#How am I supposed to practice dealing with panic attacks if I never naturally have them?

[dogstomp]

Dogstomp #3043 - May 1st

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[folkloreguk]

❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

~

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

~

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

~

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

~

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

~

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

~

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

~

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

~

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

~

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

[glxssylaufey]

Mischief Maker - fic teaser

a/n: this is my very first time writing so please forgive me if it’s not that great or if there’s lots of mistakes! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

summary: loki x reader ; There’s a new guest staying at the Avengers Tower. To make matters worse, the reader is put in charge to watch over the new member of the compound.

word count: 1,782

warnings: none

There was something exceptional about the way you could stroke your paintbrush upon a canvas so many times until an entire story formed upon the platform. You were sat on top of a grassy hill about a mile or so from the Avengers tower, basking in the warm sunlight while you painted away at a piece you had worked on for quite some time now. Being an Avenger was all you could have ever asked for, but of course it had its moments that never failed to make you completely irritable. Whether it be Tony’s constant fuss about literally anything or even Thor simply chewing too loud. Because of this, you found painting was an excellent outlet for all the negative energy that builds up throughout time. Not to mention the pieces you made were high quality. You had never attended any kind of art school in the past, the talent had come to you naturally.

Though like most great things, nothing lasts forever. Your concentration was abruptly interrupted when your phone started ringing. Glancing down at your phone, you weren’t at all surprised to find that the caller was Tony. You swore that man had something going on practically every hour of the day. Not even giving the call a second thought, you continued your gentle painting. Of course, Tony was stubborn. A second round of ringing started almost immediately after the first had finished. Sighing with obvious displeasure, you sat your brush down and wiped your hands of any wet paint. Clearing your throat, you quickly tap the accept button and hold the phone to your ear.

“Tony, I’m-”

“Busy, yes, yes, aren’t we all?” he cuts you off. You roll your eyes. “Listen, I just need you to get in here, we’re having an emergency meeting.”

As much as you would have loved to keep the day as peaceful as it was, you were an Avenger and had a job to do. Besides, Tony never called to have an emergency meeting unless it was truly an emergency. Glancing to the direction of the tower, you sigh into the phone.

“I’ll be in soon. This better be good.” you grumble before ending the call, not even waiting for Tony’s response.

~

When you entered the tower, you immediately made your way to the kitchen to wash both your hands and art supplies. Much to your dismay, you found that Tony was already there waiting for you. You weren’t necessarily going to avoid him, but you were contemplating setting off this meeting for as long as possible. This was supposed to be a relaxing day after all.

“Aha! You’re finally here Picasso, now get over here.” he spoke in his usual pushy manner. He took long strides towards you and snatched everything out of your hands, quickly setting them down on the counter with very little care.

At this point, what could you really do besides listen to him to get this whole situation over with?

“Good god, Stark, what’s going on here?” you asked, making the irritation in your voice noticeable. Tony simply scoffs as he quickly walks you into the next room where everyone else was uncomfortably sitting.

“Well, I don’t think ‘good god’ is the way to put it.” he sarcastically states, pushing you softly into the meeting room. Tony’s remarks suddenly make sense when your eyes meet the god that was sitting in the room, handcuffed and muzzled. He looked at you through dark eyelashes, a strand of raven hair resting upon his face. Loki. Knowing his past, you were surprised at how calmly he sat there next to his brother in a room full of the same heroes that took him down. You weren’t an Avenger during the attack on New York, but you most certainly heard all the stories. From the traumatic experiences, to the excessive repair to the city, you’ve heard all the things imaginable. Not that you needed very much explanation, seeing as you lived in New York when the incident happened.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you ask, turning to look at Tony, your voice barely a whisper. There was a quiet wave of sighs from the rest of the Avengers in the room, almost as if they all already knew your reaction ahead of time.

“Oh, I sure hope so.” Tony spoke loudly. “If this is a joke, now’s the time to tell us, Point Break.”, he said, stepping to the side so he could create full eye contact with the blonde god.

“This is not a joke, Stark.” Thor claimed, keeping the eye contact as he stood from his previous seat. “My brother has spent a great deal of time in the dungeons back on Asgard. He has changed.”

There was a small exhale from Bruce that caught your attention. When you looked at him you found a look of impatience on his face.

“So why bring him back to Earth?” Bruce asked, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I decided it would be best to allow my brother to work here as an Avenger.” Thor explained. The remark made your eyes go wide. “Do you all not agree that keeping him here in our sight is better than allowing him to wander free where he could possibly do more harm than good?” Thor’s suggestion caused Tony to throw his hands up in the air.

“Then I don’t really think he’s really changed that much if we have to babysit him.” he advised. You sighed lightly and looked back to the older brother.

“I don’t know, Thor.” you started “I have to agree with Tony. Plus, I’m sure the rest of us are thinking the same thing.” you gestured towards the rest of the people in the room. Thor scanned the room to find both Natasha and Steve nodding their heads in silent agreement. But Thor was relentless.

“Please, Lady Y/N, I assure you my brother means no harm.” he turned to you with pleading eyes. “I beg that you give him just ten days to prove himself worthy of an Avenger. I beg you all.”

You had always had a soft spot for Thor and watching him look around the room desperately at everyone wasn’t helping you at all. Thor Odinson was one of your closest friends and you felt you owed it to him to allow his brother to share the compound with the rest of the team. Even if the brother in question was a cold-hearted mass murderer.

“If nobody else will agree to keep tabs on him, I will.” you agreed with a heavy sigh. There was a loud eruption of voices from the room, Clint had even walked out. They didn’t seem to matter though, as all you could focus on was the excitement on Thor’s face.

“Oh, it’s a miracle!” Thor exclaimed, ushering towards you to pull you into a bear hug. “My family will be forever grateful, Lady Y/N!” he vowed as he nearly squeezed the life out of you.

While Thor proceeded to embrace your body to his, you couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to Loki who still sat so motionless. After moments of staring, he slightly cocks his head to the side, carefully observing you. Observing the person that would act as his chaperone for the next couple days. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but something about his piercing gaze made your skin crawl. Thor finally sets you back onto your feet, snapping back to reality. You soon realize that you were just left in the room with Tony, Steve and the two brothers.

“Like you said, Thor, he gets ten days!” Tony declared, walking out of the room. Thor quietly mutters something under his breath before turning back to Loki, who was now craning his neck to look up at his older brother. Thor began to speak to him when you felt a hand placed tenderly on your shoulder. When you turned around, you were met with Steve who had clear concern written all over his body language.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? This is Loki you’re dealing with.” Steve spoke in a whisper. You nodded quickly, not giving what he was saying much thought. Mostly because you knew that if you dwelled on the situation, you would start to panic.

“Of course I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew I couldn’t handle it.” you confirmed to him. Steve could tell you were anxious, yet he let you be. He gives you a small pat on the shoulder before exiting the room as the rest of the Avengers did. Looking back towards the gods, you found Loki was standing and out of his chains while Thor removed his muzzle in a not so brotherly manner. Loki was tall, much taller than you that’s for sure. The only person that stood taller than him was Thor, even then he was only taller by an inch or so. Once it seemed like Thor was done practically unwrapping Loki, you slowly took a step towards the two of them.

“I’ve told Loki that you shall tell me if he starts to misbehave.” Thor confirmed to you with a caring smile. Loki gives a curt scoff and rolls his eyes, making your body go tense with nervousness. Thor must have noticed because he gave his brother a swift shove in the back. “I will leave you two alone. Please tell me if things go wrong, Y/N.” and with no further instruction, you were left alone with the God of Mischief himself. The room felt heavy with silence as Loki continued to look everywhere in the room except for you. Although you did not mind at all, seeing his stares seemed to make you jittery. You couldn’t help but jump a little when you finally heard him speak.

“Am I allowed my own chambers or will I be forced into that cage again?” he asked with bitterness. His voice was deep and smooth, it almost seemed to echo in your ears. When you looked back up at him, you noticed he still wasn’t looking at you much to your relief.

“Oh, um, no. I’ll show you to your room.” you spoke quickly once you remembered how to form words again. You turned on your heels towards the door to lead Loki to one of the spare rooms in the Avengers compound. It was at that moment that you began to question your chaperoning skills if you couldn’t even bring yourself to look him in the eyes. One thing was for sure, these were going to be a very long ten days.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Cliche Mini-Series: Patronus

Draco X Reader

Requested: @shadowsingeraxolotl​ Okay, so they're all in 8th year or something and everyone are practicing their patronusus and they match and everyone is in awe because they are the most powerful ones they've ever seen? Like an alternate soulmark but better because they realize that Draco is so soft

A/N: Y’all sure do have a lot of cliches you want to see, so here’s the first one that sparked my interest. It will not be the last I promise, but please enjoy these two kids falling in love and healing after the war. 

Okay so it’s 8th year

Everyone is a little tense, and the castle looks new but everything just feels wrong

McGonagall created an entire new wing for the 8th years so that they could get away from the haunting that the war left in the old castle

And the House Cup was done away with and first years were allowed to pick houses and others were allow to declare house-less or switched as they saw fit fight me on this I dare you

Which meant that the few 8th years who decided to come back all declared to be house-less because f*ck destiny and who they were supposed to be. They just wanted to be kids goddamnit

That doesn’t mean that you’re not a little surprised when Draco declares house-less. You thought he’d want to stay Slytherin

You catch his eyes and there’s no light in them and your heart just hurts

War was hell, and being trapped on the wrong side had to be the depths of Tartarus

McGonagall keeps a dozen Mind Healers on staff this year, for obvious reasons

Which is where you run into Draco often. You’re craving a therapy session and he has to—court mandated.

You wave and he gives you a curt nod. He’s in most of your classes now that you were both house-less so you’re peers, maybe acquaintances

True to Harry’s nature, he’s suspicious of Malfoy at all times, and well maybe you pick up a few habits of looking after Draco as well—but in a different manor

You make sure he eats, and gets to class, and stays awake in class for that matter, then you make sure he gets to bed. All by gentle questions or offering to go with him to meals or class etc (“hey, I haven’t eaten dinner, wanna come with?” “You have Flitwick with me... wanna walk together?” “It’s late, I’m sure the book will be there in the morning,” “I made too much tea, do you want some?”)

He notes your kindness but only mentions it to his Mind Healer. He’s confused as to why you’re being kind and doesn’t know if he likes it or not (he’s also a bit better with his emotions since he’s in therapy) y’all get therapy it’s amazing

“Well, you could ask her about it,” the Healer suggests. Except he didn’t understand how much Draco could not do that because he wasn’t confrontational anymore

Instead he decides to extend the same kindness to you. As an olive branch. You spill ink all over your paper in shock when he asks you to dinner. He quickly vanishes the ink with a flick of his hand

Now you two sort of get dinner together. Like all the time. It’s just something that normal and routine. You talk about your days, your classes, and Draco feels... normal. Like you’re not gawking at him, not afriad of him, you don’t hate him, and he’s pretty sure this isn’t some sort of ploy

fuck canon. Remus Lupin isn’t dead and neither is Sirius. I am the queen of this blog and my word is law.

Remus teaches DADA because he loves teaching and now that the job isn’t jinxed and McGonagall knows he needs a break from 24/7 Sirius to maintain his sanity, he teaches

And of course he adores his 8th years

He teaches a wide range of defense spells, but to pass his class with full marks all you have to do is summon a patronus. Corporeal or not.

Draco, though still quite flawless in about everything else, struggles with casting a patronus. A lot of 8th years do as well, so he’s not singled out, even if he is a bit frustrated

Remus understands that after a war this is hard for his kids, so he allows them to take a day and go to the lake instead of class for fun in the sun and to make new and safer memories

“Aren’t you coming?” You ask Draco who’s sitting alone in the common room sulking. “No,” he mutters. “Why not? Lupin is taking attendance, you have to come,”

“No, I don’t.” He snaps.

He really doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to swim. He doesn’t want to take his shirt off or wear short sleeves. He doesn’t want to be gawked at because of his Mark or his numerous scars. He’d rather save himself the panic attack.

“Come with me?” You try weakly. “You don’t have to swim. I’m not going to, but maybe just sit out there? We can read? Or talk? Or something?” You know it’s a lost cause. You sigh. “We’ll miss you Draco—I’ll miss you,” you offer a small smile and head down to the lake downcast.

And maybe Draco misses you with each step that you walk away from him. Maybe it’s so unbearable that he curses himself and you before stalking down the the lakeside beach.

Meanwhile you’re perched under a tree reading a book. “Couldn’t get him to come down huh?” Lupin asks. “Sorry Professor,” you give a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. I know it’s gonna take Draco a bit longer to get on his feet again. In fact I’d be surprised if—” Lupin stops mid sentence.

“Professor?” You ask. “Well I’ll be a mandrakes uncle,” Lupin grins, nodding to someone in the distance. You turn and see a familiar head of white blond hair heading towards you.

Ignoring Lupin completely you jump up and run over to Draco, pulling him into a hug, before remembering yourself as you take a step away awkwardly.

“I’m glad you came,” you stammer. “Me too,” his cheeks are flushed slightly pink as you two sit under the tree together.

True to your word, you two do read. He reads some sort of wizard classic literature and you read a muggle classic: Pride and Prejudice because you need a break from magic and spells

Draco asks you about your book and you explain a bit of it to him, saying that he would probably enjoy it, despite its muggle origins. He eyes the book and you skeptically but asks if he can borrow it when you’re finished with it

You two are mostly left alone for the afternoon, except always under the watchful eye of Harry who is still convinced that Malfoy is up to something

Your patronus charm is now incorporeal. You jump excitedly and the charm falls. Draco, who’s next to you, is quite surprised by the hug he gets tackled with by a very elated you.

Which leads to more awkward blushing and apologies.

“So you and Malfoy?” Harry asks one night while you’re alone. “I... I don’t like it.” “Oh come on Harry, don’t you think if he was going to do something he would have? He’s just trying to move on like the rest of us,” your voice is venemous and cold as you glare the golden boy down.

Draco sees you and Harry talking alone at night and gets the wrong idea before rushing away not understanding why that hurt so badly. He feels betrayed. You were the one person he thought was on his side and now you were skirting around with Potter.

You notice immediately that Draco has closed himself off to you and you worry. “Is everything okay?” “Ask Potter,” Draco snaps. “You seemed pretty cozy with him the other night.”

Then it hits you. “We’re you spying on me?” The thought is quickly dismissed. “Draco, Harry came up to me bitching about you. And I told him to drop it and leave you alone because you deserve your place here like the rest of us,”

Well you hadn’t said exactly that, there was a bit more swearing involved but the sentiment was there

“You... you defended me,” he’s in disbelief. “Yes,” you groan. “Now will you stop sulking and come and get dinner with me?”

“I’ve already eaten,” he mutters. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Draco,” you press. “Please,”

“I’ll never understand how you can tell when I’m lying,” he grumbles, standing. “You don’t look me in the eye,” you laugh, walking towards the great hall.

The trips to the lake become a Friday thing for 8th years and Remus. To give the kids a break and to let them blow off a little steam.

You know Draco isn’t comfortable going again and you don’t want to either so, you talk to Lupin and work out a deal.

“Are you coming?” You ask him, dressed in your old quidditch robes. “You’re going to the lake in that?” He asks skeptically. “And no I’m not going,”

“I’m not going to the lake,” you smile, perching on the back of a couch. “So, are you coming?”

“Where are you going?” He asks. “Oh come on you’re a smart bloke, put two and two together.” You laugh and take off down the hall towards the quidditch pitch.

You’ve done a few laps when Draco joins you in the air. “This is stupid,” he declares. “Yeah,” you smile. “But it’s fun!”

Draco sighs and his resolve fades and soon he’s smiling and chasing after you in a one on one game of catch-the-snitch

And honestly it is fun. Draco’s laughing and flying with you and he almost forgets that he’s supposed to be Seeking.

And when you fly closer to him, staring into his eyes, beaming, he does everything he can to remember to keep flying. You’re inches from him. You reach out and his heart is stammering.

Then you grab something next to his head and laugh victoriously showing him the snitch.

“Oh come on that was cheating!” He whines, chasing after you towards the field floor.

“It’s not my fault you were staring at me like I was Potter!” You call back. “Although I hope you don’t hate me,” you land softly on the grass and Draco is caught off guard by your words and why would he ever hate you and he crashes into you

“Draco!” You scold, and he thinks he’s hurt you and that you’re crying but no you’re laughing hysterically beside him

“I—are you okay?” He stammers, gaping at you. “I’m fine,” you laugh sitting up. Until you put pressure on your wrist and well maybe then you’re not fine

Draco feels awful and takes you to the infirmary, letting Pomfrey heal your broken wrist. All the while the roles are reversed and you have to convince him to calm down and that you’ll be okay man that boy is a mess

“B-but I hurt you!” He exclaims. “It was an accident Draco!” You fold your arms. “I’m not mad, please don’t be mad at yourself,” your voice softens as you take his hands. “Please?”

His eyes catch yours and he nods and you smile at him.

Since this is an every week thing, you and Draco have a rivalry going on of who’s won more matches. (The smack talk and banter is real, but all in good fun. It leaves you both laughing and smiling and onlookers completely confused because “uh, he just called you slower than a spider in roller skates” “Yeah, and he knows that it’s still faster than his blond arse” “My arse has nothing to do with it” “Oh I beg to differ,”)

Winter turns to Spring and now showers are 100% necessary for you Friday afternoons after you matches with Draco. 

You pause in the locker rooms after one match and notice that Draco has shed his robes and is now shirtless before you, his back turned. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the scars that paint a gruesome image on his skin.

You don’t think he knows you’re there but his tired voice barely speaks: “I know you’re staring. It-It’s okay. I’ve... I’ve come to terms with it myself. And I think I’ve come to terms with you knowing as well.” 

He turns to face you, a mask of calm on his face, his eyes holding yours. 

“Harry did this?” You breathe out, taking a step toward him, your hand coming up and hesitantly tracing a scar that bends around his shoulder. 

“Harry, my father, my aunt... you stop keeping track after a while,” His eyes are downcast letting you know that he knows exactly what scar is from whom. 

Your hand trails down and brushes over his Dark Mark. He flinches, but his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“Thank you,” You whisper. “For showing me... for trusting me enough.”

Draco’s patronus is now incorporeal. 

You cheer and he wraps you into a hug this time and you’re shocked for a moment before hugging him back

You’re currently tied on your catch-the-snitch matches and today marks the tie breaker and the winner it’s just too hot to keep doing it during class time in the afternoon.

“D-Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me, tomorrow?” Draco stammers one Friday afternoon. “Sure,” You smile, “A bunch of our friends are going, were you planning on not going?” 

Draco purses his lips because of course you’re going to make this hard for him. 

“I meant with me. Just me. As a... date?” He’s flushed bright pink and it has nothing to do with the heat. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” You grin and zoom off after the snitch and he’s left chasing you wondering and asking what the hell you meant by that.

He ends up catching the snitch and is completely distracted from his victory because what did you mean you thought he’d never ask????

“Draco, stars above you’re so dense,” you dismay and grab the front of his robes and pull him over and press your lips to his

It causes him to let the snitch go and pull you closer. And maybe the two of you spend the afternoon kissing thousands of feet above the ground.

You two enter the Common Room, hand in hand and a cheer is let up as well as bet money being exchanged. Draco is flushed pink, and so are you, but you just smile and roll your eyes back Hogwarts is starting to feel like home again

And oh he absolutely spoils you at Hogsmeade the next day. And you have to admit, as much as you like gifts, it’s so much more to see him happy about buying them for you.

Harry is sulking about the entire thing, and now has been jeering at you and Draco and most times Draco stops you from punching the golden boy in the face. 

“I did it to him for years,” Draco murmurs. “Doesn’t make it right,” You hiss back, glaring at Harry. 

A few others take the same idea as Harry and start to taunt Draco about his long sleeves in the warm weather. Draco never rises to the bait but you can see that it wears at him. You just hold his hand a little tighter and maybe send a few wandless, nonverbal hexes their way,

It draws the line one day when Harry with a few other 8th years stop you and Draco in the halls. Draco, you can tell is close to having a panic attack because it’s not the first one of his that you’ve witnessed and you just go off

“What is wrong with you!?” You scream at Harry. “At least he’s trying to get better! At least he’s changed! You might have saved the world but you’re nothing but a bully!” There are tears in your eyes as Draco places his hands at your waist, steadying you and himself. “And maybe he would wear a t-shirt if you hadn’t tried to kill him a few years ago with Dark Magic that left its mark all over him! Did you ever think of that!?” 

Harry is gaping at you, shocked. Draco pulls you down the hall and it’s not far before he’s breaking down into a panic attack in your arms. You stroke his hair as you let him cry out all his tears, then you walk him through breathing exercises and five-things-five-senses (Grounding)

After this Harry backs the fluff off (and eventually apologizes and goes to Mind Healing himself because you were right, he needed to get better too.) 

You and Draco become more comfortable around another and in public. Which leads to cuddling in the common room or kissing in the halls And no one can deny that you and Draco are just sweet and perfect together

Out of the blue but not really because Harry had a hand in it Lupin talks privately to Draco about his scars and they sort of have a therapy session themselves. Sirius talks to you and gives you advice about how to help Draco through overcoming his fears and self doubt about his scars and now you two have sort of been adopted by these two dads)

It’s the last day of DADA and Lupin makes all of his 8th years cast a patronus and you and Draco do it together and everyone stares in complete and utter awe at the two dragons coiling around each other filling up almost the entire room

You and Draco are in shock too, but soon, smug smiles fall on both of your faces because, yeah... those are two souls sworn and bound to protect another. Two fighters. Two dragons.

You also tease Draco about his name and the dragon for the rest of his life which always ends with him growing frustrated and kissing you to shut you up and then the both of you get a little carried away... but it’s fine. The castle is enormous and there are plenty of empty classrooms

.

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[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

She was now back in Gotham and it was time to start acting like it. 

The break came sooner than expected. Mari might have actually missed it if not for the text from Chloe that they are on their way. Mr. Drake locked the doors to his office from the inside to made sure nobody interrupted him unless Batman started skateboarding in the lobby (his words). She really didn’t know what to think about the young CEO. So far their interactions were limited to the brief moment of panic before meeting Luthor, followed by this brief moment when he locked the doors.

When she arrived in the cafeteria, Chloe was already waiting for her with Ethel. They took over a table in the corner and already littered it with various documents and folders.

“Um… Hi?” Mari greeted them.

“Oh, Mari-bear!” Chloe grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her to the table. When she was seated, several papers were put in front of her.

“So! Ethel and I read through the contract and we have good and bad news? Which first?”

“Let’s get the bad out of the way.” Mari nodded.

“You’re stuck in that job for half a year.”

“What!?”

“Don’t worry.” Ethel palaced her. “It’s not as bad as it looks. The whole deal was that you could be hired at any point of your internship for a period of six months, after which there would be a revision of your contract to either terminate it or make it more permanent.” 

“Who does that kind of thing?” The girl shouted a bit louder than necessary, but nobody paid them any mind. Alya and Lila were clearly visible at the other side of the cafeteria with a large crowd around them. 

“It’s practically never used. I mean now you have all the benefits of being Wayne Enterprises’ employee. Plus you will actually have a salary. And Sarah’s salary was nothing to scoff at.”

“But… What about school!? I know we were allowed to leave for two months, which by itself is crazy if you ask me…”

“Given that our headmaster is an idiot that bends under whoever throws money at him and our teacher should never be allowed to be in the same room as any child…” Chloe muttered in French. 

“Yeah. I get your point. But I can’t just leave school for six months!” 

“Puh-lease!” Chloe waved her hand dismissively. “We both know you could’ve graduated in the middle of last year if that Chienne and Connard allowed you. And you would have the perfect scores. Hey! I’m sure you can sit SATs in Gotham while you work here.” 

“And my commissions?” She looked at the blonde. “Marigold Désign et Création is only starting to get some popularity. I can’t just close the store! Oh no! What about my Flower Shop in Paris? The girl I hired was supposed to work there only for like… three months best! I can’t just suddenly… Oh no! You know Sang hates being away from me! And what if Bleue outgrows her pot? And don’t get me started on Rouge! He is…’

Mari suddenly felt two hands on her shoulders. “Goldie! You’re spiraling again.” Chloe stared in her eyes. “And your eyes are showing.” 

That finally calmed Mari. She usually tried to suppress her natural look in favor of how she used to appear. Her iridescent green eyes were kept blue and dark-blue hair muted to the point it seemed black. Plus her skin was not green unless she was using her powers. She was not sure where that skill came from and she was ninety percent certain her mother couldn’t just mute her green skin and fiery red hair. Still, she was glad that she did not have to look like an Akuma 24/7. 

“Thanks, Queeny. I’d probably have a breakdown if not for you.”

“You have a Flower Shop in Paris?” Ethel asked curiously.

“My… It used to be a bakery before I inherited it. Since I like plants more than bread, I turned it into my own greenhouse. I used to only have a small garden on the rooftop, but then I kinda… filled every room with plants.” Mari suddenly blushed.

“Whoa. You sure do love plants. Are you sure you’re not related to Poison Ivy?”

Chloe half-expected Mari to start trying to deny it or babble. 

“And what would make you think that?” The girl joked instead. “Just because my plants don’t wither at my touch, I am related to a villain?” It might have come harsher than she wanted, but her bright smile and pearly voice made it clear that she had no hard feelings. 

Ethel laughed. “True. I’m sorry about the commissions and the store. I really wish there was something WE could do, but our hands are tied.”

“How am I supposed to be a personal assistant? I have like zero experience or even theoretical knowledge!”

Ethel opened another folder and read something. “Well, you were class representative, ran your own small business, kept up with school work, met with clients, and babysat several kids. That’s pretty much what you have to do now. Just make sure that the baby is doing things on time and organize his time.”

“Ha ha ha.” Chloe deadpanned. “Why not ask Nathalie? She liked you well enough.”

“I can’t just call her and ask her to teach me!” Mari protested. “I mean she must be very busy!”

“We can go find the disaster boy. He can definitely convince her.”

“I can’t just use Adrien like that! And besides, we don’t need to look.” She pointed at where the Blond boy sat next to Lila. He was clearly very uncomfortable with his situation, but they both knew that he couldn’t go against his father’s orders. Apparently, ‘Lila was good for business’. 

“Then we can go now. Thank you, Ethel.” Chloe said as she grabbed Mari and started to drag her toward the group.

“Stop it! Queenie! You know…” 

“Hush! I will deal with the idiots if they try anything.” The blonde silenced all protests.

The two approached the group just as Lila was finishing a ridiculous tale about how she was on good terms with the bat-family. Alya was of course recording the whole thing and streaming live. When the class spotted girls approaching, Kim and Ivan quickly turned into bodyguards blocking them from joining. 

“What do you two want this time?” Sabrina asked with venom.

“Like I would lower myself to dealing with the common rabble. I came to speak with the only person here who doesn’t have a negative number of brain cells, so be kind enough to let us pass. Or just pry Adrien from Lila and we will leave you to your fantasy world.” Chloe stared down at her former follower (they were never really friends).

“Nobody asked you!” Rose shouted. 

“Sabrina did.” Mari pointed out. She was not sure why, but she felt much more confident in her dealing with the class now that they were in Gotham. Maybe it was because they were now on her own turf, maybe because there was no Akuma risk, or maybe she was just done. 

“Shut up you bully!” Alix shouted. “Adrien doesn’t want to go with you anywhere!”

Over half of the WE employees disperse, not wanting to be pulled into the drama. The ones that stayed were just looking between the two groups. 

“Actually,” Adrien started, surprising everyone, Lila included. Why was her boy talking? She didn’t order him to talk. “I’m curious about what they want. The break is almost over anyway so we should probably get going back to work.” He said diplomatically. 

“Whatever!” Alya put her phone down. 

When the class and the spectators dispersed, Adrien sighed in relief. “Kwami I hope Gerard gets here soon. He usually tries to at least limit the Liar somewhat. Then again, he won’t be coming to WE…”

“It’s a tall building. I’m sure that we could make it look like an accident.” Chloe grinned.

“We are not killing her!” Mari protested.

“Spoilsport.” The Blonde deadpanned. 

“Anyway, is that a social call or do we have some situation? Please tell me it’s not an Akuma.”

“Not that I know of.” Mari quickly checked her phone, but so far no messages. 

“Mari here got hired.” Chloe did not bother with subtlety.

“Congratulation!” The boy beamed. “I knew you would do great here. We should go to celebrate on Friday!”

“Except I have no idea how to be a personal assistant.” Mari moaned.

“Oh! That’s no problem. Let me just call Nathalie.” Before the girl could protest Adrien already had his phone out and dialed his Father’s PA. “Nathalie?” He asked when the face appeared on the screen.

“Adrien. I’m sorry but your father is not here. He left Paris and won’t be returning for some time. He will be supervising the acquisition of new resources in China.” She informed him.

“Oh. That’s no problem. I actually wanted to speak to you.” He smiled brightly.

“Huh?” She asked surprised.

“My friend Marinette found herself in a peculiar situation of being hired as a personal assistant. Would you mind giving her some pointers?”

“Sure. Please forward her my personal number so she can call me in an hour. I will be free by then.”

“Thank you, Nathalie. You’re the best.” He waved the woman goodbye and hanged up. “See? No problem at all.” 

“Um… Okay… Thank you so much!” She hugged him tightly. 

“Sure. That’s what friends are for. What about the Friday celebration?”

“Well, I can give you all a Marinette tour through Gotham…” Her smile grew a little mischievous “Or you can get Marigold style trip.” They all laughed before scrambling to do their respective works.

Mari got into the elevator and pressed the top-floor button. Slowly, the doors closed and it went up. When she arrived, she looked around to check if anyone was looking for her before walking to her desk. Out of nowhere, a blade pressed itself to her neck.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” A low voice asked from her right, slightly to her back. Immediately, she tensed.

“I work here if you must know. Now I apologize for the delay if you needed something, but I was trying to sort out a certain problem. Do you have an appointment with Mr. Drake?”

“Tt. I’m not in a mood for games.” 

