  It feels like he’s back under water, like someone is holding head beneath the waves. He knows what he’s saying though, as if his father has cracked open his chest and is speaking right into it.

‘You know every bit of it - it’s about time you actually joined the Savages.’

He feels Balthazar’s hand squeeze the junction of his neck and shoulder and the feeling pulls him up again, into the static so loud he feels the urge to run.

Run, run far away.

Instead, he smiles as his father raises his champagne glass to him. As Balthazar stretches his arm and Melchior stretches his out in return, it as if the study expands and suddenly. He can’t see Balthazar’s proud smile or the twinkling in his dark eyes, the lights like stars in them.

Desperately, he throws back his entire glass in one swallow.

As soon as his hand comes back down his father is right in front of him. Snapped to him like a thunderclap. His champagne glass is refilled and he drinks more of it to calm the rumbling in his stomach like a volcano about to erupt.

Balthazar puts both hands on Melchior’s shoulders, they feel like stones. Instead of his hands, Melchior imagines Balthazar is Atlas, tricking him into taking the world. At this distance, they look as if they are the same height. Balthazar is smiling. His teeth are bright and white too, blinding in their brilliance and expectation. Melchior shuts his eyes against them.

When he opens them, Balthazar is melting.

His face, that dark brown, which sucks up all the warm gold, white shining on top of his cheeks, has started to drip like candle wax. Melchior looks down and his hands are melting into Melchior’s black tux, disappearing. It isn’t wet, but the warmth has turned cold. The weight is gone.

Balthazar steps forward to embrace Melchior.

Melchior’s heart is pounding. He squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his jaw against the urge for all the champagne to come bubbling back out of him. He’s dizzy, dizzy, and his father is light as a feather in his arms.

When he opens his eyes again it is dark, his father and the party has melted away—gone like an ink stain spreading over cloth. He still feels dizzy, like a top that won’t stop spinning, inertia propelling it towards the edge of a table top and all the children too distracted to keep it from falling right off the edge. There is the sound of crackling flames. 

There is the sound of crackling flames. They’re in the study now. Black, thick smoke congests the room like the wool of a black sheep.

There’s certainly more important things in this room. Important Savage papers, important business documents that might be able to be salvaged. They know this room inside and out - all its nooks and crannies. But who the fuck cares? Certainly not them. The Savages are a legacy they will deny even now, in this moment. There are more important things.

Smoke fills their lungs. They wrestle with the drawer in the overturned desk, the awkward angle making it harder to reach the false bottom they know is there. It’s jammed. They jostle it and then yank, hard, causing the  wood to crack and splinter. 

Flames rise higher. Smoke grows thicker. 

They cough and its like breathing through a plastic bag. No fresh air is getting to their lungs. They can’t breathe -

Not yet. Not yet. They smash through the bottom with a paperweight. There. Albums. Photos and moments that are threatened to be licked up forever by the flames.

He remembers killing that man, how easily the knife enters his chest, like slicing through butter.

He remembers liking it.

He  remembers doing it right here, in his father’s study. His heart has never beat louder. 

Their heart is going to burst from their chest. They collapse on the grass outside, photo albums spilling out around them. Their lungs heave, trying to get rid of the smoke that chokes them. They breathe sharply like they are a brand new person. They force themselves to turn over (once more laying in the grass and snow, underneath the sky, with their hands clasped on their stomach)   to watch the flames through the window. They lay there watching the wreckage of all that once was.

The fire climbs higher and higher, fighting against the black.

More than ever, Melchoir understands.

Nothing is sacred to these motherfuckers.

[starscreamloki]

Disobedient Thrall - Chapter 1

(Loki x Reader)

Read on AO3

Chapter: one

Summary: Loki is on earth and has a human Thrall that is able to arrange things for him. But Loki seems to have fallen in a very predatory, even feral, way of treating and is downright dangerous, able to commit murder at any moment. She is trying to make him see that he is more than the darkness he thinks he is, but instead she keeps pushing all the wrong buttons.

Words: 3788

A/N: With a really big and many thanks to @laralaufey for this fanfic. It all started on my rp-blog ‘Loki the Predator’ where Laralaufey and Loki had some conversation and actions for everybody to follow. A fanfic was scratching in my brain after our RP, and with the consent of Laralaufey, I wrote a fanfic out of it.

Also thanks to @islandamy, who added to the RP and spun it toward a new dimension, and an Anon who started all this by giving Loki the Predator a brand new set of knives. He really liked that!

Please bear in mind that this fanfic is written form a very predatory Loki view. Yes, that one look he has all over The Avengers, the thing where my other blog is build on. And no, he is not very nice...

Warnings: Dom!Loki, predatory!Loki, violence, lot of Loki feesl, dub-con.

---

“Did you seriously doubted my dagger-skills, Little Prey?” Loki hissed between his teeth at her. “You just set your possibility of an alliance three steps back with that remark!” He hovered menacing over her kneeling form.

“I would never doubt your skills, I was noticing that a job well done has taken away a burden. My burden, my King,” she said looking down at his black boots.

It had only been a couple of days ago that Loki had graciously taken up on her propose to test his new daggers on her boss. Her boss still lived but finally left her in some form of peace after he had seen the powerful being she surrounded herself with.

“I’m still not convinced, Little Prey.” The choice of Loki’s words might have been a little strange, but for some reason it had become a pet-name for everyone he encountered. She wasn’t sure what he was up to, or if he had just lost himself in his own mind or fallen to one of his illusions, but she didn’t want to defy him and thus she accepted the nickname. “And on top of that-” he continued, “-you have a burden less, yet I didn’t get anything in return except blood and gore on my armour and knives!”

“Well, last time I started running and you didn’t follow me… Wasn’t it enough?” she boldly countered.

“Last time I got distracted…” Loki mused at her words, and a sly and mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Let me make it up to you, my King. What do you say if I get you a list of idiots who deserve to be prey? I could have the list right here with me--”

Loki interrupted her harshly. “I’d rather have prey with a certain level of intelligence and not an idiot because there is no fun in that! Don’t get me wrong, making your boss bleed was fun, but if you are going to set me up with a hunt, at least make it a challenge.”

