#I haven’t played or seen the game I just heard ‘sea of blood’ and knew I wanted him in it a la carrie

[two-out-of-three]

mark making and starring in iron lung movie hmmm……… I hope we get a scene of him drenched in blood

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: Slight description of Animal Violence. Nothing too graphic, but if the genre of stuff you see on Shark week isn’t for you, skip over the part denoted by the *******

Word Count: 3530 words

Summary: You learn more about Cruz and about yourself

Prologue

Chapter 1

“-and then he just leaves. What do I even do with that?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Your roommate hums, refilling up your glass of wine. “And you don’t have his number, so you can’t call or text him right?” You take a large sip, nodding and trying not to spill wine on your pajamas.

Well, kind of.

You hadn’t told anyone about Cruz, not even your family, because frankly you didn't know where to start. But when you walked into the apartment, sullen and dragging your feet, your roommate, Caitlyn, had offered wine, ice cream, and a willing ear. That's when the floodgates opened (with some modified details, of course).

“We’re meeting at our usual place in a couple days, I just…”Another sip of wine,”...hate sitting here, not knowing what he’s feeling, what I did, how I’m feeling.” You set down your glass and throw yourself back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I feel so stupid, like a fucking teenager, and I hate it.” Caitlyn sets her own wine glass down and nudges the half-empty ice cream carton towards you.

“It’s for the best your feeling all this now, then you can come at ‘im all composed and articulate. Really throw him off his game.” You grab a spoon and the carton, Caitlyn patting your shoulder as you take a pathetic bite.

“You’re right but I-I don’t even know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Sounds like this guy’s got you hooked. At least that’s a start right?” Caitlyn hums, pressing her chin into her palm. “To be completely honest, Sam took a couple days to warm up to me. And I never told her this, but she gave me hardcore pretentious vibes on our first date.”

Caitlyn gives a long spiel about her awkward first soulmate date (“Seriously, who brings up ‘the superiority of vinyl’ on the first date!”), and if you were in the mind to be a good roommate, or hadn’t heard this story before, you might’ve listened closer. But only one question was occupying your thoughts; Did Cruz like you?

--------

You arrive at the boardwalk an hour early. You don’t immediately go to the tidepool, instead choosing to take a long walk on the beach, taking a moment to calm your racing heart and collect your thoughts.

You like Cruz. You like him as much as two people who just met can, despite a less-than-romantic first impression. But does he like you?

You never thought you would have to ask your soulmate that.

There’s a small thwap as you slap your cheeks, heat simmering your skin even as the cold water laps at your feet.

This is ridiculous. You’ve talked twice. Caitlyn and Sam have a thriving relationship (You should know, you share a wall with Caitlyn) and even they got off to a rocky start.

The pit grows in your stomach, thinking of Cruz’s disinterested stare as he swims into the open ocean. The weight of it almost sinks to your toes.

You shake your head, slapping your cheeks once more.

Today is a new day. Just go through the motions _____.

You reach the tidepool, setting down your picnic blanket and bag. You grab one of your notebooks and prop it open as you bite into an apple. You’re 30 minutes early, might as well get some reading done.

The waves crash and pull against the rocks, pleasant studying ambience, but is interrupted by several clicks and abrupt, out of rhythm, splashes. You look up, immediately in awe of the sight.

About 50 feet away from the entrance to the tidepool is a pod of dolphins, breaching out of the water. You grab a pencil, your phone, and your notebook, tiptoeing through the tidepool to get a better look.

Good choice wearing water shoes today.

From closer up, you notice the distinct lack of dorsal fins and realize they must be Northern White Whale Dolphins. 60 of them have congregated in a group, most likely scouting for easy food or taking a rest.

Their pod is pretty small though. What are they doing so close to the shore?

The pod continues to play as you take shaky photos with your camera, trying to balance your notebook and pencil in the crook of your elbow. Through your viewfinder, you spot a familiar shape, not 30 feet from the pod, peeking his head out of the water. Cruz’s black eyes narrow into focus before he fully submerges. Your eyes widen as you lower your camera.

The water above Cruz rushes as he swims closer and closer to the pod. You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you finagle your way up to a nearby rock. You need a better view, and it might be best to be out of the water while this happens.

The dolphins haven’t noticed Cruz yet, still gliding along the waves. There's a quick flash of his strong back before he dives even deeper into the water. The rock slightly digs into your stomach as you lean over to get a better look.

What I wouldn’t give for a drone right now.

Before long, there is a burst of clicks, the largest dolphins quickly surrounding the group and issuing them away. They’ve spotted Cruz, but one is a little too slow.

Cruz’s dorsal fin cuts through the water, close enough to the surface that you can make out the details of his determined face. His eyes have latched onto the slowest dolphin and his speed increases exponentially. His long tail flicks back and forth as he gains on it.

*******

The dolphin flips into the air, trying to gain distance. But like a flash Cruz’s large hand shoots out of the water, getting a hold of the dolphin’s tail, and pulls. You see his shoulder and tricep bulge as the dolphin thrashes in his grip. His head once again breaches the water as he digs his other clawed hand into the dolphin’s side, raking into it as he pulls the dolphin closer to him. The two tussle and wrestle against each other, going in and out of the water as the dolphin tries to push Cruz away.

But Cruz is limber, keeping a tight grip on the dolphin as he maneuvers his body alongside it. His torso raises up as he pushes the dolphin down under the water and into submission. Cruz then yanks the dolphin’s front upwards and out of the water, grip still tight on it’s rear, before opening up his maw and tearing into the dolphin’s neck. He rips his head back and forth until the dolphin stills, a large pool of red slowly cascading around them.

*******

Your pencil hangs loosely in your fingers as you watch, eyes locked on Cruz. You think the struggle must’ve lasted only 20 seconds, but in the moment, it felt like hours. Cruz’s chest heaves as he takes another bite, serrated teeth easily ripping the flesh, as casual as the lobster roll from your last meeting.

Blood drips from his mouth and covers his claws. His cards his fingers back through his hair, leaving crimson streaks that shine against his black locks. Cruz bites off another mouthful before heaving the dolphin onto his shoulder.

As a large science nerd, you’ve always enjoyed watching nature in progress. But a new, exciting, vaguely uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut as you watch Cruz suck in his fingers, picking out stray bits of meat from his large, sharp teeth. A feeling like a shiver rushing down your spine and heat in between your legs.

Oh my god. Why was that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?

Cruz turns away and submerges himself, giving you a nice shot of his defined back muscles as he sums up his hunt. You can’t take your eyes off his form moving just below the water, even as your 5 PM alarm goes off.

You knew Cruz was larger, and far stronger, than you, but seeing him in his element reminds you just how easily he could tear you apart.

God, and I kind of want him to.

As he swims further away from the shore, you see two black dots in the distance. You take out your phone again and open up the camera to zoom in.

Speaking of huge. Holy shit.

The focus is a little blurry, but it’d be hard for you to miss the massive mermaids. With only their shoulders and up out of water, they still tower over Cruz by at least a head each. Both have long black hair, intertwined with what looks to be seaweed and various types of shells. The one on the right is holding two larger masses over her shoulders, positioned the way a lumberjack would hold a fallen tree. Cruz reemerges with his dolphin in tow, frighteningly small.

Cruz’s gestures indicate they’re having a conversation, mostly one-sided. The dolphin on Cruz’s back bounces as he talks animatedly, his hunt small when compared to the two weights the right mermaid carries. With your old phone you can only catch a glimpse of the left mermaid’s lips moving. Cruz’s energy dims as she continues and he seems to sink deeper into the water.

The left mermaid holds out her hand. Cruz hesitates, then throws his dolphin into her arms. She swings it over like it weighs nothing and then shakes her hand as if to shoo him away. The right one rumbles with laughter. Cruz nods, solemn as the two submerge and swim away.

Cruz stays there for a minute, looking out at the horizon. When he finally turns, his movements are lethargic as he swims towards the tidepool.

You scramble down from the rock and quickly tiptoe  back to your blanket, fumbling to stuff your notebook and pencil back into your bag.

Cruz glides in, his eyes not meeting yours, locked in thought.

“Hey Cruz.” You wave, struggling to catch your breath from your impromptu rush.

Cruz slowly looks up at you, still slightly downcast.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You  shake your head furiously.

“It’s no problem! I got her kind of early, and then I saw you hunting and didn’t want to bother.” Cruz’s eyes widen a bit, before her recoils into himself and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, sorry. You probably didn’t want to see that….” You once again shake your hands and head back and forth.

“No! No I-, I actually thought it was super cool!” Cruz quirks his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Yeah! It was like my own personal Shark week. Like wow, you looked amazing out there.”

Cruz’s cheek tint a cerulean blue, the corners of his lips turning up at the sides as he fiddles with his fingers.

“And those dolphins are the fastest kind around here, but bam! You were on them like a firecracker, kind of wish I had a slow motion camera.” You laugh, before realizing Cruz probably didn’t understand half of your analogies. “You looked uh, you were really good at it.”

Well duh, you idiot. He’s a shark.

“Thank you.” Cruz shoots you a tiny smile, blush still running across his face and down his neck. The ensuing silence is only slightly uncomfortable, as Cruz’s blush stays strong and you're sure you develop one of your own. You try and focus on something else to calm down, but catch a glimpse of his biceps, and fail miserably.

“Oh, that’s right.” Cruz reaches over and sticks his hand in between two nearby rocks. His brow furrows before his eyes light up, and he pulls out a….handbag?

It’s loosely sewn together with kelp, made of some sort of seal skin and closed with a seashell button. Cruz pops it open and begins to rummage inside.

“Gotcha.” Cruz pulls something out of the bag, before turning and hiding it behind his back.

“Uh, whatcha got there?” Cruz smiles, his blue blush painting his face from top to tip.

“I found this thing and thought you um….might want to look at it?” Cruz pulls his arm in front, revealing a reflective white shell, just a bit longer than his palm.

“It’s not a crab, but I thought it was neat looking so….”

You slowly move towards him, gesturing to ask if you can hold the shell. Cruz nods, almost shoving it into your hand.

The color is completely white, sharp, almost polished-looking. It carves into several rings before sloping into a point. It’s empty, the inside free of any sand or tiny algae.

“Do you know what it’s called?”

You look back to Cruz and nearly brush your nose against his. You realize how hot his body heat is as he leans over you to look at the shell. Your shoulders just barely touch.

As if dipped into boiling water, your face alights into red and your body convulses to jerk away from the heat.

“Yeah-Yes! Actually I do, it’s-it looks like a Kellets W-Welk. Well, the remains of one’s shell anyway.”

Cruz stays close, letting out a small “Ohhh.” as he squints his eyes to get a closer look. It’s the most on-land you’ve seen him, with the water lapping at the base of his tail. Sitting down, your head only comes to his clavicle. The uncomfortable burning stirs in your gut.

“Is it a hermit crab?”

“Not, it’s a sea snail. They're not really on land like crabs.” You brush your thumbs over the shell’s ridges. “There are quite a few varieties of sea snails around here, lots of beautiful shells. Their babies look pretty cool too.”

Cruz nods, eyes intent, and it reminds you of the elementary kids you saw when working at the aquarium. Your heart skips as you futilely try to fight the smile on your face.

“Can you eat ‘em?”

You chuckle and Cruz’s face grows a darker shade of blue. “Yeah, you can. You’ve got a good eye for snacks huh?”

Cruz pouts playfully, blue still awash on his cheeks. “Maybe, but I’m not always thinking about food.” Just as he finishes, you hear his stomach rumble. You stifle your laugh with your hand and Cruz grabs his stomach angrily. “Sh-Shut up! It’s almost dinner!”

The two mermaids flash in your mind. You see Cruz handing over the dolphin as they swim away. Then you see Cruz, furiously cracking open crabs with a single-minded purpose. The smile drops from your chin.

How often does that happen?

Cruz was small for a Great White. You hadn’t even thought about why. You don’t even know if you want to.

“They’re pretty tasty, but their shells are a lot more fun.” Cruz furrows his brow again. “Here, let me show you.” You scoot yourself closer to him, putting the white shell against his ear. His eyes widen and he leans backwards a bit from your closeness, but the shell still lingers by his ear. “Do you hear it?”

Cruz stills, furrowing his brows even deeper, but then they rise in surprise. He leans back towards you, tentatively grabbing your wrist and pulling the shell closer.

“Its-”

“The ocean.”

The same childlike wonder from before flushes on his face as he looks at you, bringing your stomach a flutter. Cruz presses his head down closer to the shell, the bottom of his cheek now touching your palm. Cruz’s skin is cool against yours, slightly damp, and you feel the hint of roughness as his chin brushes against your wrist.

“How-How did you-”

“My mom showed me once. I mean, technically it’s the echo of the blood coursing through your ear, which reverberates and sounds like waves crashing. But it’s still a neat trick.”

“Oh, I see….”

From this close, you can see the small freckles which dapple Cruz’s cheeks, peppering across the bridge of his nose and up onto his forehead. Specks of dark blue, black, and green contrasts against his light gray skin, like the setting sun catching the pulling tides.

In the moment, you long to touch them.

So you do.

It’s so….soft.

As your thumb brushes up his jaw, the mottled colors are overwhelmed and overshadowed by Cruz’s furious blush. Cruz moves away so quickly that he unfurls his grip on a nearby rock and loses his balance. He braces himself and hisses as his thin skin nicks the corner of a rock.

“Oh my god, I’m so-so sorry! I just- oh my goodness are you okay?” You retract the shell closer to your chest, your other hand outstretched to steady Cruz. When he flinches away, you pull it back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space like that.”

Cruz's chest heaves but he doesn’t move or say anything. From the corner of your eye you spot a tiny bit of blood leaking onto the rock.

“Oh shit, wait I-I should have something.” You whip around to your backpack, shuffling and pushing aside your notebook to find your emergency first aid kit. Water wells in the corner of your eyes as you frantically search. You desperately try to will the tears away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid-

Your inner insults are interrupted when your fingers brush against the familiar plastic fabric pouch. Before turning back to Cruz, you hastily wipe your eyes.

“Here, this should help.” You hold out the small thing of gauze and an antiseptic wipe. Cruz slowly takes them, fiddling with the gauze until it's undone. He picks up the antiseptic package with the tips of his forefinger and thumb, eyes squinting as he tries to read the small text.

“That’s to clean the wound with, to get the gross stuff out.” Cruz’s eyes narrow even further, brushing his thumb over the paper wrapping. Tentatively, he plops the unwrapped wipe on his wound. He looks back, clearly confused. “You have to unwrap it first, then wipe it.” His blush returns as he jerks his eyes away from you, embarrassed with you watching.

“I could do-”

“I’ve got it.” Cruz snaps, finding the perforation and ripping it off quickly.

“Okay, but it’s gonna sting-”

“Ow, shit!” Cruz curses as he presses the wipe against the apex of his cut, whining and biting his lower lip.

“If it’s hurting that means it’s working.” Cruz nods, but he hastily wipes the wound and sighs as he crumples it up.Cruz wraps his cut with medical precision, reminding you of boxers right before a match. He cuts the gauze short with a snip of his teeth

“Wow, you're really good at that.” Cruz snorts.

“I don’t need any jackasses going into a frenzy anytime soon. That would be the perfect end to this shit day.”

Your heart freezes as your stomach drops, and you recoil into yourself. The nausea of guilt washes over you. And then that makes you feel even worse, and so the cycle continues.

Cruz notices your sheepish, downtrodden stare, and frantically waves his good hand.

“Wait, shit, no, thats-thats not what I meant. Uh…” He loses track of his sentence, mouth agape as he looks for words. “I mean….thank you.” He fiddles with his claws. “For the bandage, a-and the food a couple days ago. This is...nice.”

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly his praise perks you up, rolling over your tense muscles like a masseuse.

“Thank you for the shell, it was very thoughtful of you.” Cruz sputters.

“I just passed by it on a swim, it wasn’t a big deal. The reefs got a ton of them, so, y’know.”

You don’t know, but it’s cute watching him fumble with his words. He’s so bashful for an apex predator you saw kill a dolphin not 20 minutes ago.

“I could even-well, it’s close that we- we could go sometime? You and me?” Cruz fiddles with his claws once more, and you wonder if it’s a nervous compulsion. “It’s a little ways away from the coast but with me carrying you, we could probably see a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Cruz’s nervous smile is much more lopsided than his regular one. It accentuates the dimple on his left cheek.

“I would love that.”

-----------

You decide to meet up early on Saturday to get a head start on the sunlight. You leave the boardwalk giddy, your nerves tingling pleasantly with pre-plan jitters. All this energy means you might have to spill to Caitlyn once more, just to let it all out. You’ll most likely tell her you two are getting breakfast by the beach, maybe stop by an aquarium.

Looking at all the coral and the crustaceans. Just me, in Cruz’s arms-

You stop, your nerves bubbling up under your skin, like steam is blowing out of your ears as you think about what is in store for Saturday.

You’re still not sure how Cruz feels about you. But there isn’t a show of a doubt now; You have a crush on him.

----------

Cruz sits in the water, cracking open a leftover oyster he had left in his bag for emergencies. Emergencies like being so flustered he can't possibly go back to the pod, not without looking incredibly suspicious.

He brushes his thumb over his cheek, and it’s almost like you're there again.

So….soft.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 9: Percy Forces Me To Join A Quest

The next morning, Percy moved to cabin three. Luke was the only one I could hang out with from my cabin. He was also the one who took care of my wounds after the thing happened. Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that I managed to command a hellhound; and two, I came with the son of Poseidon. They all assume I would be as great as Percy. The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Only Luke struck around. Yes, even Percy started ignoring me. I figured it had something to do with water and stuffs. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what happened in the woods, so he had one-on-one with Luke. I usually sit in to watch them in hopes of Percy talking to me again. But nada. "You're going to need all the training you can get," Luke promised, as they were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions." Annabeth still taught Percy and I Greek but on different times I had mine in the mornings. Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored. I stayed with Luke most of my time. We'd gotten close that talking about gods wasn't such a touchy subject. He also told me stuffs about himself, like how he got his scar and small stuffs. I was still in bed in cabin eleven. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn't dreamed that. It was so early that most of the campers were still asleep. "Good morning?" I saw Luke standing near the door. "Eh... good enough I guess." I said sitting on my bed. "It's really boring since I don't do anything." "Not sure if I'm bringing you good news or bad," He smiled taking the seat beside me. "But Mr. D wants to see you." "Really? Will I finally get to do something fun?" "I feel like I should be offended." He gasped dramatically. "Why? Am I not fun?" I laughed, "Pretty much yeah." "Ouch. Anyways, I'd better let him tell you what's up." "Walk with me?" I asked with an UwU face. "I would, but commitment and all that." He joked. "Aight then. I'll get ready, wait for me outside." "I said I won't!" "Geez don't need to be in a hurry. I won't take long." I got dressed and went out to see him with an exaggerated frown. "You better walk fast. I'll leave as soon as you get there." For days, I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that Percy was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for him just to be alive. They're probably suspicious of me now as well with Percy and I's relation. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict. "So... with Percy being a big three material. What would that make me?" "Well, putting aside the fact that you suck, you drown at every body of water that's at least a foot deep, you don't smell like a half-blood. I'd say you're... one of the big three's. Maybe Zeus's." "Har har. I'm just really worried you know? With Percy getting claimed as Poseidon's... and I came with him. And water just loves me so much. I'd assume I'm somewhere along the lines of Zeus and... Zeus. Is there someone stronger than Zeus?" "Depends on who you asked." "If I asked Zeus he'd definitely answer Zeus." I heard a loud thunder echoed. "Someone's brave." Luke laughed. Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Luke if we needed an umbrella. "No," he said. "It never rains here unless we want it to." "So my kiss under the rain fantasy is a no?" "If it has to be here... probably." I pointed at the storm. "What the heck is that, then?" "Bad news. But don't worry, it'll pass by us." I realized he was right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley. But this storm... this one was huge. At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm. When Luke saw the front porch of the Big House. "Whatever they say. Don't choose the option where you'll die." "Half a promise. Depends on the other option." "Well I'll give you an easier promise. Don't die." "Not really easier but okay."

After he ruffled my hair, I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents--two sets of cards hovering in the air. "Y/N!" Grover greeted. "Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity finally got his request." I turned to see Percy who was looking at me and then moved away. I waited for him to greet... "Come closer, both of you," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father." A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said. Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. "If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm." "Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in. "Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father." "Mr. D—" Chiron warned. "Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do." Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass. He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind. Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, please. You too Y/N and Grover." We did. Grover sat between us. Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use. "Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?" "It scared me," I said. "If Y/N hadn't told it to stand down, I'd be dead." I saw Percy turn to my direction, which made me roll my eyes. "You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done." "Done... with what?" "Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?" I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers. "Um, sir," I said, "you haven't told me what it is yet." Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details." Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together. "Poseidon and Zeus," Percy said. "They're fighting over something valuable... something that was stolen, aren't they?". Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?" "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And... I've also been having these dreams." "I knew it," Grover said. "Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered. "But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!" "Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt." I laughed. "A what?" "Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives." "Oh." "Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers." "And it's missing?" "Stolen," Chiron said. "By who?" "By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you." "At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best', 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it." "But I didn't—" "Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief." "But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!" Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Luke had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid. "Er, Percy...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky." "Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy. Chiron was waiting for an answer. "Something about a golden net?" He answered. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?" "Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw." "But I'm just a kid!" "Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you.... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?" "But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?" "Bad?" "Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight." "Bad," I repeated. "And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath." It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of Percy. I was furious. "So he has to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus." "What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?" "If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" "I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle." "Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?" "Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge." "Good reason." "You agree then?" He looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Easy for him. He wasn't the one Zeus wanted to kill. Percy then turned to me, "All right," he said. "But, I'll go when Y/N comes with." "Woah there! I am not going anywhere." I hissed. You ignore me for days and now you want me to die with you now? "Why do I have to go with you?" "Percy---" "I don't want to leave without her." He looked down. I felt guilty about turning him down. Which was stupid since he's the one at fault. I gave a sigh, I hope Luke won't get mad at me. "It's better than you being turned into a dolphin." I mumbled. "I'll go." "Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more." Before Percy came up he took my arm and pulled me in a hug. "I wanted you there, so we could save our parents together. After this quest, you me your mom and dad and my mom, will stay together." I hugged him back and nodded. "Thank you." Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. After he went up. Chiron turned to me. "Hmm? Something to say?" I asked in a hopefully not rude tone. "I've had enough of people staring at me thinking, I summoned that hellhound." "Y/N, I assure you I don't think you'd do that. I am just confused as to why it followed your command." "Did you maybe forget to tell us something? I really can't seem to find out who you are." "Well... I don't think I forgot to mention anything. Maybe the fact that water hates me, I've never been on a plane, and I am low-key kinda scared of the dark depending on the situation." "Water hates you?" Grover asked. "First time swimming, beach, I was 5. I drowned at a supposedly 3 feet deep water. I haven't been near any bodies of water ever since. Until I met Percy, I drowned at the beach again. If I wasn't mistaken I was few meters away from the water and it pulled me and I almost drowned." "It would seem, Poseidon hates you. Why would he?" "My parents must've realized that fish god hates me and didn't take chances on the others." I could tell Chiron wanted to continue but Percy came down, "Well?" Chiron asked. He slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. I could see he wasn't happy. "Are you okay?" I asked him. He looked at me warily and nodded. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen." Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!" "What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important." "She . .. she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned." "I knew it," Grover said... Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?" "No," He said. "That's about it." I took a hold of Percy's hand. And he gave me a look that said, 'I'll tell you later.' "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass." "Okay," I said, anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?" "Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?" "Somebody else who wants to take over?" he guessed. "Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken." I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades." Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility." A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?" "A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades." "Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon... ." "A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest." "Great," Percy muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me." "Hey, I beat you, I got all of them." I smirked. I was trying to lighten up the mood and Percy finally cracked a smile. "But a quest to..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year." "Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth." A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. I wasn't feeling scared of anything right now. I felt like I could face anything. I was ready to take him on. Anyone in a matter of fact. Besides, if my mom and dad might be in the Underworld... which would be unlikely. Who knows maybe I could bribe him and talk him into reviving them. Or what if he's misunderstood? What if there's a plot twist somewhere here, and it actually wasn't Hades's fault? Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips. The poor guy needed to complete a quest with us so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was. This was suicide. "Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads." "It might not be him you know." I added. "She's right, suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?" "You're saying I'm being used." "I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you." "Damn, my parent doesn't? I'm going on a deadly quest thanks to Arthur Curry right here. Least they could do is support me and let me know They'll be proud of me saving the world." I huffed. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?" "I had my suspicions. As I said... I've spoken to the Oracle, too." I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling us about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too. "So let me get this straight," I said. "We're supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead." "Check," Chiron said. "Find the most powerful weapon in the universe." "Check." "And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days." "That's about right." Percy and I looked at each other then we looked over at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts. "Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly. "You don't have to go," Percy told him. "I can't ask that of you. "Oh..." He shifted his hooves. "No... it's just that satyrs and underground places... well..." He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. Both of you did. If... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down." I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with us. "All the way, G-man." Percy turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west." "The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America." "Where?" Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles." "Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—" "No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?" I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash. "We're not allowed to fly because Zeus is a stuck up who doesn't want others touching his stuff without permission." "Y/N!" Grover panicked when loud thunder echoed above us. I wanted to yell, 'Oh shut up thunder boy.' But I still wanted try fulfilling my promise to Luke with all I can. "Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive." Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed. "Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland." "That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other is Y/N. But someone else has already volunteered, if you will accept her help." "Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?" The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket. "I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up." "I'll gladly give you my spot and all but... Percy and I are a duo." I lifted my fist which he bumped. "But she's right, we can't leave the world at the hands of two idiots and a scaredy-cat." "Can't we have four people on a quest?" "You can also pick more than two people to join, but this is considered dangerous as three is a sacred number. Any more than three on a quest could result in a catastrophe, including a member of the quest going missing, dying, or the quest failing." "Willing to risk it Peabody?" She gave me a glare. No. I assure you no one shall be lost in this quest. They were all looking at me weirdly. "What did you say?" "I asked if you were willing to risk it...?" I was confused. "Y/N you're doing it again." "Doing what? I am literally not doing anything wrong. Wanna fite me? I will back out of this quest." I gave an exaggerated glare. Annabeth turned to Chiron, who was looking down on me. "I suppose... if Percy is willing to risk it and all parties approve. I could allow this as a four person quest." "Well, I call not it to the dying person." I raised my hand. "But you can come Peabody. We need a not so stupid guy." "Well, if she say yes..." "I-I... don't really..." "I want to come." "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?" Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?" "A quartet," I said. "Hopefully it works." "Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own." Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather. "No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing." I took Percy's hand and gave him a look to remind him about his quest. "I'll tell you later."