She smiled slightly. Acting faster than would be expected, she grabbed the blade in a monkey grip and pushed it away. The attacker then tried to swing it at her, but she managed to side-step. Doing a quick lunge she managed to punch his hand and make the blade move to the side while walking into the guard. She delivered a strong punch to his face, followed by a low-kick to the back of his knee, forcing him on one knee. The daze caused him to loosen the grip he had on the sword. Mari kneeled on his legs, pinning him down and at the same time stole the sword and threw it away. Before he even had a chance to explain anything, she delivered another punch to his head, making the boy see stars before everything turned black. 

She gathered herself and walked to the sword. It was rather simple ninjato that she stored under her desk. There was a tablet with the WE logo on it that she promised herself to check later. The intercom had at least two dozen buttons. They were all labeled with some shortcuts she did not understand, so instead, she picked the security number from her WE employee handbook and called. 

“Um… Hello?”

“Hello. What’s the problem miss?”

“Yes. My name’s Marinette. I’m the new PA to Mr. Drake. When I returned from break some boy attacked me with a ninajto. I managed to knock him out, but I would appreciate if someone came here to…” She didn’t get to finish because a burst of loud laughter came from the other side. She stayed silent for a few moments, baffled at the reaction. Finally, she had enough. “Good to know the fact that someone almost chopped me with a Ninjato is funny to you, sir, but personally I do not find the situation laughable and I would appreciate if you showed at least some concern over the terrible breach of security that is firstly bringing the sword to the building and secondly trying to kill an employee!” She screamed loud enough to make her cup of (now cold) coffee shake. Only now she realized that her hands were trembling. 

“Um… of course, madame. I will be sending someone up right away… madame.” He hanged up. She still heard that he was on the verge of laughing.

Mari collapse into her chair and stared angrily at the boy on the floor. She was afraid to walk to him. She was definitely getting some plants here tomorrow. That would make her feel safer. Nervously, she started to design. She didn’t even notice that she was using the boy that attacked her as the base. 

After a few minutes, the doors of the elevator opened and two guys in suits walked in. As soon as they saw the unconscious boy they broke into a fit of laugher. Mari stared at them before recognizing one of them as Grayson, who was giving them the tour earlier. 

“Oh! My! God! She actually knocked Demon Spawn unconscious!” The other one said through tears. Mari decided she didn’t like him either. They were supposed to be helping her, not laughing more. 

“Excusez-Moi! I was attacked here! During the tour, I was led to believe this is a respected company,” she made a jab at Grayson, who only laughed more. “In respected companies employees are not attacked with a sword when they come back from the break. So can someone explain to me what the actual fuck?!” She swore. 

“This is gold. I’m calling B. Wait! I need a picture or he won’t believe me!” The not-Grayson kept rambling, completely ignoring Mari. Angry, she picked a pencil from her desk. Taking a few seconds to aim, she threw it. The impromptu projectile sailed through the air until it hit the elevator button, making the doors open. This finally got their attention, especially since the pencil passed not-Grayson by an inch from his ear.

“What the…?” He was interrupted when the girl stormed past him and entered the elevator. She was now holding the ninjato through a tissue. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To HR. Maybe they will help me.” She answered simply and sent them a glare. “It’s clear that you two dumbasses aren’t doing anything.”

Grayson held the button, stopping the doors from closing “Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be French?” Dick asked, confused by her strong Gothamite accent that showed itself.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping?!” She shouted at him. 

“Ugh… My head…” A groan came from the floor.

“Aww… I didn’t get any pictures.” Not-Grayson grumbled.

“Tt. Shut up, Todd.”

“How is the view from down there Demon Spawn?”

“I don’t have time for games. There’s some intruder on this floor. She claimed to be Drake’s personal Assistant, but we all met Sarah.”

“Um… Baby D, did no one inform you about the french class coming for an internship starting today?”

There was suddenly a glimmer of realization in the boy’s eyes. “Oh…”

“Oh?” Mari screamed. “that’s all you have to say?!” 

Her would-be attacker jumped at the sound of her angry voice. When their eyes met, the two had a staring contest. It continued for a moment, neither wanting to leave it be. Dick and Jason observed with amazement how that little girl was able to rival Damian’s glare and not wither immediately as most would.

“While I enjoy seeing the two of you fight for dominance, can someone explain to me what exactly happened?” Todd finally broke the silence. Mari immediately turned her eyes at him. He briefly noted that her blue eyes had a green tint in them that he did not notice before. 

“What happened is like I said. I after I returned from break that imbécile attacked me with the sword. I had some self-defense classes, so I managed to disarm him.”

“Some? You had ‘some’ self-defense classes and you disarmed Demons Spawn?”

“Okay, I’ve been practicing since I was five. Happy? It doesn’t change the fact that he attacked me!”

“You’re the one that attacked me. I was merely ensuring you were no threat.” Damian tried to argue.

“By pressing a sword to my neck?” She asked/shouted. “Please! This is Gotham.”

“She has a point.” Dick decided to intervene. “Okay. We will make sure that Damian won’t bother you anymore… and maybe add some bonus to your next paycheck for the trouble he caused. Our father will definitely hear about this.”

“Your father…?”

“Bruce Wayne.” 

“Oh… Fine. But I’ll be keeping the ninjato for now.” She said in no-arguing tone. It was clear that Damian wanted to argue, but his brothers pushed him into the elevator while Mari walked to her desk. She put the sword under the desk and mentally added some hooks to her shopping list. If that rich idiot thought he would get away with attacking her with a sword, he was sorely mistaken. 

The tablet turned out to have a complete calendar with all planned meetings, a ready to-do list, and access to inter-department chatrooms. There were more apps that she decided to look up later. For now, she opened Mr. Drake’s schedule. He had quite a lot of office hours, but she also noticed that there was a press conference set on Friday, several meetings throughout the week, and a few other stuff. Definitely much cleaner than Adrien’s schedule that she already knew by heart.

As the hour was mostly up, she knocked on the office doors to see if her boss needed something done. He shouted a barely-audible ‘busy’ and she did not try to intrude. Probably some important stuff. She pulled her phone and called Nathalie’s number that Adrien sent her earlier. 

“Hello, Marinette.” The woman greeted her. 

The next several hours were spent on the crash course about everything that being Personal Assistant boiled down to. Ethel was right. Her work as Class Rep, babysitter, and the business owner gave her quite a few necessary skills. What nobody mentioned (because nobody knew) was that her obsessive Adrien stalking also came in very handy. Most of what she practiced with Nathalie was about dealing with people and applying her skills in the new job. By the time her work was ‘over’, she had a bit more confidence. Mari was still panicked over the amount of responsibility that befallen her and the additional work and reading that she would have to do after hours. It was a pure blessing that this day was empty. Nathalie also gave her an incredible amount of pointers about how to deal with situations when the Boss is absent most of the day. She could guess that Gabriel kept dumping more work on the poor woman as he locked himself away to design. The last thing before she entered the elevator was to pull out the drawers in her desk and hide the ninjato behind them. It fit perfectly and the drawers didn’t seem that out of place. She suspected the boy would try to take it back when she was gone.

As she was leaving the elevator to meet with her class, she spotted Chloe talking lively with Ethel. Madame Bustier came through the main entrance. Once the class gathered in one place, she gave some speech about how proud she was of them and thanked Lila for the opportunity. Mari used that time to check on the class. Some looked quite happy, others had sour moods. Adrian managed to sneak away from Lila and was hiding behind the girls.

Just as they turned to leave, the front doors burst open and several guys (and one woman) in green suits with purple question marks walked inside, followed by a man in a similar suit. He carried a cane with a question mark on top and a green bowler hat with a single question mark in the center. Mari resisted the urge to gag. The fashion disaster that was Riddler entered the house. Seriously! Who mixes deep green with neon purple? And not to even mention the Hawaiian shirt she could spot under his suit. Whoever dressed that guy deserved to be shot. And it had to be a custom job, because what store would dare to sell such monstrosity!? She also noted that people got on the ground so she did the same. Her senses tried to reach to nearest plants for some comfort, but all of them were fake. Why does no one keep real plants in this building? Then again, Mr. Drake had and they were almost dead.

“Well, hello Wayne Enterprises!” He greeted them. “Riddle me this: It belongs to you, but other people use it more than you do. What is it?”

“Name,” they heard a voice say from the back.

“Yes.” Riddler seethed. “And I really don’t like it when someone uses mine in their ridiculous stories. Now, which of you can tell me where I can find Lila Rossi?

NEXT

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Stand In Chapter Two

Masterlist

Your finally about to film your first scene for a teaser and things have just became real but how are you going to get through make up along side Henry for hours without fangirling? especially when he keeps staring at you like that?

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

A/n: so got a few people that like this idea which really shocked me. I'm trying really hard to make y/n one of us fangirls I really want you to be able to put yourself in this one. Like seriously if I had the chance to meet him I'd just fucking freeze on the spot go red scream and melt into a puddle of goo... I'd be way to anxious to approach him or ask for a photo..Any who enjoy this next chapter xxx

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99​ @thummbelina​ @sofiebstar​

You yawned loudly as you trudged out of your new comfy trailer: which was actually one of those fancy ass tour buses. You grabbed your bag with a few bits in it...Phone, snacks, purse, snacks, script, snacks....more snacks. What?You got hungry!You opened the door wrapping your cardigan around you tightly as you ventured out into the dark it was freezing the cold air making you shiver. A four am start was always a shock to the system and today was your fifth, your alarms on your phone had gone of again and again and again, blaring and screaming at you. Since the whole becoming and actress and Lauren pulling a contract seemingly out of her ass thing had happened a few days ago, you hadn't seen much of Henry and Joey they had been busy filming and training.

You were slightly smaller then 'she who shall not be named coughDickcough' so some of the fight scenes had to be reworked...Yes at some point you and 'Geralt' were going to come to blows in a fight scene and you were bricking it. For more then one reason;

One. I mean come on the huge hunk of a man; the star of every single late night fantasy you've pretty much ever had!, tossing you around and possibly pinning you down? Grunting and growling the entire time? and your supposed to look angry? Hahaha no...

And two. Well Henry is a large imposing man and Geralt is supposed to be frightening in those scenes so...How the fuck are you gonna stay in character and fight him when your simultaneously scared shitless , remembering choreography and creaming your panties....Like fuck that's gonna be some crazy self control needed right there. If you get through it with out fangirling; which would be a miracle in itself you deserve a fucking Oscar. But that's a problem for another day...Tomorrow in fact. The point is you felt a little bad because he had worked so hard before and now he has to relearn it all and he has been working super hard on it..you don't want to mess up.

But that’s not to say you have been idle oh no! You'd been hard at work learning lines and undergoing your transformation from y/n into Keira which was completely insane. Once fully kitted out you would be....Well not you...But it was you, a super weird experience you were sure but you was looking forward to it all coming together. You had to wear a wig, your hair was just a little to short naturally skimming your shoulders. You were glad really you loved your lilac hair it took a lot of work to keep up with it!.

The wig was a bright blonde not as bright as Freya's hair for Ciri but still quite light, more golden then pale it was a strange color, hard to describe. The wig itself fell down to just past your shoulders in large loose silky waves and even though you had green eyes you were still going to get contacts, it had been mentioned that they want your eyes to be an impossible bright green, all the mages seemed to have bright eyes and you were no different. You were dreading it , you'd never wore them and have a thing about eyes...You don't like touching them or other people touching them eyes aren't meant to be fiddled with you know? ...You need them to see kind of?

Apart from that things had gone well the dresses just needed to be taken up a few inches and the rest of the transformation was mostly attitude , props and make up thankfully the make up was mostly highlights and color correcting that sort of thing. You walked across the set following the light emitting from the hair and make up trailer, you could see from here a few people were up and about inside. Within a few moments you were inside standing off to the side unsure where to put yourself or your bag ,it was just you and a few of the make up artists there. Holly was in charge of you, you got on well with her helping her out a lot before all this and was glad to have her as your artist she put you at ease which is definitely what you needed ,she came over smiling and directed you to your seat.

"So! Todays the day huh? Your first shoot you excited?" You gave a nervous laugh.

"Terrified more like, Its not long apparently they need a teaser for the character to go out and to stick in the trailer....I'm so fucking out of my depth it is unreal! Each day has been a whirlwind and I still don't know if I can pull this off...I'm not an actress" she stood behind you combing your hair back looking at you in the mirror fixing you with a look and struck your crown with the flat of the comb.

"Hey enough of that, you got this just go out there and give it your best. Joey was actually stunned when you did your reading he said he has never seen an actress like you before" you frowned looking around at her slightly twisting in your seat.

"Probably hasn't seen one like me cos I'm not and actress but okay I will bite..What exactly did he say?" She blinked at you leaning back waving the comb about shocked looking for words.

"You-hah? I don't even, you really don't even know how big a deal this is do you?" You blinked shaking your head as she was caught up in her own shock.

"Err no duh? Not an actress remember" you huffed she pointed the lethal comb to your face and make a circle motion she chuckled when you flinched and spun round twisting to face the mirror again.

"Talent. He and Henry were talking about you the other day, they couldn't believe that someone with talent like yours hadn't been picked up on. Apparently the way you just...Turned off your own personality shut down your personal feelings like that and became Keira so effortlessly is rare... Said it was like flipping a switch. A complete personality change like that with no prior training or mentoring is the holy grail. Untapped talent I think was the term used. Henry said he has only seen it twice before and that is saying something with everything he has under his belt... So trust me when I say your going to do great" you flushed they thought it was that good? Henry though you had talent.. you smiled feeling giddy blushing a little.You watched as she moved getting some leave in conditioner to make your hair behave itself.

"It's...It can't be that rare it just comes from having to hide anxiety...Can't let people know your having a meltdown...That’s all I was doing hiding a fucking anxiety attack!" She scoffed running a comb through your hair making sure the product was evenly spread through the strands preparing to split it into two plaits to hide under the wig.

"Babe I saw the video there was more going on there..Perhaps you should watch it and see for yourself It really was like watching someone flip a switch" You shook your head slightly resulting in having the comb waked across it again making you flinch

"Stay still! Its bad enough that you fucking washed it! I can't plait it if your moving!" You sat straight

"SoRrY MoThEr-ouch fuck not with the brush!!" She smirked and carried on plaiting the strands neatly.

"Did you bring your lines to practice?" You went to nod but stopped when she sighed tugging on your hair a little keeping the plait tight to your head.

"Yes I did thought I could get some last minute reading...I think I've got them all down tho" she nodded

"That’s good because your wig is a little late, they are dying it again...Apparently yellow blonde isn't right for your skin so your getting a white silvery ash blond now...A muted tone they said. Think its basically going to be a super light blonde with a lilac or blue tint, fucking wish they would hurry up and choose I need to settle on your face tones! Any who it should be here in about an hour" you whined

"I could have had an extra hour in bed?! Why wasn't I told!? You know your job would be a lot easier if I had beauty sleep!" She laughed loudly tying your first plait off with an elastic before starting the other one.

"I'm sure it would but you do know this is like a late start? Some of the scenes your booked in here for one and two o'clock in the morning~" she through her head back laughing at your pout.You stayed in the make up trailer for a while and Holly had called over to wardrobe about the delay so,thankfully your costume was going to be delivered over here which was less running about for you. So here you were in hot seat waiting ,there wasn't much you or Holly could do at this point but wait.  She couldn't work on your face until she had the the wig on you for color reference. She had left a few moments ago promising a coffee on her return.

You hummed scrolling through your phone messaging your eldest brother and Mother who you had let slip to about your new drastic career change. they were trying to calm you down, knowing you well enough that you was getting yourself into wound up ball of anxiety and panic. You were so engrossed in your phone you didn't notice a certain bear trot in to the room until you had a huge snoot wedged under your phone trying to nudge your hands for some love. You jumped so on edge you yelled out as you was touched.

"OH FUCK WHAT IS-OOOH well hello there~" you looked around quickly then seeing you was still alone you decided to indulge and immediately placed your phone on the table in front of you and leaned back looking between your legs going gaga over the handsome boy. Kal was sitting looking up at you smiling panting away as you petted him on auto pilot. You blinked it took everything you had not to squee out loud somehow managing to keep it inside 'OH MY FUCK KAL! I'm like petting THE Bear... Wow he is so fucking fluffy!...Okay girl stop he is looking at you weird...That’s it chill don't scare him away...Good remember dogs can smell psycho....Cool and calm yeah he is just a dog...BUT HE FUCKING ISN’T THIS IS THE BEAR!' you leaned down cooing at him making baby talk as he lapped up the love moving his head to make you hit the right spots around his ears and chin. You managed to get over the fangirling and enjoy scratching the good boys ears digging your fingers in the thick fur enjoying the softness.

"Oh look at you!? So sweet huh?.....Are you a good boy?....Yesh you are! Cute baby! Getting your chin scratches such a fluffy good boy!" You giggled as he seemed to take your compliments to heart thumping his tail a few beats then stood up you followed rubbing down his back as he moved.

He must have liked your attention because before you know it he was climbing onto his hind legs leaning over your lap with his front paws. From there Kal had sneakily gone the whole nine yards, the happy Akita had some how clambered up into the chair with you making it squeak under the strain as he engulfed your lap still receiving his well earned scratches. You giggled at him moving your arms around him letting him do as he pleased rubbing his belly and chest he sat content leaning his weight on your chest pinning you to the back of the seat.

You grinned wrapping him in a big hug still twisting his fur in your fingers diligently showering him with the attention the good handsome boy deserved.

"Wow look at you such a handsome boy!... OH kisses to? Well aren't I a lucky lady" you moved at he tilted his head back licking at your face being a right soppy little pup, out for all the love he could get.

"Wow your lucky Holly hasn't done my face yet, she won't like you ruining all her hard work!" He pulled away and just panted happily then rested his head on your shoulder huffing. You smiled still hugging him rubbing you face into his fur. Then out of the blue his tail began thumping your leg in excitement. You pulled back from the hug and brushed your fingers through his coat seeing Holly and Henry arrive.

"Oh haha. Looks like Kal made a friend!" Holly giggled Henry sighed looking for him then gasped doing a double take when he saw the Akita draped across you sitting on your lap leaning his head on one shoulder as you petted him. His heart clenched a smug sort of 'that’s my boy!' he enjoyed seeing you snuggling the bear, it was something he could get used to seeing. He snapped out of it and made his way to you both.

"KAL! You what are you doing boy? Come on down!...Tin-I err Y/n I am so sorry... He doesn't usually do this... Come on Kal you big lump! Your probably crushing her!" Kal eyed Henry from the corner of his eye pretending not to here him huffing loudly past your ear. You smiled and waved Henry off trying to be casual as your inner fangirl raged pretty much foaming at the mouth. You was thankful that Kal was ignoring his dad as his big frame hid your creeping blush giving you the confidence to speak as you tucked your face further into him as you spoke quietly.

"I-its fine really...I...Y-yeah was kind of worrying about today he I... I think he sensed my anxiety...His cuddle is helping a lot..." Henry stopped his approach eyeing the two of you. He meant what he said Kal was well behaved and gentle but he never cuddled on a stranger's lap, not like he did with him anyway. But he knew Kal picked up on anxiety attack's and it was entirely possible he had wandered in here and wanted to comfort you. Henry blushed a little and took his seat next to you nodding trying to take in the scene before him as much as possible.

"Okay...W-well don't let him guilt trip you, that boy gets so many cuddles its unbelievable... Just..I-if he gets to much get him down...He knows he isn’t allowed on the chairs..hehe not that you can tell... Its best not to spoil him too much" you flushed smooshing your face in to the Akita’s neck trying to hide from the man who seemed to be staring yet again. He moved forward placing two coffees before you then placed his in front of him. You rose a brow at the two cups.

"I-I...ahem I wasn't sure how you'd want it-fuck haha... Shit.... I meant the drink....you-your coffee...Fuck... I didn't know how you liked your coffee" you blinked at him as he got a little flustered you groaned as you reached forward peeking at the cup as Holly moved about behind you moving her equipment around.

"Henry was already picking you up a coffee insisted on getting it treated me to~" you smiled and reached over popping the lids the first black the other with milk.

"T-thank you ...you didn't have to" his face split into a grin as he mentally pat himself on the back.

"No no your welcome! These four am starts are pretty brutal for anyone to get used to..." he chuckled as you moved over sipping the coffee slowly, you tried not to pull a face it was a little to bitter for your taste needing one more sugar but you didn't want to seem rude. An awkward silence fell over the two of you and he sat there staring, you kept taking small sips trying to hide more in Kals shadow.

"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"

Henry was kicking himself as the silence grew, great fucking brilliant the first time he gets you alone and he says something like that!? scolding himself and his own fucking stupidity. 'How you'd want it? What the fuck Cavill?! Smooth why not just come out and say how should I fuck you? Yeah wait a go!' He sighed leaning back in the chair eyeing you as you sat clearly uncomfortable with him there 'yeah and now be a creeper and stare that will fucking help...Still staring mate stiilll staring....SAY SOMETHING FOR GOD SAKE!' That did the trick he could see you were trying to hide your distaste over the coffee. 'There apologize for shit coffee!' That was his opportunity!"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"  he watched with baited breath shivering as you licked at a small loose drip off your bottom lip and gulped. Definitely nervous... Or maybe you just didn't like him? That could be it! you did run from him and you flirted with Joey not him. Henry could feel a lump in his throat and felt a weight on his chest...Was that it you just didn't like him?...He hummed trying to ease the heavy feelings around him, his own anxiety starting to creep over him he clenched his jaw. No you had no reason to dislike him...You didn't know him he would just have to interact with you thats all...Make him self known then? And then? Maybe let you know he was interested...Drop hints?. He straightened up in his seat a wave of determination washed over him he tilted his head looking at Kal trying not to be creepy as shit.

"I err no thank you...I-its fine... Ive got a huge sweet tooth anyway..." he smiled you were talking, albeit quietly and stuttering but it was a start! He could work with that.

"I will have to...Err remember that for next time." He watched you spin the cup and frown slightly seeing the scribbled name on it. Shit you must think he was an ass! It wasn't your name it was his and Joeys nickname for you....Wow how could he think that was a good idea! You must think he'd forgot your actual name!

"I err me and-well that’s....Fuck" you looked at him a little sad. Yep definitely thought he'd forgot...Tinks had just stuck.

"Me err me and Joey ...well joey gave you a nick name so...it stuck I'm sorry you must think I'm a dick" you shook your head taking a deep breath closing your eyes then placed a false smile. For a self proclaimed 'non-actress' you did so effortlessly and supposedly without even knowing bottling up you feelings and slapping on a smile... He wasn't sure he liked it, faking a smile when he could tell he had upset you.

"It's fine...I don't think your a-a dick...H-how can I expect you to remember silly details like that... We did only meet once and you've got more things to worry about" 'and award to the biggest prick on set goes to drum roll...you ,you fucking ass! Fix it! Fix it now Henry! Look even Kal isn't impressed!' He quickly lent forward wanting to fix his fuck up like right fucking now!

"No! No nothing like...I mean its not a silly detail! Your name it's- y/n I know it! I know your name! Me and Joey have seen you around for a while he called you Tink's..Its after Tinkerbell!..A-a nickname just a nickname nothing meant by it!.....We called you it for so long it just stuck when we spoke about you and ....Well I thought it suited you so just sort of...Yeah.." you blinked at him then looked back to the cup.

"T-Tinkerbell?"

'Holy shit! They gave you a nickname oh my god! that’s crazy....Right focus girl see he didn't forget either he knows you knows your name!...Fuck me! life got weird quick' You bite your lip looking at him confused then glanced to the cup Tink's scribbled across it haphazardly. You smiled at it trying to fight down the building squeal of excitment, it was so sweet you it made you feel...welcome? You'd been worried that you being on the job now had put a strain on everyone. It seems as if everyone has had to work harder because of you and you felt almost...guilty like an inconvenience. Kal sat up pulling away from you then tucked his snout under your chin snorting into your chest. You moved ruffling the base of his ears lightly.

"T-Tinkerbell?" He smiled softly as you pampered Kal you must have started getting upset as Kal moved digging into you comforting you. He loved how Kal was helping you when he himself couldn't. He hissed through his teeth nervously and moved his head around slightly.

"Well...Yes Joey had seen you...And you reminded him of a fairy he just sort of started calling you Tink's you know? after Tinkerbell....It fits....Small and cute" you pressed your face back to Kal tucking your glowing cheeks. He called you cute 'aaaaahhhhhhhgggggg! Cute he. Henry-Mother-Fucking- Cavill called you cute! He thinks your fucking cute fuckingohmygod! Yes girl GET IT!...Right okay and chill woooo! Right yep done? done!'

"I...We will stop if you don't like it ...Its probably weird right?" You shook your head pulling away from his dog when you were sure you could pass the blush off as a chill or something.

"No its...Its fine...I-I just didn't think...You know cos of me you-everyone has a shit tonne more work now...Just feel like well..I don't know burden I suppose" his face dropped.

'you what? You thought you were a burden?' He blinked forgetting all his anxieties and nerves overcome with a need to help you, you got it wrong so so wrong he is ecstatic you were now his costar! He cant wait to get going! That’s why he is here nearly forty five minutes early! So he can get to know you he gathered you must be nervous and well...He wanted to be your knight in shinning amour....Or witcher in leather doublet a it were. Everyone who was 'in the know' was just so happy that you’d decided to do this, your saving The Witcher for Christ sake! But you didn't see it like that? He moved over grasping your hand without thinking,it was only when he felt you tense he realized he was touching you but by some act of god he managed to beat down a full blown fucking melt down trying not to dwell on how soft your skin was. 'Why it is so soft?....what does she do?...Moisturizer?.....Wonder if she'd let you watch?- WOAH OKAY THERE BOY SLOW DOWN!.....But she even smells ugh fuck could just eat this woman....Henry! Stop fucking sniffing her...Shes upset and your just here being so..FUCKING ...CRINGE! Seriously!?...Now would be the time to speak cavill...I mean you are just rubbing her wrist staring ...Again.' he swallowed managing to hopefully shake away his thought before you got too creeped out by him.

"No! No don't Please don't ever feel like that...Your not a burden to me or-or Joey or anyone here! Your keeping this going if it wasn't for you we'd all be out of work...I-I am really grateful for you choosing to help...I Love this role-this project and your the one who has saved it!...I know it must be hard trying to navigate all this but please if you ever need help or anything you can come to me ....Even if its just to talk ....Promise me if you ever start thinking or ever made to feel like that come talk to me...Okay I mean that y/n you can come talk to me anytime" Henry watched seeing an array of emotions cross your eyes you were still unsure but he would help. He would be there for you if it was the last thing he did, he wanted to be a colleague, friend, someone you could come to and confide in!

He wanted you to come to him if you got overwhelmed of upset he had already been speaking about the press tour after he was trying to make sure you were never going to be  alone in interviews he wanted to protect you form the more public side that was going to be the real shock. Filming was easy you knew what you were in for but tv? Journalists and critics? Yes that was going to be... A wake up call luckily for you Henry was going to be all over you by then he hoped. When it boiled down to it he wanted to be so much more then a mentor and friend but for now he would work towards friendship and try to get one conversation over with out fucking up stuttering or blushing. You blinked and nodded slowly.

"Th-thank you for saying that-" he shook his head you didn't believe him and smiled what he hoped was sincerely.

"Its not just words I do truly mean it Tink’s...I'm here for you and so is Kal apparently" he smiled when he got you to giggled the moment of doubt truly passed as you snuggled the bear again. 'And breath...Well that went well...Fuck she is so cute with him, I should get a picture...you know to commemorate her first proper day...Would that be weird of him? Hey can I have a photo of you to keep on my phone please?..Yeah okay maybe not like that' it was sweet watching as kal quickly become your teddy bear. The pup seemed not to mind in the slightest just happy to be getting away with blue murder and get cuddles for it!. He had moved and was now resting his head on your other shoulder sitting up with his back to Henry, Kal was basically hugging you tucking your neck and shoulder under his chin to his chest.

Henry smiled nodding cutely seemingly pleased with himself as he pulled back then. He blinked quickly as if remembering something and sat up getting his phone out he was about to speak but was cut off by the sound of the door as it opened again it was then that Holly made an appearance, you didn't even notice she had left. You smiled happy feeling better in yourself Henry's words meant something you actually believed that he meant it. It was nice to know he didn't hold anything against you for all the extra work your arrival had dumped on him.

"Haha! Here they are one wig for you sir! And for the lady!" She placed two wigs on the table in front of your respective chairs, both of which were pinned on two wig mannequin's. You placed you feet on the bar sitting up getting a groan for one Kal who was comfy.

"Oh shush you" Henry huffed a laugh as you scolded the bear. 

"Wow that’s... How'd they even do that?" Henry looked over to yours and whistled. It was sleek and very very light ah blonde you could just see a hint on lilac from the toner used giving the hair an almost ethereal look yet still a believable tone. Holly gushed

"I know right! They said they took into account your hair color now because of how it complimented your skin....Honestly it mean you wont need as much color correcting as before with the gold! And along side this these came to!" She moved producing a small pile of contact lenses boxes. You looked to her uneasy making some weird unconvincing sound.

"Oh hush love~ contacts aren't that bad! You just pop 'em in" you blinked and gave her a look.

"Yeah...pop em in your fucking eyes! That you need to see!...God they can't like slip back can they?" Henry and Holly chuckled and shaking their heads.

"No...They can't your lris is slightly bulged they sit on that bulge! I can categorical attest they do not slide back or get stuck...I promise trust me?" He tilted his head at you and you eyed the contacts 'well he has used them for a while..so he would know' you gave a slight nod

"Good I promise I won't stear you wrong! I normally wait until the hair and stuff is done and put them in just before make up, sometimes the hair on the wig can get catch them when styling and that is a bit uncomfortable especially if they move" you snapped your gaze to him

"M-Move!? B-but you- You just said they don’t!" He chuckled rubbing his hand over his neck.

"I-I well yes I did just say that...W-What I meant is they can't go to the back of your eye...But if you touch them once in they can slip just...Once their in don't touch them until you want to take them out and you will be fine" you eyed him carefully and nodded.