“--Or I can find you a good place to hide, with all the comforts, while you wait for the next prey...” she trailed even though he had interrupted her.

Loki gave her an amused look. “Little Prey, I don’t wait for prey, I hunt them whenever I please.” He touched his index finger to his lips and seemed to consider the options. “Very well,” he spoke balanced. “Arrange some nice Midgardian residence for me and we’ll see where things go from there.” And with those words he vanished in a green flash.

Still a little bit stunned and unsteady, but very happy, she got to her feet. “Anything for you, my King,” she mumbled.

***

It had been a couple of hours before Loki returned, and she had done everything in her power to make sure he had plenty of options to choose from. She showed him a picture of a majestic palace, the outside painted gold and white. A garden in front of it sprouted many golden gargoyles spraying water into a big pond surrounded by grass and lustrous green trees.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he looked at the device she was helding. He had seen the Midgardian devices they called ‘phones’ but he really didn’t understand them, nor did he want to. He had so much other things to attend to and when he saw this mortal with the device, he was sure he couldn’t afford it to lose more of his time over such an inferior object. “I like the gold but everything else in the residence is a little bit too much,” he said while wrinkling his nose.

She swept her finger across the device and another picture popped up on the screen. Loki sighed. Maybe these devices were conducts of magic or illusions. Maybe if he had time he would look into them. Later.

“Here?” she offered as he looked at the picture. “Big windows to control outside, pillows and blankets will be changed in green and gold.”

Loki scoffed. “I’d rather have a decent place where I can read between hunts.” and he circled her. “And I don’t want to feel locked up. Try again, Little Prey.”

She cringed as he circled her, a little bit of fear creeping into her heart, but she didn’t relent. She had known he’d rather have a place which would be more cosy and filled with books and she had prepared for this. She swiped the device again. “I found this place,” and she showed him a picture of a room where all the walls were filled with books stored on pine wooden bookshelves. “It’s quiet, there’s place for books. It isn’t too much, you have big windows but...” she was searching for the right words to say in order not to antagonize the God of Lies but spoke anyways. “Of course it’s a closed place… it’s a home…will you feel locked up?”

Loki tilted his head, his eyes narrowed and she could see the anger shimmer behind his green orbs.

“It’s a residence, not a home, for I do not have it,” he said cold. He looked at the picture again. “Get rid of the roses and put black sheets on the bed and it might suffice.” Loki stalked around her until he was in front of her again. “And as long as the doors and windows are breakable, I’ll not feel locked up.” He fixed her with a steel gaze and bit his lip, not in a sensual way but in a way that scared her a little. The look of a predator who was deciding what to with its prey. “I’m almost inclined on complimenting you for some form of good work.”

She smiled at his words.

“Almost!” he added while he held up his index finger. “See to it that it will get arranged,” he commanded.

“Y-yes, my King,” she spoke while inclining her head.

“Lower,” he growled and immediately she got his meaning as she kneeled for him, her head down looking at his boots again. She furrowed her brow a little when she saw those black boots. Were those droplets of blood? His smirking brought her back from her reverie and she felt his hand on top of her head. “Good Little Prey,” and with those words a green flash of magic filled the air and the black boot was gone from her vision.

She was sure he wouldn’t hurt her, but something in the back of her mind screamed to fully counter that statement. She shoved the voice in her mind away not wanting to think what would happen if he would hurt her. She shuddered.

***

She walked through the city on her way to her house when she heard Loki’s call. It was weird and uncomfortable for he actually spoke in her mind, his voice bearing a slight threat. She hadn’t heard from him for almost an entire week and she had started to think it had been her fault, something she had done wrong.

She wasn’t sure what to do, so she spoke out loud and bystanders were giving her strange looks. “Here you are!” she exclaimed far more happier than she intended. “I think there are problems, because I wrote to you and I waited for your answer…” She had been scaring herself that he might turn up on some unexpected moment just to rip her apart. She didn’t know why she felt like that, but the last encounter they had had been… scary? “I thought you did not want to look for me anymore or that the residence that I arranged for you wasn’t to your liking!!” A small hint of fear, but an even greater tone of groveling, in her voice.

“My Little Prey, next time you arrange a residence for someone, make sure they get the key of the front door,” he snarled in her mind.

“But I was there, waiting for you,” she said with a squeal. “I wrote you a message too, telling that I was anxious to show you the residence, but my message was probably stolen by someone.” Her voice trailed as her thoughts went to a certain organisation which was probably still monitoring Loki. She shook the thought. “I’m going to the residence, I will hide nearby, waiting for you” she whispered softly as she saw the glares of strangers passing her by. “And if you promise not to kill me I will come outside and give you the keys in person,” she added boldy.

She could feel the God scoffed and that he was actually amused at her words. “Oh, I will not kill you-” he omnisiouly spoke in her head, “-for death is the easy way out. I know far more… satisfying things I can concoct on you than death.” He laughed and she could feel his presence reside, the laugh lingering in her mind for some seconds after his departure.

A voice in the back of her brain told her she should be downright scary of this man, but she didn’t want to listen to it. Maybe she was scared a little bit, but she was far more intrigued by him.

***

“I’m here, is there anyone?” she opened the door but respectfully waited outside, expecting Loki to jump from the darkness any moment.

She heard his cold and dark voice behind her as he spoke, “I am not your thrall, Little Prey.”

Immediately she kneeled.

“I arrive when I want, don’t be impatient.” And Loki walked passed her, entering the house and skeptically looking around and then to her kneeling form. She could hear a soft snort coming from him as he studied her.

“Please, enter the house,” she said with a small voice, very well aware of his eyes boring into her. “It’s all yours, arranged as by your request.” Carefully she looked up at him, not sure whether he would lash out or not by her boldness to look him in the eye.

Loki licked his lips and nodded stiffly as he walked into the living room. Quickly she got up to her feet, shut the door, and scurried after him. With his head crooked to the side he was reading the titles of the many books that adorned the shelves. Every now and then he snorted, scoffed or hummed at what he saw until he found something to his liking and pulled it of the shelf.