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UwU Haha I'm better now :) I am sorry for being on haitus And for some parts that I might've forgotten to erase UwU -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[korianelise]

Of Protective Big Brothers and Asshole Friends

People should be more like flowers.

Flowers were simple, easy to please beings that were just along for the ride. All they needed was Sun, Soil, and water, and they were happy.

Flowers were beautiful in their simplicity. They were independent, quiet, and everything Purpled wishes he could be.

Humans, though, were ugly in their greed. Always needing more for themselves, hoarding as many riches and resources they can. It was never the necessities they craved, it was how much junk they could buy to show off. In Purpled’s opinion, he’d rather be a lonely flower.

Or maybe a weed? While flowers stuck out for their beauty, weeds blended in for the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, he’d rather be a weed sitting atop an abandoned hill, overlooking the sea, flowing in the breeze, then what he was right now.

It’s not that he was the problem, the boy actually prided himself on staying out of the countless wars going on in the server, it was everyone else. It seemed like they had all been blinded by their own need for power.

The once beautiful SMP now represents something dark, ugly, and twisted.

But what could he do about it? He was one of the most irrelevant inhabitants on the server. It hadn’t always been that way, but as he said, humans were greedy.

So, what the hell was he supposed to do when Dream all but breaks his door down in a haste to get inside?

It was a surprise to see the man, so much so that he startled so bad he drops the sword he was holding, distantly aware of how the blade barely missed his socked foot.

Watching the older man clumsily make his way to his feet, out of breath and face split into one of the biggest grins Purpled had ever seen, he merely raises an eyebrow when he exclaims, “Oh man, I can’t believe that worked! ”

Huffing a bit, still unsure of how he felt about the intruder in his home, Purple catches eye of all the potions and weapons strapped to the Admin’s body. “Care to explain?”

God, what was he supposed to do? He hasn’t seen Dream in so long, the elder being busy trying to take Wilbur and Tommy down. Why? He couldn’t tell you, but word on the street says the blonde wasn’t happy with the revolution against his rule.

It was, what, 5? 6? Citizens in total? Purpled didn’t understand the big deal, but honestly? That’s probably for the best, something tells him trying to wrap his head around the conflict will give him one hell of a migraine.

“Annual manhunt,” Swiping a hand through his now damp hair, Dream starts to look a bit sheepish, “I-I didn’t think you’d be home?”

Scrunching his brow even further, Purpled is a bit puzzled by the statement. If he wasn’t home, Dream wouldn’t have been able to get it. It’s a blatant lie, but Purpled is too exasperated to call the blonde out on it. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It sure as hell would have made me feel better.” Flopping down on the bed next to him, Dream sighs in content at finally being able to sit down.

Purpled, on the other hand, squawks in protest at this, the man is soaking wet, and he was kinda planning on sleeping in his bed tonight, so he’d rather it not get soaked.

Stifling a sigh, the boy trudges his way over to his bed. All but throwing his body onto it, Purpled starts poking the older blonde on the cheek repeatedly, “Get up you big oaf.”

Slapping the smaller boy’s hand away, Dream turns his head to the boy, unclipping his porcelain mask from his face. “What did you just call me?”

Chuckling nervously, Purpled inches his way off the bed bit by bit, “Nothing.”

“No, no” Pouncing before Purpled could even comprehend what was going on, Dream has the boy tackled to the bed, hands waving playfully over him, “You called me an oaf, I think that warrants an apology.”

A cocky grin suddenly fills the smaller boy’s face as he looks up, mischief shining in his violet eyes, “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sooo sorry that you’re just so lazy, and boring and-”

“That’s it!” The young boy is cut off by a giggle forcing its way out of his throat as Dream’s hands suddenly scribble at his side.

“W-Wait! Dream-” Hands flying down to fight off the ones scratching at his ribs, Purpled can’t stop the relentless laughter that comes out of him. It takes the boy a few minutes, but eventually, he is able to wriggle himself out from under Dream, propping himself on his elbows to catch his breath. “God, you asshole.”

Laughing to himself, Dream lightly smacks the boy on the shoulder, “Don’t say that.” Waiting for the teen to compose himself a bit more, Dream watches in mild curiosity as the boy reaches into the chest next to his bed, pulling out a golden apple.

Throwing it at the older man’s head, Purpled scoffed as he almost dropped it, “Thought you might be hungry.”

Taking a bite of the sweet treat, Dream doesn’t even attempt to keep good manners as he mutters a quick, “Thanks,” with a mouth full of food.

Scrunching his brow in disgust, Purpled looks at the blonde critically, “You’re so gross, god,” Laughing at the shove that follows the remark.

The two sit in content silence for a bit after that, both waiting for Dream to finish his food before striking up conversation again.

Purpled had begun to fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket waiting for the older man to finish, a nervous habit he picked up once the wars started.

You can only be shoved to the side so many times before you start to get anxious every time you talk to someone.

Dream must have picked up on the dip in his mood though, carelessly tossing the apple core behind him and shifting so he’s sitting more in front of Purpled than off to the side of him. “So, what have you been up to, kid? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

It took all of Purpled’s self-control not to snap at the man. “Maybe because you haven’t. I’ve been...busy. Super duper, have no time to hang out with anyone, busy.”

The wince he receives from the statement is satisfactory enough.

Because it has been forever since he’s seen Dream--well, scratch that. He sees Dream all the time, but the man is always busy fighting off that little rebellion. What did they call themselves again? L’Manburg, right?

But, before Dream could even utter a word of apology, a shrill yell cuts him off.

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked, man! He has to be up there!”

Exchanging a glance with Dream, both boys make their way over to the stained glass lining his UFO’s walls. Upon looking down, Purpled can make out both Bad and Sapnap making their way up his water elevator, and George keeping watch on the ground.

“ Shit!” Flying away from the window and into the middle of the circle room, Dream quickly clips his mask back on as he tugs anxiously on his blonde hair, “They’re here.”

Returning his gaze to the window, Purpled’s eyes widen upon seeing the two hunters about halfway up. “You gotta go, man. Like right now.”

Dropping his head, like he’s about to regret the decision he’s about to make, Dream turns to Purpled one last time, stature rigid and jittery, before saying, “I’m sorry kid, I’ll pay for the damages. Go hide.”

And with that he crashes through the window, glass shattering everywhere as Dream pulls out a water bucket to stop the would-have-been fatal landing.

The second Dream hits the ground, Sapnap, and Bad break the hatch to his UFO open, wasting no time in composing themselves and scouring the room.

It wasn’t until Sapnap’s gaze snapped onto him that Purpled felt the terror he was feeling truly sink in.

Now, he wasn’t an easy kid to spook, he played bed wars for fun for god’s sake! But, this wasn’t the arena where everything was just fun and games, no, this was Dream's server where you only get three respawns, three , before you’re dead. Permanently.

So can he really be blamed if he countered every step Sapnap took towards him with his own step back?

The tactic seemed to be working fine for him until his back finally hit the wall he knew he inevitably would.

It seemed like that had been the cue Sapnap was waiting for. Surging forward, the brunet swings out his sword and presses it gently against his neck faster than Purpled’s brain could keep up with.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Purpled can’t help the tremors that wrack his body as Sapnap snarls in his face, “Where is he?”

This wasn’t the Sapnap he knew, wasn’t the man he usually hung out with. No, this was a tired, agitated, and not thinking straight Sapnap. A Sapnap that was known to make reckless and poor decisions, a very “act now, think later” typa guy.

God, why can’t his brain just shut up for once?

“Sap, wait, he’s not in here.” Sagging in relief as the blade was pulled away from him, Purpled looks over to see who just saved his neck. Standing over the broken glass of the window Dream jumped out of was Bad, looking down at the duel between the blonde and George that was currently happening, “The muffin jumped.”

In a moment of bravery Purpled sure as hell didn’t really possess, the boy scrambled over to where Bad was standing. Looking down, he can’t help the proud smile that creeps its way onto his face. Dream is kicking George’s ass.

Maybe if he had been paying better attention he would have heard the muttered, “Green bastard,” from Sapnap, or the “Language” exclaimed by Bad, or the look the two men changed before two large hands clamped down on his shoulders.

His whole body tensed under the touch, an involuntary shiver running down his spine. This wasn’t a brotherly clap on the shoulders from Dream, or a playful swat from Tommy, this was a “You’re not getting away” grip.

“I’m sorry, kid” And before Purpled even knew what was happening, the arms on his shoulders were forcing his body out of the window, the alarmed cries of Bad falling on two pairs of deaf ears, “But we really need a distraction.”

Purpled, in his panicked state, had just enough time to remember that he didn't have any water buckets in his inventory before he was pushed off the ledge, a blood-curdling scream ripping through his throat as he plummeted towards the unforgiving ground.

He almost missed the way Dream's head snapped up at the shout before the world went black.

He was entirely out of options.

Manhunts usually don’t go this poorly for him, not to brag or anything, but Dream usually kicked ass during them. This year? Not so much.

He couldn’t even tell you why he was doing so bad, he had plenty of armor, food, and weapons. Yet here he was, almost completely out of breath, running like a madman to his little brother’s humble little home.

Okay, maybe a giant UFO in the sky wasn’t exactly too humble of a home, but you get what he means.

Reaching the door of the water elevator, Dream hesitates. His friends aren’t that far behind him, and he knows how desperate they’re getting to disarm him, to win their first manhunt. All in all, a version of his friends he doesn’t really want around his little brother.

But, he was out of breath, his legs were aching, and he hasn’t seen Purpled in so long .

With that thought in mind, the blonde wrenches open the door, taking a deep breath before stepping into the water and letting it pull him up to the trap door leading into the younger’s house.

Swinging the small hatch open, Dream throws himself out of the water, not even caring to try and do so gracefully. “Oh, man,” He breathes, a wheezy laugh bubbling out of him, “I can’t believe that worked! ”

Because he really hadn’t, today has been a mess and he didn’t expect anything to go his way. He truly thought his friends would have caught up to him before he was able to make his escape.

Somewhere in the room, Dream hears a surprised yelp cut its way through his laughter. Looking up, the blonde is just quick enough to catch the blade of a diamond sword barely missing Purpled’s socked foot, though it seemed as though the boy was too shocked to notice the close call.

Jesus, he didn’t come up here just to suffer a heart attack.

But, before he could berate the boy for being so careless, Purpled’s voice cuts him off. “Care to explain?” The remark comes off playful and sassy, but Dream could hear the slight concern and confusion behind it.

Climbing to his feet, Dream takes a moment to collect himself. “Annual manhunt, “ he sighs, swiping a calloused hand through his sandy hair, “I-I didn’t think you’d be home?”

He hates how it comes off more like a question. It’s clear to see in the younger blonde’s expression that he doesn’t believe him a single bit. But, it seems like the kid was willing to humor him if his next statement was anything to go by.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It sure as hell would have made me feel better.” Which wasn’t a lie, Dream doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if Purpled got hurt because of him.

Deciding that he was done standing, Dream flops onto the purple bed next to him, relishing in the relief it brings his aching bones, and smiling at the squawk of protest it gets out of Purpled.

Closing his eyes, Dream hadn’t noticed the boy had begun to make his way over to the bed as well until he felt a hand sneak under his mask to poke his face. Again, and again, and again.

“Get up you big oaf.”

Finally having enough of the childish antics, Dream unclips his porcelain mask and turns to face the younger beside him, mock anger taking over his face. “What did you just call me?”

It takes everything in him to not burst out laughing at the panic blossoming on the blonde’s face. “Nothing.”

“No, no” Tackling Purpled to the bed, Dream wiggles his fingers above the boy’s rids threateningly, an evil grin splitting onto his face, “You called me an oaf, I think that warrants an apology.”

He can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the cocky smile that takes over the younger’s face. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sooo sorry that you’re just so lazy, and boring, and-”

“That’s it!” Digging his hands into the teen’s ribs, Dream can’t help but laugh a bit along with him. It’s been so long since he’s heard his little brother laugh, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed the sound until now.

With a gasp, he feels smaller hands fly down to his own and try to fight them off, “W-Wait! Dream-” but Purpled couldn’t seem to complete a sentence through his relentless stream of giggles.

Finally taking pity on the boy, Dream lets up on his attack, moving away from the smaller body to let the blonde compose himself.

“God, you asshole.”

Chuckling a bit at the snark, Dream lands a light slap onto the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t say that.” Sure, it was a bit hypocritical, he had quite the potty mouth himself, but it made him feel like more of a big brother to say things like that.

Watching with mild curiosity as Purpled leans over the side of his bed, reaching into the chest there, Dream is most definitely not prepared for the golden apple that comes flying at his head, scrambling back to try and catch it clumsily.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

Taking a bite into the small treat, Dream can’t help but sigh in content at the taste. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until now, “Thanks” he mumbled, having no regard for the fact that his mouth was full of half-chewed up food.

With a fake gag and a look of utter disgust, he hears Purpled say, “You’re so gross, god.”

Scowling at the statement, Dream leans over enough to shove the boy away from him, slumping in his own mock self-pity.

Taking another bite of the apple Dream contemplates a thought over each bite. How could he have gone this long without checking in on his little brother? Sure, he was older than both Tommy and Tubbo but he was still his baby brother .

He was supposed to be there for him, hang out with him, and make him feel loved. But, he can’t help but feel as though he’s failed Purpled.

How do you just forget about the most important person in the world to you?

Moving his gaze back to the blonde boy in front of him, Dream notices the way his face has fallen, and how he’d started to fiddle with the sleeves of his cotton sweater.

Huh, last he checked the boy didn’t have any nervous quirks to him.

Tossing the apple core behind him, not even caring to try and aim it at the trash can, Dream’s face softens as he focuses on trying to fix the mistakes he’s made. “So, what have you been up to, kid? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Maybe because you haven’t. I’ve been...busy. Super duper, have no time to hang out with anyone, busy.”

Okay, that one stung.

Because he knows it's a lie. Dream doesn’t even want to count how many times he’s seen Purpled warily watching him from afar. Watching him fight in a stupid war that didn’t seem so worth it anymore. Not if it hurt his relationship with Purpled this deeply.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and tell the boy in front of him how sorry he was, and how much he truly meant to him, a shrill yell from outside cuts him off.

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked, man! He has to be up there!”

He had really hoped he would have more time before they found him.

Glancing at Purpled, both boys warily make their way across the room to look outside. Upon reaching the window, Dream’s heart almost beats out of his chest. They were coming up here.

“Shit!” Launching himself into the center of the room, panic starts to creep into Dream’s chest.

They were going to come up here, into his little brother’s home, and trash it in search of him. His poor, innocent, little brother’s house that he spent weeks building from the ground up.

God, he was so stupid.

“You gotta go, man. Like right now.”

Snapped out of his trance, Dream hadn’t even realized Purpled had taken another peek out the window.

Stifling a long, exasperated sigh, Dream hangs his head low. He needed to get out now . Not being here would put Purpled in less danger, and give him a better chance at getting to the End. He could easily fight off George.

But he really didn’t want to leave Purpeld alone.

Clipping the white mask to his face, not wanting the other blonde to see the regret for his future actions painting it, Dream lets the emotionless smile settle on the violet eyes boring into him.

“I’m sorry, kid, I’ll pay for the damages. Go hide.”

Not giving himself another second to think about what the hell he was doing, Dream sprints as fast as he could towards the glass in front of him, making an effort to ignore the surprised gasp Purpled had let out.

Drawing a water bucket from his inventory, Dream uses it to turn the would-have-been-fatal fall into the exact opposite. Upon landing, he whips around to see George charging him, sword out and ready to come down on him.

Pushing away the panic about the boy he left behind down, Dream smiles under his mask. George was just too easy.

Ducking under the swing, Dream kicks his leg out, sending the older man flying back with a grunt of pain.

Not giving his opponent the chance to retaliate the blow, Dream is on him in a second.

He wants to end this as soon as possible. He left his baby brother alone with Bad and Sapnap--someone who was known to make brash and dumb decisions. But, his pride wouldn’t let him just stand down. The sooner he could win, the sooner he could-

White-hot pain exploding on his face him cut off the blonde’s thoughts.

Stumbling back, Dream registers that George had clocked him in the jaw, a cheap shot taken in a moment of vulnerability.

Shoving down his agitation, Dream pulls his focus back to the fight. Getting his ass beat isn’t going to help anybody.

Taking out his own sword, Dream starts taking slash after slash at George, forcing the britt onto the defensive as he takes step after step back to avoid getting cut.

None were fatal blows, but ones that would sure as hell hurt.

Raising his sword backward, so the hilt of the blade was above George’s temple, Dream can’t help the smirk that plasters itself onto his face as he’s about to drop his arm and knock the older out, but a sudden noise makes his whole body freeze.

That….sounded familiar.

The scream was too high-pitched and youthful to be from either Sapnap or Bad, which only left one other person as to who it could be- no.

Dropping his sword, Dream's mind goes blank as he starts running as fast as his body will allow him to Purpled's rapidly falling form. The boy had gone silent, no long flailing in the air, or screaming, or sobbing, or giving him any indication that he was still awake.

And if he had passed out, there was no way for him to land safely.

That thought seemed to do what Dream thought was impossible, and made his body move even faster. The boy's body was too close to the ground now for him to catch him gently.

In a last-ditch effort to reach his baby brother's body, Dream takes a leap of faith and all but football tackles the small, limp, fragile body not 5-feet in front of him.

Tumbling to the ground, the force of the impact forcing Dream to roll head over heels multiple times, he looks down once he stops and is more than relieved to see a small body cradled to his chest, not ashes from what would have been his first death.

Ignoring the throbbing in his own body, or the 3 forms making their way over to him, Dream looks over Purpled, noticing that he was right, the boy had passed out. There were tear tracks on his face, red, and blotchy, and just wrong looking on him, and he had a sluggishly bleeding cut on the crown of his head.

Overall okay--but far from it at the same time.

This was the boy's first close encounter with death, and if Dream had any say in it, will be the closest Purpled ever gets to dying again.

Pulling the vulnerable form closer to his chest, Dream buries his head in the soft curls of the boy's hair.  Nothing else mattered right now, just his little brother secured to his chest and the fact that he almost died .

"-Ream, is he alright? You're gonna have to move buddy, I need to look him over."

Snapping his head up at the voice, Dream is met with the face of an all-too calm Bad. But, upon closer inspection of the man's face, he could tell he was pale, seemingly shaken up from the past events as well.

To his right was George, the Britt's hand slapped over his mouth, eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at the two huddled on the floor, as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

And that means to his left was Sapnap.

Eyes narrowing in the deadliest glare he could muster, the only thing keeping Dream from attacking the man right now was the little body cradled in his arms. " I’ll kill you ."

[achaoticeternal]

A Dance. A Chase. A Purpose.

RANSOM DRYSDALE X READER masterlist  //  taglist

request from anon: 35. "sit your ass back down and talk to me" with Ransom Thrombey pretty please??😍

Summary: Ransom never has been one to chase a gall, but you’ve always been different. Word Count: 3.4k A/N: This is a reader and Ransom at a very formal gala. The Thrombey’s and Drysdale’s are “high class” people, they attend these kinds of things but I haven’t seen anyone write something like this! I hope you guys really enjoy it! This is also a lot of dialogue... whoops Warnings: Light swearing, people flirting with the reader, Ransom being an asshole but not a complete asshole

ANOTHER REAL QUICK NOTE: I WROTE ABOUT RANSOM IN A MAROON VELVET SUITE BEFORE THE GOLDEN GLOBES HAPPENED AND CHRIS JUST HAPPENED TO WEAR THAT EXACT OUTFIT TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES AND ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT THE UNIVERSE CAME THROUGH

His blue eyes continuously stalked you throughout the hours you attended the Gala. It wasn’t his scene and yet he adored the thought of ruining your perfect evening just with his presence. 

“Who put Ransom on the guest list?” You hissed at one of the event coordinators, “Don’t you remember what he did at the art show I hosted last year?”

“I’m terribly sorry Miss, but he’s the plus one for Mr. Thrombey,” the hesitant man replied, looking awfully terrified.

You took multiple deep breathes to soothe yourself and stop yourself from becoming flustered. Ransom has this awful hold on you that everyone could not, and you could absolutely not stand. He knew just how to stir you, be that good or bad, and absolutely ruin what should be paradise. He truly was the devil in a maroon velvet suit that was perfectly tailored to him.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry for flashing, thank you for all your assistance tonight,” You smiled kindly to the man before scurrying off to find something to occupy yourself before Ransom had a chance. 