Holly moved about the room quickly switching make up pallets and the woman in charge of Henry's hair and make up came in with her kit opening it ready to get started. You couldn't help but be relieved in a way to have him turn and stat a conversation with her taking the heat off you. 'AANNDD BREATH...well that wasn't to bad? Sure you used kal as a hiding spot but the good boy didn't mind' you looked to the content dog still rubbing his tummy absent minded. 'Yeah the bear was happy, soo your first real conversation with the stunningly handsome Mr Cavill wasn't to bad....But fuck he thought you were cute? Oh boy that is just fucking mind blown! There you go girl you could die right now and be one very happy woman!... And he wants to help you! And you know I do think he meant that....He is very sweet, and he got you coffee! AAAHHHGGG! Like not dinner but the man got you food...Well food it was a coffee...Still he got it for you babe! You go girl!' Your thoughts were interrupted when a cheerful Joey made an appearance at the door

"Good morning! How are we all today?" You smiled at how happy he was. He got a series of replies from grunts to 'fine how are you?' He spotted you and laughed.

"Shit Kal? Pulling the moves already? You know she's twice your age a tleast?" The dog huffed and you petted him giggling.

"Don’t listen to him boy~ you be you...such a good little pup huh? Yesh you are...And your keeping me warm huh? Little hot water bottle....Yesh you are...You an sit on my lap any time good baby~" Henry chuckled out of the side of his mouth trying not to move as his make up artist began to comb through his hair readying him for the wig.

"God don't tell him that, he would never get off if he could help it, he love his cuddles...And snout kisses its why he is holding his head like that by the way...He wants kisses" you giggled and looked at Kal who was sitting still holding his cheek near your face.

"Oh baby~ you want kisses?" You quickly moved in peppering kisses on his cheek. When you stopped you laughed as he turned to you giving kisses back. Henry smiled your laugh becoming something he was determined to hear at least once a day!

Joey watched slyly. It seemed Henry was going to have Kal be a wing man...dog? In his journey of wooing you. He smirked he would help to! It was clear that you liked Henry ...Henry certainly liked you so it won't take to much pushing.

"So Henry...What are you doing here? Your early not meant to be here until five. " Henry froze and looked panicked and met Joeys eyes in the mirror. Joey smirked knowing full well You had heard Henry squinted at the singer giving him a 'what the fuck?' Look

."I-I wanted to make sure Tinks was okay...It is her first day...Dont want her to be in here going through the motions alone we are a team" Joey smirked 'well okay if that how you want to play'

"Thats very sweet of you!, Oh! Yes we need pictures! It is your first day Tinks!" He turned to Henry's artist who had just got the wig on. Leaning down he grasped the witchers shoulders squeezing.

"Can I brorrow him?" She smiled nodding with a chuckle Joey smiled and ushered Henry up swiping the mans phone from the side and handed it to Holly, who took it and stepped back as joey spun your chair around to face her.

"Do you mind? We need to document this, The day the witcher was saved!" You blushed as both Joey and Henry stood either side of you ,They each crouched a little placing their faces next to yours and smiled, Henry had tucked kal's head to the side so he could get a good view of you. Once the photos were snapped Joey looked at them excited.

"Wow! Henry you have to send these to me so I can tweet them!" You blushed as Henry nodded grinning then looked you his screen then to you. He could kiss Joey! Henry now had a reason to get your number, whatsapp ,face book fuck everything!

"I will send these to you...You know if you want, I mean you don't have to if Joey is tweeting them... But I could send them....Only if you want... No pressure!" Joey sighed watching the great white wolf fumble over his words still rambling. Even the other women were watching fascinated as the unshakable Henry got himself all flustered.

"You know make memories... A-along the way...You never know Tink’s could be the start of a completely new career!haha..." An awkward silence fell over the room as henry eventually trailed of with a nervous laugh. Joeys eyes fell to you, you sat dead still shocked then finally blinked snapping out of what ever thoughts were going on you were slowly blushing. You were definitely interested.

"I-I err sure you can send them to me... Here I'll give to my number..." Joey smiled nodding pleased with himself. That worked beautifully if he did say so himself. Henry sent him a thankful glance as you exchanged numbers. He turned as he had a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh god its time already? I hoped to get to know our Tink's...Oh well we can chat on set" he moved around you sitting on the other side of Henry and sat down letting his own artist begin.

You had sat in the chair for another hour or so getting tweaked then had been ushered to change in a sectioned off little changing room. You came back out ready to see Keira for the first time. Henry and Joey stole glances at you

"Wow...Fuck you look...Wow" you smiled at Henry shyly as he kept sweeping his eyes over you seemingly awed at the final look. If you were honest it made you a little self conscious. How could it not! he was; if you squinted, kind of checking you out..In a way? you avoided eye contact willing yourself to calm down as your heart pounded away at top speed.

"What he means is you look fantastic!" You smiled unsure and pulled at the skirt of the dress, your first scene with them was a party so it was very elegant it was designed to be seductive with a swooping neckline and swirling delicate detailing over the collar  it was heavy to being made out of a heavy velvet material you were happy there wasn't any running you'd collapse in minuets.

"Th-thanks...Its heavier then I remember..." Joey smiled admiring the look."You look brilliant! Look Henry is speechless!" Henry swallowed  dryly. Fuck you looked quickly then turned away... Wow... His fantasy was nothing compared to you here in full costume... Henry shook his head remembering every detail to recall later.

"Y-you look...Better then I imagined! It-she....Your..." you flushed a little and moved past him to your seat wanting to sit down and calm yourself being in costume had brought it home you were doing this...You were going to actually be in witcher as a cast member!. You sat down taking a deep breath. You could feel the anxiety .Shit. Kal popped his head out from under Henry and glanced up at you he was still sulking.

"What puppy?! I'm sorry...I know Holly is so mean huh? making you jump down like that" He huffed again ears twitching then he heaved himself up again and sat before you tapping you with a large paw, you smoothed your hands across him somehow just petting the gentle boy was calming you down. Henry and Joey exchanged looks Kal must be picking up on your nerves.

"Yes oh I know... But don't worry we can have cuddles after okay?" You said calming considerably as you spoke to him. Henry chuckled at the exchange and Joey piped up.

"Is he being a grumpy boy?" Henry tilted his head.

"No a needy boy I think... he has got a new favorite snuggle buddy" you blushed at that and soon Kal laid down out of petting distance. All three of you were nearly done...Well you were done, you hadn't until now seen the whole get up together wardrobe and hair and make up had been separate until now. You quickly glanced up and froze wow...This new wig was definitely better now, you felt... you didn't know it was completely strange seeing someone different staring back at you in the mirror.

"Wow....Thats-this is crazy..." you leaned in turning your head this way and that moving your hand slowly to your face, Henry smiled at you.

"Yes...It's always strange the first time in character..." you nodded to him dumbly still inspecting yourself moving to run your fingers threw you 'hair'

"So fucking weird"

"And about to get a whole lot weirder! time for these bad boys~" you whined at Holly as you watched her wave the slim box holing your contacts.

"Oh? please tell me she isn't getting blue? I love the green!"Joey protest was flattering as he and Henry came closer wanting to see, you stood awkwardly twisting your hands in the sleeves of your costume. Henry smiled opening your box peeking at the color

"Hey...They're going to look amazing! Tink’s you get green look!" Joey leaned over and smiled

"Yeah and they have that nice dark ring around the outside to! really going to pop...Well come on girl get them in we have what ten minuets?" he directed his question to Holly who giggled nodding. You gulped looking at the small colored discs warily...

"How? I've never...They're safe right? wont get stuck of something?" Henry seeing another opportunity to bond with you jumped up collecting his own contacts box Joey took a step back so you could et closer and watch Henry's lesson smirking knowingly as a stupid uncharacteristic grin spread across 'Geralt's' face.

"Here look its fine...Just hold it like this...And pinch it if it folds like this..see? Like that...Then its okay if it curls out and has a lip then its inside out." You watched as he gave you a quick glance.

"I-Inside out? wh-what happens if that happens?" Henry quickly tried reassuring you.

"No! its not-it will just be uncomfortable...Nothing bad will happen or anything its just irritable....Right pick yours up like I’m doing...That's it!...See...Then hold open your eye and....Just try and pop it in...You can do it looking down or up which ever is comfy, I'm used to it so can do it standing up right....And if it moved like mine just has...Typical! just look around and....There see! easy!" Henry explained his contacts lesson well, it did seem simple he let you watch as he placed in the other contact explaining once again how to put them in as he did. You watched intently blushing each time he moved in closer so you could see.

"O-okay...So just press it and it will stick?" he nodded and you bit your lip 'come on girl...that's it just like when you do liquid eyeliner stab your eyeball with it!' you looked to you mirror and began to poke your eyes with Henry and joey watching closely commenting as you did so. One Joey pep-talk and eighteen tries later you finally got them in with a tiny round of applause ,It was actually pretty cool, your eyes popped a really bright and had a dark ring that made your iris a little larger adding to the ethereal atheistic.

The three of you made your way out of the trailer as Geralt ,Jaskier and keira. You took a deep breath when you saw the cameras and lighting as you walked onto set.

"Fuck...shit, shit, shit" Henry and Joey slowed walking beside you patting your back. Henry wrapped an arm around you making sure you didn't bolt which you looked ready to any second, had you not been so panicked you would have clammed up under his heavy arm but it wasn’t on the top of your list of things to worry about right now. Joey followed suit holding you around your back squishing you between them and smiled down at you directing you to the frightening amount of people milling about doing various jobs.

you’d seen it all before but being behind the scenes was completely different to being in front of the camera you slowed until you was barley moving at all.

"Come on Tink’s" with his prompting Joey had in fact sped you up a little, he was stronger then he looked. You took deep breaths trying not to freak out as everyone turned looking at the new comer.

"Th-thats a lot of people.." Joey and Henry hummed in agreement

"Well its a big deal...you've been cherry picked from the assistants Tink's word has got around but everyone wants a peek.." Joey cheerful as ever chuckled into your hair as they got closer to Tomasz who was waiting for you all.

It  was when you saw the director that you really freaked trying to turn around but they two men grunted

"Oh no you don't...Come on your fine"

"I forgot my lines" Henry scoffed

"That fine we memorized them for you to, besides why do you think Tomasz made you do improv?"

"O-okay....I need the bathroom" Joey giggled still helping guide you into the huge makeshift banquet hall

"No you don't its nerves" you shook as they continued ushering you out in front of the crew

"I'm going to be sick" Henry chuckled as bad as it was he couldn't help thinking you looked pretty cute panicking like this trying desperately to find a way to run off and hide.

"Again that’s nerves just breath...We wont let anything happen okay? just take a deep breath...Good now out your going to be fine" you did as he had said to focused on the upcoming filming to even squeal about him looking out for you.

Finally you stopped in front of Tomasz who smiled at you kindly.

"Wow...Look at you! perfect! absolutely perfect! Ready?" You shook your head looking around it felt like everyone involved in the projects was hear to see the stand in.

"No...Not really" he laughed and shook his head at you...You were serious....didn't he think you were serious you fucking was! You didn't know whether you needed to be sick, panic ,cry or use the bathroom.

"...Why are there so many people?" He eyed the crowd

"Well you did pull this whole production from the brink of collapse...They are bound to want to see to woman who has stepped up...I'm sure everyone has told you already but this is a big deal...I don't think I have heard of someone completely untrained taking a role like this. Any way enough chit chat lets get to work shall we?" you were shaking in Keira's boots but...By way the two men still had you stuck firmly between them he knew you'd have all the support you needed, once you started it would be fine.

"Trust me you’ll do fine" he turned with a huge grin

"Places everyone! Remember camera four you start now from the top a sweeping motion left you right? good!" You gulped stomach dropping soon Henry and Joey are moving to their cue's leaving you with one final squeeze and your left on your own wondering. How the fuck did this happen again?.

You took a breath closing your eyes tight looking down collecting yourself pulling a more confident catty seductive woman from within. Unbeknown to you a hush fell over the scene as you did everyone holding their breath waiting to see if you could pull this off.

Joey smiled from beside Henry and said something but Henry didn't even hear what the man had to say, he just smirked entranced as he watched you transform before everyone about to prove to yourself and everyone in the room you could do this. Its what you did last time you closed your eyes and when you opened them you wasn't there anymore.

For anyone who understood what it was, it was incredible to watch everything changed your posture , your aura, your presence felt heavy and playful he could feel it from way over here. When your eyes opened you was a completely different person you could feel it here and now there was no y/n; you was Keira through and through. then with a slow count down the scene began.

"ACTION" you smirked holding your head high. Here we go!

[kimistorm]

It's All a Little Strange || Chapter 5 (Dr. Strange x Reader)

You yawned and made your way through Kamar-Taj. You had just come from an overnight shift and even though it was just starting to get bright, you were already tired. You were on your way to your room to change out of your scrubs when you passed by a certain dark-haired man, “Strange!” you yelled at him and his head perked up at the sound of his name. You waved a hand and he noticed you, “meet you at the courtyard when you can!” he gave you a thumbs up to show he heard it and you continued on your way.

Once you were safely in your room, you changed out of your scrubs and pulled on the layers of blue and green fabric. You then changed your sneakers for the leather boots that were a part of your outfit. You tightened a belt here, straightened the shirt there and you exited your room and back out to the clearing.

“Mordo wants to spar with you later.” You explained when Strange entered the clearing in the courtyard. You didn’t wait long until he showed up. “So, I’m going to help walk you through it before you face him.” The air around you crinkled into reflective fractals as the mirror realm made itself known. “That way, you won’t be completely obliterated.” You added smugly and walked into the mirror realm.

“How’s Christine?” he asked when he entered the mirror realm.

“Really?” you asked in exasperation and placed a hand on your hip, “I’m about to teach you how to spar and you ask me how Christine is?”

“She hasn’t answered my email.” He explained.

“She’s fine.” You frowned, “she’s justified for ignoring you.” You drew out a glowing blue shield in your hand and ran straight at Strange who just barely managed to dodge out of the way. “Always be prepared.” You tsked and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into your weapon of choice. An icy chakram. Typically you wielded two, but you figured you’d go easy on Strange. Just for the warm up. You ran at him again with your chakram coming around to land a solid hit.

“What am I supposed to do?” he cried out in a panic and dodged your weapon.

“Conjure a weapon,” you sliced at him, “a shield,” you sliced at him again, “or, just dodge them all.” He ducked under a third slice and you dropped to the ground. You placed your free hand on the ground and swiped your legs at his legs and caused him to topple to the ground. You jumped back onto your feet and lightly placed a booted foot on his chest. “I win.” You stepped off of him and walked away as he scrambled up to his feet.

“That wasn’t fair, I didn’t have a weapon.” He protested.

“Not everything will be fair.” You chastised and dismissed your chakram. You turned back to look at him, “do you know how to summon a weapon?”

“Not something like that.” He gestured to where your chakram was and shook his head.

“I wasn’t asking if you could summon a chakram,” you turned fully to him and crossed your arms across your chest, “I was asking if you could summon a weapon.” After a moment of him looking at you dubiously you continued, “have you figured out how to use a spell? A whip? Have you been attending the classes at all?”

“Of course I have.” He retorted and pulled his hands apart while summoning strings of bright red energy in between.

“There you go.” You smiled. “Again!” you summoned your ice chakram again and ran at him again. You did the same moves as you did before but this time he blocked your slices with the strings of energy. When you went down to swipe his feet out from under him he jumped above it and onto you. You transformed the chakram into a shield and held it above you to keep Strange from getting any closer than an arms length from you. “Better.” You nodded. You brought one hand away from the shield and then shoved it at the shield. The shield burst out with a burst of air and Strange was thrown off of you as you jumped up to your feet.

“Mordo likes to use the Staff of the Living Tribunal.” You explained and drew out a glowing red staff in the air.

“The Staff of the Living Tribunal?” Strange questioned and looked at you in confusion.

“I’m sure he’ll explain it to you.” You dismissed his question, “for now. Make sure you can counter these attacks.” You ran at him again with the staff raised above your head for a downward strike. You whirled around him last moment and prodded his shoulder with the staff. The two of you continued this dance of you giving light (or not so light) jabs everywhere on Strange’s body while he valiantly tried to block the hits. One good hit to the back of his knees and he fell to the ground.

“Do you know how to make a shield?” you questioned and dismissed the staff to imply to Strange that you weren’t going to attack him again. He got back up and dismissed the strings of energy as well.

“No.” Strange shook his head.

“That’s really no surprise, shields are much harder to conjure than weapons.” You agreed.

“Why?” Strange asked.

“Summon your weapon.” You nodded to him and he complied. “Now notice this,” you got close to Strange and pointed to the strings of energy, “your weapon is very wild. Flicks of it are going here, there, everywhere. It disappears here, but reappears here.” You stepped back and made eye contact with Strange, “you don’t need to have perfect control over the other dimensions to create your weapon.”

You drew out a circle for a shield and grabbed it. When it came into contact with your hand intricate patterns of arcs and circles appeared within the circle to form a solid shield. “This requires more focus.” Strange carefully scrutinized the glowing blue shield in your hand. “Notice the lack of flickering within the shape and the lack of sparks flying off of it.”

“It’s a different material.” Strange observed the different color from the standard red.

“Yes.” You agreed, “I like this material, but it’s also a different way to form a shield. This way is one of the slower ways. However, this way proves its own advantages. It’s a little less complicated, and it’s much easier to transform from a shield,” you flicked your wrist and spikes protruded from the edge, “to this chakram. Of course, it’s a matter of personal taste.” You dismissed the chakram and it dissolved into blue and white flakes, “you can do it with the red interdimensional matter.” This time you stuck your hands out and twisted them around with a few dynamic movements and two shields appeared in your hands. “Even with it being the same material as your weapon.” You gestured to Strange, “it doesn’t shed sparks.”

“And this is all because you have better control over the matter?” Strange clarified and examined the shield in your hand.

“Yes and no.” You shrugged, “the nature of the shield is also not one where it sheds sparks. Look at the Ancient One, she has extreme control over interdimensional matter, but the portals she creates still sheds sparks. But, her control over the matter allows her to create the shield. Does that make sense?” you questioned.

Strange nodded, “because of her control, she can summon a shield.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, “look at it like a requirement. You need to possess a certain level of control to create the shield.”

“And you can form this into a chakram?” Strange questioned and backed up a bit so he wouldn’t get his head chopped off when you transformed the shield.

“Correct.” You confirmed and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into a chakram. “Would you like to learn how to do this?” you questioned.

“Teach me.” Strange demanded.

✯✯✯

The two of you had been practicing for quite awhile. Strange was obviously getting frustrated and you were finding it hard to be patient. “It’s my hands!” Strange cried out and held out his trembling hands, “they can’t control it.”

“It is not your hands.” You snapped, “you’ve seen Master Hamir. He can form a shield no problem. He has even more control over interdimensional matter than me.”

“Yes, but his arms are stable.” Strange retorted exasperatedly, “mine shake!”

“This isn’t a physical thing Strange.” You shook your head, “think of it as your astral projection is controlling the matter.”

“How does that even work?” he asked incredulously.

You were finding it harder and harder to deal with his frustration and endless questions, “it just does okay?” you nearly shouted at him, “try thinking about it like this. Your astral projection is unaffected by your damaged nerves in the physical realm. Therefore, you can’t chalk up your inability to do this because of your shaking hands.”

“But-”

“The Ancient One proved you wrong did she not?” you shouted, “your shaking hands had nothing to do with your inability to create a portal! I already explained to you that it’s very difficult to make a shield, it took you a long time to even figure out how to pull matter from another dimension, you can’t expect that you’ll be able to figure out how to form a shield in less time!” you took a deep breath and walked away from Strange.

“(l/n)-”

“Give me a second Strange.” You forced through your teeth. You took more deep breaths and tried to walk off your frustration and anger. You then decided to sit down and try some meditation. So that’s what you did. You sat down on the cold stone, closed your eyes, and counted your breaths. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. Your anger quickly dissolved into fatigue as the stress and exertion that you’ve been placing upon yourself for the past few days. You tried to stay awake, but your eyes were already closed and you felt yourself fall asleep.

Strange noticed you sway a bit before you fell forwards as you drifted out of consciousness. He rushed forward and caught you before your face collided with the rough stone. He fixed his hold on you and then picked you up bridal style while your head lolled about. You were completely out of it. He gazed down at your sleeping face. Your (e/c) eyes were unseeing to the world around you and your (h/c) hair splayed out neatly in his arms.

He didn’t know where your room was; you never showed him. So he decided to bring you to his room. He attempted to hold his hand out while the other made a circle to the portal and surprisingly enough, it worked. The portal opened up directly into his room. He entered through the flickering circle out of the mirror dimension and into his room where he laid you on his bed. You curled up on yourself like you were cold and he pulled the blankets over you.

“What have you been doing?” he murmured to himself and sat in a chair and opened one of the new books Wong had given him, “sure hope you didn’t do that at the hospital.”

Masterlist

[idmakeitbehave]

This I Know {Spencer x Reader}

Chapter Four

masterlist

series table of contents

summary: a little backstory, a little panic- all in a day’s work

word count: 1.6k

July 2004

“Remind me why the hell we decided to do this in the middle of the summer? I swear it has got to be the hottest day of the year,” you grunted, sweat dripping down your back as you weaved through the hurdles.

“Crime waits for no one,” Mia huffed as she ran alongside you. “Besides, we need to beat Gomez and his squad. Show those boys who’s boss.” 

“I already beat him in hand to hand, what more could he want?”

“I think he needs a little more ass-kicking, take him down a peg,” she said.

A whistle sounded across the yard. “Ladies! Less chit-chat, more laps.”

You exchanged a look with Mia before dashing off to the track, her not far behind you. 

You were halfway through your tactical training at the Academy, and while it was the most difficult thing you had ever done, you had never been more motivated. After finishing your second degree, this one in Behavioral Psychology, you had been trying to plan your next move when you had seen them. There was a killer on the loose a town away from you, one with a penchant for young college students and ritualistic staging. You had been following the murders via the news, simultaneously worried for your own safety and fascinated by the case. A press conference caught your eye where you learned that the BAU was in town- the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had heard of them of course, who in your field hadn’t? But it wasn’t until you attended a seminar a few months later by the man you had seen on the news, Jason Gideon, that you knew. This was what you were meant to do. You made it your life’s mission to get on that unit, whatever it took. 

Mia was one of the first classmates you met at the Academy, and the two of you had become friends almost instantly. You were paired up for one of the first drills, and you had both reveled in the fact of being the only all-female team to make it through. Your shared drive- that and your love for baking, musicals, and all things ghost related- had bonded you from that moment on. You couldn’t imagine life without her. 

You made it back to the dorm with Mia after a grueling day of defensive drills and scenarios, both drained. Flopping onto the floor beside you, she let out an exhale. “What. the. hell.”

You smirked at the way she had her arm dramatically across her forehead, her legs sticking up on the side of her bed. The feeling was completely mutual.

She propped herself up on her elbow, wiping her hair out of her face. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Obviously, Mee.” 

“You don’t look exhausted. You look… psychotic,” she said.

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “If you’re trying to profile me, I think you might be way off.” 

“Hey now,” Mia snickered, kicking you lightly in the shin. “You’re the one who wants to be a profiler. I just want to be on the good old goon squad, busting down doors and shit. I don’t need to know anything about that psychosis crap. But either way you look psychotic.”

You looked down at your sweaty outfit, covered with grass, mud, and other various stains from the day. There was a tear in your pants from when you had tackled the mock-unsub and single-handedly taken him down during a drill, much to Gomez’s dismay. You could feel your hair matted with mud from the takedown, and you saw yourself through Mia’s eyes. The bright smile on your face definitely didn’t match just how beat up and worn out you looked, but you couldn’t seem to keep it off your face. 

“I’m just happy, Mee. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.” 

“You’re gonna do great things, buttercup.” Mia lifted a fist out to you, dramatically sighing with the effort. 

You bumped it with yours, that same grin still on your face. “We both are.”

—————

Present Day

You pressed yourself into the corner of your room, arms wrapped tightly around your legs. You could feel a panic attack coming on- your breath was coming out ragged and your vision was blurring. The events of the past few days had finally caught up to you. The compartmentalization that you so often used when things went wrong was failing you. This was just too much, more wild than you had ever had to deal with before.

What was real? Did you even know anymore? More to the point- would you ever know? The possibility that you might never remember threatened to suffocate you.

Spencer came back into the room, taking one look at you and dropping to the floor beside you. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

You started to shake, your chest heaving as you sobbed. “I can’t breathe, Spence. I-I can’t breathe. It hurts.” Hot tears ran down your face and you felt a warm hand on your cheek. 

Spencer whispered your name at first before repeating it more forcefully, turning your face towards him. “Look at me.” 

You were looking right at Spencer, but it was hard to make out his features, your vision still swimming. “It hurts,” you whispered, still gasping for air.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Spencer murmured. “You’re safe, you’re here in our apartment. You’re with me.” He meant well, of course he did, and you were sure that he had used the same words to ground you before, but given the current circumstances, it did little to help you. 

“I-I don’t know you,” you cried, the thought just serving to panic you more. “I don’t know anything.” 

A look of anguish flashed through his eyes, but he concealed it quickly- too quickly for it to be anything but forced, practiced even. “Can you breathe with me? Take a deep breath.” He counted to five, breathing in deeply and motioning for you to do the same. 

You took a shaky breath, your hand gripping the one that Spencer held on your face. You were squeezing it so hard that you were sure he must be in pain, but he made no move to remove his hand from your grasp. He repeated the breaths in and out, and you mirrored him as you tried to control your breathing. 

Spencer wiped the tears from your face as you hiccuped, choking back a sob. “What do you need?”

“I need space,” you gasped, “I need Mee.” 

Spencer nodded, handing you your phone from the bedside table. “Take another breath, angel. Call her. I’ll be right outside.” 

You grabbed your phone from him and nodded your thanks, your breaths slowly becoming steady. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before heading towards the bedroom door. You smiled weakly as he closed the door before dialing a number you had known by heart for the last six years.

“Oh buttercup, I’m so glad to hear from you.” The familiar voice on the other end was so immediately comforting, you heaved a sigh of relief, your arms finally relaxing around your legs.

“Mee,” you cried. “Mee, thank god.” 

“Spencer told me what happened, I was so worried about you. I’m sorry I haven’t called, I wanted to give you your space until you were ready. How are you doing?” 

“You know Spencer?” 

You hadn’t even considered the possibility, these two worlds colliding. They felt like entirely different universes. This somehow made it seem more real. If Mia knew Spencer, it was real. You desperately wanted it to be real. You needed it to be.

Mia let out a sad laugh. “Of course. You haven’t stopped talking about that boy since the day you met him. I had to meet him to give my approval, obviously.”

“Oh Mee, it’s so good to hear your voice. I can’t believe this is happening. What the hell is happening?!” You paused, considering the distance of the past two years. “We’re still friends, right? We still talk? I will never forgive myself if we’re not still friends.”

She scoffed. “Hey now, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I’m still in the LA field office though, so we don’t see each other very often. But we talk on the phone at least every week. And we visit when we can- I met Spencer one of my first trips out there, right after you started dating.” 

“God. I wish- I wish I remembered anything.”

What had it been like- two of your favorite people meeting? You liked to imagine that it was wonderful, that Mia and Spencer had gotten along straight away. What if you never knew?

“I know, it’s gotta be a lot. I can’t even begin to imagine. But hey- Spencer said you were being your usual badass self when it happened. Not that that surprises me in the least.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but we all know you’re a badass. Always have been.”

It only took a few minutes of talking with Mia for you to be able to calm down completely. The two of you talked for the better part of an hour, laughing over tales of the Academy and your time together. Mia told you a little bit about what had been happening the last two years, but you were grateful that she kept bringing it back to a time you remembered- a time you knew. The comfort of talking to someone you knew, someone you actually, truly knew, was like no other. You could have cried from the sheer relief of it. 

There was a pause before you spoke again. “Mee? Am I happy? Here, with Spencer? In this life?”

The laugh on the other end was joyous. “Of course, buttercup. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier- even that time you kicked Gomez’s ass.” 

 “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”-Jane Austen

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Taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @illuxions-x​ @cal-ifornication​ :)

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.7

DISCLAIMER: Anything said about the Warrens in this work of fiction is not fact and more of an opinion. Not a skeptic just not a fan of their protocols and practices. I am not accusing the Warrens of anything in this work nor am I stating to know what actually happened in any of their cases. If you want to form your own opinion the podcast And That's Why We Drink has done multiple segments on their case files and given multiple reasoning for certain aspect of the cases.

If you didn't care that's fine I'm just trying not to get a defamation case.

Finding yourself lost to the humdrum of another by gone weekend and in the midst of a dull Monday morning is where most people start praying for some excitement. But when the excitement is debating the possibility of a stalker, you'd gladly take another lack luster week than deal with this bullshit.

And debating the possibility is the wrong thing to say. It's more accurate to say you've been contemplating what the proper steps to take in this situation are. Going to the police, or rather the Sheriff, is out because of how fucking useless they are when there's not a suspect present or Blue's Clue style trails for them to follow like breadcrumbs.

While David's surprising reappearance does stick out, you have no evidence to pin this to him. Then with all your knowledge on true crime and the likely hood of suspects it tends to be the first one who you've encountered in the stories. And that would point to Tim since you met him right before these shenanigans started but you were with him last night at the mini mart and even lost those fifty minutes together. So, there's no possible way Tim broke into your home and placed a book on your coffee table.

Then there's the issue of the book. You noticed it missing instantly because Toby had taken something from its shelf that you then went to put back. But it gets placed on your coffee table after you left, but not after you left the first time to take Toby home. Which was before you'd even notice the book gone. They were watching you, and knew you saw the book missing. You had to figure out how they were watching you. In case it was cameras you had changed in the dark of your closet today. And thankfully you've had practice showering in the dark before.

You really need more proof that you are being stalked and soon. The sooner you get that the sooner you can involve Big Jo. You'd thought on this all of yesterday on what you'd do and who you'd ask for help and the Cowells seem like your best bet in terms of stopping the stalker. Though that's only after you have proof. While Big Jo will help you out in a heartbeat you know it's more of a save his own skin down the line type of help and not out of the kindness of his heart, without proof he'd only humor you for a little bit. Not to mention if the stalker knows you're on to them at this point they could stop making it obvious, they'd get stricter with themselves, leave less evidence of their presence behind. Meaning it'd take longer to to get proof to catch them and even longer for you to feel comfortable.