“Can I serve in something else?”

Loki turned the book around to read its backside and a small smile formed on his lips. “I’d like some tea,” he absently said while already opening the book and starting to read while walking to the bedroom which was right next to the living room.

She started to walk out of the living room to the kitchen but she stopped and turned around. Just in time she saw Loki using his magic to make his armour disappear and flop himself on the bed. A small smile of content formed on his lips as he flicked the first page of the book.

She smiled at herself. At that moment he didn’t look very frightening, one might say he even looked adorable like that, sitting on the bed, his nose in a book and his legs crossed. But she knew better than that, and she was very aware that she shouldn’t mention that. Once she had made the mistake to call him ‘darling’ and he had verbally lashed out at her, baring his teeth and a look of murder in his eyes. She shuddered at the memory and quickly went to the kitchen.

When she got back she put the tea on the table beside the bed. “Anything else you need, my King?”

Loki didn’t look up from his book as he spoke. “I just want you to stick around to heed my every call and wish,” and he absently grabbed the steaming mug of tea. As he brought it to his lips he looked down at the contents, the steam rising in the air and trickling his face. He sighed and blew at the hot contents, using his Frost Giant powers to quickly cool the liquid.

She shifted uncomfortable as she realized that she might have made the tea too hot for him considering his heritage. She didn’t know why he didn’t berate her, but it might had to do with something with the book. “It would be a pleasure for me to stay around ready for your call,” she said while lightly bowing. “Am I allowed to wait in the living room while you relaxing yourself with the reading?” she asked carefully.

“Do whatever you want but don’t leave. Do not bother me either unless I call for you,” he said still not taking his eyes off the page.

“Just call my name if you need anything,” and she slowly retreated from the room. She walked over to the bookshelves and picked out a book, flopped herself on the couch and grabbed the cup of tea she had placed there earlier. She actually wondered how this was going to play out. She liked serving the God of Lies, but she was still a little bit frightened of him. She shrugged and opened the book that was placed on her lap.

After a couple of hours she felt her eyes getting heavy. Loki hadn’t acquired her servance in those hours either and she was a little bit conflicted what she should do. She got up and walked to the bedroom. Surprisingly he was still reading and he looked like he hadn’t moved any other muscle than his fingers to turn the pages of the book.

“My king?” she asked carefully.

Loki hummed, a little displeasure in it.

She kneeled, just in case. “It’s late night, can I rest on the couch?”

He looked up from his book this time and sighed annoyed. “I thought I had made it clear you can do whatever you want as long as you do not leave or bother me.” His tone was belittling and cold.

“Yes, bu-”

“Then pray tell me, Little Prey, why are you asking me this and why are you still here?” his voice threatening.

She swallowed, adrenaline pumping through her veins. It was at that point she saw her error and was legitimately afraid of him under his scrutinizing stare. “I will stay awake then. Just call me whenever you need something,” she spoke softly while she got up and slowly backed out of the room.

She heard Loki’s amused snort and the rustle of paper as he turned another page. Apparently she was getting off the hook this time.

Exhausted she walked to the couch and flopped down, however sleep would elude her as the adrenaline from the conversation with Loki still pumped through her veins. All she had to do now was stay awake until he would go elsewhere or until he’d let her sleep.

The thought that she was at the mercy of his whims did not please her, but on the other hand she had gotten herself into this.

She tried to fight the alluring call of sleep, but in the end she could not keep it at bay, and the soft darkness of slumber took her.

***

With a startle she was awake when her phone rang. Shit! She had fallen asleep. She picked up the phone; it was her friend.

“Hey, where are you?” her friend asked from the other side of the line.

“At the house I arranged for Loki. One second,” she said with some restrained in her voice while she got of the couch and quickly walked to the bathroom. It was the only place in the house that wasn’t directly near to the bedroom and somewhat private so she could talk to her friend on the phone.

“Is everything alright?” her friend asked, a bit of worry in her voice.

“Yes, yes. He allowed me to stay around and rest on the couch,” she said a little too happy to her friend.

“Wow,” was all the reply she got.

“Yeah, he probably was in a good day, yesterday,” she snickered and she heard her friend snicker as well. “I got to go, I’ll text or call you later.”

“Fine, take care!”

“You too,” she said warmly to her friend on the other side of the phone and tabbed the red button to end the call.

Quickly she got out of the bathroom after she had splashed some water in her face and walked to the door of the bedroom and carefully peeked around the door post. By now a stack of books was piled on Loki’s nightstand and he was reading yet another. She retreated to stand with her back against the wall, her breathing coming in short and ragged breaths. Yesterday he only had one book and now there was a pile, that meant he had gotten up tonight to collect the others and thus pass her while she was sleeping on the couch. Had he called for her and hadn’t she heard it? Or had he just gotten up to take care of himself and let her sleep? She bit her lip as a little bit of anxiety took over. She sighed and steeled herself, pushing away the fear and stepping into the door opening.

“My king. Can I interest you in tea and some biscuits?’ she asked as she tried to appease to him.

At first he did not gave a reaction, and when she opened her mouth to repeat her question he harshly snapped the book he was reading shut. “Considering the fact that it currently is morning on this meager side of the globe of Midgard where I am residing, I’d rather have coffee instead of tea,” he said sharply while he turned his head to her. “But you can hand over the biscuits,” and a faked, innocent smile spread across his face and dropped just as quickly.

She inclined her head and walked to the kitchen to make coffee and grab the biscuits from the cabinet. Absently she nibbled on a biscuit herself waiting for the coffee to brew when she suddenly felt a presence standing behind her. She felt her muscles pull tight as she stood there paralyzed, well aware that Loki was very close to her and breathing down her neck. He snickered as he reached an arm passed her for a biscuit. He didn’t say anything as he still stood behind her while she could hear him chew on the biscuit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat away afore she spoke. “So… what can I do for you today? May I refresh the bedroom? Will you come back for lunch? I can prepare whatever you like,” she rambled.