Tonight, all you wanted to do was raise funds to assist the homeless shelters in major U.S cities and inspire a few billionaires and millionaires to hand over a hefty check. But you had to play a little game to get money from the elite class. You made your way all around the ballroom in the designer gown; it was black and floor-length, layer upon layer of fine black lace. Across the skirt was intricate gold stars sewn into the material as an illusion collar and mesh sleeves complimented your top. Your appearance mixed with your charm could allure both men and women into acquiring whatever you desired. You knew that inevitably somehow you would run into Ransom since Harlan was a huge donor to your foundation. 

“Oh, (Y/N),” It seemed you’d be seeing him sooner than you thought as Mr. Thrombey waved you over. Gracefully, you turned to see him and other authors you’d invited enjoying their wine and making various comments about the younger people attending the gala. Harlan motioned at an empty seat, “my dear.”

“Alright, but I can’t stay long. Apparently, I’m the only one left with their head screw on right this evening,” You smiled as the older group chuckled.

“You’ve always been a prize, (Y/N). Standing out in school, in your community, and now your foundation. Your grandparents would be proud,” Margret, a theatre critic, complimented you.

Her words were almost reassuring. Your grandparents had left their company and their estate to you, their only granddaughter. The rest of the family received their fair cut of shares and money, but your grandparents believed that you had the best potential in ruining their media empire. 

But you felt all joy leave your body as a large pair of hands rested themselves upon your shoulder, squeezing them just tight enough to create a numbing sensation, “Yes, and she also always was quite the star in high school and even university. Our professor often gawked at how well-knowledged she is, and even her charm.”

You rested your right hand on top of Ransom’s, peeling it off and letting it drop to his side, “Well, Ransom, it’s wonderful for you to join us at the Charity Gala tonight. I hope everything is just as proper and tasteful to your liking.”

“Well, it’s a nice little set-up you have, but I’ve always been a man to enjoy a good party with plenty to drink and-”

“Hugh,” Mr. Thrombey warned his grandson.

Ransom gave her grandfather a childish glare before sighing, “But it’s still just so lovely, (Y/N).”

“This has just been so grand,” You stood and brushed out any wrinkles in the skirt of your dress, “but I must go meet with the city’s mayor to talk about the proceeds from this evening before they reach a politician's hands. Please feel free to check out our silent auction tables, there are some wonderful prizes to be won. And once we announce the winners, we will have a large auction while dinner is served in the banquet hall at 8.”

With pep in your step, you quickly made your own way to the banquet hall to make sure everything was going swimmingly.

                                                          -   -   -

“Yes, and up there on the platform, the seats will go the mayor’s wife, the mayor, the governor, myself, the senator, his wife, and then his son,” you pointed down the long table. Then you turned to look out over a sea of tables, chairs, and name cards, “And the menu is set for this evening?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is under control, tidy, and might I say, luxurious, thanks to you,” your proceeds manager, Pierce, complimented you.

“You’re too kind,” you slapped his arm lightly, “now, guests my enter around 7:30 or whenever the staff finishes setting our the glasses and rolls.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” you heard your name called by a silver tongue serpent who managed to sneak into the banquet hall early. As he sauntered over to you, Pierce noticed how to seemed to deflate slightly in the man’s presence.

“Miss, I’m so sorry, I’ll go tell security too-”

“It’s fine, Pierce. Hugh is an... acquaintance that I’ve known for years.”

“That’s a strange way of putting childhood enemy,” Ransom teased as he took a sip out of his champagne glass, “or childhood crush depends on how you view it.”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget. Pierce,” you gave him a look to dismiss him as you turned to look pointedly at Ransom, “what are you doing here now? The schedule is clear and I don’t understand why you can’t just fo-”

“You know schedules and timetables aren’t my forte, honey,” he cut you off, which he knew made your blood boil, “but I wanted to address a little rumor I heard? Apparently, at the banquet auction- you are going to be a prize.”

“I’m not a prize, I’m a respected woman,” you sneered, “and my marketing and social managers decided it would help the cause if we auctioned off a dance with one of the most powerful and eligible bachelorette's in New York.”

“Well then,” His eyes scanned across your face but going lower. You snapped your fingers in front of his face to snap him out of whatever the hell he was trying to do, “I guess I’ll be able to show you what a fantastic dancer I am tonight when I win.”

“In your dreams, Ransom,” You said with a smile as you heard the doors open and a crowd begin the flutter in, “Now please if you would so kindly take your seat able table 6.”

                                                         -   -   -

“Thank you so much for attending tonight’s charity gala,” You smiled warmly as you spoke into the microphone. Much applause followed, “This evening’s event couldn’t have happened without help from so many people within the community and all of you here tonight. I have a lot of people to thank tonight, but first I would like to thank the wonderful orchestra for providing such wonderful music.”

You gestured to the group seated on the right side of the banquet hall as they took their bows. You allowed for the chatter to calm before continuing your speech to thank the hotel and its’ management, the catering, your parents and siblings, your personal assistant, “and lastly I have three very important men and their families in attendance tonight. The Mayor of New York City, The Governor, and even Senator Holstead.” Each of the men stood, waved to the crowd, and were applauded, “And now, I would like to invite the Senator’s eldest son, MR. Wyatt Holstead to join me in announcing the winner’s for tonight’s silent auction and then we will proceed to bidding on specialty items.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. (Y/L/N). Isn’t she just fantastic?” Wyatt smiled at the audience as he made his way up to you with his own mic. He stood next to you and took your hand, “It is an absolute honor to be assisting you tonight and a help you raise funds to solve homelessness in this beautiful city, once and for all. But being in your striking beauty might be the cherry on top.”

You giggled as he raised your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles softly. However, you could feel the tension across to the room as you made eye contact with Ransom, who was clapping with a less than excited look upon his face, “Why thank you. Now, Wyatt will be drawing and announcing the names of the winners while I present you will the item of auction. So- let’s begin.”

You forgot about Ransom and his predatory gaze as you awarded baskets and various items to strangers and friends that won them. The flashes of cameras and shaking of hands stirred your brain until Wyatt ended the silent auction.

“Congratulations to the winners! Checks can be dropped off this evening or mailed to the donation center within the next three days. But now, we move onto our live auction where we have some stellar items and events up for sale tonight!”

“You’re right, Wyatt. This first item up to bid tonight is a trip to the beaches of Italy on an all-expenses-paid vacation! Let’s start the bidding at $500, shall we?”

Immediately, hands and ladies’ fans flew up in the air. It was amazing how fast items were going and how quickly the evening was flying by.

“Going twice... Sold! The fountain pen collection goes to Mrs. Margret Dunwoody!” Wyatt called. There was applause as she grabbed her prize, “And now, for the final auction before any real partying or dancing begins, we have a real treat. One lucky person will be able to share the first dance and be treated to breakfast with our own, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! Now, this is quite the prize so let’s start the bidding at... two thousand?”

The hands’ of New York’s finest bachelors and bachelorettes shot up high.

‘$2,500″

“$3,500″

“$4,000!”

“$5,000!”

“$25,000,” One loud voice called from the center of the room. Ransom had stood, a smirk plastered to his face as his blue eyes met your own.

“$30,0-” Another man tried to yell out.

“$50,000,” Ransom called on top of him, “Anyone else?”

“Well then,” Wyatt said, looking to you and winking, “$60,000.”

“$75,000,” Ransom called back with ease. 

“$85,000,” Wyatt retorted.

 You began to become nervous. It would be awkward to watch Ransom’s and Wyatt’s little showdown, but you were the prize which made the experience only that much unsettling, “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty.”

“Going once...” You looked at Ransom only to be pondering something, “Going twice...” you started to pray that anyone else would bid, Wyatt was still in college and you didn’t need your record destroyed by a horny boy...

“$150,000!”

The banquet hall went completely silent, no one said a thing. You could here pen drop in the room with how deafening it was.

“Sold to Mr. Ransom Drysdale!” The Mayor called out from his seat, sensing the tension, “Now if Mr. Drysdale will make his way up to the platform to escort his prize to the dance floor.”

Ransom held a bit of swagger in his stride as he approached you. The shock was still evident in your stature as you tried to smile. People applauded and the band began to play again.

“My dear,” Ransom held his hand out for you, making sure to make this look a publicly decent as he could. You took his hand and he leads you down the stairs of the platform. Once you were on his level, he placed a hand upon your lower back and guided you towards the dance floor.

The band began to play a slow number that had the slightest touch of an upbeat. Ransom was surprisingly a great dance partner and easily guided you around the floor which captured the eyes of all in the banquet hall.

“You know, you’re not half bad at dancing,” you attempted to compliment him.

“I guess private school pays off a bit, but I’d still prefer dancing under your sheets,” he said in a sultry tone into your ear.

“Dammit, Ransom. I’m trying to enjoy my evening because you’ll be there to ruin my morning,” he spun you twice before pulling you into his chest again, “why did you even place a bid? You hate donating to charity, unless by force, and you know I can’t stand you.”

“Well, you know I love getting under your skin and I think the other bidder doesn’t have the same experience as I do,” He beamed, “in any category.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“But you can’t help but love me,” his lips dragged across your cheek.

The music faded out and a DJ began playing today’s hits. With all the formalities taken care of, this was no longer was your scene, “Well, good night, Ransom. I’ll see you in the morning and you can tell me about whatever girl you hooked up with, in the morning.”

With that, you escaped up to your suite in the hotel, hoping not to interact with anyone for the rest of the evening.

                                                        -   -   -

It was a few hours later now and you were still wide awake, relaxing in the living area of your suite as Brooklyn Nine-Nine played on the television. You had already showered and your hair was almost finished air drying, but you still wore the hotel robe. It was peaceful and allowed you to digest the events from the evening. But a knock on the door alerted you of an unexpected guest.

“Who is it?”

“Room service, ma’am,” You opened the door to reveal a young man with a cart, “Gifts from the hotel managers and a special man who wanted to thank you for this evening.”

“Oh well, thank you, just cart it in wherever you like,” You nodded and let him through. He quickly took care of his job before exiting, “good night.”

You grabbed the first card on the cart, a little formal thank you note from the hotel for a smooth event and the wonderful publicity. There was a second one with no name, but you figured it was one of the politicians you invited this evening.

You looked like the night sky, but you shined brighter than any star.

Shaking your head, you let out a small giggle at the little note like you were a school girl again. Even if there was a bump or two in the evening, it all still went practically perfect. But a second knock came from the door.

“If it’s another cart, I’m afraid I’m out of room in here,” You teased, only to open the door to reveal Ransom. 

“Well, were the flowers not enough? I didn’t know my prize would still be so hard to please, even after I swept her off her feet on the dance floor.” Here he was, smirk and all. Instead of his usual behavior of prowling a dance floor for a girl to satisfy him for the night, he was here, satisfying his need to tease you.

“Ransom, I-uh... Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” You pulled the robe close to your body like it could shield you from anything he could say or do to you.

“Well, my date left me on the floor-”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s late, and I’m not a prize to be won, and you-”

“(Y/N),” He looked you in the eyes with his own blue ones that could make any woman melt and suddenly you understood why he came upstairs, “Can I come in, please?”

“I- maybe not tonight...”

“Please”

You took a deep breath before opening the door to allow him in, “Okay, but I do plan to go to bed before long.”

He walked in and immediately got a beer out of the hotel fridge before taking a seat on the couch. You grabbed yourself a bottle of water before joining him on the couch.

“So, were you trying to get away from your grandfather? or an ex?”

“No, I figured it was time we talk. And I mean actually talk. Not argue or bicker like we do in front of everyone else.”

“I don’t remember a time where we didn’t, so...”

“Maybe because you never give me the chance to talk-”

“Well, maybe that’s because every time I’ve tried to open up to you or trust you, you just cut me off...”

“Maybe that’s because you keep trying to meddle in my life like my family does!”

“I’m not doing this tonight! Not after everything I accomplished, I’ll see you in the morning,” you pushed yourself off the couch and attempted to make your way into the bedroom.

“No, (Y/N), I-” He let out a sigh and shook his head, “sit your ass back down and talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ransom!”

“There is everything to talk about”

IT hit you like a brick. He wanted to talk it out because after all this time he still wanted you. He wanted back sneaking into each other’s dorms. Pretending to hate each other, but sneaking kisses behind friends and family. You were the only person to ever deny him from what he needed. You were the girl to leave him on the floor. The same way you had left him on the floor homecoming your junior year, semi-formal your senior year of college, and various club outings. And now tonight in front of the public. You had always been the only girl to leave him alone and the only girl to walk out on him first. And after all this time, he still chased after you, because you were consistent.

 “Dammit, (Y/N). Why do you act like this? We have history, but you insist on acting like it never happened or that it was all bad.”

“Ransom, you know why we both called it all off...”

“Because you were inheriting a large media network? You could risk doing ONE thing that your mother didn’t approve of. I know why, but I’ll never understand-”

“Because you made me reckless and I couldn’t let my life slip through my fingers while I lived a perfectly pleasurable life off of daddy’s money. I need purpose and you never gave me one.”

“But you gave me purpose. And tonight, you looked like a night sky, shining bright with a thousand stars and reminded me of those nights where we laid under the starry sky and you let me spoil you. You helped me deal with the abomination that is my family, you were helping me learn to be a better person.” He took your hands into his own large ones and rested his forehead against yours, “I was going to propose and we were going to find a purpose together.”

“Fuck, Ransom,” The tears slid down your cheeks, but he caught them with his thumbs, “Why do we have to do this now? I was just starting to truly move on. Why can’t you let the idea of us go?”

“Because it’s the only good idea I’ve ever had. Please, (Y/N), I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. In all the time that Ransom and you had spent together - teasing each other or flirting or otherwise - he had never said that he loved you. You never even heard him tell his parents he loved them. He truly wanted you.

“I- We... We can try again. But it’ll be slow and it will take time to heal what we burned, but if you’re willing than I am too.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours. 

                                                       -   -   -

The next afternoon, images of you and Ransom having brunch and holding hands while wandering around New York were splattered across media and magazine sites alike. People and reporters asked about the charity event the night before, what this relationship meant for your company, and even asking if you both were finally coming public with your relationship after months of hiding it.

A young reporter caught Ransom and asked it you satisfied his desires, targeting Ransom’s playboy bachelor status.

“I think you should be asking (Y/N) how much she raised for the homeless and those living off in a single evening instead of objectifying her. She’s the most powerful and influential woman in the nation and desrves more respect than that. Go report her record-breaking funding to your Editor, instead of a dumbass’s opinion on if she makes a good shag or not, sweetie.”

Once you made it into his car and made your way to Boston, you turned to him, “Thank you, for everything you said.”

“Of course, it was all honest and true. But I was never gonna tell them how wonderful you feel beneath me.”

“Ransom-”

“Oh c’mon, you love me”

[world-of-aus]

You’re My Mission One-shot Soul Mate AU!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,932

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, here lies a twist

Author’s Note: Anything italicized is something occurring in the past! Here it is finally, i’ll be honest i’m not sure how i’m feeling about it but i decided to step out of a comfort zone and do a twist that i hope i made obvious enough. Literally last minute while i was editing i had the brilliant idea to change the ending and well, i hope it doesn't suck to bad lol. I hope you’ll enjoy it none the less, behind the screen coming out tomorrow!

You awoke with a pounding head; a pained groan fell from your lips as you tried to move your aching body. Panic seeped into you when you found you couldn't move your arms, pins and needles prickling at your fingers as you struggled with the ties that had you bound. You looked around with wide eyes, but there wasn’t much to make out in the dimly lit room. You scourged your hazy brain for something, anything to tell you how you had ended up here in this situation. Your eyes widened in horror.

You quickened your pace as you pushed yourself into the sea of bodies, you pushed against them as you tried to get away from his watchful eyes. You felt the coldness of his stare on you, watching you, studying you, much like the day before, he had only continued to draw closer as the week had passed. At first you had just thought you had stumbled upon the most mysterious man, with the most marvelous crystal blue eyes.  Though when you were walking through the minuscule isles of your streets corner market and bumped into him once more you had chalked it up to fate playing games. The third and fourth time had you biting your lip with nervousness, surely you would have seen this man before if he really did have the same schedule as you, unless, you had shaken your head of those thoughts, it couldn’t be. You had decided to swallow down your nerves and approach him on the fifth day, you hadn’t known he was there until you felt a chill run up your spine, the feel of eyes watching your every move as you ordered your favorite caffeinated drink from the overly friendly barista. Sure enough when you had handed your payment to the cashier, you chanced a glance over your shoulder to already find his gaze on yours, he had your breath catching in your throat.

You moved off stiffly to the side to allow the next customer to move up, you gazed away from the predatory eyes focusing on the baristas behind the bar, you took a deep breath deciding that you would go over to the mysterious man and confront him, in your mind there was simply no explanation for why he was always appearing in locations you had never seen him before. Your name was called and you took uneasy steps forward taking the warm cup from the smiling teen. Turning on your heel you steeled yourself as you made your way towards the man sitting in the middle of the local coffee house. Taking a breath, you found your words, “excuse me,” you voiced warmly, “ I feel like I've seen a lot  of you in places I've never seen you before, and maybe that’s just a coincidence, do I know you?” you questioned.

His eyes were locked on yours as he shook his head once, you swallowed fingers tapping on your Styrofoam cup nervously.  

“are you-” you paused, “are you following me?” you questioned voice dropping.

Your nearly dropped the hot drink in your hands when his head nodded once, rather than questioning him any further you probably did the last thing you should have done, you ran. Your heart was racing in your chest as you raced out the doors and onto the busy streets. You looked behind you with wide eyes to see he was feet away. You quickened your pace, continuing to push through the crowds, eventually the crowd thinned the closer you got to home. You didn’t dare chance a glance back over your shoulder, you already knew he would be there. With a thrumming heart you continued to push forward, the heels of your ankle high boots thumping against the cemented side walk. If you strained your ears enough you could hear the pair of feet trailing you.

You were still another 3 blocks from your home, you began to grow desperate as the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. You did what could be described as your next biggest mistake, the one that was going to do you in. You ran, and in your hurry to get away from him you truly weren't thinking, and you ran into an alleyway, a choked sob fell from your lips as your hit a dead end. You baked away from the stoned brick, silent tears fell from your eyes, a silent gasp fell from your lips when you backed into something hard behind you. Turning ever so slowly, you looked up with wide eyes, your mouth fell open in a scream but nothing ever came as the world around you went black.

The sound of a steel door slamming had you jumping in the wooden chair you had been bound too. You waited with baited breath as you heard heavy footsteps approach you. He appeared under the single industrial pendant light. His eyes were set, jaw stiff, nostrils flaring as he looked you over, your body tensed when they landed on the knife in his hands.

“You know, you almost had me thinking I had gone after the wrong person,” he grunted.

Your eyes widened slightly, a look of horror coming over your features, “i don’t even know who you are, what do you want?” you whimpered.

His jaw clenched, “cut the shit and drop the façade y/n, it's just me and you,”  

You quivered in your chair, “i- I don’t know what you’re talking about, how do you know my name?” you questioned shakily, “please just let me go I swear I won’t tell anyone anything I sw-”

A fist to the face cut off your words, your head snapped to the side, blood seeped from your split lip.

Your jaw clenched, spitting the blood that had gathered in your mouth you turned your head back towards him, he was closer now.

You adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable chair, “did you really forget that I can’t feel the pain you inflict on me?” you glared.

Though Bucky’s face had remained the same stoic stare, his eyes looked away from yours, you scoffed. “You know you could jeopardize this entire mission for us right, what the hell are you even doing Barnes, what the hell is all of this?” you questioned pulling at the restraints.

He let out a tense breath through his lips, “I just,” his fist clenched at his side, “I just needed to make sure you were okay,”

A sarcastic laugh left your lips, “and this,” you growled tugging at the restraints, “this is your way of making sure I was okay, didn’t think you cared, if I recall it was you fleeing the moment you found out we were s-”

“don't say it,” he growled, eyes growing dark as he glared at you.

You shook your head at the man in front of you, “see you still haven’t accepted it,” you muttered, “yet here we are, with me tied to a fucking chair because you wanted to make sure I was okay.”

The two of you grew quiet as you murdered one another with the intensity of killer eyes, “can you untie me my arms uncomfortable,” you muttered. Though Bucky personally couldn’t inflict any pain on you the ropes binding your hands now that was another story.

Bucky didn’t utter a word as he went behind you to cut the restraints, your arms fell limp at your sides, a inaudible pained groan fell from your lips. You pushed yourself up on wobby legs, gathering your bearings. Once the feeling had returned to your numbed limbs, you turned to face the stoic man next to you. It took you a second to reel your hand back, your fist flying into the side of Bucky’s cheek throwing him off guard, your foot was the next thing to swing taking a direct hit into the middle of his chest sending him flying a few feet back.

A growl left his lips as he stood, a pained expression on his face, “that’s what you get Barnes,” you hissed standing your ground, “it's been a damn year, and now all of a sudden you decide to “care”, if you even want to call it that,”

“y/n” he tried

“I don’t want to hear it,” you muttered, “does the team even know you’re here, that you’ve been following me?” You seethed, “Pierce could very well have caught on, he has eyes on me, it’s been a year and the asshole still doesn’t trust me, and now you showing up out of the blue to come check up on me, what the hell bucky!”

You could see his façade fall the longer he stared at you, “the team hasn’t heard from you, they were worried,”

An angry groan tore from your lips, “fuck you Barnes, why is it so hard for you to give into your feelings,” you yelled, “the teams well aware I wouldn’t be in contact until I got everything I needed to frame pierce, and IF they were worried why not send someone else, why YOU!”

Bucky stood unmoving, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say after he pushed you away.

You sat on his untouched bed, fingers twiddling in your lap as you waited for him. You were lost in your head as you went over the words you’d like to share with him, to express to him. There were so many emotions coursing through you, but the one shining through the brightest was disbelief. You had heard the stories, seen the headlines, even witnessed the love of two souls becoming one, you had just never thought it was in the books for you, you had never felt that tug towards someone, and you had been okay with it. Until today; you had never trained with Bucky, it was usually Natasha and occasionally Steve if he was willing to get rough housed. So when you had been informed that Steve and Natasha would be out of the tower for a few hours, you decided to try and coax the guarded soldier out of the confines of his room.

Bucky was always very guarded, you only ever saw him really let his walls down around Steve and that in itself was a rare occurrence, so having him here in the training room with you and watching him crack the smallest resemblance of a smile at you had you nearly falling to your feet.

“don’t let your guard down, keep your stance,” he murmured from his end of the mat.

This had been going on for the last thirty minutes, you two had yet to touch, you had just been dancing around one another, taunting, critiquing, building each other up for the first initial contact. Having had enough of this dance you two were doing you took the first step towards him, he was quicker though his foot sweeping you off your feet, your back and head meeting the mat instantly, but that’s not what had your breath catching in your throat. It was the chilling thought that you had felt no pain from his hit, it took the impact to bring any sort of pain to the forefront.  

“you let your guard down?” he smirked reaching his hand out to you.

In your confused fueled driven state, instead of taking Bucky’s hand, you drove the palm of your hand into his cheek, the slap resonating through the room. Bucky looked at you wide eyed, “did you-” you took in shaky breath, “did you feel that?”

Bucky didn’t say anything as he retracted his hand, you had your answer the second he bolted out the door without so much as a word.

The door creaking open had you looking up, Bucky froze at the door, his eyes glued to your form, he closed the door ever so slowly behind him. He didn’t say anything as he stood there, just staring “You’ve heard the stories, haven't you?” you questioned, he didn’t say anything just continued to stare, “when two soulmates are meant to connect, there will be no pain, instead there will be joy in your soul, laughter, calmness, inspiration so much so that there will be hope in front of you, it will be like a beacon,” he still remained stoic in front of you, you were beginning to grow nervous, “ Bucky, I didn’t feel the moment you took me down, I only felt when my body hit the mat, and you can’t tell me that you felt, the slap to your face,” you murmured.