Which is why you shoved away the idea of couch surfing until this blows over. If they were watching you at your house what would stop them from following you somewhere else. And if that happened and your friends got targeted or hurt you don't know how you'd live with yourself knowing you brought that to them. Or the other alternative of the stalker psychologically fucking with you and making you look crazy to your support system in this town before ultimately taking you down.

An even bigger reason as to why you suspect David. He'd been the first to start talking about Bambi's “wanderlust” before she disappeared. She'd laugh it off when people commented on it, but never really made mention of wanting to leave. He got it into everyone's heads that she wanted to get out of Kepler. To travel yeah, but she loved this town, she said it was home, she'd never leave without saying something.

When you came into town she'd been your first friend in years. You'll be the first to admit that you latched on to her but she quickly got you out making more friends with the residents. And even when you started hanging out with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby off planning events and deep diving for obscure movies for Saturday Night Dead she'd still talk with you everyday while she worked.

You really miss her.

Even if it wasn't David behind this, if this stalker was the person behind whatever happened to Bambi, you'd catch them. Not for peace of mind but so she'd have justice. It's what she deserves.

“uugggggggggh” you're pulling out your hair as you lay face down on the counter.

“I've never read The Book Thief but I didn't think it was supposed to be a frustrating book.” Nate says as he stops his dusting of the shelves.

You'd been “reading” the book your stalker left for you to find. Hoping you'd find a clue somewhere within it's pages to point to a suspect. But you've combed every page and not even the slightest mark had been left.

“Sorry I...I just have a lot of thoughts right now.” You say looking up through your arms that are now draped over your head.

“Want to talk?”

“Not now.”

The concern and uncertainty behind his gray eyes gives away his skepticism.

“Well, I'm here if you need.” a gentle reminder.

“I know and I appreciate it!”

Nate returns to his cleaning, sometimes it's like he was programmed to be productive. Most times actually. And you turn back to your book, having found no clues you decide to actually read through it. After all it is one of your favorites and maybe it will serve as a distraction from this whole mess. Help you calm down some.

An hour into your reading you're so engrossed in the story you hardly notice when the bell rings signaling the entry of a customer. If it wasn't for Nate calling out you'd have missed them completely.

“Hey welcome to Book & Nook.” the sound of his voice bombing through the quiet store front, startling you.

You look up at the right moment to catch sight of a furry black and brown rear going down an isle. Connor! Oh wait don't get too excited he has to be on duty to be here.

Now knowing that Brian has a need for the service dog too, you decide to wait and see who has Connor today. If it's Toby you could have a nice chat but if it's Brian you could be polite. Maybe thank him for helping with your episode the other night. Discretely of course, Nate would worry if he knew you had a panic attack. He'd probably assume it was due to the stress of the previous week and might force you to take some time to yourself. And that's the last thing you'd need if you were being stalked.

You really need to come up with an action plan. Keeping in mind that the stalker may not leave clues or escalate for a while it's probably best if you start getting active around town. Planting your roots deep and saying “hey I'm not going anywhere willingly”, but like subtly, y'know. Maybe start making habits about obsessively getting receipts even for packs of gum so if the last person who sees you is a cashier maybe they'd remember the strange interaction and might be able to help police find your body quicker.

God why does this all have to be so frustrating? And why you? Who stalks the mentally ill person who does nothing put listen to horror podcast and watch paranormal and true crime shows? Do they want to be harmed? Do they want to get caught. Oh for fuck's sake, that's another rabbit hole of possibilities.

You could've ignored the chime of the bell, but you most certainly couldn't ignore the boisterous voice that rang through the store. A welcomed distraction from your current mental struggle.

“What's up bros and non binary hoes?” Jake walks through the store like he owns the place, carrying a picnic basket over to the counter. As much of a Chad move it is Jake's a really nice guy he just has too much natural swagger in everything he does. It's probably the snow boarding showman in him.

“Jakey!” A very much welcomed distraction. Jake can always cheer you up with his “rad” antics and laissez faire attitude.

“What are you doing here?” while some of the stunt crew occasionally comes in for a book or to chat with you during your shift. Jake's never been one of them. You want to make the joke that the guy never learned to read but you've seen him actually read the manual that came with the new heater they got installed at the lodge. More of a practical reader than a for funsies reader.

“Sup YN, came to show you the picnic set ups that got in.” he places the basket on the counter and his hands give a jazzy effect for emphasis. What a dork.

“You missed the reveal at Saturday Night Dead, so I thought I'd stop by and let you see the final product before we finalize everything next week. After all 'Pride Picnic' was your idea, makes since that you should get the final say.”

With all the excitement of the past week you'd forgotten that it was already June. And you all had been planning a picnic for pride instead of a parade this year. So, and to quote yourself here, “Even the quiet queers can celebrate.” You guys had been planning this practically since you met. Seeing as you'd pretty much solidified a spot in Kepler's LGBTQIA+ community and planning committee. Really it was just the usual suspects for Saturday Night Dead; The Hornets, Hollis, Jake, and Kirby. But The Hornets, Hollis, and Jake were the extroverted types so when you mentioned a picnic to include the introverts or even the closeted of the community Kirby jumped at the idea before they could argue. Which they hadn't, everyone had been psyched for a change of event and for something that was more of a big block party than a traffic jam for the small town.

“Well?” you ask with anticipation nearly killing you.

Jake can't help his excited huffed laughter, kind of sounds like the 'boof' of a dog. And in one grand motion he opens the wicker basket revealing the lovely Pride set. It was a typical eight person set including stackable cups, forks, spoons, knives, flatware, and even bowls. One of item of each was assigned a color, going through the rainbow from pink all the way down to violet. It'd been a bit of a battle for Hollis to get the manufacturer to include pink and violet for some reason but they'd managed to persuade them enough. Probably pulled the influencer card and the company's marketing team caved instantly. But it got done, so yay to sell outs. One thing that'd been unanimously agreed on was having the modern flag incorporated. Which when you pulled out the thick durable blanket, was a vision that you couldn't have ever dreamed up. It wasn't a flimsy cover that was so thin that you could see through, but it wasn't the rough texture that most thicker blankets tend to have. And it was ginormous. But then again the basket was supposed to fit eight people per. Meaning the blankets would have to be eight person as well.

“Dude it's perfect.” you really didn't need to say anything, Jake could see your excitement from the stimming sway you were currently doing. But you took no notice of your stim as you stared in aww at the basket before you.

“Are non committee members allowed to see?” Why even ask when you're already craning your neck for a peak.

You and Jake share a look before rolling your eyes and waving Nate on over to inspect the Pride Picnic box.

“Woah you guys did great on this.” Nate says as he undoes the wrap around the cups to give one a tap. When it gives the tap tap that only ceramics make he nods in approval at the quality.

“Hollis was the lesion with the manufacturer so it was in our favor from the start.” Jake responds, not only were these baskets ordered at a heavily discounted rate due to bulk buying but add on the influencer discount and yea it pays to be an extreme sports streamer. So the man was allowed to be proud of his partner.

“Blankets don't leave a lot of room for food though.” you note with a pout.

“Yea we noticed that Saturday too,” you may have been pouting but Jake looks like a whole kicked puppy. “But we have an idea for that...at least for the picnic.” wow human labradors bounce back fast.

“Everyone brainstormed and we thought doing like a potluck style picnic for sides and deserts, then Barclay said he'd take care of main dishes.” That did sound like a good idea but with the turn out you were expecting you weren't sure. Especially with the time frame being two weeks. It's such short notice.

“Jakey, we're talking like block party amount of people, maybe like half the town max here...won't that be too much for him?” He'd already donated so much for you to even be able to order all these baskets since this wasn't a city sanctioned event. Sure everyone in the committee chipped in for a basket each or in some cases splitting one, but the majority of funds came from Barclay even if he said it'd be a donation from the lodge to add catering to his plate it was all too much.

“He'll be fine, he offered. And you haven't seen the lodge in the winter. Barc's used to it.” despite his confidence in the mountain of a cook, you think you'd stop by the lodge this week and offer a hand.

Nate and Jake get side tracked on discussing the details of the picnic while you struggle to fold the huge blanket. Having to step outside of the counter to get better leverage. When two large hands come from either side of the blanket and stretch it more. Jumping back from the blanket like it burned you. Amused hazel eyes meet yours as the blanket lowers until you can make out Brian's grinning face, your pretty sure that's the most genuine look he's had.

“Sorry, looked like you needed some help.” he's still grinning and while it isn't mean spirited, the lack of any sheepishness let's you know he's not really sorry. He'd been trying to at least give you a little scare, the fuck boy.

“Hey...ya thanks.” you say making to grab the bottom of the blanket and lift it up.

The two of you fold the blanket back up in no time with a weird synchronization for two people who never said a word. You just followed his lead and in no time the blanket was placed on the counter by Brian. Nate and Jake lost in conversation on the other side of the store, from what you can hear Nate's telling Jake about the faucet in the backroom that won't stop leaking and Jake offered to help.

“Mind if I have a look?” cocking his head towards the basket.

“Oh go ahead.” You don't see any harm in letting him have a look, if he was a homophobic dick who'd trash the box it wouldn't make sense that he gave you a ride. Or help you fold a pride flag picnic blanket up.

Thinking back on it he knew a proper gender neutral substitute. Even if he wasn't an ally in the sense of actively participating with the queer community he was in the sense of his awareness and knowledge. You've already extended an offer to Tim maybe Brian would appreciate one too.

“We'll be having a Pride Picnic this year in place of a Parade. Anyone for it is welcome to come.”

“Yea I think I heard talk of a potluck, right?”

“mmhmm” just as you go to nod your tic kicks in and your neck snaps left then right, “Barclay, he runs the Amnesty Lodge, he'll be cooking the main dishes. From what I hear we'll have most dietary restrictions covered.” Brian's brow furrows a bit as he tilts his head to look at you, before he straightens it back.

“That's right you haven't been here long.” he says it stoically and more to himself.

A comment like that should send your mind racing with thoughts of you stalker, but Toby could've just as easily mentioned it. Brian seems lost in thought after this and you take the time to look elsewhere, and see Connor who's sitting at Brian's side staring up at him.

Mindlessly you start to push your thumb into your palm with the other fingers on that hand rhythmically. Brian has Connor, and Toby said it was for seizures. Is it rude to ask how he's doing right now? You two have only spoken once, sure he helped get you to work and home but you'd argue that Toby did most of the work in both those cases. Not to mention you'd had breakfast with Toby and got to actually have a conversation and learn about him. You'd maybe said seven sentences to Brian since meeting him. It would definitely be weird to ask if he was ok.

“You ok there su- YN?” you note he did correct himself from calling you 'sugar'.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you look up confused at him.

“Uh...yea why?”

“Your hand.”

Looking to see what he's talking about you see you've just been pressing your thumb into your palm fingers dancing along in a rhythm you've long since forgotten the origin of. Cracking you thumb a few times and flexing your fingers you look back to Brian.

“Sorry just thinking, that happens sometimes.” you interrupt the silence before it has a chance to settle, “So...yea...everyone's welcome to the Picnic. Dogs too on or off duty. It's next Sunday just show up to Amnesty Lodge at like ten thirty in the morning and then everyone's hiking on over to the Archway. It's a great clearing and big enough to hold everyone.”

“I'll talk ta the boys 'n see what they think.”

“Ok cool cool, and when I said next Sunday I did mean next Sunday,”

“And not this one, gotcha.” You give him a smile which he returns.

Maybe this fuck boy look a like wasn't so bad...or he was just used to Toby's masked expressions. Still too soon to tell, he might still turn out to be a fuck boy in personality too.

“Do I check out here or...” you've only just noticed the four books on the counter.

“Oh yeah sure thing.”

Once you're behind the counter you have a clear view of the books that Brian's brought over Ghost an American History of Haunted Locations, Bell Dame, Deer from Hunt to Table, and lastly the first book in the Magnus Chase series. Odd collection but you yourself would read three out of four of them so you really can't say much.

“Oh have you read Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles?” making small talk isn't your strong suit but if you can find a fellow Riordan fan you'll make the attempt.

“What? Oh, oh nah, these are for Toby. He's working right now but wanted me to pick some new books up for him.” you make a note to try to talk to Toby about the series in the future. If he is a Riordan fan you can't wait for him to get to the Trials of Apollo series. “But 'e's read Percy Jackson, so is this next?”

This man has no idea the can of worms he just unleashed upon himself.

“No. Now has he read just the Percy Jackson series, or has he also read The Heroes of Olympus books?” He stares blankly at you.

“He's read whatever Percy Jackson was in the title of.”

“Ok, c'mon.” swiping Magnus Chase from the counter you make your way to the fiction YA section. Placing the book on the empty spot it came from you glance the shelves before finding The Lost Hero.

“This would be next, there are five in this series,” you pass the book off to Brian so you can point back to the shelf, “Then he'll have the Kane Chronicles, Magnus Chase, and Trials of Apollo series to look forward to. Book counts in each are three, three, and five.”

“So....Heroes of Olympus,” you nod at his pause, “five books in the series, Kane Chronicles three, Magnus Chase three, and Trials of Apollo five. Got it.”

“If you need help grabbing the next title just get me I've got it memorized from how obsessed with the Riordaverse I am.”

“Big reader?” he asks with a smirk.

“Not at all, just a found a good writer. Toby would probably like Neil Gaiman's work too. Maybe Diana Wynne Jones.”

“I've tried to get 'im to read American Gods but he just won't have it.” well this is awkward.

“I was thinking more Good Omens and Coraline.” Yea so this is a silence. Best make haste. To the counter!

Checking Brian out for the proper next book in the series, plus those other three, you forego the attempt at small talk. However, this is Kepler and you live in the radio quiet zone...the dial up internet doesn't make this a fast check out on your electronic register.

You remember two of the other books had been paranormal, might be worth a shot to bring up Saturday Night Dead in an attempt to stall for the register.

“Did Tim let you guys know about Saturday Night Dead over at the Cryptonomica?”

“Yea, somethin' bout cheesy horror movies right?”

“mmhmm, normally they're the good kind of bad but this week kick starts months of horribly awful kind.” the computer has finally loaded.

“Jeez YN do you want people to come to the show or not.” Jake's laughing so he can't be angry that you're insulting the upcoming movie list.

Scanning the books through you don't look up when you state, “I just have the personal opinion that you shouldn't prey upon low income families and sell their nightmares for profit then run.” you do look up after bagging the books to say, “Allegedly. And your total's thrity-five o'seven.”

“What's the movie?” Brian inserts his card into the chip reader.

“Insidious.” you and Jake said it at the same time, but in two totally different tones.

“Not a fan huh?” smirking bastard, he is a fuck boy you decide.

“The movie's fine, the case file and the people who inspired it are not.”

Brian's removed his card and opens his mouth, probably to egg you on even more when Jake throws in his two cents.

“Yeah yeah YN. Hollis told me all about the powerpoint. How 'bout we save this rage for Saturday. It's only a couple weeks.”

“Jake....there are at least 10 Amityville movies.” That shakes his mood.

“...what?”

“There are three Annebelles, Conjuring, and Insidious movies. Don't forget The Nun, La Llorona, The Haunting in Connecticut, and by the time we finish all those, there could be another Nun movie or The Crooked Man will have come out.” it's so matter of fact and you dare any of them to challenge you on this. Sad thing is you aren't even sure if those make up all the case file movies. But you do know it's a majority of them.

“For someone who hates these people, you sure know their movies.” Nate calls from his stool as he resumes dusting. God damn him and his uncle ways.

“Nah I get it, lay all the facts out so it's easier to see the lies and deceptions.” Brian supplies the other two men. Reaching out for his receipt he smiles down at you...a bit more genuine you note. Like the one you saw earlier. You are on a roll with this guy.

Like a Vespa it hits you. The reason Brian seems so familiar and so frustrating. The reason he gets under your skin with just a look. You should have caught on sooner but you'd paid so much attention, or not enough attention, to everything around you both. Looking at his face you hand him the receipt. It isn't real. He isn't really him. He'd been lying. No not lying, acting.

Just as he crosses the threshold you call out, “Your mask is really fucking irritating!”

Through the windows you see him pause as your words catch up with him, and you watch as he turns to make eye contact with you. He smiles again, and it's a nasty thing. A twisted smile mixed with...not ill intent but definitely not a friendly grin. His hazel eyes have a lively gleam in them. And you understand what that smile means.

The game is so on. Fuck boy.

[raendown]

Another follower milestone gift fic, this one for someone who asked to be identified as anon. ^_^ The prompt word for this is woolage!

Pairing: KakashiSakura Word count: 2273 Rated: T+ Summary: Sakura could really use a taste of her own medicine. No, really, she needed some healing before this concussion made her do something that stopped Kakashi's heart entirely.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

A Rock and a Hard Place

Swaying gently on the rock that served as her stool, Sakura blinked up at him owlishly as though her dazed expression could in any way be half as terrifying as the full force of her usual ire. When he failed to look properly cowed she narrowed her eyes but doing so only seemed to rob her of what little balance was left. Kakashi didn’t bother trying not to laugh when she careened sideways off her perch. 

“Not supposed to laugh at me,” she grumbled. “So rude.” 

“Maa, and you weren’t supposed to leap straight in to the radius of my paper bomb. I think that makes us about even.”

Sakura gave an indelicate snort only to break out in a coughing fit when it sent up a small cloud of dust around her face, mashed in to the dirt as she was now. For a good handful of seconds Kakashi seriously considered being a good person and helping her sit upright. Then he discarded the idea. Watching her deal with the early effects of a concussion while her depleted chakra recovered enough for a bit of healing was so much more entertaining. It wasn’t like she had any other injuries from getting tossed back in to a tree, just a routine bump on the noggin, nothing that any shinobi who’d been on the field for longer than two missions hadn’t suffered through before. 

“It tastes really bad down here,” Sakura told him. 

“Probably because you’re practically eating dirt,” he pointed out helpfully. 

“Oh. Yeah. Hey what happened to my rock?” 

“You must have misplaced it.” Kakashi flopped down on to the rock himself and leaned over his mission partner with one eye turned up in a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you look for it.” 

The gratitude in her eyes when she thanked him for being so nice set him to laughing again. Amazingly, Sakura didn’t even seem to mind. Infamous for her temper as she was, it was a rare opportunity indeed that she let someone laugh at her misfortune without answering their mockery with a swift punch. Kakashi was pretty sure if she tried to throw a punch right now she would be just as likely to find her own face with it.

Shading his eye with a hand, Kakashi made a show of scouring the landscape around them in search of the rock he was currently sitting on. When his search yielded no results he relayed as much to his companion and chuckled as Sakura rolled over to stretch out on her back. 

“It’s not fair,” she grumbled. “Rocks don’t just get up and walk away!” 

“Well, not most of them.”

“Oh! Maybe it was a doton!” 

“Maybe,” Kakashi agreed. 

Did it make him a bad person to wish he got to see her in this kind of state more often? It probably did. He would never wish more harm on her, of course, it was just that seeing her with absolutely no walls around her heart and all inhibitions gone was a very rare treat. Even on the rare occasion she joined her friends for a night of indulging she wasn’t quite this open. Where most people seemed to loosen up with alcohol, Sakura only seemed to make a trade of good balance for more energy without falling victim to the loss of self that led Naruto to confess his love for several different trees in the park near his apartment. 

Really it was good that there was no one else around for Kakashi to justify his actions to. He was fairly sure any of their mutual friends would call him all sorts of unflattering things for enjoying this. 

But really, he would challenge anyone in the world not to be amused at the way Sakura, so famous for her competence and independence, struggled valiantly with the simple task of getting her body upright again. When they made it back to the village he was going to enjoy taking every opportunity possible to laugh about this - where she couldn’t hear him, of course. Kakashi enjoyed a good joke as much as the next man but he also enjoyed keeping his spine inside his body where it belonged and Sakura was more than capable of removing that for him if she was angry enough. 

“Hey, hey, come here.” Waving one hand, Sakura beckoned him with her eyes set somewhere vaguely over his left shoulder. It seemed not only her good sense had been affected by the concussion but her good vision as well. Not an unusual symptom. Kakashi moved to crouch down in front of her as bidden. 

“You called, my lady?”

She laughed a little before nodding. “I think the ground is trying to keep me.”

“Well I certainly can’t blame it for that.”

“Huh?”

“I would try to keep you too if I had you.” 

The way her eyes widened made him chuckle but it was a nervous sound, hopeful that she wouldn’t remember any of this once she was able to heal herself. Sakura hummed thoughtfully. 

“Help me up,” she demanded. 

“Someone’s feeling bossy.” Despite his words he was already holding out one hand even as he spoke. 

It very quickly became clear that more than one hand would be needed to keep her steady as Kakashi hauled her up on to her feet, quite happy but just as ashamed to stand there holding all of her fingers entwined with his own while she swayed dangerously back and forth. He could see the trajectory of her fall when it finally came but watching her face plant against the buckles on his vest was so much funnier than doing anything to catch her. With the careful distance that had always existed between them before he expected her to push away immediately. Maybe to giggle a little considering her almost inebriated state. He certainly didn’t expect her to just stay there and wriggle about until she had freed her face to look up at him with a smile. 

He should have known right there that something was about to happen but even if he’d tried to brace he never would have been able to prepare himself for two hands suddenly winding themselves about his neck as Sakura pulled her face right up close to his own. Kakashi was abruptly extra grateful to his mask for covering any traces of what was surely a very deep blush on his cheeks. 

“I am the boss,” Sakura declared. 

“Maa, if you want to be,” was all he could think to say. His agreement seemed to please her, which she showed by pulling even closer until she was up on her tippy toes. 

“What I say goes!”

Kakashi swallowed, imagining all the things she could say and how eagerly he would do them. “Right. And what are your orders, Sakura-sama?”

The tinkling giggle she made at being addressed so formally was like the ringing of little silver bells. 

“I order you”-her fingers were already moving even as she spoke, giving no quarter and no time for protest-“to let me play with your hair! I’ve always wanted to know!”

“A-ah. Kn- oh my. Know what, exactly?” 

Breathing, he discovered, was incredibly difficult with such a pretty face so close to his own. Add to that the warmth of Sakura’s body seeping through his clothing plus the heavy weight of guilt knowing that she was not in her right mind and Kakashi found that he simply didn’t know what to do. Obviously the right thing to do would be to push her away but it was possible he was over-interpreting this. In this state Sakura might not even realize the implications of their position.

Her actions certainly supported that theory. Despite the intimacy she had pressed herself in to she seemed interested only in the spiky rough hair she’d gotten her hands on. Another tinkling giggle escaped and while it was indeed a very pretty giggle Kakashi absently noted that he preferred her usual brash laugh. It suited her so much more. 

“I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like! And if you might like it when I pull on it.” With a beguilingly empty smile Sakura tugged ever so gently on the small fistful she was holding, her eyes very carefully watching the spot just next to his own. 

“Why...would you want to pull my hair?” Kakashi asked. 

“Duh, to see if you like it.”

Frowning, he was almost distracted as he asked, “Why would I like it?”

“Oh I dunno. Some people like it when you pull their hair in bed, y’know? I like it.” Sakura’s face morphed in to a heated expression as if she hadn’t just floored him with a couple of boldly spoken sentences. “Do you wanna pull my hair, Kakashi?”

“I found your rock! Let’s get you back on the rock, okay!?” 

“Mou, but I wasn’t done!”

Kakashi ignored her protests, slipping away from the grip on his hair and trying not to be too obvious about the panic attack he was currently having. As he settled his mission partner back on to the rock she’d fallen off before he made the mistake of looking away for a crucial few seconds. It was all the time she needed. Before he could even get his eyes back on her Sakura was lunging forward to bury her fingers in his hair again, trapping him in place, leaving him utterly helpless to do anything but listen as she murmured excitedly to herself.

Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d been this close to a woman. It wasn’t even the first time he’d been this close to Sakura herself. The problem was that it was the first time that didn’t involve fighting for their lives together or sparring or even medical attention. Kakashi knew he should find an excuse to move away before his poor depraved mind could start feeding him images from the last time he’d dreamt of something disturbingly close to this. And he really would have, honest, if not for the fact that even concussed Sakura had a very strong grip and Kakashi wasn’t the most vain man in the world but he didn’t really want to walk around with several chunks of his hair missing.

“It’s always so messy,” Sakura breathed. “How...how does it stand up on it’s own!?”

“Natural talent,” was all Kakashi managed to wheeze in return.

“Does it smell nice?” 

With an oddly gentle pull she dragged him in close enough to bury her face in the very top of his head, breathing deeply while Kakashi did his best not to take advantage of the angle he suddenly found himself in. He might appreciate her chest in the privacy of his own fantasies but he liked to think he had more tact than to do so now. Despite his many other flaws he wasn’t a total creep. Just a little bit of a creep. A little wasn’t too bad.

“Maa…” he managed to choke out eventually after the silence began to stretch on. “Does it?” 

“Smells like dirt. And sweat. And just a little bit of citrus. Why do you have lemons in your hair?”

“That would be my shampoo,” Kakashi told her in a strained voice. 

“No, I’m pretty sure there’s lemons in here. Don’t worry, I’ll find them!” Sakura’s face lifted off the top of his head but there wasn’t much relief to be had when her fingers continued to poke and prod, shift and dig, all but massaging his scalp in a fuzzy-minded search for fruit that wasn’t there. Kakashi prayed for strength when she added in a mumble under her breath, “So much hair, so messy, gonna take a while to find those lemons…”

Feeling rather like his presence had somehow been forgotten, Kakashi very slowly shuffled around until he’d curled his body in to a position that wouldn’t start to ache before he was finally released. Who knew how long this wonderful torture would last? A part of him hoped that Sakura’s chakra levels would recover quickly so he could be free but another very shameful part was more than happy to remain exactly where he was and just let her do as she pleased. It was very possible he should have been thinking of some way to help that first part along. Instead he only settled both hands in his lap and closed his eyes when Sakura’s fingers dragged against the natural grain like she could somehow know how much he liked it. 

Maybe, he thought to himself with a hint of wry humor, he should finally man up and just ask her out. One dinner together wouldn’t hurt anyone, probably wouldn’t wouldn’t ruin their friendship if it didn’t go well. He would have to gather his courage - later. 

A quick peek up even at this angle told him that Sakura was still just as out of it as ever, no closer to returning her own good sense, which meant he would probably need to deal with this odd behavior for a while yet. When she did come back to herself Sakura was no doubt going to be mortified at her own actions and Kakashi very much wanted to be able to tell her with perfect honesty that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation beyond getting in a few laughs. With any luck his honesty would earn her favor. 

Then with even greater luck he would take his shot and maybe, just maybe, he might have the honor of feeling those deceptively small fingers in his hair again for an entirely different reason. 

[captain-danwilds]

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic  AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky​

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life.  He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay.  And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist. 

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.   

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times.  I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor.  I do not know everything they go through.   I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things.  There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.  

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.  

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her.  She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany.  But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.  

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly.  There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.  

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over.  There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty.  If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.  

The problem was, in both worlds,  Nathaniel hadn't shown promise.  It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying.  He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary.  As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically.   But he was moving through water.   He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement.  The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out.   There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.  

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks.  He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.  

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else.  She also happened to know the traitor in question.   One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework.  There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it.  He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky.   Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.  

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years.   Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs.   Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches.  He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.  

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends.   For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.  

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own.  A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.  

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road.  His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic.  They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.  

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other.   Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England.  In dire circumstances one had to make do.  

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program.   He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.  

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?"  Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.    

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile.  "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned.   He had no idea what she meant by genuine self.   Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam?  Or logical like Owen?  His life had been a mass of contradictions.   The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.    

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.    

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.  

"You needed two years for that?"  Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse.  "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves.  Truly the incompetence is astounding."  

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words.  She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.    

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball.  Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.    

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet.  "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"  

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.  

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them.  Instead, he was fifteen.   Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.  

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car.  He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.  

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch.  He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy.  Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.  

They took enjoyment in this.   Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.  

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.  

He was scared.  He fought back anyway.  

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.  

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.  

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.  

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him.  Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind.  Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.  

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court.  In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital.  This is that story.  

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."  

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck.  He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards.   Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.  

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face.  "I'm glad I'm able to help.  Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."  

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump. ��"My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."  

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.  Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit.   Every hospital was wrong.  

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding.   But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up,  did their job and offered some kindness.  Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.  

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through.  Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know.  He’d just know they’d hurt like hell.  Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.  

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.  

It’s one thing to offer sympathy.  It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.  

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.  

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door.  It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment.   He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed.   So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.  

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift.  (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)  

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone.   Abby knew better to expect much from him.  

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner."  She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.  

Well he should have expected it of her.  Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.      

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.  

It's for her own good.  The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.  

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep.  Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file.   He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk.   She had housed him during the trial.  That would be enough for them.   There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.  

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was.  Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person.  He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break.  Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going.  He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.  

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?”  Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.  

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well.  “Still an example.  Just an example of one way to fuck up.  You’ll be fine.”  

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.  

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.  

Matt made him feel unbalanced.  He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily.  Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.  

And what was left after that?  The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables.  It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.  

But he was.  

And that made Neil want to try.  Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.  

After two weeks, he had more than enough.   Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up.  He might be able get onto the roof.  But he would settle for just one of the upper floors.  As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked.   But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.  

The roof wasn't empty like he expected.  Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof.  Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short.  Small but not delicate.   Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs.  His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him.  He is not the best with names.  He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon.   But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.  

Allison had taken that a step farther.  Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.  

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.  

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.  

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers.  “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.  

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease.  Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.  

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation.  There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him.  Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot.  Everything about it had made him feel unsteady.   He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.  

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised.   He narrated everything he did before he did it.  Nothing was a surprise.  They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day.  He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.  

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs.   He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.  

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else.  There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof.  But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.      

“What are you doing up here?”  

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet.  He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.  

“Trying to avoid company.”  Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew.  They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail.  It’s unnerving.  

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.  

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke.  Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.  

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side.  “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”  

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly.  "You lie.  All the time."  

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.  

This time it isn’t quite a lie.  He did like the smell.  It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep.  But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.  

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either.  He did lie all the time.  Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.  

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them.  Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.  