“Well…” Loki said while he looked at the pile of dishes on the counter. He had absolutely no clue why there were dishes, especially not this many. Did they belong to the previous owners or had she just made that much dishes doing… Doing what exactly? He didn’t remember having dinner last night. He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Just throw those dishes out and buy new tableware. I’ve got a meeting at 12.30 where I will have lunch,” he said between bites. “You’ll notice when I get back to the residence, Little Prey,” he whispered in her ear, sending shudders down her spine, after which she felt his presence move away from her back. Involuntary she let out a sigh of relief and felt her muscles relax.

She saw him walking to the front door and quickly passed him, opening the door and kneeling for him.

“And one more thing,” he spoke as he passed her. “We will attend your insolence for saying ‘he probably was in a good day, yesterday’ later, Little Prey.” Her head snapped up at that and she looked into his cold, dark eyes, a puzzled look on her face.

“I might be a monster, but I’m not heartless nor is it made of ice,” he clarified casually.

Something in his words ticked her of. She sometimes was scared of him, but never did she once think, or say, he was a monster. Why would he think something like that? Why would he think she implied that? A little bit annoyed she spoke. “Well, the last time I said you had a heart, you scolded me and pointed out that you were a monster.”

Loki bared his teeth at that, his jaw set firm. Afore he could say something she continued speaking. “So it’s hard for me how to figure how to speak to you without antagonizing you with every single word I say.” She quickly spoke the next sentences as she saw Loki’s angry glare. “I’ll be here if you need anything else after have bought new tableware. I hope the meeting will be to your liking and does not make you to--”

She got interupted in her sentence as Loki viciously grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards to look her in the eye. “Little Prey, being a monster, and having a heart, are two different things. One does not rule out the other!” He hissed between his teeth. Violently he shoved her head back as he let go of her hair and walked out the door with a conflicted look on his face.

She was shocked but couldn’t keep herself from yelling after him. “You have a heart and temperament, and you are brave but you are not a monster! You are fucking scary when you get angry but do not call yourself a monster for you are not! Monsters do not have a heart!” She fought to keep back the anger in her voice, but she miserably failed.

Loki stopped dead in his tracks at he words, for a few seconds just standing there with his back to her. At that point she was scared of Loki. Really scared! She didn’t understand why, for he had hardly laid a finger on her, but something in the way he stood inspired an utter fear in her heart.

Suddenly he turned around with a furiating look on his face. “You and I are going to have a private talk now,” he spoke as he angrily stalked towards her.

“O-Ok… I mean,” she tried but once he was in the door opening where she was still kneeling, fear in her eyes, he grabbed her by the collar. “I did not mean to diminish your authority!” she whimpered as she tried to put up a futile fight. But his grip was to strong and Loki dragged her inside, the door falling shut behind him with a loud bang.

Next Chapter

---

Taglist:  @laralaufey, @latent-thoughts, @voca-princess, @the-lady-witchitery, @islandamy, @lusty-loki, @carydorse

[dream-chaser]

firsts don't last | ❀

a/n: not proofread! but please do enjoy c: this chapter doesn’t really have angst nor (physically) you yet. this might have at least three parts (if not more) so there.

genre: angst ❀ additional: lgbtq+ (f/m, f/f, m/m) main pairing/s: mark x reader, jaemin x reader side/minor pairing/s: donghyuck x female oc, renjun x jeno, chenle x jisung, female oc x female oc words: 2k story summary: It’s been two years ever since the ‘weird girl’ left to go abroad. This year, she comes back with a new friend and a whole new ‘glo up’ that makes those who spoke badly of her swallow back their words. Jaemin isn’t one of them but his friends are, before her arrival they make a bet.

parts: part 1 | part 2 | part 3

part 1 summary: News spread around and amongst the students of NHS and the neighborhood that the ‘weird girl’ is coming back, another is that there will be a new student. Unbeknownst to them, the so-called ‘weird girl’ and new student are best friends.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hey, have you heard that-” Donghyuck cuts his girlfriend off, “The weird girl who left two years ago is coming back? Yeah you told us a bunch of times already.”

His girlfriend – well, not really his girlfriend – Jung Seohyun, rolled her eyes, “Okay yeah that, but there’s going to be a new student too.”

At this, Donghyuck perks up a little bit, “Really now?”

“Is it a guy?” Jeno queries, “We need a new addition to our group.”

Jaemin joins the conversation, nodding, “Although I think either Hyuck or Jeno would scare him off.” Earning a laugh from Jeno and Seohyun, Donghyuck glares for a moment before smiling.

“It’s the truth! Jen might scare the poor guy off by excessive flirting and Hyuck can be the first impression Hyuck and easily make him regret coming over.” Jaemin remarks, ending with a derp face and shrug. Jeno laughs at this, completely agreeing as Donghyuck only shrugs, not really minding.

Seohyun pats Donghyuck’s head, “He’s not that bad.”

“Aww, Seohyun is affectionate, there’s no crowd to show for.” Jeno teases, pointing at the hand resting on Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“Hey! I can be affectionate if I want to be. Hyuck and I may be ‘dating’ for reputation purposes but he’s an overall nice guy.” She defends.

That was the first time a small smile ghosted on his face, a smile caused by Seohyun.

Two days later, the four are in Jaemin’s backyard and talking about how they’ll get the new kid to join their little group.

“What if the new student will be a girl, then?” Seohyun asks as Donghyuck shrugs, “Then I guess Jaemin has a chance of getting a girlfriend and you’ll have a girl best friend.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes at this, he wasn’t really interested in getting a girlfriend unless he actually finds someone who could spark interest. So far, there wasn’t.

A thought crosses Jeno’s mind and laughs, “What if the new student turns out to be the weird girl after all?” At that, a jacket flies to his face, “No way, they’ll be two separate people.”

“Well what if they turn out to be friends? What if the new guy is as weird or even weirder than she is?” Jeno challenges, “Well goodbye to him then.” She shudders.

Jaemin’s eyebrow quirks as he questions his friends, “What made earn the title of ‘weird girl’ anyway?”