“it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates, it doesn’t-” he glared, pausing over his words as if he knew he might regret them.

Though you knew what he was getting at, what he was doing, and it didn’t keep your face from falling, “you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel it, that there’s not something there,” you murmured.

“what,” he grunted, “what do you want to be there y/n, there’s nothing there,” he hissed, “we’re barely even friends, we can barely call each other acquaintances, and now you want me to call us soulmates?”

His eyes were only growing colder, “it’s never going to happen, there’s just no way, all of it is just made up,”

“but buc-”

“but nothing y/n” he growled effectively quieting you, “there’s nothing there, no tug, no feelings drawing me to you, nothing,” he hissed, “so drop it, we’re not soulmates, you not feeling pain and me not feeling your wimpy punches means nothing, it just means you need to work harder, that’s, it,”

“But b-”

“drop it y/n” he grunted stepping closer to you, “there’s no connection between you and I, whatever it is you think you’re feeling it’s not real, so drop it,”

A part of you had started to believe maybe you had made this feeling up, because while soulmates were supposed to be the last person to bring you any semblance of pain, the ache growing in your chest, the ache in your soul was too much for you to bear.

You nodded numbly at him head casted down as your lower lip wobbled, eyes growing glassy with unshed tears. You didn’t murmur another word as you stood from his bed, you stepped around him, needing to get out, but the more steps you took away from him, the louder the crys of your soul got, the tug was overbearing as you pulled open his door stepping out silently as you let it click behind you.

Bucky had been caught off guard at not feeling the pain from your slap, you had been right, he had seen the articles, heard the stories, he just didn’t think it would ever happen to him, that he would meet his soulmate. Truth was Bucky had been overwhelmed at the thought of meeting his soulmate, and to discover that you been in front of him all this time really had thrown him. After everything Bucky had been through, all the trial and tribulations life had put him through he didn’t think he was deserving of having someone his soul was bound to, especially not someone like you. You were a pure soul, he didn’t want to taint you, to hurt you like the many people he had, but isn't that what he had done. He had pushed you away because he was scared of hurting you, of the evil that lurked in the hidden shadows hurting you.

“I’m sorry,” he tried head casted down, a scoff fell from your lips, his eyes darting up to yours.

“You're sorry?” you questioned exasperated, after you rejected me, rejected our tie, you’re sorry, well I'm sorry to say Bucky, but it’s a little too late,”  

Tears were threatening to well in your eyes, it pained you to even have those words fall from your mouth, but what’s a little more pain.

“y/n”

“No Barnes, don’t you think you’ve put me through enough, why are you even here?” you questioned again growing agitated with this back and forth, “a year ago you couldn’t even bring yourself to acknowledge me after I tried to get you to open up about the possibility of us being soulmates and you pushed me away, the week before I was sent on this mission I had barely even caught so much as a glance of you, but now you’re here, and for what, what are you here for,” Your arms flew up in the air in frustration, “you can’t tell me it's because you finally decided to acknowledge any feelings because that would be a lie, you can’t even admit to being here to check on me because YOU wanted to see if I was okay, no you’re here because the team was worried not because you were.”

Bucky couldn’t find the words, he knew he had been wrong in pushing you away, he knew what could happen if either of you fought the strong connection that two soulmates had towards one another, but that’s exactly what he was doing. What had he expected though, was he expecting you to just run into open arms, forgive him as if the pain he put you through was nothing, he knew you would be upset, he just never thought he would be on the receiving end of your anger.

Your phone pinging in your pocket brought the both of you out of your angered states, you groaned as you reached for it, eyes widening slightly as you looked over the message, “shit” you muttered.

You turned on your heel, you needed to get out of here quick, Bucky was quick to notice your leave reaching out to a get a grip on your bicep. You turned to glare at him with storm filled eyes, “Let go Barnes,” you growled.

“No y/n we need to talk about this,”

You let out a harsh forced laugh, “I don’t want to talk anymore Bucky, you’ve already caused me enough trouble, and now pierce may very well have my head because of you,” you hissed, “do us both a favor and go,” you said ripping your hand free from his hold. You didn’t look back, you knew if you did, this whole mission could go sideways. Once you were out of sight of his watchful eyes, you pulled out your burner typing three in three urgent letters to Steve; S.O.S. ,just like you had gone over.

Your head snapped to the side a pained hiss leaving your lips, “you must think me a fool y/n, did you really think I wouldn’t find out,” he questioned beady eyes trained on your bloodied face. Did you really think I wouldn’t be keeping tabs on you this entire time, that you wouldn’t have a watchful eye over you, I have eyes everywhere, inside the office and definitely out, I need to make sure I know who’s been sent to work for me” he hissed dealing another blow to the side of your face. After receiving the message from Pierce you knew you were in for it when you actually came face to face with the man. You just didn’t realize how bad it would get, you could only hope that Steve would get your message and know how to locate you before your time ran out.

“took you long enough, surprised you didn’t confront me sooner, you know with you having a watchful eye on me,” you snarked spitting out a glob of blood at his feet.

You took another backhand to the face, your head cocking to the side from the force, “I'd watch your words very carefully agent, though the year that you’ve been under me you havent watched much of what you let out” he hissed, “you think you have the upper hand here, that you’re not just a pawn to the bigger picture?”

“What are you on about?” you gritted.

A laugh left his lips in the form of a scoff, his hand grabbed at your chin roughly, “you really think you’re the one with the upper hand here, that you would be getting anything out of me I've been watching you, hearing you y/n?” he laughed, “you really should have watched what you said in the dead of night in a hushed tone into the damned burner phone of yours.”

Your faced scrunched in confusion, “the winter soldier,” he hissed shaking your head, your eyes widened “all this time you thought you’d be getting an upper hand on me, oh but how the tables have turned agent, oh how they have turned,”

Your faced morphed from confusion to anger, “you bastard you won’t get away with this!” you yelled.

He got in your face then gripping your cheeks tightly, “oh but I already have, and you’re going to have a front seat agent, and don’t worry I'll make sure your death is slow and painful, shouldn’t have to wait much longer,” he grunted swinging you around to the door. You waited with baited breath, but soon gunfire was ringing through the cemented walls outside the door you were being held in. You could hear thumps of bodies heavily flying into the walls and floors, suddenly the rooms door you were being held in was kicked down with heavy force. Bucky and Steve stood at the door way, their breathing heavy as they glared at the man behind you.

“so glad the two of you could make it,” he spoke from behind you, “shall we get this show on the road?” he questioned. A click sounded through the room, your eyes met Steve’s and then they moved over to Bucky’s, your eyes used the words that you couldn’t speak in that moment.

Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать.  

The minute those words sounded through the room, it threw all of you into action, well you and Steve, Bucky was a frozen mass of muscle at the door. You watched with wide eyes as Steve raced to you, Pierce sidestepping him as he went to stand closer Bucky.  

Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный.

The next four words had Steve working at the restraints bounding you to the steel chair, “Steve hurry!” you rushed watching Bucky’s eyes grow darker, face growing colder. Steve cut and pulled at the string the fastest that he could, whispering into your ear, reassuring you that the two of you would be okay. You weren’t sure if you believed him, did he really think you could pull this off, even you were beginning to think maybe there had been faults in this missions plan.

Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон Солдат.

You were pulled from your restraints at the last second, a tense silence washed over you before chaos broke loose. Steve pushed you off to the side when Bucky charged him, “y/n go get out of here,” Steve grunted attempting to dodge his friend's hits. “Go!” he grunted, though you didn’t get far when Pierce lunged for you at the door, a pistol in his hands stalled you, but it was the gun going off where Steve and Bucky stood that froze you. You looked over in horror, as blood seeped from the middle of Steve’s suit, you rushed forward, Pierce not stopping you as you fell to your feet, hand pressing down onto the bleeding wound. Your fingers were stained in blood as it poured from his suit. It wasn’t long before Bucky was turning on you his fingers weaving in your hair as he threw you into the corner of the wall. If even for a second you were glad you couldn’t feel the pain, that he was about to bring. He didn’t waste a single second as he went at you, his hands merciless as they rained down on you. Your eyes widened as you saw him reach for the gun, the same gun he had just shot Steve with, you looked over to Steve while still trying to hold off Buckys towering frame, a cry fell from your lips as you saw the captain slouched over, eyes closed, breathing coming out unbelievably slow. Your eyes then looked past Bucky’s shoulder to see Pierce at the door a smug smirk on his face as he watched the scene.

You continued to shove at Bucky’s hand that held the gun, trying to fight it off though you knew the imminent was near and no training could have ever prepared you for it. A fist to the face had you falling to the floor his gun aimed at you, it took less than a second before a round was going off, a pain coursing through your body, you were falling off to the side, your sight increasingly going blurry. You watched Bucky walk stoically over to Pierce gun still clenched tightly In his hand, your eyes were rolling as the darkness pulled at you, luring you in, the last thing to ring through your mind was the sound of a round going off, another body falling to the floor.

Your body screamed in protest, eyes twitching behind your closed lids, your groggy head moved slightly the cotton pillow a welcome. With the strength you could muster up you fought your heavy eyes cracking them open ever so slightly. Two bodies hovered next to you, you pushed a little harder, your eyes finally fluttering open. Steve was the first to greet your line of sight, a small smile pulling at his lips, “how you feeling?” he questioned.

“Like absolute death, what the hell did Bucky shoot me with?” you groaned.

Steve scratched the back of his head, “you might want to ask Stark when we get back to the tower, if it was enough to take me down, can’t imagine what it would have done to you, what it did to you.”

You nodded your head, not trusting your body to do more with the haze it was still in, “hey at the briefing do you think we could bring up how uncomfortably sticky dyed corn starch with chocolate syrup is, I get it’s the most believable but my goodness, my clothes feels like a second layer of skin.”

Steve laughed at that, “noted, I'll definitely need a good scrub down myself, I was honestly worried with how quickly the concoction was seeping through my suit, had you not obstructed Pierce’s view he could have caught on.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, Steve could sense the underlying question dancing on the tip of your tongue, his head fell slightly, “Bucky took care of Pierce,” he murmured. Your eyes glanced at Bucky where he stood off on Steve’s side, he was staring intently at your form, had he been staring this entire time?

“Actually,” Steve said suddenly, “we should be approaching the tower soon, so I'll give you two sometime,” he murmured, offering you a small smile patting Bucky on the back before he was moving away from the two of you.

Bucky moved up to the spot Steve had been in, “sorry about all this doll,” he murmured indicating the bruises that adorned your face.

“No need to apologize Bucky, I'm just glad this mission didn’t go sideways, I was worried for a minute that he had caught on to the actual plan we had set, its been a year of this, I forget half of the stuff I said to Steve over the phone” you groaned as you adjusted yourself on the cot. Bucky offered you a helping hand as he pulled you into a sitting position, your body slouching against the seat.

“Well we all held our part pretty well, especially you, I almost thought I had messed up all over again, it all felt so real” he murmured.

“You know,” you spoke drawing his eyes up to yours as you pulled at the intel device buried in the crevices of you ear, “I’m still mad at you for pushing me away the way you did," you added a teasing glint in your eye, “i think this mission may have sparked the underlying anger I still have,”

Bucky pushed at you shoulder slightly, “don’t start,” he warned “see I told tony it would be a bad idea to involve our history like this, do you know how bad I wanted to break character with those words spilling from your mouth?” he questioned, “I actually did, when I said that we needed to talk, but then you walked away and you didn’t turn back and its like something in me snapped again and I knew I needed to keep it together to see the mission through, I almost thought I had messed it all up because I couldn’t bear the fact at you being mad at me.”

An understanding smile pulled at the corner of your lips, “well then it’s a good thing we worked past all your mess, before we took on this mission,” you teased, though you could tell there was still some underlying insecurities in Bucky’s eyes. Your hands reached for his, “It was just a mission buck, yeah the words we shared held some truth, but we worked through those issues did we not?” you questioned. You saw him nod his head slowly, “it’s been a year of having to live out a past that we would rather keep behind us,” you sighed, “a past that was hard for both of us but hey we worked through those struggles then we can definitely work through it now.”

“i fought hard for you then, i’ll fight hard for you now,” you murmured bringing his hand to your lips.

YMM Tag-list: @lovely-geek​

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART IV

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Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Drinking, cussing, possible harassment undertone meanings, mentions of sex, and Denki being one hot motherlova

Word Count: 2,894

A/N: Hey guys, so life is pretty crazy so next couple updates might not be on time due to my birthday coming up, plus a lot of other family tingz. But I hope you all like this one because I worked supa dupa hard for ya babies!! 🥺👉👈

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

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You had no idea what to wear to the party. The only reason you weren’t having a total meltdown was because you had toga with you to help pick out an outfit, which thank the gods you had her since she at least had some experience with these parties. So instead of going to your place and staying, you just grabbed basically your whole closet and fizzed to her place, getting ready there. The blonde stood behind you, making sure your ponytail was perfect and didn’t look ‘casual’, but instead gave you a sassy look. Toga giggled as she played with a loose strand of your hair, meeting your eyes through the mirror.

“You’re gonna be the attention grabber tonight, trust me when I say I’ll have to fend off some horny gods for you.” Her words made you blush as you tsked at her words, “They only look because they’ve never seen me before…” you mumbled back, not liking the idea of attention on you for reasons that could anger other goddesses. Toga rolled her eyes at your humbleness, something that isn’t common within Olympus, especially the women of Olympus. “You’re being too humble Y/N. Goddesses are beautiful, and you are no exception.” Before you could argue, Toga clamped her hand over your mouth and gave you a knowing look, which you submitted too.

“Fine- I won’t bring it up again…” with your muffled admittance of defeat, toga whooped in glee and got up changing into her own dress, it was red, which seemed to be her favorite color. Walking over to a drawer, she pulled it open with devious little eyes as her mouth cracked into a grin and pulled out makeup brushes, “Now it’s time for the final touches…” She stalked over to you, never giving you time to oppose what she was about to do. “Just sit back and relax… let momma toga do her work!” The blonde giggled before cool gel? Was it? Met your face, and there was no turning back.

*•*

“Hizashi… would a tuxedo be too… fancy?” The ravenette king barely met the golden Olympian's eyes as he looked through this walk-in closet, which very much amused the loud god. “Shouta, a suit would be just fine. This is just a party to celebrate Kirishima’s victories in the human realm . So it’s a bit fancy but not tux fancy. Cocktail attire, that's the word I’m looking for” Hizashi pointed his finger at shouta and winked, “Listen yo, I know you wanna look good, but just relax. You’re a king! What goddess wouldn’t want you?” Aizawa huffed and grabbed a three piece plaid grey suit.

“They call me the unseen one, and every time I go somewhere they turn and whisper about the tales they’ve heard about how cruel and horrible I am. Because let’s be real Hizashi, no goddess wants to be the queen of a place that never sees the light.” The cold king's words made Hizashi frown as he tidied himself up and winked in the mirror because of how good he looked. “Oh c'mon shouta! You’re too hard on yourself!! Why don’t you go to rei and tell her you’re ready for marriage? I’m sure she can find you someone” Aizawa rolled his eyes at those words, slightly blushing at the thought.

“Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to go to Rei and ask her to set me up? And then for her to not find any goddess on top of that? The underworld wouldn’t be a far enough escape from the embarrassment I’d receive.” As the dark haired man put on his vest, he frowned while looking in the mirror, the ugly scar that adorned his face was a constant reminder of the war he fought in only to receive being shunned to the underworld. Aizawa had fought the hardest and bravest, but because he didn’t look the part, he was given the place that everyone judged the most; the place where souls roamed.

Hizashi groaned after his friend's sour attitude, moving his hair down but slicked back, whereas Aizawa went for a loose ponytail with his front bangs hanging loose but out of his eyes. “You know shouta, sometimes I think you’re the god of being negative. Cause that’s what you are, negative. Just let go for tonight and have fun! Who knows, maybe you’ll take home a nymph that isn’t that insufferable sea nymph Emi.” Just the mention of the nymph made Aizawa shudder, “Don’t mention her. She might sense it and come.”

Laughing, Hizashi pat Aizawa’s pat before quickly snapping a selfie with a less than pleased Aizawa. “Yo, you look fly for once! Can’t you just smile?” Aizawa glared, his eyes shining red in warning, “Try that again and I’ll kill you.” The black haired males tone only made the smiling one laugh harder, “You would never, you like me too much but you just won’t admit it.” Aizawa merely waved off Hizashi’s comments, not wanting to admit he had a heart beyond the supposed cold exterior of his. Together they walked to the garage and got into their respected cars, planning on meeting at the party.

*•*

As you arrived at the venue of the party, you noticed the fun atmosphere right away. Decorations were made of golds and pearls, all though it was beautiful, it was a tad too bright for your taste… you would of much preferred gold and black or pearl and black. You even had to squint slightly to adjust your eyes to how bright everything was, it was like they wanted it known that the gods were celebrating tonight. Toga latched your arms together as she knew it was easy to get lost or separated at these parties, so she told you to make sure you were always touching no matter what.

“Hey toga, what is this party for exactly?” Toga shrugged and laughed, skipping forward while she grabbed a glass of wine, “Who knows, and who cares? It’s free food and drinks… in all honestly they could be celebrating the fact that two of them had sex. These suckers celebrate anything and everything.” Her words made you chuckle as you nodded along, not exactly understanding but figured you’d learn along the way. “So really, we just have to show up and we’re good?” Toga made a dinging noise and winked at you, “Exactly new blood! See you’re catching on fast.”

As you guys walked through, you saw a familiar pair of golden wings, paired with blonde hair. Forgetting togas warning you ran off and hugged the Male from behind, not caring that he was blatantly hitting on multiple people at a time. “DENKI!” You couldn't even finish your words when the Male turned around and hugged you back, both of you suddenly in the air as his wings spread wide in glee. “Y/N! Gods it’s been too long Babygirl!” A kiss was pressed to your smiley cheek and you took in his attire, seeing he had a red floral silk button up with black dress slacks and a choker around his neck. He really was the god of sex and love, and he made it known.

A blush spread along your face like wildfire as you giggled at his nickname for you, “The letters really aren’t enough… especially after hearing about-” his eyes grew sad and he shook his head, “Please don’t say her name… my mother took care of it and that’s all there is too it..” you frowned and brushed his hair back, hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to visit you Denki… you’ve been an amazing friend to me and- it hurts to see you like this.” The blonde god bit his lip and sighed, ruffling your hair slightly before smirking as he took in your appearance. “Enough about me, the last time I saw you, you never had an impure thought in your life… but now, I can smell your sexual desire dripping from you.”

Choking on air you looked away, body heating up at his words as your mind flashed with thoughts of a certain dark haired king, quickly you shook your head and punched denki’s shoulder. “Stop doing that! I thought you couldn’t use your powers on innocent goddesses like me…” Denki flicked your forehead and chuckled, “I can’t use my powers on the big man after Rei got pissed at me and ma, but you, you’re my best friend, you’re free game babygirl” Pouting, you crossed your arms suddenly aware that you lost your other blonde friend. Eyes wide, you looked around and pursed your lips, “Shit… I lost toga.”

Denki laughed at you, lazily wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he led you through the party, “As in controls the underworld river toga? Blonde, kinda crazy, but nonetheless fun toga?” You nodded at his questions, smiling. “Yep, I work in the underworld and met her… I swear it’s us against all the horny gods that work there… or so that’s what she says” Rolling his amber eyes, he grabbed you both drinks, handing a glass of wine to you. “Oh so all those moody underworld goers already want to court you? And let me guess you didn’t even notice until toga said something.” Deciding you would rather take a drink than answer his question, but the golden winged man took it as an answer as he smirked.

“Don’t you smirk! You’re too smug for your own good.” Suddenly there was a shift in the mood as people started whispering, and eyes were focused on the person who just entered. Curious, you decided to look too, only to blush as a pair of dark eyes met yours. The king of the underworld himself had decided to make an appearance, the staring did not go unnoticed by your friend as a lightbulb went off in his head. You were so enhanced by the dark eyes you didn’t notice the presence beside you leaving, and you certainly didn’t notice him pushing someone into you so your wine would spill all over your navy coloured dress.

“Fuck-” A gasp left your lips as you looked down at your ruined dress, the person in front of you looking apologetic, but slightly pissed that they were shoved. “My deepest apologies, I was pushed into you.” Different colored eyes met yours as you waved them off and offered them a smile, “It’s okay, truly these things happen.” You took In the man's appearance, noting right away that he was a god, he looked familiar But you couldn’t place his name. “At least let me get you another dress? My sister and mother have plenty, or we can exchange information and I’ll buy you another at some time… is that okay lotus flower?”

The nickname caught you off guard, making you gulp and blush slightly, raising your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N… daughter of Izuku and Uraraka.” The multicolored haired man smiled and took your hand, kissing the back of it gently as he hid the shock well, surprised that you haven’t dismissed him or walked away by now because of the scar on his face, deeming him the ‘ugliest god’. “Shoto… you have a beautiful name Y/N.” Neither of you could feel the glare that was casted upon your conversation, but Denki did, and so did toga. Denki stalked across the room like a lion hunting his prey before he was next to Aizawa, standing next to him nonchalant.

“You do realize that she basically reeks like fresh meat to starving bears, don’t you?” The snide remark from the young god made Aizawa glare harder, his demeanor growing increasingly more threatening. “Just because your mother has done me a few favours, doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.” Denki held his hands up, and toga seemed to swoop in on the other side of Aizawa, her giggles filling the air. “Dear king, don’t you see our little new blood won’t be so free for long, because it doesn’t work like that here in olympus. We move fast. Love fast. Live fast. You better do the same if you want her.”

Jaw clenching, Aizawa tensed at her words as he saw your smile directed at his nephew. Not him. “Toga is merely speaking the truth, and oh unseen one, don’t think I can’t smell your desire for her. Because i can and it’s so desperate and needy, it makes me want to just lock you two in a room.” Toga peaked at Denki as he looked at his red painted nails, like he didn’t just expose a king's secret. “You two do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Aizawa grumbled, hearing a few nearby wine glasses shatter from his emotions. Why did he even come to this party? That’s right- he wanted to see you. A stupid man, that’s what he was.

A second was all it took for you to disappear from his vision, along with shoto. Panic setting in as he realized he lost the only person he could possibly care for to his fucking nephew. At least he’d keep you in his life. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t see tweedle dee and tweedle dumb leave and follow you, their plan rolling in motion as soon their words started getting to the Raven haired man. It only made it better that you went to the bathroom so it was easy to get you out of the party without any eyes on you…

*•*

Groaning, you woke up holding your head, trying to help the pain that was shooting through it. It wasn’t until you sat up did you realize you were not in your bed, nor were you in togas. In fact you were in a place that was completely unknown to you. Eyes wide you quickly checked your attire and sighed in relief as you noticed your clothes were still on, but your shoes weren’t and your hair was put up in a nice lazy bun, makeup wiped off. Letting your feet touch the cold ground, a shiver ran up your back, taking in the dark hues that decorated the room, feeling comfort in it. Navy’s, blacks, greys, and some darker whites, it all brought a sense of calm to you that made you smile.

Walking out of the bedroom, you’re met with the sweet smell of crepes and coffee, honestly something you could get used to in the morning. You let your nose guide your way and mindlessly you walked into a kitchen that had an open concept with a dark marble island and dark kitchen cabinets. But what caught your attention the most was the man that stood with his back to you, hair half up and a black silk robe loosely on his shoulders that matched his black sweatpants and slippers. Realization settled in and you stumbled, covering your face, trying to hide the blush that colored your face; you were in the king of the underworld's home.