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.  

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons.  As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.  

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college.   Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously.  It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.  

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be.  It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that.  They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.  

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage.  Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.  

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face.  The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him.  He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.  

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."  

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against  the roof.  "I'm not asking for party tricks.  I'm asking for something true."  

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer.  What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.  

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this."  He gestured to himself.  He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline.  Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain.  This wasn’t an accident.  

"My roommate forced me into PT.  Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."  

"It's not like he was wrong."  

"You disgust me Josten."  

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."  

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then."  Neil teased easily.  

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try.  I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew.  Eating on the roof together felt easy.  The conversation had rules.  Answer for answer, truth for truth.  There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew.  They could just talk.  

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand.  He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation.  "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling.  "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.  "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"  

Neil rolled his eyes.  "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"  

"That wasn't an answer."  

"And if I just like orange?"  

"You're being ridiculous."  

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.  

"College colors.  Just never outgrew them I guess.  They make me feel..."  

Safe wasn't the right word.  He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus.  Like he was a part of something feels wrong too.   He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.  

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence.  "Feeling is dangerous."  

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more.   It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.  

"So is not feeling.  What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far.  Andrew wouldn’t let him.  But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.  

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.  

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.  

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor.  He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof.   There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear.   What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.  

It certainly helped that they shared patients.   They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse.  402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.  

Neil did not have soft spots for patients.  He was the epitome of professionalism.  But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.  

"You don't have to like your scars you know?"  Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face.  "Don't have to hate them either."  

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that.  I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.”  He uncapped a new jar of ointment.   “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened.  No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would.  People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”    

"It doesn't change what happened."  

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"  

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected.  I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."  

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around.    Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest.   He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.  

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”  

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.    

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.  

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”  

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat.  He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry.  “People always look at the scars.  Drove me mad with their staring.  Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”  

Andrew snorted.  “The scars are the least of your problems then.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body.   He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”  

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”  

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof.  “People find you attractive.”  He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning.  He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.  

“You like me."  

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.  

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.  

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands.  They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky.  And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky.  (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)  

Still today shouldn’t be too bad.  There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.  

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite.  She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her.  So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible.  If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed.  Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall.    Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.  

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.  

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary."   They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot.  He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.  

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.  

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.  

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases.  He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it.   He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again.  And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.  

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car.  Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.  

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle.  He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together.   There was just so much blood and not enough time.  

You can't stop running.  

He thought he heard someone calling his name.  Too close. He’s too close.  

You're never safe.      

He darted through the closest door.  It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.  

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly.   You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.    

He forced himself into the corner.  There should be something here, anything really to block the door.  But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.  

And if you can’t run.  You hide.  You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf.  It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small.  It should be just big enough.   Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way.  He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast.  His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away.  His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him.   He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars.  He knew he should stop.  He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now.  He’d be dead soon.   He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.  

He should have tried to think his way out of this.  

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share.  He’d made it to twenty-six.  But now, he was going to die.  

He knows it won’t be a painless death.  There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore.  But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin.  He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure.  There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him.  His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.  

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again.  He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be.  He kept seeing flashes of other moments.  

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement.  Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife.  His father’s grin menacing and horrible.  

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.  

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure.  Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital.  You're safe."  The words wrapped around him like a caress.  

It felt less like he was drowning.  

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared.    Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.  

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens.   His hazel eyes stared into Neil's.  They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over.  You're safe.  Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move.  He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.  

"We're going to do this together."   Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him.   He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out.   Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync.  They're not deep breaths.  Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him.  "Can I touch you?"  

He nodded haltingly.  

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin.  “You’re not there.”  His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.  

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf.  He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers.  He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit.  "Yes or no?"  

He hated how broken his voice sounded.  His father wasn't even here.  His father was dead.  He shouldn't sound so lost.  

Andrew's stare was penetrating.  "To what?  I'm not going to kiss you.  You're having a mental breakdown Josten."  

Neil bit his lip.  That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all.  He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.  

"Just touching you.  Leaning on you."  

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched.  It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.  

"It's a yes,"  Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.  

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck.  It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.  

"I should be happier."  

"Bullshit.  There is no should."  

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."  

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair.  "Maybe someday it will.  When was the last time you thought about him before today?"  

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates.   But he couldn't.  For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.  

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof.  He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying.  He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.  

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father.   And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.  

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right.   “They come where they aren’t wanted.  Doesn’t mean they get to stay.  

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.  

“Do you have any other clothes?”  

Neil looked up at him confused.  

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.    

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests.  “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”  

Andrew glared.  “I’m taking care of that.”  

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.  

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him.  The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.  

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.  

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into.  It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.  

They drove in silence.  At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway.  Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew.   Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station.  The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue.  Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.  

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?"   Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.    

"No."  The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why.  He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him.   But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.  

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place.  Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to.  It wasn't just today.   Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.  

"Kevin's going to ask questions."  

Neil barely stifled his groan.  While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.  

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?"  Neil asked.  

"Don't ask stupid questions."   Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.  

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be.  Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college.  Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams.  But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed.  And for that Andrew would never let him go.  

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.  

"The hospital's fine.  I can get home from there."  

Andrew gave him a disparaging look.   "Now is not the time Rabbit.  Give me the address."  

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it.  The lock on staff records too hard to break?"  

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all.   So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people.  He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.  

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days.  Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him.  But the thought of people made him want to shrink.   He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.      

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too.  It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.  

Neil wasn't being paranoid.  His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson.  Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison.  But there had to be some he hadn't met.  People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about.  He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.    

But for now, he had time.  He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.  

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before.   He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his.   Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter.  For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new.  But he thought he could get used to it.  

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.  

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.  

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.  

He wasn’t an idiot.  He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea.  Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors.  Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.    

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.  

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.  

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby.  “I’m so glad to see you.  Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes.  She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier.  The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.  

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips.  "You're in a hospital Dan.  It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"  

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"  

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically.   "I'll have you know I could do it any day.  I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here."   Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is"   Allison cooed as she held the newborn.      

Dan watched her with a smile.  "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."  

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”  

Dan snorts.  

"So when are you back officially then?  I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."  

Allison snorted.  

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.  

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it.  "You mean we get to keep him?"  

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."    

"So?"  

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."  

"Of Course Dan.  I wouldn't dare."  Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."      

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.    

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you.  I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."  

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard.   "Most of them from your husband I assume."  

Dan laughed good naturally.  "You’d certainly think so.   I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."  

Neil grimaced.  

"But it isn't just him."  Dan stepped closer.  "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"  

"It's fine."  

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred.  "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here.  And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."  

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach.   "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now.  I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."  

She smiled so eagerly at him.  He almost felt guilty when he said, "No.  I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."  

"Oh."  Dan's voice was so small.   She looked absolutely heartbroken.  

He grimaced again.    

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."  

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.  

They wanted him to stay.  

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.  

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital.  He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer.   Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.  

"Why are you being such an idiot?"  Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open.  "I can't believe you."  

"What's there to believe?"  

Andrew stalked across the room toward him.  Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face.  "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.  

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.  

"He's dead."  

"So?"  

"So stop running."  

"I don't know how."  The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body.   He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.  

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else.   But it wasn't the same.   He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone.  And she was all too willing to watch him walk away.  He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.  

He couldn't explain why this time was different.  Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him.  Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself.  He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him.  He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.    

Neil was desperate for him to understand.   "Tell me to stay.  You have to tell me to stay."  

"Why should I?  Nothing will come of it."  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

Neil wanted to scream.   Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to.  He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer.  Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.  

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.  

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid.  I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to.  I won't make you."  

I'd never make you.  

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway.  Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.    

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.    

"It's always been 'go.  It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'."   Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face.  It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this.  He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was.  "I'm so tired of being nothing."  

"Then stop making yourself be nothing.   Let yourself have this."  

Neil felt himself floundering even more.  "It's not that simple."  

Andrew huffed and turned away from him.  "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."  

He let the door slam as he left.  

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur.  Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed.  His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home.  He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months.  Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.  

It never really bothered him before.  

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them.  But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt.   He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew.   He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.  

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person.  A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with.  Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew.   Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.  

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.  

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force.   His chart notes were too detailed.  His frown all the deeper when things went wrong.  He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit.  And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.  

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.  

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.  

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too.  Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.  

The first was to Andrew.  “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything.  Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew.  Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.  

“Can I really stay?”  

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out.  But he didn’t have another way to ask.  It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.  

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.  

But he needn’t have worried.  Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous.  “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”  

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago.  It was only his address.  But Abby would know what it meant.   She always did.  

[winchester-reload]

hi! i just read your fic, After Dark (for the second time, it’s amazing, easily going into my top five favorite fics of all time, your writing and characterization of dean especially is phenomenal and knocked me off my feet), but i’m still a little fuzzy on the ending. if you find time, could you possibly explain? thank you so much, your writing is beautiful

Okay, so I know I’ve had this ask for a while. I haven’t been ignoring you. It’s just that this fic is one of those stories that was so consuming when I wrote it, I have a hard time diving back in when I get asks. It was my Everest. I was obsessed with finishing it but kept trying to die at the top of the mountain (so to speak).  I started writing it in June 2015 and didn’t finish it until December 2018. I have sooooo many notebooks filled with notes and rewrites for this story, it’s almost embarrassing. And, you’ve read it, so you probably know why: it’s INVOLVED. I mean, the very first chapter gives you the most important line from the penultimate chapter of the book.

So, yes. You know what? Let’s talk about After Dark. I’m ready.

Spoilers after the cut

I’m gonna do my best here to clear things up, but since you’re specifically asking about the end of the fic, I won’t do a complete chapter by chapter breakdown of the plot. Let’s instead pick up at Chapter 19 with a little more of a abridged version. 

In 19, we finally get our Sam breakdown of what he’s been trying to figure out from the beginning– why it struck him as odd that Dean and Cas had hooked up this time over all the times before. He realizes that the general assumption that God was the light that beat back the darkness wasn’t actually a metaphorical idea, but was, in fact, a literal one. God wasn’t the thing that conquered the Dark, the light he yielded was. That light was Love. Fun side note: The sources Sam cites in that chapter to support his theory are all actual academic sources/philosophical ideas. You can look any of them up to find out more about love as a daemon, or The Unity of Opposites theory. So, Dean now knows that Cas is being used by Alice for something, but doesn’t know what.

Ch 20: Alice explains that the only thing that can save Dean’s soul from its eternal fate with the Darkness is if he’s “released” (so to speak) by his light. She says that the way it works is through Cas’ ultimate broken heart.

“If he takes you, you don’t die out of hate, or spite, or fear,” she whispered. “There’s no jealousy or malice or revenge. You die in stark contrast to all those things. It’s the opposite of everything he’s ever wanted for you— Wanted with you. Everything he’s ever hoped or dreamed or fought for; he does it only because he loves you, and it’s that selflessness that cleanses the shadows. It’s the power of a broken heart.”

It’s Cas’ sacrifice that will save Dean’s soul. Alice is careful to tell Dean that he was never going to survive this. Cas  and everyone else is supposed to, but for Dean, it was always just a matter of where his soul ended up. 

Cas, of course, says he’ll do it and that Dean needn’t ask, because there’s not really a choice here.

Ch 21: We pick back up with an echo of Rowena and realize that everything she told him in Chapter 2 actually came true. (weird, right?)

Ch 22: Cas wakes up at “the start”, only, this time’s he’s fundamentally changed from the journey. It’s in this chapter that we find out why Cas was getting glimpses from the ‘end of the story’ throughout the book: 

Angels are ethereal. They’re not contained to a specific timeline–this is something they’ve talked about in canon. It was ONLY while Cas had his grace AND was actively dying that he was able to see snippets of the things that would happen after the events in Chapter 20. (IE: the dream he had in Chapter 8 of Crowley, the dream in Ch 15 where he’s walking across the field where the Winchesters crashed, even though he hadn’t actually been there yet, etc)  It turned out he wasn’t actually seeing or speaking to Rowena. She was more a figment of his subconscious as he tried to warn himself where this story was going. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really any way for him to stop the train. HOWEVER,

In Cas’ lame attempt to keep from drowning Dean like “The Fish” Rowena kept calling him, he’d made the conscious decision to give Dean some “wings” in Chapter 15. The grace had proven threatening/effective enough in the fight against the Darkness to that point, that it had spent the entire story trying to snuff Cas out. It was also the only element keeping Cas from becoming infected by the Darkness the same way Sam and the rest of the people were, which is why Cas quickly became infected after extracting it. 

So, when Dean got the grace in Chapter 15, it was enough to pull him back out of the Darkness’ grip and bring him back to life.

When Cas comes out the other side of the spell in this chapter, alive, as he was supposed to be, he realizes that everything had reset like Alice said it would– Except for him. He was still wearing the same clothes, and still dying from his own self-inflicted knife wound (sans Darkness insanity). (Dean, remember, was not supposed to reset. The actions he took during the fic were always supposed to be permanent for him.) 

It’s then that Cas understands that it’s not over yet; they’re still fundamentally connected through Cas’ grace, and that means, there’s a CHANCE that Dean’s still alive too (and with Cas’ grace). He asks Crowley to teleport him to the field he saw in his dream and it’s here that he finds Dean, still clinging to life and staring up at the newly found stars.

Cas rallies his grace one last time by laying a hand on the burn mark left on Dean, and uses the rest of it to save him. Then, the very exhausted, very exsanguinated human Cas topples over in the field.

Ch 23: is probably where I lost you and I’m gonna tell you, it’s very intentional that I’ve made you unsure. 

It starts with a dreamlike Cas in the field staring at the back of an ambulance bed. There are elements of the Darkness around him, filtering into the sky. He panics when he thinks it’s Dean on the back of the stretcher dead, but specifically points out the bare feet (Dean was in socked feet. It was mentioned multiple times in Chapter 18-20). Alice then comes out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground. She’s our dream stand-in for the things the EMTs are doing to save Cas in that moment (Cas was the one with bare feet) while she warns him that the Darkness is not gone. She tells him she’s proud of him for finding a loophole, but that he shouldn’t believe he’s won. He should, in fact, fear the opposite. 

“…it doesn’t matter how fucking proud of you I am for finding it” she says. “The truth of the matter is, it’s gonna take what it’s owed— Or try… ”

Cas then wakes up in Dean’s bed and Dean tells him he was having another nightmare. It’s established at this point that Cas has been having a lot of them since becoming human. So much so, that Dean is practiced in dealing with bringing Cas back down. Cas gets frustrated with the situation and with himself and goes to wander through the bunker and get water. Dean chases after him, like the good caretaker he is.

Cas tells Dean that he doesn’t believe it’s a nightmare. He believes that the conversation with Alice really happened and that the Darkness is not gone, but, maybe, lying in wait either to attack again, or, even, MAYBE, that it already has him… (Not Dean, but Cas this time. Like a trade.)

This leaves us, the reader with the uneasy feeling that that might be true. We’re in Cas’ POV and the last we saw him, he was face down in a field bleeding out from a wound he was probably not gonna be able to recover from. If he’s not sure what’s real and what’s a dream, then how can we be? This is amplified by the fact that everything Cas has done in the story to this point has been proven true, so we want to believe him. But his unsureness feels so much more like the answer we don’t want. 

Our unease is punctuated by small things like 1. Dean wearing a purple shirt* when Cas had specifically named that as a color he’d never seen Dean wear before (Ch 19). And then, of course, 2. the fact that his coat is there when it shouldn’t be. Did Alice leave it? Why would she leave it? How could she leave it?

We’re left, like Cas, not sure if the story has ended like it appears to have ended. We’re unsure if they both made it out safe. If they’re really together. And with everything so damn woven, how can we just have these plot holes???? 

But, that’s also kind of the nature of the trauma Cas has endured. And, if he wasn’t really living this moment with Dean, then why is he healing slowly from his wounds? Why is he out of breath before he gets to the kitchen? (You know how it is when you’ve been laid up for a long stint. EVERYTHING IT HARD.) 

So, you, like Cas, find yourself placing your trust in Dean as he reassures Cas that it wouldn’t matter if it’s not over.

 “Because you an’ me, we’re unbreakable.” 

And now this is where you really hate me because I’m not going to tell you one way or the other. I’m gonna let the story speak for itself. I will say that I would NEVER want to put them through all of that if they couldn’t live in the sunshine on the other side, though.

*more on the color purple

[my-miraculous-headcanons]

Stand-In Journalist

“You want me to do what?”

Marinette’s vaguely aware that her voice may have been a tad too loud, especially considering the fact that Alya had been attempting to whisper to her just moments ago. She’s also vaguely aware that’s she’s attracted the attention of most students currently walking up the school steps, including that of her crush, Adrien Agreste. Surprisingly, she finds herself unbothered. And more than a little distracted.

“Alya, you’re joking, right? You have to be.”

“Girl, shush,” Alya hisses out, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders and taking glances around them. It seems a little on the paranoid side, but Marinette isn’t one to judge.

“Listen, my grandma has to go into surgery, so me and my family have to take off for a week. I really, really, wish I could do this myself, but I’ve got no other choice right now. I know you’re busy with all your commissions, and the bakery, and class president stuff, but Nino sucks at talking professionally, and Adrien’s, like, never allowed out of the mansion.”

“What makes you think I’d be a better choice in comparison to literally every other student in our class?”

Alya rolls her eyes at all.

“Marinette, I’ve heard your customer service voice.”

“Ah.”

Right. Helping out her parents at the bakery meant an awful lot of occasions where she’d had to deploy the infamous customer service voice. After all, they do own one of the most popular bakeries in all of Paris, which meant attracting quite a lot of tourists.

Unlike America, the Dupain-Cheng bakery doesn’t take bullshit. She makes sure to let rude customers know that just from the tone of her voice.

If she tells you to leave, you leave. She only needs to say it once.

“Besides,” Alya continues on. “If you do this for me, you can consider all of your IOUs paid off.”

“Do what?”

The two girls look away from each other in surprise, now noticing they had the attention of their resident model. Despite teasingly calling out Marinette as an eavesdropper, everyone’s rather aware of his nosy tendencies. (Not many can blame him, though. He’s not socially incompetent, but boundaries are still not his strong point. Really, considering his only friend for years was Chloé, well… It’s understandable, to a point.)

“And what makes you think that’s your business, Agreste?” Alya smirks, placing a hand on her hip and using the other occupied one to pull Marinette closer.

She’s been doing that around Adrien a lot, testing some theory about Adrien and his touchy-feely habits. Marinette decided she didn’t want any part of that and didn’t ask any further.

“Well,” Adrien playfully smirks back. “I overheard―”

“Eavesdropped,” Alya loudly whispers into Marinette’s ear, who giggles in response.

“Overheard,” Adrien corrects, though he’s clearly smiling. “You pressuring poor Marinette into doing something that she doesn’t seem to want to do. So I was just curious, is all.”

He pauses, glancing back and forth between the two girls.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Lila, would it?”

Alya bursts out into a short laugh, not realising the fond look Marinette shoots Adrien’s way or how his shoulders are tensed, maybe even worried.

“No way! This is way more important than that! Marinette’s just filling in for me for one of my, uh… Ladyblog duties.”

Adrien relaxes, then smiles almost knowingly.

“Ah, I see. Nino said you’re going out of town in two days, right?”

“Yup! But you’re not getting any more than that. Now shoo, we got a lot to talk about.”

“Wait, hey,” Marinette protests. “I didn’t agree yet!”

“So you’re not going to take the opportunity to pay off all your IOUs in one sitting?”

The designer snaps her mouth shut and stares off into space for a moment, brows knit together and cheeks puffed up in what seems to be intense consideration.

“… Okay, deal.”

“Yes! Let’s go, then! Bye, Adrien!”

And with that, Alya drags Marinette away before the poor girl realises who she was standing in front of, and accidentally makes a fool of herself as a result.

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

Alya had given Marinette most of the material she would need to do the job. Not only that, but she had coached Marinette through lines and responses, and how to use her customer service voice and morph it into a similar but distinctly different interviewer voice.

With all that, you would think that Marinette would be prepared for what she was about to do. But the truth of the matter is that no, she was not prepared. In fact, she was the opposite of prepared. While, yes, the chairs and cameras were all set up, and everything looked neat and tidy, and she was wearing her best professional clothing— a ruffled pink top and grey pencil skirt— Marinette was...

Well, she was freaking out. She had never practiced with the blinding light fixtures or with a camera pointed directly at her face. She never practiced her lines with anyone other than Alya. She only learned how to turn the cameras on today, right when Nino had finished up putting the cameras in place and was about to go home before curfew. 

It was just the push of a simple button, so that shouldn’t be something to worry about, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t even considered she would be the one responsible for the cameras. Which left the question― What else was she responsible for, that she hadn’t even anticipated?

“Well, this is a surprise.”

Oh god, he’s already here.

Plastering on a forced smile, Marinette turns her attention to a silhouette crouching on a high window. The crescent moon is hovering just behind his head, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness of the corner he was in. He’s clearly already putting on a show, and Marinette realises with some panic that she doesn’t have a camera lined up in that direction.

Was... Was she supposed to move it? No, no, what if she accidentally breaks it? No, she can’t move it. But what if Alya wants this footage?

“Hello, Chat Noir,” Marinette forces out, stopping herself from prematurely pressing the record button. She... She’s supposed to do something first before doing that, but she’s forgotten what.

The superhero jumps down from his perch and walks into the artificial lighting, smiling easily and swinging his lower body over the back of the velvety red armchair, sinking into the seat cushions. 

“I was under the assumption that our favourite ladyblogger would be conducting the interview.”

“She had a family emergency, so I’ll be taking her place this time.”

His smile twitches down a bit, then completely fades away. His gaze grows more intense.

“... I see.”

An awkward silence stretches between them, and Marinette feels her face gradually heat up in embarrassment. Her mind is completely blank. 

“Marinette, are you alright?”

It takes her more than a couple seconds to process that question, and when she does, her embarrassment increases tenfold.

“I’m fine, sorry about that. Just got lost in thought. Anyways, are you prepared for the interview?”

Apparently, her response displeases him, because he stands up and walks around the table between them, stopping just beside her. His eyes never leave her face.

“... Marinette, I think you’re either having an anxiety attack right now, or you’re dissociating.”

“Am I,” is her automatic response. He doesn’t say anything, only frowning as though he was given a rather unfortunate answer. He reaches for his baton and opens it up, kneeling down beside her legs. He takes several minutes to check something up, reads through it, then puts the baton away.

“Okay, definitely dissociating,” he mumbles to himself. He stands up again then goes over to the equipment, and Marinette doesn’t do anything to stop him from messing with it. 

Abruptly, the lights shut off. 

“Marinette, you okay? Do you hear me?”

His voice is soft in the darkness, which is comforting, but it’s still distressing that she can’t see. Yes, the lights were horrible, but now the only thing in her vision is the imprint of a bright, blueish hue, fixed in place no matter how many times she blinks or where she looks.

“Marinette?”

His voice is closer, now, but even softer, just shy of a whisper. She hums in response, then blinks a few more times. One of the light fixtures is moved out of the way, allowing for moonlight to splash over the table and chair in front of her. Her shoulders untense, just a little. There’s still spots in her vision, but she can see now, so it doesn’t matter.

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

Yes, yes, she would very much like that. Her body is beginning to feel a little shaky, but she manages to give the voice a sharp nod. The voice? Who was she talking to again? She couldn’t—

“You know, I lied when I said I was surprised,” the voice says, interrupting her spiralling thoughts. “I knew that Alya was gonna be out of town, I had overheard about it. I also know you’re her best friend, so I kind of expected to see you. I was really excited about it.”

A figure moves in front of her, briefly, before once again getting comfortable in the plush red seat. His lips move in time with the voice.

“I really enjoy talking with you. It’s really easy to trust you with things I wouldn’t tell others, because you’re very respectful and kind. I’m honestly amazed that you never told Alya about that whole balcony thing, the day Glaciator attacked. I didn’t even have to tell you not to say anything, you just naturally understand boundaries like that.”

Chat Noir smiles in a way that’s nothing like all the previous smiles she’s ever seen on his face.

Right. Chat Noir. She’s talking to Chat Noir, because she was supposed to be filling in for Alya, who is out of town, for an exclusive one-on-one interview with Chat Noir. And she...

And she already messed up.

“Oh, God,” she says with sudden realisation. She quickly raises both hands to squish them against the front of her face, covering up her burning cheeks. “Oh, God, I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Hey, it’s alright—”

“No, it’s not alright, because I promised Alya I would get this done, and that it would be perfect, but I totally messed up everything because I couldn’t keep my stupid feelings in check, again, and Alya had worked so hard and deserves—”

“Marinette, stop.”

She flinches back, and sees Chat Noir now seated down on the table, his knees just barely bumping into hers on either side. He leans forward and takes hold of both her hands, placing them on her lap.

“You need to stop thinking about what Alya will think or how she would do this. You’re not Alya. You may be the stand-in journalist, but that doesn’t mean to have to do everything by her rules.”

“But, no, this is Alya’s interview, she—”

“She’s not here right now. You are. Listen Marinette, you can’t do this by pretending to be some imitation of Alya. If you want an authentic, smooth-going interview, you’ll need to go about this your own way. Everything you learned from Alya is going to be your base template. A resource for you to borrow from. You with me so far?”

Marinette presses her lips together and nods. Chat smiles and cups her cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away tears she hadn’t even known she’d shed.

“Good. Now then, tell me how Marinette Dupain-Cheng would interview a superhero.”

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

The light fixtures were back in place, now at a much lower level than they were previously. The table had been moved out of the way, allowing for the chairs to be close enough that either one of them could stick their leg out to kick the other, easily. The cameras were rearranged to film at different angles, now, and no camera view excluded either of the two out of the shot.

Most importantly, Marinette had ditched the file Alya had provided her. She already knew the questions by heart, anyways, in case she needed to use one of them.

“You ready to begin?”

It’s funny, really, that the interviewee was asking that, and not the interviewer. 

“Yeah,” Marinette responds. “Let’s get this show started.”

And with that, the cameras start rolling. Marinette grins at camera A, placed to have a perfect side-view recording of both parties from a distance.

“Bonjour, Paris! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and while I’ve literally never done an interview in my life, Alya Césaire decided that I would be the purrfect replacement in her absence. So, really, you should blame her for this.”

Chat snorts loudly at that.

“Continuing on, today we’ll be asking our favourite feline superhero, Puss in Boots, a few questions. Say hello, kitty!”

“Oh, God,” Chat says in-between a short bout of laughter. “Bonjour, Paris. Just so you know, I did nothing to deserve this blatant mistreatment.”

“Hush,” Marinette says, giving him a light kick in the shin. “I punned for you. I get a pass.”

“What? No way, you can’t get passes for animal cruelty.”

“Oh, you’re an animal now? Way to start this interview off strong for your lady fans, Chat Noir. Please, do go on.”

The interview goes by smoothly. There’s never a lull in conversation, boundaries remain untouched, and the atmosphere remains playful, warm, personal, and overall enjoyable.

But, it isn’t the end.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Marinette?”

She sighs, picking up the file she had previously discarded, squinting due to the bright lights. 

“I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy doing things my way, but I did promise Alya that I’d do it the way she planned it. So, we might as well film this version as well, right? She can decide for herself which one she likes better. Besides, I...”

She smiles.

“I feel a lot better now. I think I can do this.”

“Alright then,” Chat concedes. “Let’s take it from the top, then.”

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

Alya has watched both videos at least ten times each, and she has to admit, the superior one is rather clear. As much as she doesn’t like it, Marinette was clearly more in her element in the first one filmed, which went on to further charge the chemistry between her and Chat.

And boy, was there chemistry. 

That leads to the next problem. If she posts the first video, Paris would practically erupt, a new brand of shippers will jump into the scene, and Hawkmoth may very well place a target on her best friend’s back.

If she posts the second video, her followers would find the interviewer rather lackluster, and possibly make a lot of rude comments that she doesn’t want her best friend to be subjected to.

… Really, the answer to her dilemma would be pretty obvious. Marinette can handle a few internet jerks. It’s no big deal, and, most importantly, it won’t get her targeted by Hawkmoth. 

But the thing is... Marinette and Chat Noir want her to post the first video. They wouldn’t have filmed it and given it to her if they hadn’t wanted it to go public.

The ladyblogger leans back into her desk chair and sighs, glancing towards the bedside digital clock while biting down on her thumb. 1:53. She really needs to make a decision, otherwise she’ll never be able to actually go to bed.

Her sleep deprived mind suddenly gets an idea. She latches on to it, posting both videos with different captions, then collapses into her bed with a sigh of relief. She’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

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

Chat Noir is a little shit and he’s going to pay. 

She feels fooled. Bamboozled. A few nights ago, he had been gentle and kind, had given her good advice, and encouraged her to do her best without sacrificing the way she is. That Chat Noir was an inspiration. A friend and an ally. Someone she trusts and could count on. 

The Chat Noir of today made her realise that, yes, while he can be all those things, he’s still a little storm of trouble, mischief, and utter bullshit. 

And she was not prepared for this. 

It’s only been a day since the interviews have been posted, but almost immediately after they had gone public, Chat Noir decided to post a link to it on his social media and make comments.

Ones specifically made to rile up every shipper, analyst, and hero fan in Paris.

If she gets stopped one more time by some creepy adult fan who thinks it’s perfectly okay to grab a little teenager by the wrist, she’s going to kick their fucking ass. 

She eyes the expensive fabric scissors with an expression that screams murder. She wonders if it could tear through a magical catsuit. Probably not. Besides, she’d have to pay for it if she gets blood on it, and she only brought enough money to get herself some fabric.

Ugh.

She feels her hands twitch as her phone dings with another update on Chat Noir’s twitter. Begrudgingly, she shoves her hand into her purse and fishes it out, wondering what he could possibly be saying now. Seriously, how has he not exhausted himself yet? Wasn’t he awake at, like, 2 in the morning?

Marinette is not a toy. Quit grabbing her and asking her questions on the street. She’s a person. I SEE you, lady in the blue cardigan at the fabric store. She's 13. Back. Off.

Quickly, she whips her head around to look over her shoulder, catching sight of a middle-aged woman in a navy blue cardigan. The woman is looking down at her phone, silently walking away in embarrassment.

Her phone dings thrice again.