Seohyun dramatically gasps and clutches her chest for more effect, “Jaemin, why is that a question?” The questioned boy just shrugs in reply, “I don’t see why you guys called her a weird girl? Is it because she looks weird, is that it?”

“Her glasses make her look ugly, plus her braces and how she styles her hair. And God, have you seen her fashion ‘taste’? It’s nonexistent!” She exclaims as he tries to remember the times he saw her walk out the house across his, if she was wearing something unusual. He doesn’t seem to remember if there was an instance. If you haven’t realized yet, they’re neighbors.

Jaemin’s face scrunches, “I don’t remember her wearing anything remotely unconventional or eccentric? Is it just how she looks?” This time, it was Seohyun’s turn to scrunch her face, “The hell Jaemin? You got a thing for her or something?”

“No, I don’t. I just don’t see your point of calling her a weird girl just because she wears clothes that aren’t branded or in trend like you, or because she wears glasses and braces and styles her hair to something you find weird, or simply because you don’t like her for some reason. Dare I say I bet you two never even shared a full conversation with each other.” He expounds, “Besides, I’m sure she has better brains and grades than all of us combined.”

At this, Jeno and Donghyuck doesn’t really mind the fact that they just got indirectly called stupid, nor the fact that she calls said girl ‘weird’, they only really just joined her for some reason, Jaemin never actually joined in that though. On the other hand, Seohyun is fuming, “Did you just call me stupid?”

“And a little tactless, yeah.” He answers in an indifferent tone. The female brunette looks like she’s about to explode of annoyance. Jaemin only adds a little fuel to the fire, “I mean, in my perspective, it’s not very valid of one to call another ‘weird’ just because they simply don’t fit their standards. If anything, you’re the kind of the weird one for even starting that up upon some shallow rationale. It’s not like she ate paper or picks her nose and eats boogers.”

“I mean, I doubt she does. Neither of us know remotely anything about her. You only spread the most ridiculously spurious rumors. And for what gain? What kind of reward do you bag from it? The best rumor maker of all time?” He spits, “I don’t know what your problem is with her, or any other opposing person you seem to have the smallest amount of disliking for, but get your nose out of their business and rid shit from your mouth, it’s not your ass, Jung.”

All the three of them gawk at Jaemin in disbelief but for different reasons. Before the angered girl could pounce onto him, a familiar voice calls for Jaemin, “Jaemin dear! Please come inside and do me a favor.”

He stands up, “You guys can stay here or come along. Hyuck, help your little girlfriend sort herself out. She’s more shallow than a three feet kid’s pool.”

With that, he turns on his heel to head back inside the house, his friends not following.

This was the first time Jaemin and Seohyun had fought in front of their friends.

“Jaemin dear, please bring these pastries to the Lee family who just moved across beside the Y/L/N’s house. Plus, I heard one of their son’s the new student who’s around your age as well. Invite them over for our dinner too, okay?” His mom requests as he nods obediently and takes the tray of pastries.

Jaemin walks out the door. Immediately, Jaemin spots the moving truck about to leave. Then he looks both ways of the street before making his way to the house across by the left side.

Once he arrives by the front door, he rings the bell, “Hi there! I live across the block and would like to offer you some snacks for a warm welcome.” Jaemin says as a male voice replies through the intercom, “Oh I see. Hold on for a moment!”

The door buzzes and a tall and lean figure with pink hair greets him with a grin, “Come in.” He urges as he lets the younger boy walk in their house, “Mom, we have a guest.”

Moments later, a woman walks out what Jaemin assumes as the kitchen with a warm smile, “Hi Mrs. Lee, I’m Na Jaemin from the family who lives across from here. My mom made these pastries as a welcome.” He reciprocates the warm smile as he hands out the tray, the older woman happily taking it, “How thoughtful.”

“We’re also inviting you over for dinner at seven if you’d like to join us.” Jaemin adds, “Of course, dear. Thank you for this.” The sweet woman replies, making Jaemin smile like a kid, “No problem Mrs. Lee.”

“Hm,” the pink-haired figure hums, “How old are you, Jaemin?” Jaemin is taken aback at this question, “I’m born on the 13th of August 2000.”

“Where do you study?” He inquires again, “Neo High School.”

“Son, you’re creeping the poor boy out.” His mother laughs from the kitchen as he laughs as well, rubbing his nape awkwardly, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Jaemin replies, chuckling softly. A hand extends towards him, “I’m Lee Taeyong, born July 1st of 1995 and new student of Neo University.”

Before either Jaemin or Taeyong could utter another word, Jaemin’s had phone started to ring, “I’m sorry, excuse me for a moment.” Taeyong kindly nods at him. Jaemin stands up to exit by the front door to answer the call.

“What?” Jaemin answers exasperatedly, it was Seohyun who was calling.

He hears a sigh, already knowing she’s annoyed again, “Listen, I just want to know if you met the new kid yet.”

“No, not yet. Hold your horses Seohyun.” He jeers, getting more and more annoyed with every passing second that he hears her voice.

He could practically sense her rolling her eyes, “Whatever, just come back now. Your mom’s looking for you already.” And with that, the call was ended.

He walks back in the house to bid goodbye, “My apologies, my mother’s calling me already. We’ll see you during dinner right?”

“Of course, dear. See you later!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, poking her head out from the kitchen, “Catch you later, Jaemin.” Taeyong waves.

The younger boy curtly bows before taking his leave, “Have a nice rest of the day!”

And that was how he met two out of four of the Lee family.

Once the boy leaves and is out of earshot, the youngest Lee pokes his head out from the staircase, “Coast is clear?” He asks as his brother pretends to chuck a slipper at him, “You little noodlehead!”

The youngest laughs as he descends down the stairs, “Sorry, I didn’t really feel in the mood to meet some new boy already.” Their mother playfully scoffs, “Well you should be in the mood now, you only helped lifting one box so I’m going to need you to find a convenience store to buy some snacks and drinks.”

“Mom!” He whines in complaint, “It’s just a few, I’m sure there’s one nearby. You can ask the neighbors for directions.” She suggests. Taeyong is quick to add, “The Jaemin kid I just met seems nice, if he’s outside you can ask him.”