“Oh- I see you’re up… do you need medicine, or some water? I did brew up some coffee, because I know that helps hangovers sometimes…” A deep raspy voice made you peek through your fingers, seeing soft dark eyes looking at you with concern. “I-I don’t even remember last night.. I must have been such a bother- I’m so sorry” Aizawa flustered slightly as he remembered one particular moment, a moment that made his heart beat at rapid speeds. His lips tingled just thinking about it, and you didn’t even remember. It made him feel like a silly little boy.

Putting on a smile he just chuckled at the state you were in, “You weren’t… I’d let you bother me every day of my life if it meant you were near me little goddess.” Aizawa hummed so smoothly that it made your heart turn into a butterfly. Blushing you moved to peak over his shoulder, chest pressed to his back, “That looks very good ai- I mean shouta…” Just the innocent little move made him want to cup your face and call you his; if you asked shouta when was the moment he knew he wanted you forever, he would tell you it was the morning he made you crêpes for the first time, and he meant it, because in that moment it was such a domestic gesture that confirmed to him that he only wanted you to be able to do that.

——————————————————————————-

Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @leeeah-loooser @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @vinaios @a-match-into-themoon

[megalony]

Heartbeat- Part 4

This is the fourth part in my Ben Hardy series involving Gwilym, I hope everyone will enjoy it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​​ @butlegendsneverdie​​ @langdonzvoid​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @rogermeddow​​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​​ @sj-thefan​​ @omgitsearly​​ @luckytrashgooprebel​​ @scarsout​​ @deaky-with-a-c​​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​​ @vousmemanqueez​​ @jonesyaddiction​​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​​ @saint-hardy​​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​​ @mrsalwayswritex​​ @rogerina-owns-me​​ @peterquillzsblog​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​ @crazylittlethingg​​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) haven’t been together long when they find out their pregnant. But (Y/n) fears she’ll lose the baby after suffering miscarriages before with her ex, Gwilym who is making things complicated.

Enjoy.

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For what felt like the hundredth time in the space of five minutes, his hand moved back to hovering over the empty beer glass and his index finger started to swirl around the rim like he was collecting the sugar sticking to the edges. When he applied a bit of pressure to the glass, the round base started to lift from the table as it swirled around again and again, gaining more speed and momentum as it went until it was almost as fast as a spindle whirling around on the wooden table.

Ben could feel a pressure line being punctured into the pad of his index finger from the rim of the glass but he paid no mind to it as he continued to spin the glass, wondering if it would smash if he suddenly pulled his hand away or lost control over it.

He wasn't exactly bored out of his mind yet, he just didn't know what to contribute to the conversation that seemed to of run away without him.

The moment the conversation rolled around to drinks Ben was up on his feet before Joe even finished asking who needed another drink. Ben grabbed his glass and two others from the table before wandering over to the bar when he knew what the orders were.

The bar was rather packed but Ben managed to weave his way into a space, planting the glasses down in front of him before resting his elbows on the slightly sticky bar that needed the excess alcohol cleaning off of it. He arched his back and bent one knee forward until it touched the underneath of the bar, tipping his head at the waitress to signal he needed to place an order.

"Two beers, one coke and a shot of vodka please." The moment his order was placed and the glasses were taken from in front of him, Ben felt an elbow pushing against his own and a body fitting into the small space between him and the other stranger on his left.

His weight leaned onto his right arm and his head cocked to the side to get a look of whoever was pushing next to him to try and get an order placed but surprise flooded his pupils when he noticed it was Gwilym.

Very little exchange had happened between the two tonight and it was clearly making the group a bit awkward when they noticed the tension but Ben couldn't find the will to break the ice or try and be friendly. As much as he wanted to ignore the tension and try to be nice, he kept thinking back to what (Y/n) said and it made his exterior go cold and his expression harden. He couldn't see how Gwilym could think of (Y/n) in such a bad way and it rattled Ben's cage more than he would care to admit.

"A martini and a beer, thanks." Gwilym placed his order before he dared to cast a look over at Ben. When their eyes met, Ben dipped his head in an awkward acknowledgement but he didn't know what to say. "Can we try and act friendly? I know it's not fun but being out and not talking is awkward."

Ben had to admit that Gwilym was trying, he was breaking the ice and trying to make amends but Ben didn't know what to do. How could they get back to how they were before when they both knew Gwilym still had a thing for (Y/n) and Ben was hiding the baby from him? The moment that news came out all Hell was going to break loose but it was going to have to be dealt with soon.

"I'm not trying to be rude, mate. I just don't know what to say." Ben shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, keeping his eyes on Gwilym as he dug his hand in his back pocket to find his wallet ready for when he got the drinks.

Ben tapped his wallet against the bar out of the nervous habit of needing to be moving or doing something at every second of the day before he snapped the button undone when he saw the waitress coming over with the drinks. Ben peeled the wallet open, knowing he needed a new one since the leather was falling off at every corner and the lining was tearing apart.

But the moment he pulled out a ten pound note to pay, his head snapped to look at Gwilym when he suddenly reached out for the tattered wallet.

"What's that?"

"I'll get his too, keep the change." Ben pushed the money over to the waitress, his eyes telling her that he wasn't about to be robbed despite the way that Gwilym almost snatched his wallet out of confusion and curiosity.

Ben leaned his right elbow against the bar, turning himself around so he was facing Gwilym who was still holding his wallet even with the death grip Ben had on his tattered item. His brows rose in a rather tired expression but soon changed to one of worry and nervousness when he suddenly remembered what was in his wallet along with his money. His hand tightened to try and close his wallet and pull it to his chest but it was already too late by the time he realised what Gwilym had spotted.

"Mate don't-"

"Is... is this yours?" Gwilym was no longer looking up at Ben but at the piece of paper in his hand that he was almost crushing with the tight grip he had on it like he thought it was going to get lost in the wind.

"Gwil please-"

"Answer me."

"Yes." Ben had never seen one word hold the ability to crush a person's soul into dust until the moment that word slipped past his lips. He bit down hard on his lower lip but it didn't stop the pained expression from forming on his face or stop the sympathy from swelling up in his eyes.

He'd found the scan picture Ben stuffed into his wallet the other week. He didn't put it in the photo part of the wallet in case people saw so he stuffed it into the back where he kept the notes, hoping it would be hidden well enough not for people to notice. Gwilym was going to find out sooner or later but Ben had been praying that he and (Y/n) could sit down and tell him personally, they didn't want him to find out second hand from someone else and especially not like this. It made it seem like Ben and (Y/n) were never planning on telling him when that wasn't the case at all.

Gwilym looked like he'd had too much to drink and couldn't keep the alcohol down, his lips were pursing and pulling down at the corners like he was going to be sick but he couldn't do anything but stare at the picture like he was being shown the end of the world.

"(Y/n)'s pregnant?"

"Yeah, we we're going to tell you properly in a week or two." Ben looked away as he stuffed the photo into his back pocket when Gwilym almost threw it at him when he managed to tear his gaze away from it.

"How far along is she?" Gwilym ran a hand over his stubble but Ben could see he was refraining so hard from dragging his nails through his skin out of either anger or resentment, maybe both. He looked like he had been cheated and Ben could understand that but it didn't make it any easier to witness. It was almost as if Ben had done something wrong and he should be sorry. "How many weeks?"

"Fifteen." Ben could barely hear the other voices surrounding them at the bar or the music playing from the radio behind the bar. He could only hear the thumping of his heart against his chest and the uneven breaths leaving Gwilym's lips. He reminded Ben of the Hulk, trying so hard not to get angry to the point of becoming someone else.

The pain in Gwilym's eyes was evident because he'd never had his own child get to that stage. (Y/n) had been with Gwilym for years and yet she was with Ben for only a few months and had gotten further than she'd ever done in a pregnancy with Gwilym. It was wrong and even Ben could see that it wasn't fair, it was as if he'd walked in and ruined everything, like he stumbled upon them and showed them how to play the game properly. But Ben couldn't deny the relief he felt that nothing had gone terribly wrong with this pregnancy yet, it didn't seem fair but he was so glad it was going the way it was right now and he didn't care how wrong that was.

"She really did get what she wanted from you."

Gwilym spoke the words so quietly under his breath but Ben heard them nonetheless and it made his blood boil and his heartbeat rattle in his ears.

"Don't start that shit with me." Ben shook his head, his expression changing as his eyes narrowed cautiously. He didn't want to go down that road because it wouldn't be pretty. Turning to face the bar, Ben downed the shot of vodka, barely feeling it touching his throat before he grabbed the glasses and left the bar to go back to the group.

Ben didn't bother to say a word, he simply pulled out his pack of cigarettes and shook them to signal that he was heading out for a smoke. He knew well enough to know that Gwilym was going to follow him outside, neither of them were going to leave this conversation unfinished and they both knew that it was leading to an argument that was better to have outside than in the pub. Ben barely lit the cigarette between his lips before Gwilym appeared outside after him, his hands balled up into fists out of pain and resentment but he wasn't about to start throwing punches and they both knew it.

"Don't you find it a little suspicious that she moved right onto you and now she's pregnant? Why do you think she got with you so quickly?"

"Because she didn't love you anymore. This baby wasn't planned by either of us and we both know (Y/n) isn't heartless like you're making her out to be so stop right there. I'm sorry things didn't work out between you two but really, what do you want me to do?"

Ben pressed his foot against the wall behind him, taking a very long drag before he pulled the cigarette back, keeping it tightly pressed between his fingers as he looked over at Gwilym and blew the smoke out in his direction. He wasn't apologising for the way things turned out even if he was sorry (Y/n) and Gwilym couldn't work things out. But there was nothing that Ben could do about this now, he loved (Y/n), they were together and they were happy and expecting a baby. He didn't want to change things but he didn't know what Gwilym was expecting him to do about any of this.

"I never said she's heartless but she's desperate. She's always wanted a baby and she ended things between us because I told her I wouldn't try again for a baby. That's why she left and then you come along and she's on you in an instant. She may like you, but she wants a baby more than she wants you and that scan picture proves it."

"If you keep talking I won't be responsible for my actions. Why is it so wrong for her to want a baby? And don't think I don't know the way you've been looking at her, you call her desperate but you're just as bad wanting to be with her. After five years with her can't you tell when she looks at you that she doesn't love you anymore? She left you because she doesn't want to be with you, you're not so righteous and special Gwil, you're a lovesick puppy whose green with jealousy."

Ben stubbed out the half-finished cigarette with the tip of his shoe before he took a few daring steps closer to Gwilym. If he dared say anything else about (Y/n) like that Ben wasn't going to let him get away with it, no matter how upset he may feel. It wasn't right and it was rubbing Ben up the wrong way.

"She hasn't told you anything about her miscarriages, has she? Why don't you ask her what happened the last time she miscarried?"

There was something so broken yet so daring and provoking about Gwilym's voice that made Ben's hands curl into fists as his eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a snarl. There was a look in Gwilym's eyes that told Ben he knew something he didn't and it was aggravating to no end. Ben never asked about the miscarriages because it was upsetting and it wasn't any of his business because they weren't his children (Y/n) lost. That was between her and Gwilym, but the way Gwilym spoke made Ben feel cautious and uncertain and he hated it.

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't just me who didn't want (Y/n) to get pregnant again."

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

"Ben, he wasn't supposed to find out like that!" (Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes that were desperate to roll to the back of her head. Her lips curled down in distaste, she could only imagine how Gwilym must be feeling after finding out in that way. She didn't exactly want to tell him herself but she wanted to tell him properly in the least.

"I didn't mean for it to happen but I couldn't stop him once he saw the photo." Ben folded his arms over his chest as his shoulders shrugged, there was nothing they could do about it now. They couldn't go back in time and tell Gwilym properly rather than having him find out the way he did.

"What's that look for?" (Y/n) narrowed her eyes, resting one arm over her slight bump so her hand could grab at her other arm out of nervous habit. She didn't understand the look Ben was giving her, it was like he was looking right through her trying to see her soul in search of answers he couldn't find.

"Tell me what happened when you miscarried."

"Excuse me?"

(Y/n) could barely feel her chest moving or the breath leaving and entering her lips when she processed what Ben just asked. Why was he suddenly asking her something like that? He'd never asked anything about her miscarriages before, he didn't ask how many she had suffered, when she had them, how bad they had been or how they affected her or how she got through them. Ben was fine without any details. But just then, his voice sounded so demanding yet without any emotion and it was almost frightening.

"What happened to make Gwil not want to have another baby with you? He wouldn't tell me but he seemed to think it would be some kind of revelation to me." Ben's expression was still blank but there was something in his tone that made (Y/n) shiver.

"Ben, I'm not doing this." (Y/n) couldn't keep her eyes on Ben but when she tried to walk past him, his hands grasped her arms and he moved in front of her, effectively blocking her path out of the living room to get away from him and this conversation she didn't want to have.

Her head tilted down to look at her feet but she could feel Ben's gaze burning into her to the point he was almost putting holes through her. She didn't want to have this conversation, she didn't think she would be talking about this with Ben, it was just a topic both of them seemed to avoid and that worked up until now. What had Gwilym said to him to rile him up and make him curious like this?

"You didn't see the look on his face when he talked to me, he was surprised and not just at the fact that we've gotten to fifteen weeks. How many miscarriages did you have?"

"It doesn't change anything-"

"Then what's the harm in telling me?"

Ben didn't stop (Y/n) when she backed up a few steps before moving to go and sit on the armchair. He followed after her but sat on the arm of the sofa so he was able to face her properly, he could see in her eyes that she was going to open up and talk to him but he wasn't so sure he really wanted the answers, knowing the kind of look Gwilym had given him. He wished Gwilym would have just told him everything straight but he seemed certain that (Y/n) should be the one to talk to Ben about it and that made Ben nervous about what he was going to be told.

"I... I had six miscarriages over four years with Gwil, this is the seventh time I've tried for a baby and the only time it seems to of worked." (Y/n) slouched in the chair, leaning her head against her right hand wishing she could curl up and disappear.

The moment she dared to look up at Ben, she saw the horror in his eyes and the way his breathing hitched in his throat like he'd taken a punch to the gut.

Six.

He knew (Y/n) had gone through at least three miscarriages when she said that was when they ran tests to see if there were any problems. He thought at a stretch she would have gone through four, but six was a different league entirely. How could she have gone through that so many times and still be okay, how could (Y/n) still want a baby after that many traumas?

"Six, (Y/n)... that's serious, you didn't think that was something to tell me?"

"No because then you would have believed we'd lose the baby like I did. I didn't want to talk about it and you didn't ask."

(Y/n) knew if she told Ben about how many miscarriages she had then he would worry and panic just like she was and it wouldn't be good having both of them panicking like headless chickens. Nor did she want to go through telling him about it like she was now.

"What happened the last time you miscarried?" Ben's head tipped to the side when (Y/n) didn't respond for a few moments, nor could she manage to keep eye contact with him the moment he asked the question. Leaning over the small distance, Ben took (Y/n)'s hand in his own but he was shocked to find her shaking. Her other hand moved from propping up her chin to pressing to her mouth as she willed the tears not to fall. She knew what Ben was going to think when she told him and she knew whatever Gwilym had said would only influence Ben's thoughts.

"It doesn't matter." (Y/n) bit her lip as she looked over at Ben, her eyes begging for him to trust her and drop the subject but she knew trying was useless.

"Baby, please, tell me."

"The first two times it happened it was just like losing one of the twins, blood and a bit of pain. The third time I got an infection, had to go to hospital. The fourth time was the easiest, no blood or pain at all, we didn't find out until the scan that I'd lost them." (Y/n) tightened her hand the more she spoke until she was sure she was going to sever Ben's hand from his wrist.

(Y/n) wished that if she had to miscarry, it would be the same as when she lost one of the twins a few weeks ago. Just a bit of blood and the tiniest bit of uncomfortable pain. The fourth time was the worst because it was the easiest, (Y/n) had no blood, no pain, no indication that anything was wrong until she got into that scan and didn't hear a heartbeat or see any little blip on the screen.

"I got to fourteen weeks the fifth time, w-we thought that was it, I had a bump and everything... then the bleeding started but it wouldn't stop for three days, is just got worse so Gwil took me to hospital. The doctor said he didn't know why I couldn't carry a baby but that I shouldn't keep trying a-and I almost did."

(Y/n) had hope the fifth time, just for a little while she thought that was it, she though her and Gwil were finally going to be able to have a family of their own. When she lost the baby (Y/n) thought that was it, that was the closest she was ever going to get to having a baby and she didn't want to go through that again. To wake up in the middle of the night with blood covering the bed and then spend the next three days wondering if she was ever going to stop seeing blood before her eyes.

"The last time... I didn't tell Gwil, I only just found out about the baby. H-he came home one day and I'd collapsed, I lost the baby and had internal bleeding. I got sepsis and stayed in hospital for a few weeks and Gwil said he wouldn't try again for a baby."

"You should have told me." Ben let go of (Y/n)'s hand to rake his fingers through his hair, his other hand gripping his thigh until he could feel his nails puncturing through his skin.

"It's in the past-"

"No, (Y/n) it's not. You know you should have told me when you knew you were pregnant or before because this could have hurt you, it could have killed you! You've had bleeding almost every time you miscarried and you've had sepsis that could have killed you. What if you lost both the twins, what if you got sepsis again? If you told me-"

"You'd say the same thing Gwil did, you wouldn't want me to get pregnant would you? You think I planned this, just like Gwil said."

Tears started to fall from (Y/n)'s eyes as she moved her hand to her stomach, knowing exactly what Ben was thinking. If she told him about all the miscarriages he would be sceptical about even thinking of a future with a baby with (Y/n). If she told him about how the last one went when she got pregnant Ben would worry she would become ill and if she told him before she was pregnant he would make sure they didn't have a baby.

(Y/n) didn't plan this, she didn't trick Ben into getting her pregnant and she didn't tell him about her past because it was hurtful. This wasn't an elaborate game, this was how things had planned out.

Surprise flooded (Y/n)'s eyes when Ben got up but he didn't walk away, instead he kneeled down on the floor between her legs, moving his arms to wrap around her as he rested his chin on her thigh. He looked like he was about to burst into tears at any given moment but he was trying so hard not to and he was trying to understand.

"Maybe... maybe I wouldn't want you to get pregnant because I want you to be safe and not at risk. But you're pregnant now and you're okay, I wouldn't change this for anything."

Ben knew deep down if he had known about all of this before he would have made sure that a baby wasn't a possibility because it wasn't fair and it was dangerous. (Y/n) was more at risk of something going wrong because of her history with pregnancies and if she got sepsis again it could be fatal, Ben would never want to risk her health like that. But it had happened this way and he wouldn't change it for anything because they were having a baby, they were happy and things were going smoothly right now.

Ben wouldn't go back and change things even if he could.

[fiery-assassin-arc]

꧁༒☬𝓦𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓾𝓹 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵--𝓘𝓻𝓲𝓼'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥☬༒꧂ Embers and Ashes CH. 3

How did she end up out there?

She’s been out for hours. Her clothes are all torn.

 My consciousness swims in a sea of black, thunder pounding.

 It’s from when she fell, most like. See the cuts on her leg and arms? From the branches and rocks.

 My chest hurts, an ache I haven’t felt in years. Where he crushed my rib.

 Will she be okay, Doctor?

 Give her a day’s rest, and someone to watch her in case of any other symptoms. She might have a concussion. Her Royal Highness will be right as rain, as I say back home.

 Thank you.

I am so cold that I shiver as I hear the door shut. Someone get me out of this nightmare.

 Aodh, tell your Mother to make some tea. I’ll stay with your sister until she wakes up.

 A phantom touch of his hand on my neck sends me body into an alarm, jerking upright in the bed. I’m in my room. Not in the woods where Remington attacked me. My hands, shaking, go to my own body, covered in bandages. I smell like pine and dirt and blood. My eyes dart in every direction, looking for traces of him.

But instead I see my father sitting on the edge of my bed, a worried look in his ember eyes.

 The way those shadows touched me… it feels violating. Rough hands growing through the skin and muscle. I gag.

 Father is quick, grabbing a basin to put under my chin as I expel my stomach of bile, shaking.

“It’s okay, fireball. Get it out.” He gently pushes my hair back, shushing me gently as my stomach muscles contract from the pain. It’s empty now. Dry heaving after two minutes, I lift my head to accept the tissue in his hand.

 “Thanks,” I mumble, wiping my mouth. “How long was I—”

 “One thing at a time.” He tells me, taking the basin to the bathroom. “Why were you out in the woods?”

 My body freezes. How can I? When he thinks I fell? “Um.”

 “Don’t you ‘um’ me. What happened?”

 “I . . . I was chasing someone.” I say softly, taking a cup of water conveniently on my nightstand. “They were on castle grounds.”

 “Mind telling me who it was? A spy? Did you get him at all?” He returns to his chair, crossing his legs.

 “Remington,” I mutter. His name brings something sour to my tongue. I force it down.

 “I didn’t quite catch that, honey.”

 “It was Remington. He’s back.” I say more loudly, feeling the silent confirmation. He was back in flesh and blood by Kronika. As I look at my Father, see myself in those amber eyes. I see a scared little girl. I look five years younger.

 It’s silent for so long until I hear that tone in his voice. Feel the pressure from his hand squeezing mine.

 “Iris.”

He doesn’t believe me.

 He sounded like he did when I was five and was scared of the boogeyman.

 Sweetheart, it doesn’t exist. Almost the same as, He’s dead and not coming back.

 “Now before you go complete ‘you’re-reliving-a-trauma,’ I know what I saw. I know what I experienced. Look at my neck.” I push my hair back, showing the fingerprints he left. I know he did. “He choked me before I blacked out.” Before he stepped on my head.

 Father examines my neck, and leans back. Steeples his fingers. “If he is back—”

 “He is.” I almost shout. My father knows me. He knows I’m not lying.

 “I’m simply stating a hypothetical. Why wait this long to show up?”

 “Playing games, like he always does.” I roll out of the bed, dig for some clean clothes. Sure, it’s been over two years since I’ve killed him. Doesn’t mean I’ve started picturing him coming back. When Kronika ultimately fucked up our timeline, people from the past cannot find their way back to their timeline. And somehow she brought the dead back.

 So he’s stuck here. Until I kill him AGAIN. And this time, he’s staying dead.

 “Iris, I think you need to rest. You cannot move in your condition.” He states, seeing me throw on a jacket. He gets up, walks over to me.

 “It’s just a concussion. I’ll be okay.” A slight dizzy feeling hits me, but I shake it off.  

 “The doctor said you need to rest. And I agree, and just where are you going?”