Hey Paris, remember when I DIDN’T need to play bodyguard because you guys were respectful towards teenaged girls who were lucky enough to interact with superheroes? Let’s go back to that.

Seriously, I only noticed like 30 minutes ago when I saw some university guy corner her on the street. What the hell’s going on? @ladyblogger Was this a normal occurrence and me and Ladybug just didn’t know?

I admit I was joking around and maybe fueling some ship wars but I didn’t expect grown adults to take that as a sign to harass a young girl. Knock it off and wake up, real life isn’t the internet. 

...

Well, Marinette decides. She supposes the cat will live to see another day.

Ding!

To the TV crew hanging out at the entrance of the fabric store: Filming and interrogating a 13 year old without parental consent is illegal. I WILL apprehend you. Leave.

A minute later, Marinette hears about a dozen curses from multiple people at the front of the store, and the rushed packing of equipment.

With a smirk, Marinette sends out a tweet of her own.

Wassup, Paris, thanks for landing me my very own furry stalker, @therealchatnoir. Much appreciated. Always wanted one of those.

Ding!

?!?!?!? FURRY?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!

Marinette cackles and pockets her phone, ignoring the resulting dings.

DON’T PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY ON ME, HEY!!! HEYYYY!!!!

I’M NOT A FURRY TAKE YOUR PHONE OUT YOU COWARD

dcvgthgrfCFRVGTBHYGVRFCDEX F I G H T M E

I’LL SPAM YOU DON’T THINK I WON’T DO IT. HEY LADYBLOGGER GIVE ME HER NUMBER I JUST WANNA TALK

Marineeeeetttteeeeee don’t ignore me pleeaaaaseeee ;(((((

He’s a dork. He’s sweet and kind, but ultimately he’s a total dork. 

And maybe a little her type.

...

She buys black fabric, that day.

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

“Please? Pleaaase?”

“No, Alya.”

“Oh come on, just one with Ladybug!”

“I can’t, Alya. I’m busy that day. Ask Adrien to do it or something.”

“... You know what? I will. He’s free Wednesday morning, right?”

[1zashreena1]

Angst Fluff Whiplash -14

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  What does an apex predator do after confessing undying love? Princess is about to find out.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Non-descriptive sexytimes, the L word, criminal activities glossed over, relationship building, plus size woman+fit man, Anxiety, This one is all feels and

I Am So NOT Sorry. 

THE TIME HAS COME

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​ ​ @symbiont13​ ​ @nicke0115​ ​​ @bunnykjm​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​ ​ @girlpornparadise​ ​ @mandoplease​ ​ @heresathreebee​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​ ​ @jetiikad​ ​ @joalsglasses​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​ ​ @demoncatstone​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​ ​ @poeedamerons​ ​

"I don't know, Lisa. He won't tell me. Not until this weekend apparently?  We're supposed to go shopping."

"Honestly, I'm scared. I mean, there's the whole how did he get a passport FOR me dilemma. Then the part where he knows I don't like surprises. And he said he was calling my sister!"

"Oh my God, she could tell him anything! Please don't tell him about the Backstreet Boys phase. I'm going to have a panic attack."

"Of course he would tease me about it for eternity!"

"What? Watch what words? What are you talking about?"

"Do not hang up this phone! Do you even love me?!? Lisa? …. Hello?"

You toss your phone down on the bed and heave a huge sigh. Your very own BFF, abandoning you like that. Luckily its your own phone and not the insane cell Diego got you because it bounces off the other side of the bed and smacks into the wall before admitting total defeat to gravity. 

You stand there staring at your open suitcase. Your typical items are in there already. You don't need any toiletries. Or makeup, now. Or bras. Or underwear. Fucking hell, its like I already moved into the penthouse with him. 

… Could I do that? He already basically asked for it. He keeps telling me to quit my job and let him spoil me for real. You wring your hands together while rubbing your lips against each other and being bombarded with intrusive thoughts. Yeah. Until he's done with me and then I have to start all over. At 35. 

But its been almost a year now that you've been seeing Diego. What does that even mean, "seeing" him? You think about how the last few months have been so… easy. He practically lives in New York now, their territory split. He opted to control the East Coast and let his sister deal with the logistical nightmare of receiving the imports. 

He has been a lot looser since then. Faster to laugh, quicker to goof around, less likely to do anything as hard as he used to do. The distance from Alicia has allowed him to really flourish in every aspect. And he's beautiful with it. The laugh lines and the soft brown eyes wreck you every time.

He says he wants to keep you. Take care of you. You finally believe that he loves you. He has made so many improvements in communication. Hell, he read books on how to be with someone on the spectrum. Do you understand it? Hell no. Are you going to take it and run? Fuck yeah dude. I love him and I want to keep him.

And now he wants to take you on a trip. A surprise destination. Out of the country with a mostly legal passport. You don't doubt that you'll be safe with him. Your parents were a little concerned when you told them since they've never even met him. And they saw him on the national news that time he got arrested by the Feds, so that really inspires confidence. 

Your middle sister Lynne and niece Halley accidentally met him that one afternoon about a month back. And they have not shut up about it since. Diego this, Diego that, blah blah blah, paid the restaurant bill in cash, yadda yadda, took us all shopping to a Coach store and then got Halley some crazy new sold out Nikes. Diego had been delighted to be surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls enjoying his spoiling attentions. Just like always, Diego went to the max and charmed them silly.

It was like having an out of body experience to see Diego with them. You couldn't really fault them, he swept you off your feet with no problems.  He was grinning and joking the whole time, making raunchy comments with your sister and encouraging your niece to be assertive (unnecessary according to her soccer coach and the 'Most Aggressive' trophy). He fit right in with them. Afterwards he had asked if that was what it was like to have normal siblings and your heart broke thinking about what his childhood had been like with his sister. 

Which brought you back to the here and now. He had mentioned off hand that he was going to call your sister. Maybe you should text her. She might know something.

Maybe you should just pack your bag and trust him. 

Your Diego Cell chirps and you dive for it on the nightstand. Is he okay? Please don't be hurt.

Its a pic of him. In the shower. With his own hand wrapped around himself. You choke on air and have to sit down. 

I miss you Princess

Holy. Shit. Its been almost a year that you have had unrestricted access to that incredible body and your reaction is still the same. Before you can respond another text arrives:

SOON

The attached pic is just from squinty eyes up.

You burst out laughing at him. You love that he is secretly a nerd about internet stuff. His appearance would never give that away. Time to be ridiculous right back.

Don't make me lick your eyeball 

You are a crazy person laughing to yourself alone in your bedroom.

You are so weird

Yet there you are, lusting after this weirdo

You shoot back.

… Am I the weirdo??

No. Still you.

I would threaten to bite it.. but you would like that

Well now you have to

Oh my God. You're fairly certain you could do anything to this man and he would think it was sexy. Its a novel experience.

Can we eat dinner at home tomorrow? I don't feel like wearing a real bra

You know the answer to that. 

YES. NO MORE BRAS EVER AGAIN. BE FREE

… no panties?🙏🥺

You can see the hopeful puppy dog eyes clearly.

A for effort babe. One of these days you might get your wish lol

...Are you panty free right now?

Wow. He is really trying here.

I'm packing. 

Your pic is a heap of tangled thongs dumped on top of Tiny Murder Panther.

💜🔥😛

He would find that hot. Fucking nympho.

Lemme finish this so I can go straight to the airport tomorrow

Fine. But I am pouting 

You do not doubt that.

Don't care. Still love your stupid face

You cannot believe you just sent that. 

Princess. 

Mi amor.

Diego's good little girl.

You shudder with the praise. You can hear it in his voice, as if he were right here with you.

I love you

Dream of me?

Oh baby, if you only knew. You sigh wistfully.

Always, baby

---------------‐---------

The flight is uneventful, thankfully. Your maxidress with a built-in shelf bra is stupidly comfortable and you actually take a nap. 

The plane has barely come to a stop and you already have on your silly lambswool lined Ugg flip flops. You had argued with Diego about these (Why would flip flops need a warm fuzzy lining??) but he had won by sticking one in your face and ordering you to feel. It didn't take a full second for you to snatch them both from him and cuddle them to your chest. His pleased smile full of dimples was worth all the subsequent teasing.

You slip on one of his previously stolen shirts in a metallic lilac color and roll up the sleeves so you have use of your hands. Bending at the waist, you flip your hair over and fluff it back up from the nap. What was that he had said? Oh yes: Wild and thick, just how I like it. The memory makes you bite your bottom lip and smile.

Bastian is waiting for you on the tarmac. He takes your bag and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. "Hey, sweetie. Nice shirt, is that new?"  His knowing grin is infectious. 

You nuzzle into the collar with a laugh. "Thanks! My boyfriend gave it to me." 

Bastian chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you. "Oh, honey. That is not all he is going to give you." He closes the door while you roll your eyes smirkingly. 

The ride to the penthouse is uneventful. Well, as uneventful as Friday evening rush hour traffic can be in New York. 

Bastian waits until the song is over before lowering the stereo volume. "We're supposed to pick up dinner. Any requests?" He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while you sit at the red light.

You ponder the options. "What kind of a day has he had? Meetings? Tours? Disciplinary action?" You ask Bastian thoughtfully. Sometimes when Diego has a bad day he likes comfort food. Mostly a giant heap of rice and beans next to homemade tortillas, he isn't so picky about the variety of meat.

Bastian glances at you out of the corner of his eye before warily answering, "There was a… termination… at a construction site this afternoon that took longer than expected. That's why he didn't come to get you, he wanted to shower first."

You keep your eyes focused forward to look out of the windshield. "Okay. How about Jalisco's then?" Comfort food it is. 

Bastian nods and adjusts course to obtain those tortillas.

‐--------------------

The instant the elevator doors ding open Diego pops up from the sectional and comes straight at you. Your giant sidestep to let Bastian pass is barely completed before Diego is slipping those big hands under his own pilfered shirt to crush your body to him. Your arms go around his neck like a reflex, like this is their natural resting place. He leans his forehead down onto yours and kisses you so very gently.

"Mmmm. Hi." You murmur softly into his beard. Those bottomless brown eyes look over your entire face before coming back to your own. His smile is huge, those dimples make your pulse trip. He blinks slowly down at you, just like the big cat you nicknamed him after. 

"Princess. How was the trip?" He always asks you this. You still aren't sure if its just culturally specific manners or if he is requesting a review of the flight crew's performance. Either way, your answer is always the same.

You pull him back down so you can cuddle into his neck. "Its better now that I'm here." He rubs his cheek against your own and purrs directly into your ear in response. Your body's reaction is immediate and decisive. You shiver in his arms and your nipples peak to full attention.

Except this time is different. With only a bralette and the dress's shelf bra Diego can clearly feel what just happened in real time. His eyes are comically round as he peers down at your cleavage in pleasant wonder.

"Oh. I like this outfit." His hands rise up your back to crush you further into him. You chuckle and rub your chest on his firm pectoral muscles. He watches hungrily as your compressed decolletage rises higher yet from the added pressure. "New rule to match the bedroom pants bar, no bras in the penthouse. Fucking magnificent, bonita." He licks his lips after making this proclamation.

You throw your head back and laugh joyfully.

‐----------------------

As it always does the weekend passes too quickly. Its already 1:00pm on Saturday when you two finally come down from the bedroom.

Diego is delighted to hear that your time-off request was approved for the trip. You had told him not to worry about it, your boss always kept her word about this stuff. 

That’s when he pulls a ridiculous pith hat out from under the couch. It looks like it came straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon about a big game hunt on the African savannah.  You lose your entire shit and laugh until you do that silent clapping seal move.

Diego keeps repeating, "Wait, stop laughing. Stooooop." But he isn't faring much better. You finally wipe the tears and calm down enough to take it from his limp fingers while he chortles a few last times.

"Baby. What. What the fuck. What fucking is this??" You plunk the hat on your own head and Diego collapses facedown into your lap to gigglesnort uproariously. "Stop. Stop laughing. Stoppit!" You smack the back of his head lightly until he comes up for air.

He closes his eyes and composes himself. You take the opportunity to plop the hat on his head.

"Oh my god, that is so sexy!" You declare in high dramatics. 

He grabs your hands and leans in very close to explain. "You need this hat for our trip." Your eyes narrow in suspicion. "You will wear it for our safari quest…" he pauses for dramatic effect and your lips twitch in suppressed amusement. He leans closer yet and captures your stare. His face is hilarious, you can tell he is biting his cheek to keep from laughing. His eyebrows are drawn down in concentration but his eyes are widened in mock excitement. He sucks in a deep breath to exclaim, "To locate palm trees in the wild!"

He laughs as he puts the hat back on you.

You blink a few times in shock. Palm trees? You're going somewhere with palm trees? A tropical locale. Palm trees. Beaches. SWIMSUITS. Your sudden panic must show on your face because Diego's laughter dies off.

You blink furiously, but its too little too late. The tears burn as they well up in your eyes and spill down over your cheeks.

He reaches out to cup your face. "Princess?" His tone is an even mix of concern and fear. "Bicki? What?"

You shake your head 'no' and throw yourself into him. Diego catches you and hauls you into his lap. You curl up against his chest and sob quietly. He pets over your hair, open handed strokes so his fingers don't tangle in the curls, and soothes your back while you shake. Rubbing his nose against your temple, he kisses your cheek and whispers, "Do you want to write?" His gentle care only makes you worse. "...so that is no." He looks crestfallen. He buries his face in your hair and breathes heavily.

Your tears are slowing and your chest is finally beginning to loosen. "Dieg-" you hiccup, wrapping both hands around his forearm. You wheeze a few times before trying again. "I. I. Where? Where are we g-going?" 

He sighs deeply before answering. "Nowhere. I won't take you somewhere you don't want to go. I should have known better. I-" He snaps his jaw shut so fast that his teeth click together. 

Tilting your head back, you try to catch his eyes. Diego won't look at you. "H-hey, please." You cup his jaw and pull him down to you. He comes, but the motions are stilted. "Look. Please, baby. Let me s-see you."

When he finally meets your eyes it breaks your heart. That chocolate gaze is disappointed, hurt, frustrated even. You wiggle around until you're straddling his lap. He just holds his hands out of the way, not hindering you but certainly not helping either. Standing up on your knees to lean your forehead against his, you reach for his hands and bring them to your chest where you lace your fingers together. 

"Baby. I want that." Your nose rubs against his as you speak. "I want to go everywhere with you. I never thought I would ever get a chance like this. To travel? To go somewhere tropical? To have someone who loves me enough to do this for me?" You're crying again. And so is Diego? A little?? 

He brings your joined hands up to tap your chin. His face is adorably conflicted when he speaks, "You… want to go?" You nod slowly. His eyebrows lower as he tries to make sense of this. "Then why do you cry? Are they, the uh, is that 'happy tears' ?"

Your hands shake in his. "Yeah. Happy tears. I just. I was overwhelmed. I'm sorry." He huffs out a sigh. You continue, "Its almost like the super intense emotions short circuit my responses and I guess my default is panic crying? I don't know."

Diego huffs at you again. "Please stop that. I'm going to have a heart attack." There is a hint of real annoyance in his voice but his lips curl up at the corners. 

You free your right hand to reach up and brush his wet lashes. Why did something this little bring him to tears? "Baby, is everything okay?"

He leans into your hand, then turns to kiss your fingers. You giggle, you can't help it, his beard both tickles and delights you. He smirks at you, "It is now, Princess. You should get dressed so we can go." 

But you're not done here yet. "Where are we going on the trip? A place name, not foliage that may or may not be present."

His Cheshire cat grin is intriguing and mildly worrisome. He gives you one word, "Xcalak." And then watches while you access your mental map and pinpoint the exact location. 

It takes you a moment but you find it with a gasp. "Costa Maya? Like Caribbean-sea side of Mexico??"  He nods and you immediately start in with 20 Questions. "Are there cenotes? Is the water really those unreal colors? Is the food amazing there? Can we see ruins?"

Diego cups your face to stop you. "Whatever you like, little girl." With a kiss to your nose and a smack to your ass he ushers you upstairs to get dressed. 

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

The shopping is less traumatic than normal for you thanks to Diego making enthusiastic innuendo nonstop and feeding you between stores. You find sandals, and flip flops, and little slip-on sneakers. All kinds of flowy maxidresses and flouncy skirts paired with new tank tops in buttery soft fabrics. Cover-ups and kimonos and huge airy loose knit sweaters get rung up with linen pants and shorts you actually feel comfortable wearing.

But swimsuits? A disaster. Everything that fits your hips is way too big for your ribcage. Tankinis big enough to go around your middle are about a foot too wide around your chest. You try some maternity stuff… amazingly there isn't any chest support. That confuses both of you for almost 20 minutes while you discuss it over croissants and various iced beverages (coffee for him and some kind of hot chocolate slushie for you).

Then you look across the street and inspiration hits. One of the stores you order bras from is right there and has bra-sized swimwear in the display window. Diego turns to see what stole your undivided attention from him and slaps his hand down on the table in celebration. 

You aren't sure which one of you is more excited to get into the store. But while you run around exclaiming at all the things that come in your size Diego stands in the doorway and gawks. When you circle back to check on him he just points to one display wall.

There is lacy, frilly, corseted lingerie. In. Your. Size.

He demands one of everything that fits you and isn't red, brown, or yellow. You don't even argue.

The store does alterations and makes very good recommendations. The sales clerk is impressed with Diego's input, she comments that he really does seem to know your body well. You flush with it, glad that he isn't close enough to hear that. You leave with three bags and seven personalized swim outfits under construction. One is ready to wear and you keep reaching into the bag to touch it in wonder. 

Diego notices but just gives you a raised eyebrow. 

"This is the first time I've ever felt good about how I look in swimwear." You confess quietly. 

Diego wraps a massive arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side while you continue down the sidewalk. 

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

Sunday is a mess as you try to make pancakes and Diego tries to remain physically attached to you like an excessively attractive barnacle. The pancakes are either burnt or still batter in the middle. Leftover carnitas and tortillas to the rescue. Diego teases you about the kitchen failure all day because this is the first time he has witnessed such a thing.

You doze on the couch under the pretense of "reading". Diego rotates through his laptop, cell, and the soccer match on ESPN+. 

Until his phone rings. 

You both tense up. Only one person calls him instead of texting. He takes the phone into the office to answer his sister. You wait on the couch to see which Diego you get back: silly tickle fight Diego,  sad puppy dog eyes Diego that requires cuddles, or  angry Diego that needs to fuck you through the nearest horizontal surface. 

The elevator dings and Julio comes in with a tray of coffees. "Ay, Gordita. Buenas tardes. I got you the hibiscus thing you like." He greets you with a big smile, then looks around when he doesn't see Diego on the sectional with you.

Hopping up to help him carry stuff, you point to the office in indication of Diego's location. Julio makes a face, "Hermana perra?" and you simply nod. Julio takes Diego's iced coffee and bites the bullet for you. The door closes softly behind him.

You munch plantain chips and slurp hibiscus lemonade until they come out.  Diego just looks tired when he comes back to you on the couch, coffee in hand. You open your arms in invitation and he plops next to you with a sigh. Cuddly Diego it is.

He doesn't tell you anything and you don't ask. Everyone watches the match mindlessly. Diego snores softly in your lap while you pet his hair.

He rides to the airport with you but you forbid him from coming onto the plane with you. He is already making this harder than it has to be with his big brown eyes and clingy hands.

"Baby." You breathe into his hair while he snuggles into your neck in the backseat of the SUV. "Its only a week. We do this every week." You pet down his bicep and immediately regret it.

"I know." Diego huffs into your skin. "Why don't you just quit? Let me take care of everything." You go through this almost every week now, too. He nuzzles you, the sensation makes you reconsider his proposal. You pull his head up by a fistful of soft hair and look him in the eye. He blinks guilelessly at you.

"Number one: No. Number two: Stoppit." He laughs at your fond exasperation. "Okay. I'm gonna go. You stay on the ground."

"Fine." He whines. "But I am going to send you a dick pic the moment that plane takes off." He crosses his arms as if daring you to tell him no.

You cup his stupidly attractive face in your hands for a kiss. Okay, several kisses and 27 minutes later, you respond, "Send me one every day. Its my favorite dick." His startled laugh makes you feel very pleased with yourself.

He pulls you into his arms again to kiss you one last time. His beard scratches and you sigh into him. Finally that tongue retreats and he rests his forehead on yours. His voice is low and rough, his hands squeeze tight on your hip and thigh, "I love you, Princess."

Will that ever stop hurting? You close your eyes against the burn of tears but smile with happiness. "I love you, Diego." You pop the door handle before you open your eyes to see him watching you, jaw tense. You stick your tongue out and he breaks into a smirk. With a laugh, you slide out of SUV and walk to the plane, determined not to look back.

When you get up the stairs the pilot greets you, but his gaze shifts behind you. Turning around, you see Diego standing outside the SUV, arms crossed and trying to look so not soft. You smile and mouth Bye baby, he gives you a short little wave. You duck into the plane before you can start crying.

The wheels are not, in fact, off the ground when the phone chirps.

‐-----------------------

The trip is a few weeks out and there is some kind of emergency at the San Diego docks the next weekend. So. You don't get your Murder Panther fix. 

And your coworkers notice. They spend all day Monday strolling past your cubicle, straining their necks to see if you're wearing new shoes or some fresh bling. Finally someone has the nerve to ask how your weekend was. 

You find yourself blinking back tears. I miss him so much. This is ridiculous, he just texted you at like six this morning. But its not just the conversation you miss, now is it? You miss that big body crowding you into the corner of the couch. His soft curls under your hands. That beard on literally any inch of your skin. Draping yourself over shoulders wider than your hips and knowing that not only can he take your weight, he likes it.

He says he wants to keep you and you desperately want to keep him. Why do you fear this? Is it just his profession? The risk? Oh god, how do you even go about introducing him to your parents??? Diego can be all kinds of charming but he can be a real asshole, too.

And they know what he is: A criminal.  For your boomer parents he is the living embodiment of Public Enemy Number One. 

Grand Theft. 

Money Laundering.

Arson.

Murder.

International Cocaine Trafficking. 

HE IS A LITERAL DRUG LORD.

You lay your head down on your desk and try to keep it together. 

Your Diego Cell chirps.

Your laughter bubbles up until it comes out of you without your consent. It turns hysterical and you realize you need to leave the office suite. Now. 

In the bathroom you stare down at the phone as it lights up again with another message.

Miss my Princess💔👑

How? How is someone who can do all those illegal things so nauseatingly sweet to me?

And then it hits you. Illegal. You didn't use the word immoral. Illegal. You think back to how everyone you see working directly for him is well into adulthood. No children. There are a few women but they are not being sold by him, they are there by their own free will. And he has never laid a hand on any of them, they're just as comfortable around him as the men are. No sex trafficking.  You saw someone give their resignation last month. The dude walked away with a suitcase of cash for a decade of trustworthy service. Its a better retirement plan than what I have. 

Have you seen him assault people? Yes. You've seen him stab people. Carve off someone's ear because they weren't listening as assigned and it cost the Jimenez Cartel a shipment. You've seen him push an informant down an empty elevator shaft. Choke a man into unconsciousness with his bare hands when you were disrespected. 

And you still love him. Not a single one of those incidents weighs on your conscience. Your morality is a dingy grey 12 year old men's undershirt that you should just throw away but you're definitely going to cut into rags to keep for cleaning when it comes to Diego. 

The cell lights up again.

Mi amor 💞😍🍑🏝✈⏲👙

You don't know what's worse: His excessive and ridiculous usage of emojis or the fact that you understood. 

Look what came

The attached pic is a few pieces of your new swimwear. They look gorgeous, you can't even tell where the alterations were done.

You have to try on all of them. And show me

Of course he wants his own personal show. You feel desire burning low in your belly. Its been a year and not once has he ever shied away from your stomach rolls or hinted at weight loss. He never questions the food you order. And while the two of you have chuckled about shapewear he has never mocked you for using it. Or seemed disappointed when you opted not to wear it. He tosses you around like its nothing and prefers for you to sleep on top of him. Its not that he loves you despite your weight, he loves it as part of you.

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

Its now Thursday and the desk drawer where you keep your purse at work is vibrating. He knows I'm at work. If he calls right back I'll answer him. You try to keep your Diego Cell out of sight at work or you'll never get anything done. Plus your coworkers are always dying to catch a peek of your infamous sugar daddy/boyfriend.

Yeah. Boyfriend. Keep practicing that. It feels good. 

You finish the insurance call and hang up your headset when the vibrating starts again. Your next door cubicle neighbor pops around the divider to advise you to answer that before he comes down here and abducts you.

What deity should I pray to for that??

You snatch Diego Cell and march out to the hall. Poking the green button, you answer the call.

"Baby. You okay?"

"Princess! I… yeah. I'm not hurt."

He sounds odd. There is definitely something going on here.

"What's up? You need me?"

The silence stretches. 

"Yes. Please?"

Diego sounds very uncomfortable. It causes you physical pain.

"Well, you have me. What is it?"

You can hear him swallow and in your mind you picture him looking away, hiding some soft emotion shining in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Here. I am here. I just. I just wanted to hear you."

Something is very wrong with my Murder Panther, you think.

"Babe," your voice is soft, you're trying to ease him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He huffs and you can hear him scrape a hand down over his face. "I know you are at work. And I should not have called. But."

His voice trembles, even over the phone you can hear it. He's afraid.

"Diego. If you need me, then you have me. Tell me, baby." You try to be reassuring but you also really need to know what is wrong.

"I would like to come down there." His declaration is overly formal. You wonder who he is trying to impress. Its certainly not me.

"You… want to come down here instead of me going up there this weekend?"  You're trying to make sense out of any part of this conversation. 

"I…. grrrrrrrrr."  He growls in frustration. Between English being his second language and your sensory processing issues, this is not an uncommon occurrence. He sucks in a deep breath and charges forward in an emotional rush. "I know you're working, but I want to come down there because I miss seeing your face." Before you have a chance to answer he adds, "Pick me up? At the airport, after work? Please, Bicki." His voice cracks at the end and his inhalation is ragged. Your heart implodes. 

"Diego. Baby. Of course. Of course I will. I can be there by six." You have a mental flash of how dirty your bathroom is, all the clothes you have laying around, and the vacuum you haven't touched in over a month. Diego needing me is more important.

"Good. Good. Yes, I. I will text you. When I land." His voice is raspier than ever, low and gravelly. 

"Sure. I'll be there." I'll always be there.

"Okay. You… you should go." You can hear his determination. You can visualize him squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, taking on the Jimenez Cartel persona. 

"Hey." He grunts in acknowledgement. "I love you." You blurt it out before you have a chance to talk yourself round in circles. You can hear voices in the background. 

"And you. You as well." The call ends, but you know.

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

You're sitting in your car at the little regional airport second guessing the coffee you got when the phone chirps. 

Here

Springing out of the car, you wave to the security guard as you trot past. "Hey Jim, I just have to grab someone real quick. That's okay, right?" You wave vaguely back toward your car parked in the fire lane. There are only four security guards who work here and they all know you at this point. 

Jim laughs but waves you on. "Go get 'im, sweetie." Jim must be pushing 90 by now, he doesn't care about traffic laws.

You enter one of the two sets of automatic doors on this entire building and cross through the tiny lobby. There. You can see his dark hair and ridiculous shoulders over a completely unnecessary row of potted plants. He must hear your echoing footsteps because his head whips around in alarm, but his face relaxes into a wide smile. He lengthens his strides to come around the stupid plants, hands automatically reaching out for you.

"Diego." You laugh breathily and fling arms around his neck. He smells so good. 

He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Printhesss." He murmurs into you, slurred because he refuses to remove his mouth from your skin. 

Turning your head to kiss his cheek, you moan shamelessly for him. He surges back upward to capture your lips and kiss you with mild desperation. That devious tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth before curling up behind your top front teeth. 

Your entire world narrows down to Diego. Chocolate. Tastes like the smoothest Belgian chocolate in existence. He smells perfect, clean but definitively male to you. His silky button-down is smooth under your hands, stretched taut over muscle. Those massive hands gather you closer, molding you to that big, solid body. His beard scratches your face in soft tickles when he alters the angle of the kiss just so.

"Goddamn." A woman's voice exclaiming somewhere behind you catapults you back into the here and now. Which is a dinky little regional airport in rural central Pennsylvania. You know, a very public location in a very prudish area of the country. Fuck.

You pull back and Diego's hands shoot up to the back of your head. Holding you in place, he leans his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. He rumbles softly to you, "Take me home."

You feel so silly seeing Diego in the passenger seat of your Corolla, he just seems so out of place. "You can adjust the seat however, nobody really sits there. I just put it all the way back to make sure you can get in without cracking your head." You sound nervous even to your own ears.

Diego turns to you with a response but his attention is captured by the cup holders in the center console, specifically the Dunkin Donuts styrofoam cup. He points to it, then looks up at you with a slow grin. "Princess. Is this for me?"

You flush but can't stop the embarrassed little smile so you cover it with sass, "Well, it sure as hell ain't for me." You start the car and give Jim a little wave. He winks and gives you two thumbs up. Yeah, I'm aware that you saw that kiss too, old man. Everyone saw that shit.

When Diego reaches for the coffee his fingers brush your hip. The contact burns and you suddenly remember that you have not touched this beautiful man for well over two weeks. Apparently he remembers, too, because he wraps that huge hand around your thigh with rather a lot of force. Right hand slapping down to cover his, your heart rate jumps through the roof. Did I take my blood pressure pill this morning?

"Don't." You choke out.

He rumbles softly next to you, purring with conceited pleasure. "Did my Princess miss Diego?" He asks you with an incredibly pornographic voice. 

"Oh, fuck you." Your answering groan is also obscene. So glad the windows are up.

His hoarse chuckle makes your thighs tremble. "You're Diego's good little girl, you will." He's right and you both know it. You would ride him right here in your own damn car if he demanded it. You have a problem.

He lets you redirect his hand to the coffee with only a little resistance. "Focus." You hiss.

"Me or you?" Diego quips.

"Yes." You declare.

Diego's guffaw is contagious and you don't even try to hold back.