The boy is reluctant, but he can’t really decline so he just shrugs, “Okay.” He simply responds as his brother hands him money, “You know our exactly what to buy.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He playfully sticks his tongue out at his elder brother, “Go!”

He laughs a little as he opens their door to head outside. Once he closes it and turns to face the street, he sees a small group of friends that seemed around his age, three boys and a girl. He was debating with himself whether or not he should ask them for directions. He ended up settling to just look for a convenience store himself.

But the group not so far away from him had other plans, he internally panics a little as in his peripheral vision he sees them approaching his direction. He halts his step when he hears a somewhat familiar voice say, “Hey wait up!”

He turns on his heel slowly, only the slightest bit anxious, “Hi?”

One of them, Jeno, laughs at his timidity “Cute.” He mutters to himself as Donghyuck elbows him from his left side, clearly hearing what he just muttered to himself.

“You’re one of the Lees right?” The one with the somewhat familiar voice asked as he nodded. An arm was extended towards him, “I’m Na Jaemin, your neighbor from across.”

He shakes it lightly, “Nice to meet you.”

The girl between the orange and black haired boys stepped out to introduce herself to the new boy.

“And I’m Jung Seohyun, pleasure to meet you.” She seemed a little excited and the latter smiled awkwardly.

“I’m her boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck.” The orange haired boy introduced, giving off a certain intimidating aura.

The black haired boy next to Donghyuck gave off a smile, his eyes crinkling a little as well, “I’m Lee Jeno!”

“He’s not my brother by the way.” Donghyuck adds as the other three chuckle, the new boy joining in as well but an awkward and uncertain tone laced with it.

“You need directions for somewhere?” Jaemin queries carefully and the other nods before responding, “Yeah, actually. Convenience store.”

The girl – Seohyun, nods a little too enthusiastically, “Oh great, we were just heading there! You can come with.”

“Thank you.” he nods thankfully, he felt a light punch by his right shoulder, it was Jeno. “Don’t be so nervous around us, we don’t bite.”

The latter lets out a genuine chuckle at this, “My apologies.”

Jaemin shrugs, “No sweat.” Donghyuck adds in, “What’s your name by the way?”

“Mark Lee.”

And that was the first time they meet Mark Lee.

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Okay, so...I'm not entirely sure what this is?? haha. I was hit with a truckload of Kalijah nostalgia during Katherine Pierce Appreciation Week recently and this 3k more or less tumbled out of me without much provocation, steamrolling into a lot of Elijah POV and prose I never thought I'd think about let alone expected to write? 

 As a result, I don’t know how I feel about it. But I hope you like it, anyway! *prayer hands*

xx Ashlee Bree

Summary: Elijah ends things between them abruptly in Mystic Falls. Katherine clings and chases him to New Orleans, refusing to let him off the hook without a fight because she's learned something that's changed the game. It's changed everything. Now, if only Elijah would get out of his own head long enough to listen...

(Canon Divergence + post-s4 of TVD + Mates)

(FF.net) (A03)

There Are Girls Who Will Tear You Apart With Their Lips

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries it demands it says that there is a chance.

it will not say “no.” —Love is a Dog from Hell, Charles Bukowski

Tantalized.

It’s what Elijah feels. It’s the first thing he thinks the moment he perceives her standing in the middle of the foyer, ensconced in lamplight, with her hip cocked to the left and her expression calculating, a little nefarious, an expensive bottle of Bordeaux peeking out of her handbag. Chestnut curls cascade down her back to bounce against the intricate lace of that little black dress she wears. It’s tapered slightly above the knee to hug her thighs, accentuating her lithe curves perfectly. Sinfully.

She’s the devil in kitten heels and Dior perfume, and she knows it. Flaunts it. She brandishes it at him like a whip that's headed straight for his Achilles heel.

Five hundred years of reserve, and constraint, and pain, fade away with the flicker of her curled black lashes to his face, her pert simper widening as imaginary strings pluck in time to the sashay of her hips when she glides past him into the sitting room; heels clicking against the hardwood. Brushing against his shoulder, she precedes to strut through the room with a newly-acquired familiarity. She allows her gaze to catalogue everything. As if she’s resorting it to memory.

Next, she pulls back the light feathery curtains to toss a perfunctory nod of approval at the streets below, humming something to herself unintelligibly. Then, after another moment, she opens the doors so the French Quarter humidity and musical commotion can billow in through from the courtyard. It seems she’s making herself at home—like she owns it. Or, like avarice is nothing to her but a wieldable commodity for him to nurture.

Elijah forgets to move.

The house somehow grows smaller with her in it. More claustrophobic.

It’s far too snug with these used bricks and cherry bookshelves caging them in on all sides, at every angle. It feels like the ceiling’s about to descend to crush every last gear still churning inside his head. What if it does? How will this chess game finally end?

The available space between their two bodies shrinks and shrinks until she’s a magnified map of history, half truths, and conflicting body language expanding before his eyes. She’s in every room or hallway, lurking around every corner; and before he knows it, he’s unable to look away from the tome of her he doesn’t want to read.

The sun trickles in from outside like yellow fire droplets. It sizzles against Elijah’s back so heat snakes down his spine like burnt cigarettes and nearly causes him to fall to his knees.

His whole body tingles and itches until everything around him blazes as red as that profane mark on his wrist, sucking out his well-preserved faculties like blood because he knows when he permits himself to move closer, he’ll be too weak to locate the door he needs. He knows he’ll never be able to sneak back behind it. No. He’ll never be able to find the strength to slam it shut between them again.

Also, were he to endeavor such an escape now, she’d never hesitate to strike from behind with her talons extended. She’d never pause to claim him like the prey he often was around her, and perhaps still could be—so he remains still. As formidable as stone.  

“Good evening, Katerina,” he says stiffly, addressing her with a curt appraising nod. “To what do I owe this intrusion?”

“Missed me bad, have you?” she replies with a smirk.

“Not quite the phrasing I’d choose, no.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“And why’s that?”