 I sigh and maneuver around him with ease, calling over my shoulder. “To see a friend.”

  ~~~~

“And Dad had the gall to say that I’m probably making this up—although he didn’t say it out loud—but I’m not! I know what happened last night. Cassie knew that I was staring out in space half the time when we had to deal with the whole time-warp thing. I am not crazy. I’ve gotten sleep. And no, I haven’t gone to therapy—HEY. Are you even listening to me?!”

 Takeda looks up from his tea, slurping loudly. Hanzo would have lightly scolded him for that. But he’s gone, and this new Scorpion is distant. It must sting. He swallows, holds up a hand. “I hear every word, and every thought. But maybe you should take a moment to think.”

 I sigh, nearly boiling my cup of tea. I’m here in the Shirai Ryu Temple with Takeda. He was taking a break from wedding planning with Jacqui, and I needed someone to vent since I feel my family would not be best.

 Now I’m rethinking that.

 “Iris, it’s been how long since he’s been dead?”

 “Two years, five months, two days, and fifteen minutes.” I say, taking a sip of my tea. “But now that he’s alive, it’s all reset.”

 “And have you ever processed it? Your killing him?”

 I scoff lightly. “You think I’m traumatized? Why would I be traumatized about it?”

 He leans back, moving the cup clockwise. “You might be haunted by what happened. Yes, you killed him. But how did it happen? You simply told me the fight was very grueling.” On that I bite my tongue from speaking on anything else. The fight is as vivid a memory in my head than a sunrise at the Lin Kuei temple. It felt like the longest fight we ever had. No powers used after we had spent it dodging the other, just hands and feet and teeth. He had me pinned, stabbing me with a dagger. My hands, clawing at his face, digging to find a way to hold on.

 Then I remembered how I weakened him, scorching his skin enough to distract and I tore into his chest like a Christmas present, and my gift was a hot beating heart.

 Plucked like an apple from a tree, and biting into it felt like eating raw steak. Tough, salty, bloody.

 “It was simply long, he had the upper hand since where he was, he had some sort of power boost.” I say quietly.  I hear the sound of the cup touching the table. “I felt so weak there, my flames simply fading… It took an ounce of luck. Maybe it was because I saw that Morrigan was in my favor.”

 “Morrigan?”

 “She’s the Goddess of both destruction and rebirth, is associated with crows. Celtic.” I explain. “I saw a crow near him on the day of the ‘wedding,’ and I knew. Anyway, I managed to win.”

 “Because of a crow. Interesting.” He muses. “Now circling back, you must feel something from that day. Relief, fear, anger. Some of these things can make you see things that aren’t there.” At first I think he’s talking about me, but then his eyes go towards the portrait in the room. One of Master Hasashi, one of the unfortunate casualties from Kronika’s meddling. General Blade was the first.

 Master Hasashi was next, then Frost. None of us cared when Kotal died later on. He got what he deserved. Bastard.

 “Hard to believe he’s gone.” Takeda says quietly.

 “What about his past self?” I argue. “Is he . . . okay?”

 At that he scoffs.  “More so the horror stories of him being revenge fueled is true. I’ve told him to let me take over. It’s what Master Hasashi would have wanted.” He shakes his head, and says with an irritable tone, “Don’t know why he gave his past self the honor of leading us. We almost went back to his ways. Nearly going after Lin Kuei.” He looks up, coughs as he reads my face.

 I’m not at good terms with them. Nor with my Grandmaster. Or should I say former.

 “To  what  brought you here in the first place,” Takeda begins, and I straighten my spine. “Let’s say he is back. Why attack you, and leave you to be found?”

 “Same reason he had me run in the woods as part of my exile. He likes watching me suffer, barely get out with my life.” I roll my eyes and lean back. “What should I do?”

 “If he is back, you can find out where he is, hunt him down.” Takeda suggests. “Have some of us help. We have a tracker on the squad since Kung Jin left.”

 “Wait, he left?” I attempt to sound surprised, but Kung Jin always carried the lone wolf persona. Even though he helped save the world from Shinnok, I notice it’s been a while since I’ve seen or heard of him.

 “It’s a long story, no worries.” He waves a hand in dismissal. Guess it was hurtful for Takeda, losing someone who was like a friend.

 “You know you can tell me anything.” I offer, hoping he’ll open up.

 “Iris, it’s fine.” He says, leaning to pat my hand gently. “But can I offer you one piece of advice Hanzo told me?”

 “Of course.”

 “You think too long on revenge, it’ll eventually consume you.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: The Sword

"Why did you even sink the Lenin. Were you trying to wake the dragon?” Chisei asked him.

“No... that wasn’t my intention.” Tachibana took a deep breath, bowing under the weight of his own guilt. “I wanted to steal Herzog’s research. Give it to Hydra as a gift. I wanted to take you and your brother Chime from the research facility as well as all the research data I could carry.”

“It was I who suggested that the research be moved to Japan. I convinced him, saying that it would be easier to hide there. But... in accepting my offer, Herzog determined it necessary to completely destroy the research facility and the town that had grown up around it.”

“Destroying the evidence?” Chisei growled.

“Herzog has no consciousness he is committing a crime. No...” He shook his head. “He knew that the researchers he worked with also understood the secrets of the Dragon Clan. He wanted to get rid of any possible competition.”

“How many people have you killed?” Chisei asked softly.

“Hundreds. Perhaps... thousands. I did not count. I even attempted to kill Herzog. After destroying Black Swan Bay, I shot him in the heart. I took you and your brother and a few others on the ship across the sea.”

The conversation descended into silence for a while. Chisei looked away from him. “Go on.”

“We didn’t get far before we started hearing roaring coming from the lower compartment. The dragon embryo was down there. When he checked on it, it was still frozen in liquid nitrogen but had somehow become conscious! The roars were in our heads. It was trying to manipulate us into setting it free!”

“We tried to drown it in more chemical but it was to no avail. The Captain of the ship disappeared, last seen walking into the cockpit at night and taking the keys to the bottom compartment. When we went there, it was full of blood vessels and flesh growing like a mold. The nitrogen pipe was cut off. The captain of the ship must have been taken over by the embryo’s will and set it free.”

“I had no choice but the sink the ship.”

“And kill more people...” Chisei said.

“That’s just the way it is sometimes. Sometimes you can’t get off the treadmill of your own errors. They keep piling on top of each other. One by one... the crew was contaminated by dragon blood and had to be eliminated. I had no choice.”

“But...” But he cracked. “I paid the ultimate price. Erii... my daughter...”

Chisei looked up. “Your daughter? But she’s an Uesugi...”

“No... her name should be Tachibana. We changed it to hide our relationship. She was contaminated by the dragon blood. Her evolution was not perfect. Even today, the blood is eroding her body. She has little time left.”

The words sent a knife like pain through Chisei’s heart. Erii was dying? He closed his eyes. “Just... keep talking...”

“I was desperate to keep her alive. I had to find a way to slow it down. I started doing research based on the data that Herzog put together. I changed my name, joined the Hydras. I captured Devils, especially those injected with the evolutionary drugs, and used chemicals to extend their lives. I found some ways to curb the erosion of dragon blood. You can find it in the lower drawer of your office, in a black folder.”

Just when Chisei thought he couldn’t sink deeper into disillusionment, Tachibana revealed a lower level. All his promises to keep these devils alive served the interests of Tachibana’s experimentation.

Carli’s words rang loud in his head.  “You’re not the one in control here. You never were.”

“Eventually, I was able to produce a serum to extend Erii’s life.”

“DAMN IT!” Chisei looked up at him, furious tears in his eyes. “Then why are we killing Devils at all! Why did you send me to kill Chime?! If what you have works on Erii why wouldn’t have worked on him too?! Why?”

Tachibana raised his hands. “Please... listen...  It was not easy for me to get into the Hybrid Asylum. That’s why I couldn’t get in to save your brother. I didn’t have that much power then. I was under the management of Cassell College by then. I had to focus all my energy on the research.”

“So you weren’t trying to help devils then?”

“Our main focus was monitoring death servitors. At first, their numbers were at manageable levels, but then, suddenly, their numbers began to grow... exponentially. Eventually, our investigation showed that there was a drug that was increasing the purity of dragon blood in hybrids to the point of turning them into Death Servitors.”

“The Dragonblood serum.”

“I wasn’t the only survivor of Black Swan Bay. Someone else survived as well! The new Leader of the Devil Clan!”

“Where is he?”

“Chisei... the leader of the Devil Clan is no longer human. Even though, I threw an incendiary at him that produced thousand degree heat in a millisecond, he walked right through the flames! I’ll never forget his forked tongue... his eyes. He’s a semi-evolved species. He’s desperate to research full dragon evolution... because that’s the only thing keeping him alive!”

“He has an oppressive presence. The presence of the dragon. The only thing that saved me at that moment... was a phone call from you. Asking me to join you hiking in the mountains. It was enough for me to escape his aura.”

“I had a remote controlled bomb ready to go in case I failed. I collapsed the building on top of him.”

“But he’s not dead.”

“No... his drugs are still circulating. I’ve waited so long for you to grow up, Chisei. I’ve built in you the desire to kill devils with the express purpose of killing the ultimate Devil. This demon that I let loose on the world from Black Swan Bay.”

“You’ve become a maniac Tachibana. In your efforts, you’ve committed terrible crimes. Killed thousands of people by your own admission, and you haven’t even succeeded. And now ... you’re asking me to kill Carli... and maybe even my own children?” Chisei cold eyes regarded him.

“You were not supposed to exist, Chisei. The gene expression he was looking for was the violent one!, The uncontrolled one! But the perfect gene creates twins. Mirror images of each other. The violent one was Chime. You were simply the by-product of his desire for blood!”

“Any children he has created or will create with your genes and that girl’s genes, half will be like Chime. They will be completely uncontrollable. Do you understand Chisei?”

“I understand.”

“And you also understand, why my life must end here. Why I must pay?” Tachibana lifted the knife. He lifted his shirt to reveal the unnaturally chiseled physique for someone his age.

“Killing the leader of the devils is not my last request. My last request is for Erii. She is my only daughter, I can’t bear to see her die. You’re the only person she trusts his this world. If you can use her in the battle against the king, that would be for the best... if she loses control then... it will be up to you to end her life... but before that. Please... let her be happy. Give her the desires of her heart.”

“She didn’t know she had a father. Don’t tell her about me. If she found out she had a father only to learn that he is dead...it would only cause her too much suffering.”

Chisei hung his head. “Alright.” He stood up, taking the long sword in a position next to Tachibana, while he recited the haikuu traditionally spoken before his death. His eyes held no light in them as he watched the old man  the raise the blade, intending to plunge it into his belly and cut from left to right.

All the while he heard Carli’s voice, pleading with him that she didn’t do anything wrong and that killing her wouldn’t bring anyone back.

His sword arced in a blinding flash of light. Tachibana’s five fingers holding the knife were neatly severed at the knuckles. The knife fell to the blood stained blanket. 

Chisei knelt next to him, holding a hankerchief to stop the bleeding, staring to the man’s pale face, the man he always thought was his father.

“Are you accepting five fingers as a substitute punishment?” Tachibana inhaled a sharp gasp, tears leaking out from the pain and shock.

“Even though wrongdoers will be punished in this world, I am not punishing you just to still have a guilty conscience when I see my clansman lying under a casket covering. What difference would killing you make? If you want to talk about atonement, your one life is not enough.”

“Stay, and watch me kill the Devil Clan ringleader. I also can't make any promises to care for Erii. All I can do is play video games with her.”

He fastened the handkerchief in a tight knot and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "All these years I've been nothing but a sword in your hands. When you told me to cut, I never objected. Now you say, "Kill the Devil Clan leader”, so I'll do it. It doesn't matter if the hand holding the sword is dead. As a sword, I still exist.”

[lyricalive]

A soul is an electric force, full of potential energy.

——Can we find souls in unlikely places, and set them into motion?

中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

#01  Lullaby of a Deserted Hell

From a bird's-eye view, the figures of two sprightly maidens would appear like dolls amidst the surrounding range of artificial mountains, a stunning silvery wasteland.

The taller of the two small-looking girls, Maribel Hearn (Merry) planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the junk that encircled them in all directions.

   – "I can't believe you managed to convince me to go dumpster-diving.  Is this a step up or down from graverobbing?"

   – "We didn't rob anything from the graveyard.  I definitely want to find something worth taking from here, though."

   – "So this is a step down."

   – "Nah, it's fine.  These are all things that no one wants."

   – "Or things that no one wants to be seen.  Of course, that means…"

   – "It's the perfect place for the Secret Sealing Club!"

The club's current president, Renko Usami, pumped her fist with plenty of good cheer.  Merry smiled back, although she had mixed feelings about calling a land of literal garbage home.

   – "We can't just have normal dates, can we?"

Fortunately, at least, the garbage was not excessively odorous or grimy.  The site was a landfill specifically for electronic waste: frayed wires, boxy television frames, old phone models of all kinds.

The time was just around sunset -- more specifically 7:42 and 33 seconds, according to Renko's discerning eyes.  The mild starlight reflected off of broken LCD screens, making them appear ever so slightly less lifeless.

 #02  Rigid Paradise

   – "What exactly are we looking for...  Let me guess.  Hoping to find some retro videogames?"

   – "I won't lie.  That'd be great."

   – "But finding both a game and the console to go with it is going to be tough."

   – "Did you know, if a company manufactures more games than it can sell, they end up buried underground to get them out of circulation?"

   – "How wasteful.  At least they were given a proper funeral."

   – "The first time this happened was long ago in another country.  Thousands of unsold cartridges...  Just because they weren't popular at the time, now they'll never be played.  I'd love to give them a chance."

   – "Hee-hee, so much for a funeral.  I suppose we're not in the business of letting the dead rest in peace."

In this unique sort of graveyard, the bodies had been piling up for countless years.  Most of the material would never biodegrade, so the mounds kept accumulating, one layer buried under the next.  In fact, despite the oceans rising drastically over recent years, this dumping ground remained unusually high above sea level for the sole reason that its foundation was constantly being reinforced by layers of tightly packed waste.  

Renko, who had taken the precaution to wear pants and gloves on this excursion, knelt down to examine a mess of circuitry at the bottom of a looser heap.  Merry meanwhile nudged the tip of her shoe against the ground, pondering how deep down was the earth.

#03  Poison Body ~ Forsaken Doll

The girl in black and white impatiently murmured the time, for the fourth time that hour, before stretching her back and turning around to check on her partner.

   – "Find anything interesting yet, Merry?"

Merry, who had been spacing out for some while, quickly darted her eyes around for an improvised answer. A glint of light led her gaze to a long, flat cell phone teetering unceremoniously atop of a pile.

   – "This...  Haven't I seen this model in advertisements recently?  How did this already become trash?"

   – "Oh, you know.  Technology becomes out-of-date awfully quickly these days."

   – "Mm.  I'd like to see it as a sign of progress, but…"

   – "Yeah, it's not good at all.  We're in an age of quantity over quality."

Manufacturers who design their products to poor standards, so as to improve on them soon after, are akin to the type of trickster youkai that disguises itself in beggars' clothes to take advantage of others' low expectations.  In this selfishly self-deprecating society, it had become a disadvantage to show one's best.

   – "Everyone knows this, but thinking about it makes me so irritated."

   – "Right?  Humanity is really holding itself back."

   – "On top of that, don't they know that this is how vengeful tsukumogami are born?"

An object that has gone unused for 100 years is believed to develop a consciousness.  Some end up harmless -- but if its short life was spent being used as nothing more than throwaway capital, naturally it would make sense for it to become unhappy.

Merry laid one hand gently on the phone, as if in a gesture of sympathy.

   – "Hey, be careful not to touch more than you need to.  It may look clean, but the chemicals released by e-waste can still be toxic."

   – "Ah, right..."

She felt a bit sheepish for needing safety lessons from Renko, of all people.  But, having thought too hard about it, it became difficult for Merry to view the objects as just physical material.  A great majority of one's life was lived by virtual communication, so this material had great amounts of personal information stored in it.  Of course, the information's original source was in people's minds, so it's not as if it would be instantly forgotten once the plug was pulled.  But there were certainly more petabytes of raw data in a square meter of this dump than a human brain could hold.

#04  Electric Heritage

   – "Come to think of it, though, have you ever actually heard a story about an electronic object becoming a tsukumogami?"

   – "Well, no..."

   – "I have a theory about that.  I don't think e-waste is even capable of that transition."

   – "How do you figure?"

   – "Consider the crossover of electromagnetic fields and the detection of spirits.  Electricity is a simulation of life energy, almost too spot-on.  Like forces repel... so true life energy can't coexist with it.  Because they're flowing with this imitation power, I don't think electronics get a chance to develop real souls."

   – "I see.  Then, we can't properly call this a graveyard..."

   – "...if these bodies were never truly alive."

   – "I can't decide whether that makes me feel relieved, or lonely."

Merry let out an audible sigh against their eerily silent backdrop.  Then she braced herself to deliver the next news.

   – "But, if that's so... then why can I still feel something spiritual around here?"

Renko's eyes lit up instantly.

   – "Do you?  I was hoping you'd say that!"

   – "It just started... which is odd, since we haven't covered all that much ground since getting here.  It's as if a border connecting to somewhere else just opened."

   – "That supports the second part of the theory.  Like forces repel, but opposite forces attract.  They may not have souls themselves, but these empty vessels surely attract souls."

It felt fairly certain, now that both of their minds had helped confirm it:  Some spirit, human or non-human, seemed to have decided to take up residence in the wasteland.  Merry took a moment to feel proud of herself for her invaluable contribution.

   – "By the way, where do robots fit into your theory?"

   – "Well... I mean, there's no doubt we're getting closer every day to the A.I. revolution."

   – "Oh, my.  I knew I should have tipped our e-waiter last time we went to that café."

   – "But that's a completely different phenomenon than what births a tsukumogami, right?  It has to do with the software, not the hardware."

   – "Yes.  Though, it would seem to imply that there is a border of 'false' and 'true' life that can be crossed..."

  #05  Entrusting This World to Idols ~ Idolatrize World

   – "Now all we have to do is narrow it down, and we'll --"

As if on cue, Renko's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound from behind... music to her thrill-seeking ears.  She whirled around to catch the culprit, her eyes fixating on Merry and the dark-colored object that rested a few paces away at her feet.  The blonde girl threw her hands up in a display of innocence.

   – "I didn't do it.  It moved on its own!  I just saw it fall out of nowhere."

Renko's attempt at a professional retort failed to conceal her excited, twitching grin.

   – "Merry, Merry...  This is the most basic of physics.  An object can't move on its own!  Unless..."

They approached the rectangular object and peered over it.  It seemed to be a tablet PC, roughly twenty centimeters in length.  It had landed face up, luckily enough to not have not shattered the screen, though there was a significant surface crack down its center.

   – "Hm..."

   – "We've ruled out tsukumogami.  You think it could be... a poltergeist?"

   – "I don't know.  Rather than an outside force, the energy seems very contained in here."

   – "So then... a spirit living inside?"

   – "Something like that."

In response, the light of the screen flashed briefly on and back off.

   – "Ahh!  Electricity, a simulation of life energy..."

   – "It also works the other way around!"

This was a very lucky revelation for the two investigators, as it would have been nearly impossible to find a compatible charging cable.  In an age where each and every product was developed with its own unique cord design, this feature was marketed to consumers as a collectible game; the infinite variety, a controlled channel for creativity.

The device seemed to call out to them, understanding what they wanted.  The power flashed again, on and off and on, in a quirky rhythmical pattern that almost evoked a personality.

   – "We've definitely found something worth taking home!"

   – "Wait.  Isn't it wrong to remove a spirit from the place it's attached to?  We can't just adopt a ghost like an abandoned baby."

   – "Like you said, it's attached to the item, not the place. We're just fostering it for a bit before it moves on!"

   – "All right...  Just don't raise it to be wild like you."

   – "And you, Merry, make sure you don't spoil it!"

#06  Nostalgic Blood of the East ~ Old World

The pair reached Renko's dorm with the haunted vessel tucked inconspicuously into their satchel, grateful that the spirit hadn't chosen to bind itself to a full desktop monitor or CPU instead.  The question moving forward would be how to unlock its secrets.

   – "How old do you think it is?"

   – "Because it wasn't buried under anything, it seems like we should assume it to be fairly new.  But it just feels so out of place."

   – "Actually, I meant the spirit."

   – "Oh."

Hand in hand with the phenomenon of planned obsolescence, the fashionable aesthetics of electronics changed as often as water under a bridge.  Sleek designs were popular, then retro designs, then designs that mimicked the mimicry of two eras past, a vaguely deteriorating cycle.  As a result, it was difficult to tell which era this piece of technology belonged to.

   – "Remember that I saw a border open?  Maybe not just the spirit, but the whole item came from somewhere else..."

They had been scrutinizing the home screen for quite some time, attempting to navigate the ancient interface, and hadn't made much headway.  As far as they could tell, the data was heavily corrupted, and most of its history had been erased.  They were able to access only the most basic types of apps, like the calculator and the keyboard.

   – "Hey, Merry.  I think we should use that other thing we picked up."

   – "That?  I don't even understand how we would use it..."

As evidenced by her smug grin, the more scientifically-minded of the pair had full confidence in the strange idea she was about to suggest.

#07  A Tiny, Tiny Clever Commander

   – "I mean, really?  A mouse?"

Renko had insisted that they bring home a wired peripheral mouse, which she had spent an extra half hour scavenging for.  However, of course, the end of the cable did not match the outlet on the tablet.

Currently, she was back in the scavenging position, digging through the pile of unorganized junk that cluttered her closet (mostly books and occult items). Or rather, it looked unorganized, but she seemed to know exactly where everything was.  ...Or rather, Merry concluded, it truly was unorganized, but her eyes were sharp at scanning through even a complete mess.  She wondered if this small pile would ever become as large as the one at the dump.

   – "A-ha, found it!"

Renko had managed to track down the very particular treasure she was seeking, the final piece of their forgathered puzzle.  A small cube with many variously patterned notches rested in her open palm.  The material's finishing was uncolored and plain, likely to have been produced independently with a 3D printer rather than as a commercial product.

   – "W-Where did you get a thing like that?"

   – "I have connections you don't know, Merry."

Merry thought she had heard this line before, and felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck just like the first time.  The source was certainly shady.  Universal adapters were not at all legal.  Treating it like a Rubik's cube, and glancing back and forth for reference, Renko cleverly manipulated the block in her hand in ways that Merry was unable to understand.

Renko's partner, who had long embraced being an accomplice, appreciated her resourcefulness; she only wished to be kept more up to date when the other girl's mental plans ran ten steps ahead.  But she supposed that this was how Renko felt in return when it came to supernatural sights that she couldn't see, so perhaps they were even.

   – "Just like that?  Like magic..."

   – "Tell me, Merry.  Can you see the border of magic and science?"

With all the pieces aligned, Renko ceremoniously linked the mouse to the tablet through the intermediary box.  As a pop-up window indicated the drivers being registered, it was, they determined, a truly magical feat.  The light on the screen dimmed a bit, as if the spirit were expressing slight disappointment that it was no longer their only option for a power supply.

   – "Still...  Better technology has been around for decades.  These are so unwieldly.  Does anyone use an optical mouse anymore?"

   – "No, but no one's done this ritual in a long time either."

#08  No More Going Through Doors

Renko took Merry's hands in her own and conveyed them in a stack atop of the mouse.  Holding this pose, Merry squinted at the screen in front of her, which displayed a neatly spaced virtual keyboard with a complete set of lettering.  A mild shiver ran through her, either nervousness or excitement.

   – "Hang on.  This setup looks familiar somehow."

   – "That's right.  We're having a séance!"

Although Renko was very skilled with computers, hacking was not her expertise.  She did, however, have the kind of mind that was able to think around the box, discovering back doors.  The opportunity here was simple:  If they couldn't reach the secrets, they would consult the only one who knew -- the spirit itself.

   – "Huh!?"

   – "This mouse is a perfect planchette to use as an interface.  Sure, we have voice and touch technology.  But you don't want the spirit to possess your actual body in order to touch the screen or activate your voice, do you?"

   – "Definitely not.  ...Wait, did I ever say I wanted to be the medium at all?"

Merry pulled her hands back from the mouse and saw the screen's light flicker weakly.

   – "Oh, er...  You're right.  We didn't really decide that, did we?"

   – "Mm..."

   – "I think you'd be better suited, but I'll gladly go first.  I've always wanted to try something like this."

Merry's eyes glazed over as she thought about the prospect of communicating with the spirit.  They had assumed the sealed entity was harmless enough to bring home, but could there be some risk in directly channeling it?

Then again, what was the other option?  To leave their investigation at a dead end?

You don't belong on this side of the unknown.

A faint voice bubbled up inside of Merry, almost like an intrusive thought.  This had been happening to her increasingly often lately, though she always forgot about it after the fact.  Because, at the same time, they certainly felt like her own feelings...