Your apartment always seems like an adequate size until Diego is inside. No, bad Bicki. Do not say it like that. His presence just sort of… lounges about in a vaguely threatening but highly attractive manner. Much like the actual man on your couch. You tried to pick up dinner on the way but he just wanted to 'go home'. You are disgustingly happy that your place feels like home to him.

Diego had flopped on your couch immediately and hasn't moved since. Something is very definitely very wrong. There were bursts of your Murder Panther in the car, but he has been just subdued overall. He had turned your stereo up and smiled faintly, watching you sing along. He had also complained that the stereo in your car sucked (Agreed) and this was unacceptable. You're sure he'll do something ridiculously extravagant to remedy this.

You try to give him the remote, he takes it but doesn't do anything with it. You offer him food, both junk and something home-cooked, all you get is a shrug. You putter around for a while, picking things up and sighing before putting them down somewhere else. His dark eyes watch you, unfathomable. 

Finally you disappear to the bedroom only to return in your pajamas. This he likes, perking up and blinking rapidly. "Okay, I know you brought something softer than those jeans, so get comfy so I can order shitty pizza and cuddle you."

His jaw drops in momentary shock. Then he scoffs, "I do not cu--"

You cut him off, "Yes, you do and yes, you're going to. Up. Now." This has to be hilarious. This short little woman in overly long pants barking orders at the massive man who heads an international drug cartel. Well, its either hilarious or fatal. I'm about to find out.

Diego looks around, as if someone else might secretly be here to witness him be a little bit submissive and moderately soft. He raises his chin in a tiny show of defiance. "Fine. But I am showering first." He glares with this proclamation, daring you to contradict him.

You throw your hands up in the air. Why the fuck would I have a problem with that?? His eyes follow your hands, like a cat when you try to point out a bit of food but all it does is rub your finger. You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Of course that's fine, Diego. You know where everything is, have at it."

You watch his butt as he walks away to the bathroom. 

The pizza actually isn't shitty and Diego eats half of it by himself. When you offer him the cinnamon dessert sticks he shoots you a calculating look. You split the contents, pulling two sticks over to yourself and piling up the rest in front of him. His delighted grin is decidedly not calculated and you lose track of time watching him enjoy dessert.

He's beautiful like this. He wears a soft, silky t-shirt that is tight enough to help you get through the nights you spend alone. His hair is a riot of fluffy curls, free of product and clearly trying to break free of gravity, too. He hasn't shaved for at least a few days and that salt and pepper beard is filling in nicely. His face is unguarded, expression open, those laugh lines and dimples you love make frequent appearances.

After dinner you lay all over each other in some weird we-have-intimacy-issues approximation of cuddling. It works so you don't question it. He has his laptop and you have your tablet and together you have sporadic conversation. Its comfortable. 

Until Diego asks you a seemingly innocuous question that you know is very nefarious:

"What color do you like in cars?"

Your eyes narrow so much that you have trouble seeing. "...Why." Your low tone might be frightening to anyone else.

He looks at you over the laptop screen, brown eyes innocently wide. "Just curious. Your car is green. Do you like any other colors?" He slowly pulls the laptop closer to himself to subtly cover the screen with his bulk. 

"Diego." You slowly put down your tablet and start leaning toward him. He has nowhere to go, propped up in the corner of the chaise end of the sofa. "What. Are. You. Doing." 

"Will you let me take care of you? Just in this one way right now?" He licks his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. Building desperation shows in his eyes and you can't fight that. You don't want to win this.

"Let me see, baby." Your sighed acquiescence has an instantaneous effect. Diego drops the tension from his shoulders and opens an arm to you in invitation. You crawl up him to cuddle into his chest, wedged on your side between all those muscles and the back of the sectional. From here you are stationed directly in front of the laptop screen.

He is looking at cars. 

Armored cars. 

Armored, bulletproof, explosive resistant cars. 

What. The. Fuck.

"Diego, what the fuck is going on?!?" Your apprehensive demand sets him right back on edge. You can feel him go tense underneath you. The laptop gets shoved onto an empty cushion as you throw yourself over him. Tiny hands land on those broad shoulders with extreme force as you use all of your deadweight to trap him. Below you, Diego shakes but you can't tell if its from anger or anxiety because his eyes are scrunched closed tightly. "Tell me why I need a fucking bulletproof car!"

He surges up into your face to match your volume, "She knows! Mi hermana perra knows about you! Alicia found out about us!" You lurch back in shock, but the steel hands on your hips stop you from retreating. His voice is hoarse, louder than you've ever heard him, and its terrifying. Your fear must show because he releases his grip on you like it burns. 

"WHAT?" The ramifications here could truly be lethal. Alicia has already tried to set Diego up to take the fall when they were arrested almost four months ago. You know she has scorned Diego's familiarity with his men in the past, that is why he handpicks them personally. To Alicia, everyone is disposable, even her own brother. Her only loyalty is to herself.

Diego's hands come up in an aborted reach for you. You're still too shocked to move. His face crumbles in agony and he blinks furiously, hands balling into fists. "Everything I have ever wanted she has ensured I never got. She, she manipulates me into destroying everything I touch. I will not let her hurt you! I refuse to allow her to break us, mi amor!!" His volume has steadily escalated until he is yelling. 

He's afraid. He is afraid that he will lose me. The realization emboldens you enough to take his hands in your own, bring them to your chest, and press them close to your heart. You trust that he won't hurt you in his rage. You don't fear him, this dangerous, powerful, ruthless man that you love.

His hands open to slide up your shoulders, curl around your neck, and his thumbs glide over the pulse point under your ears. He brings your face to his own, his expression twisted up with fear and anger and possession and love. 

"You are mine! And I will keep you!"

You realize everything that you have been debating with yourself, all of your pro versus con lists, your stupid little dry erase board covered in sticky notes with your fears, your scribbled timeline of events and possible future predictions, none of it matters. All you care about is the man in your arms. Diego is the most important thing in your life and you can't imagine a life without him. If you had to give up everything to keep him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

Your hands grip tightly around his wrists and you consciously straighten your spine. Expression hardening, your eyes open to meet his anguished gaze.

 "I want black."

The armored 2020 Camry is delivered that Sunday. You thank him for finding something inconspicuous with an upgraded JBL sound system and he compliments your understated color choice of Black Sand Metallic. By the time you drop him off at the airport that evening you've managed to replace the new car smell with something better and you're thankful that the leather seats just wipe clean. Monday morning in the parking lot at work, however, is a literal ordeal.

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

The next two weeks feel like they’re seven months long. You clock out at noon on Thursday to a chorus of your coworkers making vaguely lewd remarks and howling with laughter about your vacation. 'Two whole weeks on a beach in Mexico with an absolutely loaded hottie' is what they've been repeating gleefully all week. 

You turn around and walk backwards to give them finger guns, "Yes," then you reach down to adjust your pants, "And YES." Their squeals are contagious and you're still laughing when you burst out the front doors to drive home. 

You turn the volume waaaay too high in the car so that your teeth vibrate and it feels like you're having heart palpitations. I love this fucking car and I love that man. 

There is a rental Tahoe parked in the grass next to the huge gravel driveway at your farmhouse, but he left the second assigned parking space next to your Corolla open so you can park The Beast (as you have affectionately named your new ride) appropriately while away. When you get out of the car you glance up instinctively, Diego is standing outside your front door on the small third floor balcony laughing. 

"Are you deaf yet, Princess?" He hollers down in amusement. 

You flip him off with the middle finger that wears the gemstone ring he gave you while yelling back, "WHAAAAT??"

His laughter fades as he disappears inside, leaving the door wide open to let out all the cold air. Were you raised in a barn?? Close the door, the electric bill-- You cut off your own thoughts when you suddenly remember that you haven't been paying that electric bill for the last six months. Nevermind.

Before you can start up the stairs, Sara, your first floor neighbor, appears on the porch with their toddler. "Hey stranger!" Sara waves with a big smile and the kid does the same but with some kind of unidentifiable kitchen utensil in hand. "That is your boyfriend, right? He had a key so I didn't think it was your ex but I wanted to make sure. I mean, from what I just saw it is your boyfriend. Also, holy shit, that's your boyfriend?"

If she says the word 'boyfriend' one more time I'm going to spontaneously combust. 

"Uh yeah, definitely not my ex. Sorry, I forget that you guys haven't really seen him before, I meant to tell you he was coming." You can feel your face burning and it isn't from the August sun. Sara fans her own face with a hand while mouthing 'he's hot' like you're somehow unaware. You forge on before she can start gushing aloud. "We're actually leaving on a trip tonight so I'll be gone for the next two weeks."

Now Sara drops the kid and scrambles over to whisper fiercely to you, "Oh my god, seriously? Where are you going? Wait, this is the same guy you've been going to see in New York, right? How long has it been, like a year? Is he taking you on a trip for your anniversary? I don't even know his name. Oh my god, that is so sweet!"

Okay, down girl. You're not sure who you're trying to will into being chill, Sara or yourself. 

"Um, we're going to Mexico. And yeah, he's the guy in New York. It's just a vacation." You don't even touch the relationship questions with a ten foot pole. You glance up but Diego is still inside, Thank fuck. 

Sara hops a little in excitement. "I'm sooo jealous!" She squeals. "You have to take a ton of pictures! I need to see! Oh my god, I bet you guys are such a cute couple!" You nod and start backing away, trying to wave goodbye so you can climb the stairs and then climb Diego. "Ooh ooh, wait, what's his name?" Sara hisses conspiratorially. "Does he speak Mexican? Is he Mexican!?!"

You suddenly remember why you tried to move away from this area. Repeatedly. "Yeah, he's Mexican and yes, he speaks Spanish." You sigh. Sara nods but continues staring at you expectantly. Fine. "His name is Diego."

Sara makes a stupid face like this is a rom-com movie. I cannot take anymore, you must shut the fuck up. "Okay, okay. I won't hold you up. But seriously, we can have a 'pics and wine' girls' night when you come back!" She waves maniacally before snatching up the kid and skipping back inside. 

I can't think of anything I would like less. Oh hell no.

You climb the stairs in record time before she can come back outside and start talking again.

Bastian, Julio, and a third man you don't know are in your living room. You do not care and your vague wave shows it. You can hear Julio's warm 'Gordita!' greeting as you spin around and march to the bedroom.

Diego is standing at your bed, tucking TMP into your small duffel, when you burst through the doorway and continue at full speed directly into him. He laughs breathlessly but holds steady against your weight. "Princess. Are you ready?"

You take overflowing fistfuls of his shirt, bury your face in his chest, suck in a huge lungful of air, and shriek at full volume.

"Uhhh...that is a yes, si?" He mutters uncertainly above you. 

You rear back to look up at him with a smile so wide it hurts.

"Oh good." His hands come to your shoulders while those beautiful brown eyes sparkle. The dimples and laugh lines come out as he absorbs your infectious excitement. Your hands shoot up to his hair to yank him down so you can crash your mouths together with bruising force.

The effect is immediate. He moans loudly and crushes you against him. You dig nails into his neck and you lick your way into his mouth, his hands snake down to your ass to hold tight. Your left leg comes up as you try to wrap it around his hips. With a pained groan he rips those lips off of yours and pulls back. Undeterred, you move on to assaulting his now bared throat, moaning like porn come to life.

"Princess," he gasps, "You have to sto-- uhhh, yes, bonita. Your fucking tongue." You're too busy licking his adam's apple to pay attention to words right now. "Nooo, mi amor, please, lo siento, stopstopstop." You get in one last nip of his collarbone as he pulls your head back via a handful of ringlets. His pupils are blown wide and he's panting hard. You stare longingly at his delectable mouth while making pitiful whines.

"Please, baby, pleeeease. You're all I've thought about for days. I need you!" You try shameless begging, you're certainly not lying. Petting over his shoulders and down that solidly muscled chest, you shudder and try to pull yourself back to him.

He closes his eyes with a grimace. "Flight! Fuck you on the flight!" He croaks, then yanks your hair harder than you like. The pain clears the fog just enough for you to blink back to awareness. You nod jerkily and step back. "Have to leave now to get there before dark." He explains in a rushed huff. You blink as you remember how time works.

"Right. Yeah, right. Okay. Okay." Straightening to attention you yank off the cardigan you wore for the air conditioning at work, leaving you in a tank top and ready to be productive. Focus on not-dick.

Diego shoves your favorite notepad in your face so you can see your packing list and not him. The distraction works. He has checked off every item in each categorized list but left the strike through action for your completion. You lower the notepad until you can make eye contact with him and intensely whisper, "You know I fuckin' love you, right?"  

He laughs so hard he has to sit down on the bed.

You go through every bag, touching each item and crossing it off your list one at a time. He did it. Everything but you.

"You know I don't need TMP, right?"

"Why?" He squints up at you from where he lounges across your bed. 

Your face heats up and you clear your throat. "Well, its, I'm. I have, uh, you. So I don't need anything else." The realization of how true that is in every sense gives both of you pause.

Diego surges upright to cup your face and bonk your foreheads together just a little too hard. You giggle and he huffs. 

"Mi amor…" he sighs for you, eyes closing in pleasure. You 'mmmmm' in response. Then his eyes snap open and he growls an order, "Get changed so we can go!" And punctuates it with a stinging slap to your ass.

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

You spend the flight with your face pressed to the window, vibrating in excitement, except for a brief intermission of seven orgasms in the bathroom.

The unknown third man is Joey, Bastian's boyfriend. Joey is even quieter than Bastian and just as cute. They're not overly demonstrative but clearly comfortable moving around each other. Joey works in "Packaging" and does an admirable job of ignoring his cartel drug lord boss being snuggly. Julio naps. 

The customs agent at the Cancun airport looks you up and down with wide eyes but stamps your passport with no questions. Its a five hour drive to Xcalak but Diego is adamant it can be done in three. You give him an eyebrow question which he dismisses with a vague wave, "They paved the road all the way to the southern border last year."

Uhh, they what now? You understand soon enough. The drive drastically changes outside of Cancun. The scenery is both beautiful and heartbreaking. There are occasional mansions with armed guards, high fences, and SUVs like your own current ride. Mostly though, its shacks and people on foot or riding bicycles, weaving to avoid stray dogs and huge iguanas. Could I handle this as my daily reality?

The first time the road sidles right up to the ocean you have a small meltdown.

 "Is that what I think it is?" Your soft whisper is accompanied by a shaking hand pointing to the left. Diego, crammed into the middle of the backseat between yourself and Julio so you could have an unobstructed view, indicates an order for Bastian to pull over. He reaches across you and pops open your door. You slide out with his hand on your lower back and take about a dozen steps to the lapping water. Diego appears to your right, watching you intently.

 "Its gre-e-e-en!" Your stuttering squeal is accompanied by happy tears and you fling yourself into Diego with joy. He laughs at you, but hugs you back just as tightly.

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

The first week passes in a blur of amazing food, warm green sea, fruity drinks, and shirtless wet Diego. And so many orgasms that you can't keep count. Diego is all over you non-stop, more than he ever has been before (Astonishingly). Its incredible and you feel like the only person in the world. If he's not molesting you then he is at least touching you; keeping you in his lap, holding your hand, cuddling and petting and snuggling like a man obsessed. 

You love it. You love him. You love this life.

On Saturday he lets you lead him through the tiny town, your Spanish improving by leaps and bounds as you try to navigate the streets and alleys and shops. The four years of high school Spanish actually prove useful as you manage to complete a purchase all by yourself. Your playful mock smugness evaporates under the blazing desire in his eyes. 

He drags you back to the casita in a much shorter and more direct route than you took upon earlier departure. You're marched directly to the bed and he puts one massive hand in the middle of your chest to gently push you down onto your back. There is something different about this, something important in his eyes. Your voice is high and soft, "Diego?"

He climbs up between your legs and leans down to kiss you senseless. It goes on forever; soft lips, scratchy beard, silky tongue, and nothing but the taste of Diego. Your moans and sighs are mixed together, there are moments when you can't tell who is making what noise. His hands are shaking as he strokes every inch of newly bared and sunburnt sensitive skin while undressing you. 

It takes repeated attempts, but you finally get him naked, too. The sight never fails to take your breath away. All that soft, and now freshly tanned, skin is like velvet to your touch. You're mesmerized by his muscles flexing and then evening out as he moves above you. He finally gets your linen pants untangled off your left foot and flings them across the room with unnecessary force. Your soft peals of laughter light up his face and it brings tears to your eyes. You reach a hand out to him, "Diego. Baby."

He comes up over you, threading fingers into your hair, kissing you slowly and thoroughly. You can feel him against you, fire hot and mouth wateringly hard, but he makes no move to take you. Your eyes open in hazy confusion as the kiss ends. Diego is watching your face, blinking back tears. 

He is holding your head still, hands like steel. Whatever this is, he needs it. And you want to give him everything he needs. Forever.

You're captured by his eyes, bottomless, soulful, and hungry. His raspy voice is soft and trembling with desire. "I love you, Bicki. I want everything. Forever, Princess?" 

Your chest compresses and your heart implodes. Scalding tears escape when you blink and you're nodding before you even know it. "Yes, Diego. Yes, baby, I'm yours." 

Your back arches off the bed as he comes home and brings you with him.

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

You wake up crushed under Diego. The sun is still up so you might be able to talk him into going out for dinner. You rub your cheek on the huge bicep doubling as your pillow and Diego sighs directly into your ear from where he is spooned up behind you. Oh yeah, we should have done this waaaay sooner.

He nuzzles your neck just to incite squirmy giggles and you don't even fight it. "I have something for you, Princess. Stay here." He pulls away and you whine about the loss of your pillow. His low chuckle burns you alive with want. "Stay like that. Do not move." You obey while you listen to him rummage around behind you.

He comes around to your side of the bed, still completely and unabashedly nude. Hell. Fucking. Yes. You love it. He hands your glasses over and you slide them on to take in the now high definition view of naked Murder Panther. The view disappears as he kneels down next to the bed so you're on eye level. His expression is very peculiar. 

His hands slowly come up to reveal a small box of black velvet. Time slows to a halt as he opens the box and presents it to you. 

Inside is a ring. Gleaming in platinum and sparkling with three tastefully large princess cut diamonds. 

Its an engagement ring.

Diego is proposing. 

He swallows hard and rumbles gruffly, "Now remember, you already said y--"

You cut him off with a shriek. "YES! YESYESYES!!"

In the time it takes him to blink twice with surprise you're on him. Arms around his neck, you throw yourself into his lap. He topples backwards and you ride him to the floor, already bawling hysterically. 

He stares up at you in shock as you nod furiously and cry all over him. "Princess. You… you are certain?" If this were any other time you would be howling with laughter at his huge eyes and lax jaw. 

Your answer is stuttery but determined. "Y-y-yeah. Put it-t-t-t on me already!" 

He laughs in delight at your order and the imperious presentation of your shaking left hand. The ring glides on easily, a perfect fit. It gleams up at you blindingly. After a moment of admiration you lace your fingers with his and sigh at the union. His other hand comes up to roughly brush away your tears. "I know you do not like labels so much… but, you will be my, my married... Person. Thing?" 

You stroke his bearded cheek in return, thumb lingering on that dimple. With a hard gulp you dive in head first. Fuck it.

"Yes, Diego. I will be your wife."

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

The next time you wake it is dark out. You reach for a phone on the nightstand to your left and jump when you find one with a loud crack. Diego pops upright behind you, instantly on high alert. "Princess?" He hisses while covering your body with his own.

You gigglesnort, then meekly answer him, "I forgot about the ring and whacked a phone. Everything's okay, baby."

He sighs so deeply that his breath ruffles your hair. "Jesus fucking christ, woman. You are a menace."  He flops down on top of you and snuggles back into your warmth. 

You reach back with your left hand and grope blindly for his face. He licks your fingers as soon as they're in reach and you stuff them into his mouth as retaliation. He just sucks languidly. 

"Mmmmmm, I'm your menace, baby. And I have to pee." He nips your fingers but rolls over to free you. You slide out of the bed and stretch your arms high while arching your back. Diego groans painfully. "What?"

Diego rises to all fours on the bed while the sheet slithers off of him. "You forget that other people can see without glasses, huh?" You cock your head and realize that you have a shadow.

It's a full moon. And I just stretched naked in front of a sliding glass door. "Oh. Huh. I guess I do forget. Oops. I'll be sure to keep that in mind now." Your seemingly tame answer is directly contradicted by the exaggerated roll of your hips that makes your butt bounce when you walk off. 

"Fucking menace, woman." Diego growls as you push the bathroom door shut with a trill of laughter.

You never do go back to bed but you do wind up on the beach in front of the casita to watch the sunrise. Julio finds you both snuggled together late the next morning, still asleep on the covered daybed under the palms while the rising tide comes ever closer. At least Julio has the decency to cover your bare ass with a beach towel.

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

By the time you think to check your phone gallery you have… 1,792 pictures. WHAT THE FUCK. 

You scroll through the pics, there are a lot you do not remember taking. Was I that drunk or did Diego take some of these? One is a close up of your ass from below wearing a string bikini, I knew I wasn't that drunk. The next pic is Diego asleep on a lounge chair, one arm curled up above his head, muscles glistening in the sun, and swim trunks so low on his hips that it's almost obscene. Immediately following that is the same pic but with your own face photobombing about three inches away from the camera and giving a thumbs up with your left hand so your engagement ring is prominently visible. Oh yeah, I remember that one. 

There are videos, too. The first one is Diego making lewd comments while you twerk in the ocean for about ten seconds. Okay, that's par for the course with us. Next is you successfully backflipping off of Diego's shoulders into the green water to everyone freaking out. Shit, even I'm impressed with myself. After that is video of you gagging through a dish of octopus at some restaurant. Both of you are clearly visible in the shot so Julio must have had the phone. Betrayal. 

There are tens of dozens of the two of you in various poses and outfits, both disgustingly happy and blatantly in love. There's even a role reversal shot of Diego sprawled across your lap, one enormous arm wrapped around your neck and his knees over your own arm while you grimace and he laughs hysterically. The table to your right is covered in empty bottles and mostly finished drinks. An entire subsection depicts you asleep like you have a stalker. You count no less than 29 of you two trying on increasingly ridiculous hats in random stores.

You can't even keep count of all the close ups of a smoldering Murder Panther. You feel no guilt.  Aren't you supposed to be ridiculously attracted to your fiancé??

Fiancé.

You have a fiancé. Your fiancé is Diego. You are engaged to Diego Rafael Jimenez. 

I have to explain this ring to everyone. They'll have questions about him. People will want pictures. How do I explain what he does?? Oh my god, there's no closet here. I have to… find somewhere. And I can't I can't. Its-

Your head jerks upright when something touches your hair. Its Diego. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he has unfurled a sheet over you to block out everything, and he waits there, watching you. Before you realize it your hands are reaching for his shoulders, just the feel of him, warm and solid under your hands, calms you. 

Slowly, his right hand comes up to cover your left. "No closet, Princess." His huge fingers grip yours tightly. You nod a little. He just watches you, eyes guarded. 

"Ask. Go ahead." You mutter. You can tell from his posture that he is uneasy, apprehensive. 

He locks eyes with you and his gaze is intense. He curls all of his fingers around your left ring finger. "Still yes?" 

The fear in his eyes breaks your heart. Your voice is shaky but determined, "No. You can't get rid of me. I'm your problem now, baby."  His expression would make a meeker woman cower in fear, you laugh weakly. 

He settles down on the tile floor in front of you, with the sheet over both of you. Its like four in the afternoon and I am sharing a blanket fort with my cartel boss fiancé while on vacation in Mexico. What even is my life? His elbows are on his knees, chin in hand. He studies you for a minute, you stare right back. He raises one eyebrow and you sigh in capitulation. 

"I don't know how to just be happy. I suck at it."  You shrug but reach for his face. Diego nuzzles into your hand while you stroke your thumb over his beard. 

"Habby isz nawt a berb." He slurs into your palm with a soft kiss.

The epiphany is like a cinder block to the brain. 

He's right. I don't have to 'do' anything. I'm happy right now. I've been happy every time I'm with him. And no one had to exert any effort.

People can define themselves. People can define their relationships. Why can't they define their own normal? I can make my own rules. Especially with someone like Diego as my partner.

His one eyebrow slowly rises as he watches your thoughts play out across your face. "You back?" He asks with a hidden smirk, you know its there from the way his eyes crinkle with laugh lines.

"Yup!" Is your decisive answer. Diego licks your palm. "I got better places you can lick, baby." You answer his smirk with a waggling eyebrow. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of play wrestling and inappropriate noises.

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

You do, in fact, go on a safari. Of sorts. Tours of ruins and jungle and cenotes, lots of side quests because the both of you are easily distracted by pretty colors. You probably added another thousand pictures of various palm trees to your gallery. The hat makes multiple appearances. 

Diego has to ship a crate home to New York because he bought you too many souvenirs. You laugh and tease him when he wants to pick out things for your middle sister and niece, until you hear his logic. 

"They were nice to me." He murmurs with a little half-shrug, "It was like being in a real family for a little bit." He studies the bins of painted shells on display in the little store with way too much focus.

You spend a moment deliberating before you decide to reach out and touch his elbow.

 "Hey," your soft voice brings his gaze your way momentarily before he goes back to ceramic turtle magnets. You take his hand with your own right and rest your left hand on his chest. Diego looks down where your ring glints in the light, then up to your face. "You know you're going to be part of that 'real' family, right?"

Diego's boyish little smile is heartbreakingly adorable. 

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

The flight home is much shorter than you want it to be and you spend most of it asleep on Diego. At one point you wake up to see Bastian and Joey cuddled up together napping. When you look up from where your head is resting in Diego's lap he is already looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"What?" You whisper softly. You stifle a yawn and blink repeatedly. 

Diego strokes one big hand over your hair and grips your jaw firmly. With a huge toothy grin he answers, "Mine." 

"Uh huh. How many times you need me to say yes, baby?" You smirk up at him with an arched brow. He seems to be reveling in hearing you readily admit your commitment to him.

He considers your question carefully while his other hand trails down the front of your body under a blanket. I don't remember having a blanket earlier. Finally, Diego settles on "Every day. At least seven times. Seven is a good number, right Princess?" 

Your body jerks as his fingers press between your thighs with steady determination. Your eyes flick over to Bastian and Joey, still out cold. You make a show of wiggling around to get comfortable, and, surprisingly, that involves spreading your legs. "Yessss." You hiss up at him.

Julio reclines his seat and exaggeratedly covers his face with a new hat. 

Seven is a very good number.

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

Your first day back to work is a circus. You don't think twice about your normal greeting as you enter the office suite. You swipe your badge with your right hand and pop the door, then wave 'hi' to everyone. Like usual. With your left hand. 

There is an excessive amount of squealing that makes you second guess going into a female dominated field. The whole day is a wash because you have a steady stream of people passing through your cubicle. You're glad you had the forethought to curate a photo album of appropriate images to show your coworkers despite Diego's repeated attempts to sneak a dick pic in there somewhere. You most definitely included the glistening swim trunks lounge chair picture. Squealing intensifies.

Everyone comments on the hat and you're forced to tell the story of the hat. How you once told Diego that you wanted to see palm trees, 'But like, in the wild.' And Diego had laughed so hard that he fell off the bed only to pop back up wheezing about a 'Palm Tree Safari' until you smacked him in the face with a pillow. Your coworkers think it is just disgustingly adorable that he never let you live that down. 

Your coworkers have questions:

When is the wedding? 

Where are you having it?

What kind of dress do you want?

What are your colors?

Are you going to do flowers?

What about the cake?

Who is your maid of honor?

How did your family take the news?

What about his family?

Are you going to New York?

Will you take his name?

Oh shit. I forgot about the whole 'wedding' part of this.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Eight

A/N: Thank you all for being patient in waiting while I worked on the next chapter! I won’t be able to update every Tuesday anymore, but I’m making the effort to get back on the horse!

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait long for dinner to be ready. One of the workers came into the ballroom shortly after Roman and Damien’s conversation and everyone either made their excuses to leave or headed towards the dining room. Damien stood and offered his hand to Roman, but Roman hesitated. “I still don’t feel ready,” he said. “I know it’ll be okay, and you’ll help me, but I still don’t feel...ready.”

Damien just held his hand a little higher. “The sooner we get it over with the sooner we can leave,” he offered. “And we can spend the evening just the two of us, at least until we’re hounded into dancing practice.”

Roman groaned softly, but he couldn’t deny his smile at the thought of getting to dance more with Damien, so he took the hand and let himself be dragged to his feet. Damien ran his nose down Roman’s neck and Roman squeaked, shoving Damien’s head away. “What if my mother sees?!” he hissed in a panic.

“I don’t see her in the room,” Damien said, glancing meaningfully at the door.

“That doesn’t mean she won’t come back if we drag our feet!” Roman said in a hushed shout. “I can’t have her seeing us be intimate while I’m pretending to experiment!”

Damien hummed. “What if she did see us?” he asked.

“She can’t!”

“But you could use your supposed heterosexuality to your advantage,” Damien said. “You like it when we flirt. You enjoy my intimacy. And she believes that only girls can like boys. Let us imply that I turned you straight and her plan worked. I can be loving to you, you still get to wear a suit at the wedding, and you don’t have to worry about your brother not coming to the big day.”

“Damien, pretending to be cisgender is going to be hard enough,” Roman laughed. “Cisgender and heterosexual? That’s overselling it.”

“You’ve had an interest in boys in the past, yes?” Damien asked as they started to walk.

“...Yes?” Roman said, unsure of where this was going.

“And you have an interest in me,” Damien said.

“Yes,” Roman agreed.

“Then there’s no pretending to be heterosexual. You let your actual feelings speak for you. You pretend to be cisgender, when we both know the truth, and our attraction is real. Your mother is desperate enough to not examine it too closely.”

“I hope so,” Roman muttered.

“I know so,” Damien assured him. “I have talked to many a desperate diplomat before, I know how to recognize it. And your mother is grasping at straws.”

Roman sighed, and offered Damien a weak smile. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Positive,” Damien agreed. “She’s desperate. That makes her easier to manipulate.”

“Also much more dangerous, and volatile if she suspects that’s what we’re doing,” Roman pointed out nervously.