She twines hair around her finger and says, “Because I’ve missed you terribly, ma chérie, and I’m here to collect what’s owed to me. What’s owed to us. Time’s up for you, I’m afraid. No more charades.”

Katherine’s an entire dictionary of words: a little bit of everything convoluted and picante:

Coquettish.

Possessive.

Calculating.

Indulgent.

Dangerous.

Stylish.

Sexy.

Lovely.

Too lovely.

The adjectives burn like cognac on Elijah’s tongue and he knows he needs to bury them. He needs to stop all those inexcusable words from flashing through his head, from sliding across his suddenly blunted teeth in want of describing her. But they’re delectable in all their disaster. Perfect in their crunch. Like blood dipped in roses or Debussy. Like a lovebite scarred on his neck in shades of faded red lipstick. Like hands leashed around his wrists. Like…

Clearly he’s tantalized by her yet.

The thought makes him want to crack her open like a book spine to study the language of her entrails, to find out where the pentameter cuts off and where the free verse of hell begins. The face of Athena, Aphrodite, and Hecate—her face—wears an underworld of dark and delicious secrets this spring evening; and they pulsate like veins beneath her hungry, inscrutable eyes like they always have. Like they probably always will.

Changed and unchanged in a multitude of ways, Katherine’s a chameleon with fangs who prowls from century to century. Haunting him. Seducing him with fingernails that claw into his back to mark love there, against his skin. Torturing him with too many questions he’ll never be able to answer: like why their hearts are forever tangled in manipulation, and lies, and ‘almosts’ that never come to fruition.

She’s a one-headed Medusa whose name still purrs in the reticent bones of his mind—Katerina, Katerina—and he cannot stop hearing it like a refrain. He knows he cannot. He knows because he’s covered his ears; he’s shut down his own heart too many times to count.

And tried.

“I’m disappointed. You don’t seem happy to see me,” Katherine says, breaking the ice with a tut and a pout.

“No,” Elijah replies as he glances at his Rolex. “No, I’d say I’m more surprised than anything.”

The smile she offers in return is thin. Terse.

“By the way you keep checking your watch, I’d wager you’re expecting a visitor of the female variety.”

“I am.”

It’s a lie. He’s not expecting anyone. Hayley’s long gone; he and his siblings ushered her out of the city after her wild, elaborate tales regarding Klaus and a magical child proved to be as fallacious as she was.

“Who is she?” Katherine demands tartly, swallowing back a snarl.

His answer is impassive. Stoic. “I fear that’s none of your concern.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

He dignifies this with nothing but silence.

“Okay. Have it your way, Elijah,” Katherine purrs. Her movements a little too casual and nonchalant, she waves him off only to pivot back around like a black swan ballerina. “But I bet she’s not as hot for you as I am.”

“In fact,” her teeth widen in smile; her voice sharpens, “I’d bet my heart on it.”

Elijah folds his hands. The barest hint of courtesy levels his voice into something flat and steady, “What do you want, Katerina?”

“You.”

“And how can I be of service?” he says with a blink.

Angling closer, Katherine narrows her eyes then unloads,

“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily? Me? A Petrova?” she laughs, but it comes out cutting. Sardonic. “Let me let you in on a little secret, baby: I survive; I never say die. So don’t you dare believe for one second there’s a world for you out there without me in it, because there’s not, because there never will be. Do you understand me?”

Elijah’s jaw ticks and he frowns, offering her a look ripe with skepticism.

“No, no,” she wiggles her finger at him as a wicked glint transforms her features, “you can’t run from this any longer. You’re done locking yourself off from me.”

Circling him in those tall, fancy heels, trailing a finger down his shirt almost like she’s marking territory or preparing to fillet her prey, Katherine stops to spread both hands against his chest before pulling him to her by the lapels. She pulls him until their faces are only inches apart. Until Elijah’s close enough to smell her last kill (a vodka-drinking attorney) on her breath.

“Did you really think I’d let you go after some vile, half-assed goodbye? Or that I wouldn’t follow you after I learned the truth? After I felt it literally brand into me, burning my muscles and bones?” she snickers again.

“In the five hundred years you’ve known me, have I once struck you as the kind of lover who wouldn’t scratch, fight, or scheme until the man I desired conceded? Until he swore he was mine?”

“It makes no difference. The point is settled. Moot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Katherine spits out cruelly, challenging him. “It makes all the difference.”

A lump forms in his throat at her words, but he bites it back, too self-controlled for his own good. In any case, hope for them is gone. Dead. So he answers her cooly instead,

“I don’t care.”

“What a fool you are, Elijah,” Katherine sneers, malicious humor dripping from the edges of her mouth like rubies. “I warned you I wouldn’t let you off the hook again, and I won’t…now stop pushing me the hell out, you insufferable, pretentious ass!”

“No. You must stop pulling me in,” he fires back.

Zeal mixed with anger and perseverance turns her pupils into flames. It accentuates her Hadean beauty; it heightens her severity enough to strengthen it into something fixed and implacable, something almost ruthless.

“Sorry,” Katherine says without a hint of remorse, “but you should know this by now: I do as I damn well please.”

“This is madness!” Shaking, he grasps her by the shoulders and flashes them into the library. Pressing her hard against the nearest bookcase. “Desist with this nonsense, immediately! I beg of you.”  

“No.”

“Why are you doing this? What for!?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Katherine whispers like a caress.

She simpers up at him knowingly when his sleeve slips up his wrist to expose the intricate ‘KP’ calligraphy engraved into the skin of his left hand. Which, despite being slightly obscured by his watch, looks as if it were elegantly cat-scratched against his veins—only it wasn’t.

“It was foolish of you to come here, Katerina,” Elijah says, drawing out a sigh. “This little act of yours will not alter my decision. I meant what I said to you before I left Mystic Falls. You and I have come to an impasse—we are not…I fear we cannot seem to…”

He clears his throat.

“This—this thing carved into my flesh is nothing but a superstitious trap, a compulsive trick of the mind some vengeful witch devised so that I would…so as to suggest that we are somehow…”

“Yes?”