Maribel Hearn was sparked with a surge of curiosity that made her want to take the lead.  These were precisely the club activities she had signed up for.  How much more dangerous could it be than anything else, so long as one made sure to follow the protocols and say goodbye at the end?

   – "No...  I'd like to do it."

Renko blinked in surprise.

   – "Really?  ...Well, gee, make up your mind.  You made me get all excited for myself.  Go ahead, but I call next!"

#09  Shoutoku Legend ~ True Administrator

Having cleared the area and turned off all the lights, Merry sat with her back straight against a chair and took a deep breath. ��No candle was necessary, as the warm glow of the screen cast a ring of illumination around the table.  They had thoroughly discussed the questions they desired to ask, though the words felt awkward to speak out loud.  Nevertheless, the young medium opened her mouth.

   – "What is... your name?"

...

The atmosphere of room was deathly still.  Merry let all the muscles in her arm relax, preparing.

...

I...

   – "It's working...!"

The spirit was conscious and listening.  The planchette began to glide beneath Merry's loose grip, landing on the letter I.  When it paused on the letter for several seconds, she clicked the mouse button to confirm before the involuntary movement slowly began again.

...FO RG OT.

   – "Ah.  So it's going to be up to us to give it a name."

   – "Did you own this tablet?"

While Merry was lost in thought about a potential name, Renko chimed in with a question of her own from the opposite side of the table.  However, the spirit seemed to hesitate in answering.

Suddenly, the other girl's focus returned.  On an instinct, she broke the silence with an unexpected change of the question.

   – "Does this tablet own you?"

...

YE S.

   – "Huh... The tablet owns the spirit?  How did that happen?"

Although Renko's words were more thinking out loud than a direct question, the spirit was responsive.  Merry's hand immediately began to move.

...

SN AP.

   – "Snap...?  That sounds kind of scary."

   – "What does that mean?"

The cursor then swerved dramatically past all the letters on the keypad and down to the app menu along the bottom edge of the screen.  It hovered over an icon barely recognizable as an antique camera.

   – "Ah..."

The app launched, reproducing a dark, blurry image of the table on which the device's lens was turned.  Upon clicking the screen, a photograph was taken, and the damaged speaker emitted a distorted snapping sound.

   – "Spirit photography!"

The two girls burst out in unison, solving the riddle simultaneously.

   – "Right.  We've all heard the old belief that getting a photograph taken of you might steal a piece of your soul."

   – "It has some basis.  If captured in a photograph by accident, a minor spirit's energy might become trapped."

Somewhere in the hidden files, such a photograph must exist, binding some foreign essence to this device.  The spirit was likely eager to get free.

Merry minimized the camera app and returned to the keyboard.

   – "Who took the picture?"

...

Unlike its own, this name seemed to be one the spirit knew.  The pair observed with bated breath as the cursor navigated itself around the maze of letters.  Ultimately, it came to a halt, and Merry clicked on the final letter.

   – "...Eh?  Merry, stop kidding around!"

Merry turned to her partner with a genuine, solemn expression.

   – "I'm... not.  I swear."

Renko's face went pale. In ink-black font, three familiar syllables stood on display beside a blinking cursor.

#10  Dream World Folklore

To disprove the influence of the ideomotor effect, they had asked the question several more times, using both girls as mediums, until the spirit ultimately stopped responding altogether.

   – "Oh, no.  We scared it away..."

   – "Well, it did spook us first."

   – "Renko...  You weren't kidding about your connections, were you?"

Renko scratched her head with lingering bewilderment.

   – "Is the spirit messing with us?  Or could it be..."

Her gaze wandered over to the stream of occult paraphernalia still spilling out of the crack of her closet door, and she experienced a strange sense of longing.  The adventurous scientist was heavily accustomed to investigating mysteries from an observational and objective point of view.  Finding herself personally a step closer to the subject was a bizarre and almost gut-twisting feeling.  She supposed that this was how Merry felt in return when the focus of investigations was on her own powers, so perhaps they were even.  Almost.

After a few more sessions of séance, they managed to navigate to an encrypted folder.  A full-screen photograph had flashed open... but, before they were able to make out any details, the tablet's power instantly cut off.  Following this, it no longer responded to any input.

Their assumption would be that the spirit had been able to cross over, after deleting its digital ties to the physical container and unsealing the information it was attached to.

   – "I suppose this is goodbye..."

   – "Is the spirit free now?"

   – "I think so."

   – "That's good for it, at least."

   – "Too bad for you.  If we kept it, maybe it would have served as your personal shikigami."

   – "Isn't that a bit cold-hearted?  It was supposed to be our child!"

A shikigami is the perfect phantasmal servant.  The owner may input commands, and it carries out orders with extraordinary speed and calculation.  Of course, a normal computer already fulfills essentially the same purpose.  Outside world humans of the modern era aren't in need of such a spirit under their possession.

Even so, the force of attraction that had drawn them to cross paths with this spirit would be a mystery to chase going forward.  The two present members of the Sealing Club had a new story to tell, an urban legend that could be shared only amongst themselves.

Afterwords

Hello, this is someone who absolutely promised themself that they would publish at least one Hifuu fic per calendar year.  The idea for this one began with a conversation with my real-life partner (as is usually the case of inspiration) about the excellent aesthetic of using a computer keyboard as a Ouija board.  This subject in turn came up because of a "ghost" that haunts her keyboard by making a certain cryptic message appear on the screen at random times because the "." and "0" keys are in an easy position for us to accidentally press.  So, this story is dedicated to our precious child, ".0-chan."

Then, while it was already being written, WBaWC came out and confirmed that a technology-themed fic would be totally appropriate, and my favorite song from the soundtrack had the perfect title to be used in it.  (Also, its blatant dystopian themes justified playing up the similar themes of the Sealing Club's society even more than usual.)  And yet, despite many things lining up, it almost didn't get finished in time.  It's been such a busy and stressful year, which I hope gets better next year...

Another source of inspiration was the blog "Yukarisuggestion," whose portrayal I respect a lot.  When they drop minor bits of supernatural trivia, it definitely feels like they are coming from the youkai sage herself, very natural to accept.  I latched onto these posts in particular, finding the concept fascinating, and I only hope I interpreted it acceptably.  ...I was really aiming sharply this time at the Sealing Club's conversational aesthetic of "casual confidence in super obscure things that outside listeners would hear as nonsense," so I'm afraid some parts may have crossed the border of B.S.

Also, I wonder if it's okay that the second half of the song choices are almost entirely bad puns?

ASA    (Our ghost child's pen name would be "0.4" / "Rei-ten-shi"!)

Hifuu CD-style stories:

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  自封夢幻 〜 Sentimental Reverie

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  陶然夢幻 〜 Transcendental Revelry

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  羨望横断 〜 Unenviable Crossroads

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  外来土産 〜 Adventive Reminiscence

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3] 中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  幻想惑星直列 〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 3

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 3: There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy.

          “Have you heard of the Latin Quarter in Paris?” Her voice arrived before she did, her body trailing after her American accent.

           Tommy glanced over his shoulder to see her approaching. He was out on the deck of the ship that was taking them back to London. It was late, the trip was supposed to go overnight so most passengers were sleeping. But Tommy needed to clear his head and have a smoke out in the salty air.

           “I haven’t.”

           Kate came to stand at the railing beside him. She peered down at the dark churning water below as the ship steamed through the waves. “It’s the home of the Bohemians. Artists and rebels of the like.”

           The word was familiar to Tommy. Sometimes it was passed around to describe gypsies although it was more of a loose term. He never considered himself one. Bohemians were wild as far as he knew. He made a sound of interest but didn’t think the Parisians had any importance to him.

           “I lived in the Quarter when I first came from America. They believe in four things.” Kate turned and leaned her back against the metal railing. She wore her thick coat to ward off the harsh sea winds. “Freedom, beauty, truth, and love.”

           Tommy scoffed. The list sounded flowery and too optimistic. None of those had any bearing in the real world.

           She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”

           “I didn’t get to where I am today because of love or truth or...whatever else you said.”

           Kate stuck out her lower lip, appearing to ponder his response. “I never said I agreed with them.”

           “You’re looking to find out what I believe in. Try to see what sort of man I am.” Even as he addressed her, his blue eyes looked out over the moonlit-horizon. Watching the gray clouds drift over the English Channel.

           “You don’t let much on so a girl has to be more direct.” She shrugged and sighed. “I’ll take that as you’re going to keep those things to yourself. I just thought you might want some company out here in the cold.”

           “I like to be on my own.”

           Despite the moody response, Kate snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ve caught onto that by now. Then I’ll go back to my cabin.” She pushed away from the railing and began to walk across the deck.

           “Kate.” Tommy called after her and waved her back over. As she walked back, he reached into his coat and pulled out a flask to hand her.

           “What’s this?” She unscrewed the cap and took a tiny sip.

           “To help with the cold.” He replied.

           A smile tugged at her lips. “You want me to stay?”

           “What do you believe in?” Tommy didn’t completely confess that he wanted her to stay.

           She took a triumphant swig from the flask before handing it back to him. “I believe in the things I see in front of me. Whether they be beautiful or ugly. My mother was killed by an enemy of my father’s. But I didn’t believe the news until I saw her body being dragged out of the Charles River.”

           Tommy would give his condolences but he was sure she had heard it all before. They all had. ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ didn’t mean anything to him anymore. They were just words. “What about what people say?”

           “Well, you can see it in someone’s eyes, can’t you? Whether they’re telling you the truth or not.”

           “Sometimes.”

           “Then it’s a visual thing.”

           Tommy took a drink and offered the flask to her again but she shook her head. “You trust people then?”

           “Not at first, if ever.” Kate drummed her fingers against the railing. The black paint chipping away.

           “That’s wise. You can only trust family, blood, your kin.” He tucked the flask into the inside of his overcoat.

           “I don’t have that luxury,” She let her eyes wander to the moonbeams reflecting off crests of the waves. The frigid wind stinging her cheeks and turning them red. “I lost that a long time ago.”

           Tommy realized that she was referring to her father. The man that had landed her an ocean away from her home. “What else did you learn from these Bohemians?” He diverted the conversation to something a little lighter. Perhaps that would help her open up, give her a reason to trust him in the future.

           She smiled. “There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy. A little shy and sad of eye, but very wise was he. One magic day, he passed my way. While we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me-”

           “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” Tommy completed the words. Words of a bewitching song the Lees and Youngs used to sing. He could hear the echo of their pure voices carrying over the meadows and weaving through the trees. They sung it in Shelta, Rocka, and English. Sometimes, Tommy heard the tune in his dreams accompanied by a hazy wood. Despite it being rooted in his childhood, the forlorn song always gave him a melancholy feeling. Hearing Kate speak the words brought back that feeling tenfold.

           “You know it?”

           “Gypsy clans we used to travel with sang it.” He replied quietly. “I never understood it.”

           Kate tilted her head to the side. “I think it’s a very clear message.”

           Tommy shook his head and flicked his cigarette into the ocean below. “Love doesn’t work like that.” He put his hands in his pockets and stalked off towards the stairs. The rest of the night, the song played over and over in his head.

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

           “Polly’s gonna have a fit,” Arthur muttered to his brother. They were on their way to Watery Lane, their new addition to the company in tow.

           Kate observed the way the Brummies interacted with Tommy and his brothers. Men tipped their caps and bid the Shelbys a good morning. Women smiled at them, wishing them well and urging their children along. Some were too scared to even look the men in the eye, keeping their heads down and quickly walking past to avoid confrontation. Kate had seen the effect before. Tommy and his company had a reputation that maintained itself for the most part. She could imagine that in due time, the need for violence would decrease. Folks around Birmingham would have enough sense to stay out of the Shelbys way. Of course, there would always be outsiders or those who thought they were strong enough to dethrone Tommy.

           It was a fairly rigid cycle. One man grew so powerful that it appeared he could never be overthrown. But all it took was the right person and the right time to make him fall to his knees. Kate wondered how far Tommy would actually get.

           “Polly doesn’t need to know where we picked her up from,” Tommy replied quietly so Kate, who was a few paces behind them wouldn’t hear. “She’s an American who was seeking a job who happens to speak a few more languages than we do. But lucky for us, she doesn’t speak our language. Works for everyone, aye?”

           Arthur grimaced but knew that Tommy wasn’t going to be talked out of his choice. The minute they left France with the girl there was no turning back.

           “Kate, I want you to come meet me aunt. Polly is the treasurer of the Shelby Company." Tommy placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and walked her into the betting shop.

           “Bookmaking?” Kate surveyed the scene. “Are you good at it?”

           “Good at bookmaking or good at making money?” Tommy brought her over to one of the office doors, letting his hand slip from her shoulder. "Because those are two very different things."

           “Hm, I guess I’ll find out.”

           Tommy chuckled and knocked on the door. “Pol, want you to come meet someone.”

           The older woman came out and frowned when she saw the young blonde standing beside her nephew. “Another one?”

           Kate looked a bit amused but Tommy simply rolled his eyes. “This is the newest member of our staff, Kate. Kate, this is Polly.”

           “Really?” Polly scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “And when was this consulted with the board?” She questioned with a hand on her hip.

           Tommy cleared his throat. “Pol, could I speak with you for a moment?” He decided it would be better to be honest with his aunt. They could gloss over the details about finding Kate at the Moulin Rouge. Still, Polly deserved to hear about the potential information about the Americans. That way there would be no surprises. “Kate, if you would stay here.”

           The woman nodded and the two disappeared into Polly’s office for a chat. Kate took another look around, not focusing on anything too revealing. For now, the less she knew the better. Learning secrets was such a dangerous game. It was always possible to know too much. And knowing too much put a bright red target on your forehead.

           “Oi, love!”

           As Kate walked past a barred window, she heard someone whistle to her. Pausing, she glanced over to see a skeevy looking man outside of the window, pushing something through the slot below the bars. “Excuse me?” She didn’t take the greeting very kindly.

           “I said, c’mere.” The older man waved her over, his fingers were dusted with coal clearly pointing towards line of work. Kate was sure that the Shelbys relied on men like him. Poor men barely scraping by and hoping to get rich off a beast with four legs.

           “What do you want?” Kate didn’t budge.

           “What’s it fucking look like? Here to make a bet.”

           Her jaw set. “I don’t work here. I think it should be obvious enough by my accent.” She replied and went to turn away.

           “Fucking cunt.” The two words were probably meant to be quieter than they came out. The man was a coward but he made the mistake of letting Kate hear those words.

           Frowning, she turned and stalked towards the door. “I don’t know who raised you, but that’s very disrespectful.”

“Women were meant to obey, love.” The man tried to save face amongst the other men queuing up behind him. “Maybe next time you do what you’re told and no one’ll call you that.”

Furious, Kate reached into her purse and slammed a small handgun onto the counter between them. “I doubt you would say that to me again.”

           The man’s eyes widened and he took a step away from the window dividing them. “Fucking Shelbys…” He muttered and turned to make a hasty retreat.

           Only moments later, Tommy came out of Polly’s office and found Kate standing in front of the window, tucking a gun away. “You scaring away customers?” He rushed over and grabbed her by the upper arm.

           “Let go of me!” She snapped a reply and shoved the gun towards him. “It’s empty anyways, you can check. I was only making a point.”

           Tommy checked the barrel to confirm there were no bullets. He sighed and handed it back to her. “C’mon, Polly wants to talk to the both of us now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Kate loved Polly’s black cigarettes. In fact, she loved a lot about the older woman from the moment she sat down across the desk from her. It was obvious from the onset that she was a woman who accepted no bullshit even from her own family. She was clever and Kate presumed that her intelligence was tested. After all, they were women. They weren’t meant to be smart. They were just supposed to look pretty.

           Polly eyed the young blonde that was apparently the newest member of the company. “So where are you from?” She asked.

           “Boston originally,” Kate answered frankly. “I met Tommy in France.”

           “Mhm. What were you doing in France?”

           “I was a courtesan.” She replied with all honesty. There was no reason to beat around the bush. A smart woman like Polly would find out eventually so what was the use in lying?

           Tommy, however, didn’t seem too pleased that she’d dropped the news that he was planning on keeping from his aunt. “Yep…” He muttered under his breath.

           “So you were a whore?”

           “Yes, ma’am.”

           Polly laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “Well she’s honest, Tom, I’ll give you that.”

           Kate smiled slightly and shrugged. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

           She did.

           “And I’m aware that Tommy says you’ve information about Americans. Information that he wants to use for the company.” Polly had been wise to warn her nephew that he was playing with fire. There were plenty of well-established gangs in America who were powerful enough to end his career in seconds. It was too early to test his luck with them. But Tommy was adamant that they needed to learn information while they could. That way, once he was powerful enough, he could make his move.  

           “I think it could be information very useful to your company. I’m not looking for much compensation, only protection from those who would wish me harm.” Kate explained candidly.

           “You have a lot of enemies?”

           “Enemies of my father.” She clarified.

           Tommy cleared his throat and stepped back into the conversation. “Pol, she knows enough French and Italian to help us with day to day things.” He tried to make the woman a more appealing worker.

           “So what happens if she double-crosses us?” Polly asked bluntly.

           “Then I’m at the mercy of my father’s enemies. You can hand me over, no questions asked.” Kate vowed with steady eye contact.

           Polly looked mildly amused but didn’t seem to dislike the woman. “Alright, but you’ll be watched.”

           “As is expected.”

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

           Tommy was a bit surprised that the meeting went as well as it did. Perhaps it was a sign that things were meant to be. He’d have his American informant and things would go smoothly.

           “I’ve rented a flat for you down this way. Take the week to get settled. Try and write down any contacts you can in as much detail as you remember.” Tommy explained as they walked down the street together. He handed her a key to the apartment.

           “Okay, thank you.” Kate was surprised he’d already put things together. “I can imagine that you’ll have my calls listened to.” She pocketed the key.

           He chuckled. Her wit was starting to become endearing if anything. “Do you have private calls to make?”

           “Well I don’t have a family left and all my friends were whores of the Moulin Rouge so I’m guessing not.” She smirked. “I’ve no secrets, Mr. Shelby.”

           “That remains to be seen.” Everyone had secrets, it was doubtful Kate was an exception to the rule.

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

           “Anything?” Tommy returned to the betting shop after showing Kate to her apartment.

           John was sat at his brother’s desk, feet kicked up. “Well, just a few things.” He handed over a few pages of notes.

           Tommy took them and smacked his younger brother’s feet off his desk. “Go check Finn’s odds. He’s got his head in the clouds, fucked up at least twice today.” He pointed to the door.

           “Well, he’s thick, that makes sense.” John snorted and went to leave.

           “You’re both thick. Close the door behind you!” Tommy yelled after him before sifting through the notes scrawled out in John’s chicken scratch.

           American birth certificate.

           Ballet companies in Boston, New York, and Chicago. Said she studied in Italy.

           Unsure of father or mother’s names. No known siblings.

           Tommy sighed. It wasn’t much to go on. If he could somehow find her birth certificate, that would give him her father’s name to go off of. Then, he could find connections in America. There was a lot of ground to search and he wanted to make sure all his bases were covered before he put trust in this woman.

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

           Kate usually knew where to find the hub of a city. Small Heath was, well, small enough that she found the Garrison fairly quickly. The night was in full swing and she dressed in one of her simpler dresses just so she didn’t stand out. But strangers always stood out in the tight-knit neighborhood.

           Upon walking in, Kate was being eyed by anyone she passed. She ignored them and headed for the bar.

           The man tending the bar gave her a funny look. “Erm, ma’am, have you got an escort?”

           “No, I’m on my own. I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

           “I’m afraid women aren’t allowed at the bar alone.”

           Kate raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Honestly, I don’t care. Actually, forget the gin you British like it too bitter. I’d prefer rum.”

           “Miss I…”

           “S’alright. Rum’s on the house.” Tommy walked over and gave his bartender a reassuring nod. He sat down beside the blonde woman who gave him a polite smile. “You like kicking up a fuss wherever you go, that right?”

           “Well behaved women rarely make history, Mr. Shelby.” She smiled coyly. “I’m sure you didn’t get this bar by following the rules and being nice.”

           Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver shilling.“No, I won it in a coin toss.” He balanced the coin on top of his fist, resting on his flattened thumb. “Want to try it out?”

           Kate looked amused and clicked her tongue. “You like to rest a lot on bets.”

           “How I made my fortune.”

           She leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “I once won a diamond necklace on a horse race and the title to a purebred Arabian stallion in a game of roulette.”

           “Then this game is right up your alley.” Tommy didn’t show her any hint of being impressed. For all he knew she was just blowing smoke. “You win, you’ll get free drinks here for as long as you want. I win, you give me your birth certificate.”

           The bet didn’t appear to scare the woman. Instead, the corner of her lip upturned into a playful grin. “I’m surprised you don’t know everything about me already, Tommy, I’m sure you were searching all day.” When the bartender returned with her rum, she took a large drink. “Alright, I’ll play tails. If you’re lucky I’ll give it to you tonight.”

           “Fifty-fifty chance.” Tommy shrugged and flipped the coin into the air. He caught it and smacked it onto the top of his hand to show the results.

           Heads.

           Kate laughed and shook her head. “Good show, Mr. Shelby. Alright, you can have it. Or I can tell you my father’s name. That’s obviously what you’re looking for.” She surmised.

           Tommy finished his whiskey and shook his head. “I’d like to see it for myself. You only believe things that you see, I tend to operate the same way.” He responded and slid the shilling over to her on the bartop.

           “Has anyone ever bested you before, Tommy?” Kate tucked the coin into her purse without question.

           “No.”

           “So you’ll just keep going until you meet the man you can’t beat.” She shook her head and waved for a refill.

           “Suppose so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After a few drinks, Tommy followed Kate back to her new flat. The three floors were cramped just like most Small Heath housing. But it was furnished and was more than enough room for one person. Tommy had to share the same sized space with four other siblings at one point in his life.

           Kate dug through her suitcase and retrieved the official piece of parchment with a seal. She pointed at the inked words with her dark red painted nails. “Kathleen Lynch.” She read off. “Father, Ryan Lynch. Mother, Francis Lynch.”

           Tommy scanned the document for any tells that it was forged or fake.

           “I changed my last name every time I had to leave a city for whatever reason.” She explained and crossed her arms over her chest.

           “My brother got information from your past time in ballet companies. They said you studied in Italy.”

           She laughed and went to the tiny kitchen. Tommy heard her searching through a few cabinets. “I only said that so they’d give me a shot. I learned ballet from an older woman. She was in the Russian Imperial Academy before she moved to the U.S. Better teacher than anyone in Italy.”

           Tommy committed her father’s name to memory before placing the birth certificate on the coffee table. “When did you learn French and Italian?”

           Kate returned with a bottle of wine. Chardonnay, like she said she liked back when they were in France. “I learned Italian from a few friends in Boston. The few that lived around South End. I learned French when I arrived in Paris. There were enough people in the Latin Quarter who knew a few different languages. I know enough to get by. If it’s a romance language I can find my way around it.” She removed the cork and took a drink right from the bottle.

           “You learned a lot from these Bohemians.” Tommy noted and held out a hand.

           She passed the bottle of wine over. “I like to learn a little from everyone I come into contact with. Everyone has something to teach.”