“We’ll be fine, my love, I promise,” Damien said. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

Roman nodded, and forced himself to relax as much as he could. He had reason to be worried, true, but he also had reason to trust Damien and his family. And he’d be safe here. What would be unsafe...would be going home. But Roman didn’t intend to do that for a long, long time.

At least, not until Remus became the King.

They got to the dining room and Damien and Roman sat next to each other, as per usual. Roman nodded at anyone who greeted him again, smiling neutrally. Honestly, he just wanted to find a place with just Damien to hide out a little while longer, to kick back and talk and be silly in private. He doubted he’d be allowed that sort of needed space right now, though.

Damien glanced at him. “Tired?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Roman agreed.

“After dinner, might I be able to drag you around the castle for a bit?” Damien asked.

“Sure,” Roman said. “Any particular place in mind?”

Damien shrugged, grinning a little. “Well, there’s one room that we’ve used to store a piano for years now. It’s still in tune...”

“And you know how to play?” Roman asked, eyes lighting up.

“Well enough,” Damien agreed. “I’d like to show you, if that’s all right.”

“I’d love that!” Roman exclaimed.

Damien put a finger to his lips. “Careful, if too many people hear, they might insist on a concert.”

Roman laughed, but did quiet down. His smile came a lot more naturally now, and he appreciated that.

Dinner came out, Patton sending a little wave to Roman. Roman waved back. “Looks like you have some competition, Damien,” one of the diplomats teased.

Damien scoffed. “Right. Because I’m threatened by Patton of all people.”

“I’m just like an over-friendly labrador, I’ll wave at anyone,” Roman laughed. “It doesn’t mean much to me. I’m still happy getting to be married to Damien, rest assured.”

Damien kissed Roman’s cheek and Roman squeaked, lightly smacking his arm. “Behave!” he squawked.

Everyone else laughed and Roman just rolled his eyes, turning to his food. Damien ran his hand down Roman’s arm. “Come on, my love, I was only teasing,” Damien said.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Damien and Damien over-dramatically gasped. “Come on!” he protested.

Snickering, Roman shook his head. “You have to earn it, loverboy.”

Damien made an offended noise. “You just said you’d love to marry me!”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to earn a kiss!” Roman teased.

A quick glance around the table showed that everyone was watching them with amusement, save for his mother, who looked supremely uncomfortable. Roman turned back to his food again and the conversation stalled, before Damien asked, “Who had placed their bets on me marrying Roman?” with a cheeky grin.

Roman nearly choked on his food. “What?!”

“Supposedly almost everyone had a betting pool debating who I would find myself in love with,” Damien said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “It was a bit of an open secret. Most people had bets on someone. Although I’m not sure you were on the list.”

“I can understand why I wouldn’t be,” Roman said.

“Indeed,” Damien agreed. “But the fact remains that we are getting married, and if enough people were in on it someone might have betted on you.”

“I don’t think anyone did,” Max said from his position at the table. “And I was the one keeping track of all the bets.”

“Really?” Damien asked, surprised. “No one?”

“No one,” Max confirmed. “I do distinctly remember that someone betted a long shot with Roman’s brother.”

Roman burst out laughing. “Oh, no. Remus?! Who bet on Remus?!”

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Remus in years,” Damien mused. “I suppose when I was a child, perhaps, but not for a while.”

“That’s going to change, soon,” Roman pointed out.

His mother muttered something dark under her breath and everyone turned to her. “Something on your mind, Diana?” the Queen asked.

“Remus hasn’t been feeling well as of late. It would be a shame for him to miss the wedding, but if he is sick enough, I don’t want to risk anyone here growing ill,” his mother said.

Roman’s stomach dropped. His mother was setting up the framework for Remus to miss the wedding. He had sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t stoop so low as to do that. But if anything cemented in the concept that he would have to pretend to be Veronica after tomorrow afternoon, it was this. “He seemed fine when we left,” Roman weakly tried.

“How would you know?” his mother asked. “You didn’t even say goodbye to him when we left!”

“We left before dawn! I wasn’t going to wake him up before dawn just to say goodbye, even if you had given me the chance!” Roman protested. “The last time I saw him, he seemed perfectly healthy.”

The room went uncomfortably quiet. Roman’s mother was glaring at him, but Roman refused to back down. If there was a chance he could have Remus at the wedding without having to pretend to be a confused little girl for the rest of the week, he’d snatch it up immediately.

“You can’t even acknowledge that you are a woman, dear, how would you know anything about others if you can’t know yourself?” his mother scoffed.

Roman’s entire face burned and his eyes stung in an instant, and he stood up so fast his chair screeched behind him before falling to the floor. “How dare you?!” he snarled. “How dare you suggest that just because I want to experiment with my identity that I’m incompetent?! You clearly know nothing, not only about Remus, but about me! I would question your judgement on seeing how Remus is feeling! So many times both of us pretended to be fine, plastered on fake smiles and insisted we weren’t in trouble, and you were none the wiser! You forced us into situations that made us feel worse and at the end of it insisted that it couldn’t be that bad, because we were fine, after which point Remus would run to the bathroom and puke or I’d retreat to my bedroom to have a panic attack! You. Know. Nothing. About. Us. And I would thank you kindly to never assume that you know us better than we know ourselves ever. Again.”

“That sort of behavior is frankly disgusting, Your Majesty,” Damien said with a glare. “You are not in Roman’s head. Nor are you in Remus’. If Remus is truly sick, then I would advise he stay home, but if you are merely fabricating this as some sort of power grab, then I have to say, I am decidedly unimpressed with you. And considering Roman’s reaction, the latter seems far more likely.”

Murmuring started up around the room and the Queen clapped her hands. “Everyone, quiet down, please. Roman, take a seat, Diana, I don’t want to hear one more word from you until I am finished speaking.”

Roman’s stomach flipped but he grabbed his chair and sat back down, observing the Queen.

“Obviously, we are dealing with some varied opinions here. I cannot say for sure who is right, because I don’t know the full story on either side. Diana, if Remus is truly sick, then I suggest he wear a mask should he come to the wedding. If you’re trying to sway Roman’s opinion by denying him his brother on his big day, then that is, like Damien said, disgusting, and I truly hope you wouldn’t stoop that low. Damien, we’ve spoken before about you antagonizing people you aren’t fond of, and why that behavior is unacceptable. Roman, you are under no obligation to do whatever your mother wants from you, but that does not mean you can start shouting in the middle of dinner. I understand you’re angry, but this situation is hard on everyone, not just you. If you need a break, ask for one. But we can’t all just shout at each other for the rest of the week.”

Roman nodded. “In that case, I’ve lost my appetite and I need a break.”

“All right, dear, I will ask around to check up on you in half an hour,” the Queen said.

Roman stood after taking one last bite of dinner and he smiled at everyone except his mother. “It was lovely seeing you all, and I hope to see you at the wedding.” Then, he turned on his heel and left, immediately turning as soon as he was out the door so no one could see him start to violently shake.

After some time, the shaking subsided and he took a breath. If he focused he could hear the dinner chatter continue, but he didn’t feel like focusing. He started to walk down the hallway before footsteps skidded to a stop behind him and a hand was placed at the small of his back to capture his attention. “I still owe you a song, my love,” Damien said. “Might I be able to persuade you to come with me?”

Roman gave an over-dramatic sigh. “Oh, I suppose,” he said, laughing.

Damien offered his hand to Roman and Roman took it. Damien guided Roman through the halls, lightly swinging their hands and Roman looked at Damien with a smile. “Thank you for defending me,” he said. “It feels like every night at dinner there’s a fight, but every time you defend me.”

“Well, every night at dinner is when we are forced to be in close quarters with your mother, so that’s hardly a surprise,” Damien laughed. “But I’m happy to defend you so long as you accept it. Especially if it’s against your mother. I hate her and I love getting to call her out on her—pardon my French—shitty behavior.”

Roman snorted. “You know, when I first met you, I hardly would have expected you to say that.”

“What, did you think that I was in on the decision to make you ‘hetero ever after’?” Damien asked.

“Somewhat,” Roman admitted with a small shrug. “Honestly I wasn’t really sure what to think, and all I knew was that you were going to be an obstacle I had to handle. I’m...really glad that you’re on my side, though.”

“As am I, my dear,” Damien assured him. “As am I.”

Roman smiled. “It’s really crazy when you think about it,” he said softly. “Two guys forced together because one of them is trans, but they wind up falling in love and the arranged marriage suddenly becomes...appealing. Granted, I usually prefer dates before marriage, but after works too, I suppose...”

Damien grinned, nose wrinkling again. “I will take you on the best dates,” he declared as they stopped outside a nondescript door. “And if you want, you can consider this little retreat from dinner a date as well. I don’t mind.”

Roman smiled as Damien opened the door with a flourish and the two of them walked in. There were various musical instruments around the room, most of them looking disused, but in the center of it all, was a baby grand piano that looked freshly dusted. Damien sat down in front of it and plucked a couple keys, humming. “It still works, that’s good,” he mused. He turned to Roman. “Any requests?”

“It’s cheesy,” Roman warned him.

“If you have a request and I know it, I’ll play it,” Damien promised.

“Our first dance?” Roman requested. “Do you know the chords?”

Damien hummed, placing his fingers on the keys. He plucked a few of them that didn’t sound quite right, either too high or too low, and a couple sour notes, before he frowned and tried one more time, getting the first chord of the song. His face lit up. “And from there it will be...” he muttered as his hands moved further up the piano and chose the next keys. He nodded to himself. “Okay. Yeah. I think I know how to play that.”

Roman leaned against the piano attentively as Damien played the first few chords, before he started to sing. “‘When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be...’”

Once again, Roman was enraptured by Damien’s singing. He loved hearing the slight roughness to Damien’s voice as he sang, reaching the high notes and the low notes with ease. If Roman didn’t know any better, he would say that Damien had to be part siren. Roman would certainly follow Damien’s voice to the end of the world.

The sound of the piano stopped and Roman shook himself from his reverie. “Why did you stop?” he asked Damien.

“I finished the song, my love,” Damien said, biting back laughter.

“Oh,” Roman said, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Did you not realize?” Damien asked.

“Well, I may or may not have gotten caught up in your singing...” Roman admitted. “You have a very nice voice.”

“Thank you,” Damien laughed. “I do enjoy getting to sing, though I don’t do it as often as I used to.”

“That will change when we get married,” Roman said. “I will make you sing every night to me if I can.”

“Can you sing?” Damien asked.

“A little bit, I suppose,” Roman said with a shrug. “I certainly belted Disney songs at the top of my lungs growing up. Well into my teen years.”

“Care for a duet?” Damien asked, playing with the keys on the piano as he started a song that Roman knew all too well. “‘I can show you the world...’”

Roman beamed as Damien continued to play the piano, singing with a wide smile on his face. Soon enough, it was Roman’s chance to jump in, and he did so with gusto, never being so glad that he was a soprano in his life. Usually it caused him dysphoria, but right now, he just got the chance to duet with Damien, and that was what he was going to focus on.

Damien played the final notes of the song, and to both of their surprise, there was clapping from the doorway. The Queen was standing there, beaming. “You two have quite the talent,” she said. “If you had met when you were younger, I have no doubt that you would have never stopped singing duets together.”

Roman coughed. “I mean, it’s just some harmless fun. I doubt I could make a career out of it...”

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be the life of a karaoke party,” Damien pointed out. “Come to think of it, there is a place a couple towns over that I know has a pretty good karaoke night...”

Roman laughed. “No, I would not stand up in a crowd of strangers just to sing...not unless you would do it with me.”

Damien rolled his eyes and sighed a very put-upon sigh. “All right,” he said. “We’ll duet.”

Roman smiled. “Was there something you needed us for?” Roman asked the Queen.

“Logan’s asking after the two of you,” the Queen said. “He wants more dance practice.”

“I’m going to lose my feet at this rate!” Roman scoffed, tilting his head back.

Damien placed his arm around Roman’s shoulders and said, “It’s okay love. It’ll be fun. We can mess around a little bit if you want.”

“Logan would kill you for that, dearheart,” the Queen warned.

Damien shrugged. “The price I pay for a happy husband.”

Roman jumped. “Hey! We haven’t tied the knot yet!”

“Are you arguing that you wouldn’t want me calling you your husband?” Damien asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No. I’m saying if you say that in front of my mother, she’ll take your head,” Roman warned.

Damien shrugged. “I’ll make it work.”

“For your sake, I hope so,” Roman muttered.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna--28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@cktkat@im-actually-ok

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 29

Summary: Five hundred years before Feyre Archeron is born, the world is much different from the one she lives in. Humans are slaves, seen as little more than animals by the Fae who rule. But things are beginning to change. Talks of rebellion is spreading and on the Continent, some Fae territories begin to consider the potential gain of War. All it takes is one spark and everything will explode.

Masterlist

A/N: There's another time jump of about 10 months before this chapter because this war is seven years and I really need to reach the end eventually.

-----

Drakon didn`t expect his essays to get any kind of attention. No one in international politics ever seemed interested in what he had to say, so the idea that they`d be care about his writing seemed absurd.

But maybe getting captured and tortured by the enemy made him interesting enough that people suddenly were interested in what he wrote. Or he just got lucky. Either way, the essays he published – an analysis of why it was the Fae`s duty as a people to help the humans fight for their freedom – got popular practically overnight with the Fae soldiers. According to Miryam, his timing was perfect. With causalities rising each day, many Fae had been questioning what they were fighting for, and apparently, Drakon`s texts did a good job of reminding everyone what this war was really about and thus increasing troop morale.

Even ten months later, Drakon still hasn`t gotten used to his new popularity.

Sitting on a rock just outside of their current camp with an open book on his lap, Drakon watches the first rays of the sun colour the land in golden light. Before he got captured, he liked to still be asleep by sunrise. But these days, he keeps waking up from nightmares and then, he can`t stand the confinement of his tent. So he usually ends up sitting somewhere outside of the camp long before sunrise, either getting some paperwork done or writing another essay. Like today, when he`s close to finishing an essay explaining why the Fae`s supposed superiority is a myth. He just needs a final argument.

Miryam finds him when the sun has almost fully risen over the horizon. The light makes the tips of her hair glow and makes her look like she`s wearing a crown of fire.

“How is it you always know where to find me?”, Drakon asks with a smile and closes his book.

“You`re a tad predictable.” Miryam plops down on the stone next to him.

These days, their sleeping habits are rather similar. Some days, Miryam will join him outside of the camp. Sometimes, they talk about his writing, about politics and the war. Occasionally, Drakon tells her about his nightmares. She never talks about hers. Other days, they just sit in silence. He has come to miss her when she doesn`t join him in the morning.

“I have a council meeting in an hour”, Miryam says, “Do you want to come?”

“Can`t.” And he doesn`t really want to, either. At Miryam`s insistence, he joined a few council meetings in the last few months, but even though the Council is far more polite to him these days, he still doesn`t enjoy the meetings. “I have a meeting of my own in Erithia in two hours, and I promised Jurian to join him for a patrol afterwards.”

“What`s the meeting about?”, Miryam asks.

Drakon starts drumming a rhythm on his leg. That`s another new habit of his. One of the healers from home suggested he should find something to focus on, a distraction to help him deal with things. He had a list of things one might use and Drakon settled on rhythms. It helps him remain calm.

“Remember this reform for our taxation system we were discussing three days ago?”, he asks. Miryam nods and he continues, “Well, it`s up to vote today, but I don`t think it will pass.”

Miryam smiles and shakes her head. “Only you would sound cheerful about losing a vote.”

“Well, I`m not happy about losing, obviously. But if I lose a vote, it means my system is working.” He shrugs. “Besides, most of the people on my council are smarter than me, so if they don`t allow a law to go through, I`m sure they have a reason.”

“And if the reason is that it doesn`t benefit them personally?”, Miryam asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, who is it that would suffer under your new law?”

“Well, it`s supposed to make the system fairer. No one suffers.” The whole idea behind it is that fewer people suffer. But still, he knows what Miryam is aiming for. “But I suppose there will be an increase in taxes for the rich.”

“And what would you say, how many of your council members are rich?”

“You mean…” Drakon groans. “But they are supposed to represent the people! That`s what they were elected for!”

“I`m not saying they don`t care about the people”, Miryam says. “Just that you might want to take into account that they also care about themselves.”

Drakon rubs face. Either way, if Miryam is right, his system has a serious design flaw.

“So what do I do?”

Miryam shrugs. “How am I supposed to know? I have no idea how laws work, or how to run a country. I just know a thing or two about people.”

Drakon sighs. Maybe if he makes a rule that only half of the seats can be given to people from the upper class? Either way, it means changing the system again.

“Damnit”, he mutters and continues drumming around on his leg.

“Hey.” Miryam moves closer and wraps an arm around him. “This new system of yours is a great idea, really. But you`ve only been doing this for a few years. It`s completely natural that there are still things that need fixing.”

Drakon nods. “I better figure something out, then.”

It will be a ton of work. But well, he knew in advance that changing his countries political system would not be easy. At least he`ll have something new to keep him busy during sleepless nights now.

“Do that”, Miryam says and gets up. “Now, I have a meeting to get to, so I should be off.”

He looks after her as she walks towards the camp. At the edge of the camp, she stops to have a short conversation with the guards. They are too far away for Drakon to hear what they are saying, but the sound of Miryam`s laugh drifts over to him.

Smiling, Drakon turns back to his book. He thinks he might be growing a bit too used to having her around.

----

The meeting has been going on for more than four hours now. Miryam`s magic has been acting up for the last two.

Miryam holds herself so straight it makes her back hurt and tries to focus on the conversation, but the feeling that something is pulling at her becomes more insistent with each passing minute. Under the table, she digs her fingers into her leg so hard that it hurts. Pain, she learned, helps keep her grounded.

“I suggest we join the armies”, she says. Does her voice sound strained? “That way, we cover up for the losses and increase their chances to survive should there be another attack.”

Yes, the strain in her voice is most certainly audible. But since they are discussing how to best cover the loss of another two thousand soldiers, they are all a little on edge. She`ll fit right in.

“That way, we`re down another army”, Zeku points out, frowning at the map in the middle of the table. Little figures mark the positions of the armies. blue for the Alliance, red for the Loyalists. These days, there is no mistaking that there is far more red than blue to be seen on the playing field of this war.

“And if we don`t, we lose both if there`s another battle and they have too few soldiers left to defend themselves”, Andromache says matter-of-factly. The queen looks as tired as Miryam feels, with her slightly tangled hair and the brown skin that lost its usual glow.

Miryam nods at her. “We only have bad options here”, she says, “All that`s left to do is pick the one that`s least likely to end in disaster.” And do it quickly, so that she can get out of here.

Unfortunately, as soon as the matter at hand is solved, there are three more issues for the council to deal with and Miryam is stuck in the stuffy meeting chamber, listening to bickering royals and trying to stir the meeting into a productive direction for another hour. At least her power finally seems to settle down to the point where it`s almost bearable. Miryam leans back in her chair and tries not to let her relief show.

Finally, the last problem has been solved and Miryam thanks everyone for their presence. Ever since her conversation with Grand Duke Zeku, she is acutely aware that her basically leading the meetings does make her stand out in the Alliance, but there`s little she can do about her position now. Their situation is precarious enough as it is, the last thing they need is for her to step back from her leading spot and cause a power struggle amongst the Continental leaders.

At least she manages to get to the door without being stopped by any of her co-councilmembers and finds a Fae guard who is friendly enough to winnow her back to her camp. As soon as she is outside, the last bit of her dizziness passes.

“Evening Tia!”, she calls out to the woman who is currently trying to show a group of new recruits how to properly use a longbow. So far, no success is visible – most arrows miss their mark by several feet – and Tia looks annoyed when she turns around.

“This already looks better than in the morning”, Miryam says with a smile towards one of the recruits who is staring at her with wide eyes. She`ll never get used to the looks.

Tia snorts. “All I`m hoping for at this point is that they don`t hit each other. Or me.” Tia sighs. “You`ve seen to Jurian and Drakon already?” Miryam shakes her head and she adds, “Then you should probably go. They ran into trouble during their patrol.”

Dread settles into Miryam`s stomach and makes it hard to breath. They`re alive, she tells herself, if they weren`t, Tia would have said so right away. “Where?”, she manages.

“Healer`s tent.”

Miryam nods and sets off. She desperately wants to run, but she is one of the camp`s commanders, people look to her for leadership. If she panics, it sends a bad message. So she walks as slowly as she can manage.

Both Jurian and Drakon are in the healer`s tent. Drakon is sitting on a chair. A healer stands behind him and tries to sew a deep-looking wound in his shoulder shut. Drakon looks a bit pale and winces each time the needle pierces his skin, but if he`s sitting up, the injury can`t be too dangerous. Jurian is pacing in front of him, face frozen in rage.

“What happened?”, Miryam asks. Her voice is breathless, even though she walked slowly.

“He`s a stupid idiot, that`s what”, Jurian hisses.

Miryam frowns. Whatever it is that happened between the two, it`s best discussed in private if she doesn`t want the entire camp to know about it within an hour.

“I`ll take over”, she says to the healer, who hands her the needle and hurries out of the room. Miryam quickly inspects the wound – deep, but the weapon didn`t hit anything vital – then continues the work.

“So”, she says, “now that we aren`t giving the camp gossips something to talk about anymore: What`s wrong.”

Jurian just continues to pace, pausing only to glare at Drakon occasionally.

“I made a completely reasonable choice -”, Drakon begins, butJurian whirls around to him and cuts him off.

“You could have died!”, he shouts. Miryam winces.

“I`m Fae. The chances of me dying –“

“I don`t care!” Jurian goes back to his pacing. “You don`t get to walk into a stupid arrow for me! You think I want you to die for me?” Without giving either of them the chance to reply, he whirls around and storms out of the tent.

Well, at least now Miryam knows what the problem is. “So I assume that arrow was originally meant for Jurian.”

Drakon nods. “An ambush. We were half an hour out of the camp when the arrows started flying. One went straight for Jurian.” He shrugs. Miryam wonders if he was this reckless a year ago already.

“Jurian is human”, Drakon adds, like he`s trying to justify his actions, “The chances of him dying were far higher. And even if he would have survived, his wounds heal more slowly than mine do.”

Miryam puts down her needle, reaches for a tin of salve and doesn`t reply. Saying anything on this would feel far too much like making a choice who she would rather see die, whose life she`d save if she got the chance. And she refuses to make that choice.

Drakon clenches his jaw when Miryam applies the salve to the wound, but doesn`t make a sound.

“Maybe you should go after him”, he says.

“I`ll give him a little time to calm down, then I`ll go.” If she runs after Jurian now, she will reach exactly nothing.

She reaches for a bandage and begins to wrap it around Drakon`s shoulder. Somehow, she feels bad about the entire situation. He meant well, and as thanks, he got shot and then yelled at.

“It was a brave thing to do”, Miryam says. That doesn`t sound like she`s telling him to do it again, does it? Just to be sure, she winks at him and adds, “Although I don`t think that will stop Sinna from giving you an earful about risking your life like this.”

“Oh.” Drakon makes a face and gives his shoulder a worried glance. “She`ll never let me fight again if she finds out.”

That seems highly likely. She wouldn`t even be wrong. It is the height of stupidity for a prince without heirs to jump in front of arrows to save other people. Stupid and brave. Miryam smiles. Neither Drakon nor Sinna ever seem to fully realize that he is, in fact, her superior and doesn`t actually need her permission for anything.

“Just tell her the arrow was meant for you, not Jurian.”

Drakon nods, looking relieved. “I`ll do that.”

She finishes the bandage in silence. Then, she passes Drakon his tunic. It is torn and bloody, but still better than running through the camp naked.

“Try to use the arm as little as possible”, she tells him. “I`ll change the bandages and take a look at the stiches tomorrow.”

Drakon nods. “Tell Jurian… Actually, I don`t know what you could tell him. I`m not even sorry.”

“And he isn`t actually angry”, Miryam says, “He just got scared.”

She finds Jurian in the sparring ring where he`s facing off against two opponents. She leans against a fence and watches him disable both opponents within a minute. He helps the two soldiers to his feet and wipes the sweat out of his face, then turns around to her.

“Walk with me?”, she calls out to him.

Jurian nods and follows her through the camp, away from the curious looks of the soldiers. They sit down on the stone where Miryam met with Drakon in the morning.

“He meant well, you know?”, she says softly.

“Of course he did.” Jurian wrinkles his nose. “That`s the damned problem, isn`t it?”

“Well, it`s not like we never risked our lives for his”, Miryam points out with a wry smile. Actually, she`d say that they both did far riskier things than stepping in front of an arrow. “Why is this such a problem?”

“Because…” He hesitates. “I know that the chances of all of us making it out of this alive are slim at most. I`ve accepted that.”

Miryam wants to disagree, but Jurian is right. With how this war is going, they`ll probably be lucky if even one out of the three of them lives to see the end of the fighting. If they win at all. She also knows that the chances of her being to one who survives are low. In the last months, Ravenia already sent three assassins after her.  

“But it`s not…” Jurian shakes his head. “It`s not the same if someone else dies for me. Then it`s not bad luck or anything. It`s my fault. And I don`t think I can live with that.”

Miryam tilts her head back and looks up at the sky. That is the curse of their friendship – all three of them would die for each other, but neither could live with themselves if that happened.

“We`ve survived this far”, she says, “We won`t die now.”

Jurian picks up a stone and throws it into the bushes. “You usually lie better than that.”

She turns around to him and looks him straight in the eye. “We`ll all get out of this alive”, she repeats with as much confidence as she can muster.

“Thank you.” He gives her a sad smile. “I almost believe you.”

----

Jurian turns the letter around in his fingers again and again. The paper is thick and surprisingly heavy. Expensive.

The exterior of the letter is as pretty and styled up as the contents. Clythia finds the most beautiful, poetic words to get her point across. She compares him to Lokus, one of the Fae`s legendary warriors, and herself to Eshi, his lover who fought beside him. Jurian may not be very well-versed in Fae mythology, but even without having to ask Drakon, he is pretty sure that Lokus and Eshi were on the same side in their long-ago war. However, that detail doesn`t seem to deter Clythia from waxing poetry about the similarities and how they were meant for each other.

It seems the female who gleefully slaughters his people in battle has a romantic streak.

Clythia ends the letter by asking him to meet her tomorrow. It isn`t the first letter of that kind Jurian receives – Clythia writes him at least once a month – and under normal circumstances, he would have thrown it into the fire like he did with all the others. But this time, he hesitates.

At this point, it is abundantly clear that his side is not exactly winning the war anymore. And the longer this war rages, the higher the chance that someone he cares about ends up dead. If they manage to win at all. But his relationship with Clythia might give them an edge. It could mean the difference between victory and defeat for the Alliance, life and death for his friends.

You promised Miryam, he reminds himself. But she was only ever against the relationship because she worried about him. She thought he wouldn`t be able to handle what being with Clythia did to him. But he can manage. He has to.

A knock sounds on the entrance. Jurian instinctively hides the letter behind his back, then immediately feels stupid. He puts it on his desk and calls, “Come in!”

A soldier pokes his head through the entrance. “Lady Miryam and Prince Drakon need you in the war tent.”

Now, Jurian feels twice as caught. “I`ll be there in a minute.”

Once he`s alone in his tent, he turns back around to the letter. Lips pressed into a tight line, he stares at it. Then, he hastily scribbles a reply and watches the letter vanish into thin air. He spins around and stalks out of the room.

Meeting Clythia is the right thing to do. What does it matter what it does to Jurian if it can help them win this war? That`s what Miryam wants, too – surely she wouldn`t mind. Whatever it takes. That was their deal from the first day on. Well, this is what it takes. Besides, Miryam already told him that she didn`t mind him meeting Clythia. He is making the right choice. The only choice, really. He`ll tell her right after this meeting.

Still, he is sure that the shame is written plainly on his face when he enters the war tent. Miryam is sitting on a chair, knees drawn up to her chest, Drakon leans against the edge of the strategy table. His shoulder healed well and he has been back to fighting for four days now.

“Something happened?”, Jurian asks.

“We got orders from the council”, Drakon says and begins to explain the situation.

Apparently, they have reports of Amarantha`s army being stationed a few hundred miles further north. The Alliance only has a smaller force in that area, and they have been ordered to send reinforcements so that they can ambush Amarantha. Jurian has a hard time focusing on what Drakon is saying. His mind keeps drifting to the letter he sent. Is Miryam looking at him strangely? Surely she notices that something is off.

She looks so tired. These past months have been hard for her. Hard for all them, but Miryam with her tendency to feel responsible for everything is worst off. Maybe telling her about his plan with Clythia isn`t the right thing to do. It will just be one more thing for her to worry about. Better if he meets with Clythia and tells her about it afterwards. He doesn`t plan on more than one meeting, anyways.

“Jurian?”, Miryam asks.

“What?”

“You didn`t hear a word Drakon said, did you?” She sighs. “When is the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday? For at least three hours.”

“Well, that`s more than me.” Drakon grins at him. “I said that I should probably take my soldiers north while you remain here. We`ll be quicker if we don`t have to carry any human soldiers and the order we received said that speed was of importance for this mission.”

Jurian nods distractedly. “Maybe it`s for the best if you take Miryam as well. In case you need magical back-up.”

And as an added benefit, Miryam will be miles away when he meets with Clythia. That way, he won`t even be in a position where he has to tell her in advance. He`ll just meet with Clythia, try to get as much information out of her as possible. After that, he can kill her. He`ll tell Miryam when she gets back. That way, she doesn`t need to worry. It`s a perfect plan.

Miryam frowns at him, though. Too late, he remembers that it has been their unspoken agreement these past few months that he doesn`t push her to use her powers if it isn`t absolutely necessary. In return, she keeps working on the wall and occasionally teaches him a few of the simpler spells. Jurian doesn`t entirely understand where that new hesitation regarding her powers comes from and when he asks, Miryam just keeps repeating that she`s worried about losing control. Not that he`s ever seen that happen.

“Just in case it`s necessary”, he adds and smiles at Miryam.

He forbids himself from feeling any irritation about her hesitance. He`d give his right arm for abilities like hers, but at the end of the day, he knows too little about magic to really understand what she is struggling with.

“Good.” Drakon jumps to his feet. “Then I`ll get my soldiers ready.” To Miryam, he adds, “We leave in an hour.”

----

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