He steps back. Hardening, he drags a hands down his face and clenches his jaw to add, “It’s not real, you understand. I’m certain it’s not real.”

“Liar,” she growls. There’s hunger in Katherine’s eyes now, and something else, too—something prickly and unnerving as hell because it crackles in the air around her like lightning: certainty. “Coward.”

“You feel the tug; you hear the call in the howl of your bones just as I do,” she says, “except you’re too afraid to let it course through you. You’re as stuck inside your own head as you ever were, Elijah, but I swear on my my precious-and-padded, about me life I won’t move until you let the only truth that matters consume you.”

She’s not entirely mistaken. He’s terrified.

Elijah’s terrified because they both know precisely what being ‘marked’ means…what it entails…how choice and providence each play a part in the official elevation from being ‘intended’ to ‘knotted.’ Soulmarks are embedded in any number of the myths and whisperings they’ve encountered throughout the centuries, and some offer convincing proof of their existence despite the proclaimed rareness among the Originals. And, yet…how many grimoire’s in his family’s possession state that perhaps—perhaps—

Elijah’s mind is so bleary all of a sudden. His heart is so thunderous and unrelenting against his ribcage, so burdensome with all these wretched, blaring sensations it thrums whenever it’s within her proximity, that he struggles for purchase. He feels himself spiraling and unraveling to the point that a door squeaks open inside of his head, just an inch, and that’s when the intolerable buzzing begins.

In an effort to compensate and correct, he stands taller and firmer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, more fatigued than he’s felt in a thousand years, and says,

“Please. Please, I can’t do this now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t do it to me now,”  Katherine says with a curl of her red mouth, “or ever again.”

“It’s over between us, Katerina.”

“The hell it is! I always get what I want, and I want you to let me in.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and pushing her away with closed eyes and balled fists which he shoves into his pockets. “I-I won’t.”

“Fine then,” Katherine relents, but only for a second. “If that’s how you want to play it—” She rakes him over with a predatory gleam in her eyes, “Kiss me like it’s over and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“This isn’t a game, Katerina!”

“Maybe it is, E. Maybe it is. This could be the universe’s Most Dangerous Game, or perhaps you’ve failed to consider that?”

“I said no. It’s not real!”

“Yes. It is!” she hisses back with resolve heavy on her black lashes. “Believe.”

“You’re…you’re being impossible. This is indecent! Asinine! Absolute lunacy!”

She rolls her eyes.

“Like I want a vocabulary lesson when I know you want this, too.”

Suddenly, she’s tugging on his lapels again, and her hands are diving beneath his tailored jacket to tear at the designer fabric until it’s ripped from his shoulders, shimmied down his elbows, and discarded from his wrists into a ball behind his feet.

Katherine’s all around him in seconds. Visions, dreams, memories, flesh—she’s everywhere:

Her tiger-doe eyes…

That blood-and-Dior scent on her clothes, against her lips…

Those soft brown tresses falling to brush her chin, framing her face until they’re wreathed around his fingertips like a web, trapped and tangled as they tug along the back of her scalp, never to free themselves again…

The way she laughs, screams his name…

How the air bends into heat, and lust, and skin, as she bites into his neck to free him of constraint…

Her meowing heartbeat…

The perfect swivel of her hips when she wraps her limber legs around his waist and smashes back against the shelves, straddling him as if she’d ride him through every page of history only to proceed across the blankness of forever; determined to write their lovemaking across the epochs of eternity…

How she ties his intestines into knots with a look, with a single touch…

‘Mine, mine, mine’ kissing along each one of his ribs…

The feel of her teasing, scratching, goosebump-eliciting fingernails drawing initials into his back so they’ll never heal, never fade…

She’s everywhere—in everything. And there’s no way in hell to tell what’s real or how it’ll end. All he knows, all he feels, is this tantalizing magnetism in his veins pulling him forward. Into her arms.  

“Sue me, but I told you this was the only way to call your bluff, Elijah. Kiss me more. Again,” Katherine both demands and pleads.

There’s a clock tick-ticking somewhere inside his head now, counting down the seconds until he’s entirely unlocked by the key of her mouth.

“Come on. Kiss me harder, ma chérie.”

Elijah gulps and steps back, but not far.

He barely smothers the temptation to lurch forward to take her—blood and lips, skin and sin, love so volcanic it could erupt—by reinforcing the knot of his tie and smoothing down his Armani sleeves until they’re as stiff as armor: determined to keep the world out. He’s resolved to knight himself up from head-to-toe to keep fate from bounding in. It shall not overtake him; it will not win. He’ll do almost anything to keep that word from snaking and coiling itself all the way through him like that soulmark on his wrist, like this girl with the pomegranate poison on her tongue, if he can.

If he can.

“Give me your mouthful of forevers,” she says. “Let me suck them from your lips.”

Katherine’s smile unravels into something sharp and cunning as she runs her thumb across his chin, teasing him by leaning in to nibble her way along the edge of his jaw and closed mouth until he’s forced to give up, give in. She’s daring him to try and resist the sweet and sour taste of her tongue—which he doesn’t because he never has. He never can. And now he never will again because the little minx has whittled him down until he’s transformed into the one thing he swore did not exist: Mate.

Elijah’s heart and mind sigh in conjunction with this epiphany. This is it. The end. He’s let her all the way in. The last walls of resistance wobble then crumble, receding into corners that fill him with a permanent sense of acceptance and warmth. Something akin to…well, heaven if it weren’t a myth.

“I don’t know about you,” Katherine purrs against his mouth, “but I say we continue this conversation upstairs. Yes?”

He cups her face in both hands.

“And, if I don’t care to venture that far? What then, hm?” he trails off with a pursed look. But it abruptly unwinds into a small smile.

Pulling back, Katherine considers him with a grin before she rips his shirt down the middle to send buttons skating across the floor and to pepper his exposed chest with kisses. The promise of more is eminent when she crashes them both atop a mountain of books and reaches for his belt, sliding it free with a deft tug,

“Then I suppose the desk will have to do,” she says.