           Tommy watched as she tugged off her heels and stockings to get a little more comfortable. She was certainly different from the women he was raised by or worked with. At least she held a measure of class despite how brash she could be. “Who taught you about guns?”

           Kate reached into her purse and pulled out her small gun. “My mother.” She allowed him to inspect the pistol. Unlike that morning, it was loaded. “We lived in a rough part of Boston. My father was a drunk so he couldn’t protect us even if he tried. My mother always kept a loaded Winchester. Those who knew her were wise to leave her be after she shot a robber in the foot.”

           “Is that what you learned from her then?”

           Kate nodded. “I’ve had more than enough men test me.” Her playful nature faded a little as her blue eyes relived whatever past that still haunted her.

           “Ever kill a man?”

           She snapped out of her daze and laughed bitterly. “Oh, Nature Boy, you’ll have to bet something good on a coin toss to get me to admit to anything like that.”

Permanent Tag: @sansajonsastark​ @giftofdreams​

Masterlist

[markleesthighs]

Black Mamba | Chapter 4

Pairings: Reader x Mark Lee, Reader x Hendery, Reader x Jaehyun, feat. ot21

Genre: NCT mafia!au, angst, fluff, light smut (suggestive), comical

Warnings: flashbacks, mentions of blood

Words: 2.91k

【 ❶ ❷ ❸ ➃ ❺ ❻ ❼】

Chapter 4 - Behind the Mask

Seoul, Korea, 2023

That night when you fell asleep, you noticed your phone kept buzzing, and it kept waking you up. You rubbed your eyes and blinded yourself with your phone while trying to see who was trying to text you at this hour. It was Taeyong. Apparently, there is an emergency assassination and could only be executed tonight.

Taeyong explained that you would be offered ₩4,700,000,000 for killing their main rivals in the area. Taeyong found out and noticed you were doing more assassinations recently and figured you would be up for it. You grabbed some death wish coffee, and accepted the offer, got your assassination suit along with your required weapons needed for killing, distracting, and escaping. You tucked your hair into your suit and took the elevator down into the garage. You got on your motorbike and drove to the other mansion on the opposite side of the city.

You had turned on the invisibility feature on your motorbike and put on your mask with high tech glasses built-in for optimal safety. You had shut down their security and cautiously avoid traps and mines scattered on their yard. You had to kill Jinyoung, a right-hand man of the rival gang GOT7, who had recently stolen drug deals and cargo from our suppliers. Knowing he is a right-hand man, it would not be a shock to your he didn’t have the second-best defenses in the entire mansion.

You broke in through the skylight in their living room and cascaded down on a rope, landing like a feather on the ground. You had shut down their security cameras and blended in with the dark shadows. You had forgotten to ask Taeyong the location of Jinyoung, so you had to figure it out quickly before their tech team blasts the alarm, send emergency spotlights, and guard dogs along your way. Luckily, your suit also had an invisibility feature and trapped your smell within the suit, finding no way to track you. It also did not track or allow finger and footprints, and all of your weapons could not be traced since they were all custom made.

You remembered a memory of your when you were little, your dad or your brother would always find you when playing hide and seek. When you got older you noticed it was one of the poems in the book he gave you, it was how you can track down anyone in an area when they are hiding. You mumbled it to yourself.

They will hide, but I will seek

Find them without a little squeak

Draw a path to their location

And follow it without frustration

Reveal to me where they lie

Shoot my desire into my eye

You felt your eyes glow and you saw a path of footsteps light up a light red, and you followed it through the mansion. You stopped at the door and used your x-ray goggles to see that he was in the shower, the optimal time to sneak in. You opened and lightly closed the door and hid in his closet, preparing your attack. You heard footsteps towards the closet, and you jumped out and muffled his voice while you held him tight when he was struggling to get you off of him. You shot his chest, and blood started to go everywhere.

Your suit cleaned itself with blood and sprayed itself with hydrogen peroxide. It also was invincible to liquid of any kind including blood. You were used to seeing this and have seen worse. You suddenly saw your payment loaded into your account and you left him in his towel with blood spewing out of his chest. You walked out of the bedroom and climbed up your rope, and when you reached the top of the skylight, the alarm went off, meaning you had about a 5-10 minute time frame to escape.

You jumped from roof to roof on their mansion and dived into the garden fountain near where you hid your bike. You ran through the trees and bushes to find your bike. You revved up the engine and stunt jumped over their gate while you saw a bunch of guards and dogs chasing you. You drove off and was never to be caught by them for the rest of the night.

You parked your bike in the garage and was about to go to bed when you heard a voice talking in the living room.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why do you care?”

It was a/n and Mark, it sounded like they were having an argument, hey, eavesdropping wouldn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You look at her every time she laughs, and it looks like you want her instead of me!”

“This is ridiculous! What crazy person put that idea in your head?!”

“I’m not THAT dumb Mark.”

“We are JUST FRIENDS how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Fine, then answer my question. Have you ever loved her?”

You realized they were talking about you and was awaiting Mark’s response to the question.

“…no. I never loved her. I only love you.”

a/n sighed and sat next to Mark

“Really?”

“Really.”

They then kissed and started to make out. Your eyes were getting foggy, and the tears were starting to build up. Did he ever love you? Was this all just a game and a mistake? You couldn’t take it anymore. You ran back down into the garage and got on your motorbike and drove to Incheon. You drove and drove until the tears stopped, but they kept coming.

You finally made it to Eurwangni beach, and you took off your boots and walked on the sand. It hugged your feet softly as you walked on it. It was cold, not hot, it was quiet, not loud, and it was peaceful, not chaotic. You walked and sat on a big lifeguard seat and watched the waves as they came in and out of the sand. When you needed to be alone, you went to be one with the elements, in the forest, beach, or even a pond in the park. The stars and moon reflected in the water, as you wondered how you are still not over Mark.

You and Mark used to come here after long days of work, or if you both got lucky, came here on vacation. Mark called it a retreat for you two, so you could come up with new ideas with Mark without being distracted by the others, You remember him chasing the seagulls and trying to impress you at the beach. There was one time he tried to build you a sandcastle, only for it to be washed away by the water.

He asked you to bury him in the sand, and once he was buried you left him there, and he started to scream for an eternity before he gave up and begged you to dig him out. He also spun you around in the water, letting the salty droplets fall on each other’s skin.

Mark complained about the sea a lot how it was cold and dirty when five minutes later, he was running into the sea chasing a tiny fish. You also both cuddled on the beach while reading or in your rented beach house you both would watch the sunset until you fell asleep and he would have to carry you into the bed and tuck you in. You felt like crying, even more, remembering how happy you were here, and now you can’t get any of it back.

Taeyong came down the staircase to notice Mark and a/n still making out and coughed in their presence. They both stopped and blushed as they sat on the couch in embarrassment.

“You haven’t seen y/n, have you?” Taeyong asked

“No, why?” Mark answered

“I sent her on a mission about an hour ago, and she hasn’t come back?”

“That’s odd she’s usually done around 30-45 minutes.”

“A maid checked her room and said she wasn’t in there.”

“Maybe she’s in the bathhouses?”

“No, I sent a maid and other members to search the mansion, and she’s not here.”

Everyone started looking for you and called you, but you didn’t answer, and your tracking device was off. Another hour passed, and you still did not come back. Panic started to settle in, and members were getting freaked out. Mark also sent members to search for you in the area, but they did not find you.

People working undercover for NCT also reported nothing, all the other members started to freak out. Hendery was rapidly spamming your phone, and Jaehyun looked like he wanted to cry. Donghyuck was already crying about how he would not be able to test your weapons anymore, and Taeil was getting ready to write your obituary.

Taeyong was acting calm and strategic when really he was blaming himself for letting you go on such a dangerous mission. A/n looked mildly concerned, mainly focusing on how Mark is reacting, who is silently thinking about where you could be, and debating the possibility that you did fail your mission. You have a 100% success rate, so Mark knew you were alive and not kidnapped to be held for ransom.

“I know where she is.”

Mark immediately got up and ran to the garage before a/n or anyone could ask or stop him. He got his motorbike and rode all the way to Eurwangni beach to go find you. Mark parked his bike and saw you, in your usual spot, on the lifeguard chair. He took off his shoes and walked towards you. He found you still in your assassination suit looking into the distance, with no emotion.

“Hey, what are you doing up there?”

Mark snapped you out of your trance as you looked at him and looked back into the distance. Mark climbed up and sat next to you looking at your face trying to figure things out.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah I just needed some fresh air after my assassination.”

“Did everything go, okay?”

“Yeah, i-its just been a while.”

Then there was an awkward silence. Mark knew you were lying, and you knew Mark came here out of panic and guilt, not because of any feelings towards you. You both looked into the dark ocean with the moon and stars reflecting in its water. You finally decided to break the silence, mainly because you wanted to go home, and you were cold.

“Are you happy?”

Mark looked at you suddenly and was confused by what you meant by that. You looked away in embarrassment and started to fiddle with your fingers while still talking.

“a/n. Are you happy with her?”

Mark scratched the back of his neck and looked embarrassed.

“Yeah, she…makes me very happy, I…”

You waited for Mark to finish, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to. There were guilt and sadness in his eyes.

“I…love…”

“her.”

To you, it hurt, but to Mark, it was something forced out of his mouth. It didn’t seem as genuine as he thought it was. He didn’t know why, but in front of you, he couldn’t say it as heartfelt as usual. Little did he know in his head, he wanted to say you instead of her so much, but for some reason, he had to choke it out of him to say “her.” You could burst into tears right now, you didn’t want to confront him if he said if he loved you, because you knew the answer. It wasn’t something to be worried about anymore. He’s moved on and happy, that’s all you had hoped for him. You didn’t care if he didn’t like her all you wanted was for him to be happy. You just wanted her to treat her as well as you did, or heck maybe even better than you. At this point, you just wanted to go home. It was starting to get cold, and you wanted to curl up in your bed watching dramas until you fall asleep. 

“Let’s go home.”

Mark and you started to climb down when you touched the sand, your hands started to rub your shoulders and arms, you were freezing. Mark saw this and nonchalantly put his jacket over your shoulders revealing a black tank top he hands underneath, showing his NCT tattoo underneath his rib.

You put on his jacket that still smelled like cigarettes and his musk. You missed that smell, but you know you would never keep it forever. The burn marks and blood stains on it were still evident, and the zipper was broken as usual. Mark’s clothes were always bigger on you, and it was quite baggy. The pockets still fit your hands and felt warm, as the smooth leather touched your hands. You both got on your motorbikes and rode as you felt Mark’s jacket to flutter in the wind, as the moon shone brighter than it ever did.

You both arrived in the garage and parked your bikes, you and Mark walked up the stairs to see everyone awaiting your arrival in the living room. They all turned hearing your boots clicking, and they all screamed and ran to hug you, except a/n. Mark walked towards her, and she instantly smiled while everyone else was hugging you and slapping your back. Once they all cleared, a/n looked at you, seeing that you still had Mark’s jacket on and the room fell silent. A stalemate had occurred, and everyone was looking. You just calmly took off Mark’s jacket and gave it back to him saying a simple ‘thank you’ and left to go back upstairs to your room.

After a long shower, you heard a knock on your door.

“One minute!”

You quickly got dressed in a t-shirt and shorts as you opened the door to see Hendery.

“y/n! are you okay?!”

“Yeah, why?”

You both sat down on your bed, looking out the balcony window.

“I-I was just worried about you.”

“Why would you be worried about me?”

“I was afraid you were going to run away and find another group to be with.”

“I would never trade you idiots for anyone else.”

Hendery laughed, missing your humor, you both haven’t talked in a while.

“I was wondering if you wanted to attend the ball with me.”

“Really?”

“Y-yeah as f-friends?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Y-ea-“

Before he could be finished, you pecked him on the cheek.

“I’ll go as your date stupid.”

He blushed and touched his cheek. He smiled and hugged you, which felt warm and comforting. You fell asleep feeling giddy as ever. You haven’t felt good to go to bed to be excited for tomorrow in a long time. You were ready to run the world tomorrow. You fell asleep with dreams no one could imagine they were no longer nightmares in your head. They were not dark anymore. You were in flower fields instead of caves, running through the daisies, watching butterflies fly around you.

The next morning you woke up feeling fantastic, you danced around while cooking breakfast, and none of the guys knew why you were such in a good mood. You let Donghyuck test out all of your latest weapons and gadgets for the ball tonight, and you bought lunch for all the trainees.

Soon time flew, and you were done with the workday. It was cut short due to the ball, so everyone could prepare to get changed. You dashed up to your bedroom to find your dress, maids, makeup artists, fashion designer assistants, and butlers. You walked in to get your makeup done, complementing your outfit. At the same time, they also braided and curled your hair. Once you were done, you were led onto a platform with a mirror, and everyone was helping you get the dress on, since it was heavy, and had a tight catsuit underneath it. You had a corset as well, and you felt the maids pulling to make your waist smaller.

They finally finished with your corset tying it with a bow and putting finishing touches on your dress. Then you had to accessorize, you had earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings all adorned on you with the finest jewels. You got on your heels, gloves, and fur coat on as a butler walked you down the staircase to where you met your eyes with Hendery waiting for you. He smiled as you delicately walked down the marble stairs until Hendery took your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t need all of this, you would still look beautiful.”

You blushed at his words as you both walked to the door opened by the maids. He held and helped you down the stairs again and held your dress up so you would not trip and it would not get dirty. A butler opened the door for you, and you looked a little nervous, but Hendery rubbed the top of your hand, giving you some reassurance.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

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[straight-into-the-animus]

Homecoming (Thalexios)

The third of my Thalexios prompts! (A little fluffier after the last one, wheww) I would like to thank @pandoravidal for the wonderful prompt idea, I hope you enjoyed! 

No warnings with this one; fluff and reunion fic abound of Alexios returning to Sparta, maybe light spoilers for those who aren’t so far into the game.

Read on Ao3 here

The ground has never felt so uncertain under Alexios’ feet as it did now, in Sparta. In his “home”. His search for the truth had taken him all around Greece, from oracles to battlefields to across the sea and the depth of Poseidon's fury. 

All the way to family. And now, all the way to the land he thought he’d never go back to again.

When they had come in eyesight of the shore, Barnabas had remarked that the bird always knew when it had come back to its nest, no matter how far away it had been. As he had started to walk through the streets too, he began to understand. No matter how much he may have looked an outsider among the soldiers in their shining armor of gold and red, the blood that flowed in his veins was the same as in theirs. He had even likely bled alongside some of them in their little war against the Athenians.

The sun was at its peak as he stopped his journey near the statue of Leonidas, at his tomb. The area wasn’t overly crowded, but he wondered just how many people stared at him. Likely none of them knew who he was, what was strapped to his back. What would his grandfather say had he been alive now? These thoughts didn’t plague him often, but now it was if they were beyond forthcoming.

He was so engrossed he barely heard the man’s voice behind him until a hand accompanied it, hesitant but warm and calloused as it rested on his arm. “Alexios?”

Out of instinct Alexios spun around and grabbed the man’s wrist, bewildered but warning filled glare melting away to complete shock. “Thaletas?” He could scarcely breathe it out, eyes roving over the man in front of him before he was pulled into a tight hug, a hand thumping his shoulder. He was helpless to do anything but hug back, feeling the press of steel and leather against him.

“Alexios, dear Gods, it’s wonderful to see you. How long since Mykonos… six months?”

“Had to have been. You’re back in Sparta so soon?” Alexios pulled away from the hug, hands resting on the shoulders of the other man for just a while longer before they fell away to the side, just brushing his arms.

“I just arrived yesterday. I was called back for reports, and since it seemed stable, I didn’t think it was in much danger with my absence.” Thaletas shook his head, in some form of disbelief. “Never did I think I would see you in Sparta. Not after… I thought you said you couldn’t return.”

“I… I suppose I found what I was looking for. And it all lead me back here, anyway. Every road I took.” Alexios gestured around to the city and the fields -- he had avoided looking east towards Mount Taygetos ever since he had come into view of the land -- and Thaletas let out a small breath of laughter, crossing his arms behind the small of his back as he seemed to appreciate the view as well.

“Sparta has that effect on people. Seems right that you were drawn to this as well.” Thaletas nodded with his head towards the statue in front of them. “You don’t find this the most beautiful part of all?”

“I’ve seen bigger.” Alexios smirked just a bit, intentions and meaning vague even as he saw the faintest amount of pink cover Thaletas’ cheeks.

“I’m sure you have.” Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? But then he remembered Mykonos, and how they had spoken of the Fates bringing them together again, but just as much about Kyra and the plans the rebels had for rebuilding that island. And then he had to dim the light inside of him just a bit more as Thaletas continued, staring up at the statue. “They’ve had this up as long as I can remember. They built it after the Battle of Thermopylae. The great King Leonidas.”

“My mother… She spoke highly of him. Told me many stories about him, about what his legacy meant to us and our family.” He knew what was coming before Thaletas even could give him a look of confusion and questioning. “Leonidas is my grandfather. Father of my mother.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas gave another one of those half-laughs, which was the equivalent of a ful laugh for him, but it quickly died as they both stared at each other. His eyes widened just a bit, looking from the statue of the king to the misthios. “King Leonidas is your grandfather.”

“Is it so unbelievable? If I grew out my beard, I’d look just like him.” Alexios joked, but Thaletas just shook his head, their eyes locking.

“Your life is fantastic, Alexios. Something straight out of… Something Hesiod himself would envy writing.” Such pure sincerity fell from his lips that Alexios found himself growing shy under it, head ducking away to look at another spot in the distance.

“You’re too kind.” Alexios finally admitted, turning back to look at Thaletas but finding his attention turned beyond the city as well.

“Are you busy? Or waiting for anything?”

Alexios knew, rationally, that yes, he was. It was the whole purpose for his being here, waiting for the time for his audience with the kings of Sparta alongside his mother and Brasidas. Thaletas just happened to be simply the best coincidence that could happen at that time. But the other part of him knew that the thread of fate was meant to be followed, that he was to be strung along by the thread until they reached the end. And he had time, even if it was time for a final goodbye.

“I have time. What did you have in mind?”

“Something special.”

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

The journey led them out of the city and more into the countryside, heading north up into the sloping hills.

“How were the Silver Islands when you left?” Alexios was finally able to get out after some time of companionable but filled silence.

“Fine. The Athenians have left us alone.” Thaletas look back at the misthios as they walked. “The government implemented by the Spartans and the rebels seem to be stable enough.”

“Kyra is doing well?”

Thaletas was silent until they finally stopped on top of a hill near ruins farther away from the city; it was in view, but barely. When he spoke again, it was measured. “Last I saw her, she was.”

“Oh.” Alexios nodded, crossing his arms. “That’s good. I’m glad she’s doing well after everything. She will make a fine wife when everything is truly settled, I’m sure.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas was quiet, but his voice was firm. “We haven’t…Before I left, we weren’t together in such a way.”

“No? But you both seemed-”

Thaletas sighed, hands behind his back as they fidgeted nervously. “I know what it seemed. But I… I couldn’t feel for her as I did for you. Every night, on those islands, all I could think about was the beach. Those ruins.” He looked over at Alexios, a hand hesitantly reaching out for his shoulder.. “What we said to each other.”

“Thaletas, I-”

“They weren’t just words to me. Not then. And not now. Alexios, I lo-”

He didn’t get to finish as Alexios reached for him and pulled him close, lips meeting roughly. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, Alexios’ hand trailing up Thaletas’ armor to play with the wisps of curls there at the nape of his neck, earning him a shiver. Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? It was so, so easy in the soldier’s arms to forget everything and once again melt into security and further on into an emotion he was scared to name.

Things were not so easily forgotten. Some pain was still there. But for now, for just an hour or two, he was content to ignore it because of what this was.

“You didn’t get to let me finish.” Thaletas was breathless as they pulled away eventually, foreheads resting against each other.

“Unless your words were for me to drown in the Aegean Sea, I didn’t need to hear anything else.” Alexios gave a barely there smile, excitement pouring through it.

Thaletas smirked just a bit, mischief dancing in on his words. “And if I said I wanted to take you here and now?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” Alexios ignored the sharp bit of pleasure that shot through him at the idea. Delos was still fresh in his mind. “Maybe later tonight, should all things go well.” He sighed, hand still at the nape of Thaletas’ neck as he stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I seek an audience with the Kings first. I’ve been through what can only be compared to the trials of Herakles for this.”

“The Kings? You’ve been busy. What do you need to see them for?”

“My citizenship, my house, among other things. Yes,” He noted at the look, “it’s a very long story.”

“I’m sure. When is your audience?”

“In a few hours, if I’m accurate with the time.”

“I want to go with you.”

Alexios furrowed his brow, pulling away in the embrace just a bit more with reluctance to look over the soldier. “What?”

“I want to go with you, Alexios. To the Kings.” His eyes flitted away for a second, seeming to think of other things for a second, before shaking his head just barely as if dismissing an idea. Before Alexios could ask him about it, he continued. “I can vouch for you as well, your performance in Mykonos. I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thaletas, it’s not like that. And you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t want to leave your side, Alexios. Especially now. Or ever, if I can help it.”

The words hung heavy in the air between the both of them, a promise made only in the sights of the Gods themselves. Alexios was silent for a long time before squeezing Thaletas’ arms just slightly, a comfort for himself just a little bit.

“You say that.”

“I mean it. I was a fool then. Now that I realize I have a chance again, I won’t be so foolish.” Thaletas said.

“I don’t care if you’re a fool. I care if you’re there or not. But the Kings won’t be easy to speak to.” He wanted to tell him about the Cult of Kosmos, about the danger he could be walking into, but he held back. 

“I know. You’re going to need me there any way. So, if you’re sure you don’t have time for what I’d much rather do with you,” Alexios couldn’t help a good natured roll of his eyes, “then we’ll head back to the city to prepare you. And you can explain things to me.”

“Fine.” Alexios pulled him in for one more kiss, unable to help himself. He had once asked Thaletas if he would stay by his side, “now and forever”. Back then, he hadn’t known how much those words meant. But now he did. But the weight wasn’t unbearable; it was warm, settling like a cloak on his body and keeping him safe from everything and everyone else. “And afterwards, should all go well, perhaps a trip out here for a ‘celebration’ wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“I knew you’d see things my way, Eagle-Bearer.” Thaletas smiled, and Alexios had never seen the future clearer, at least for now.

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

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request!  If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He��s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good  point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

[world-of-aus]

You’re My Mission One-Shot Soulmate AU! (Teaser)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: TBD

Summary: *work in progress

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff

Author’s Note: Hello! So i’ve just been accepted into my masters program to continue my work in Special education and since i’ve just started my courses i may fall behind on posting ever so slightly, im hoping to have this one shot out on Saturday and Behind The Screen on Sunday, just a couple of days late while i adjust to my coursework. Since i wont be posting an update till later tomorrow i wanted to grace you all with a teaser! I hope you enjoy and thank you to @amanda-the-fangirl​ for sending in her wonderful idea! can’t wait to have the full work finished and edited!

You awoke with a pounding head; a pained groan fell from your lips as you tried to move your aching body. Panic seeped into you when you found you couldn't move your arms, pins and needles prickling at your fingers as you struggled with the ties that had you bound. You looked around with wide eyes, but there wasn’t much to make out in the dimly lit room. You scourged your hazy brain for something, anything to tell you how you had ended up here in this situation. Your eyes widened in horror.

You quickened your pace as you pushed yourself into the sea of bodies, you pushed against them as you tried to get away from his watchful eyes. You felt the coldness of his stare on you, watching you, studying you, much like the day before, he had only continued to draw closer as the week had passed. At first you had just thought you had stumbled upon the most mysterious man, with the most marvelous crystal blue eyes.  Though when you were walking through the minuscule be isles of your streets corner market and bumped into him once more you had chalked it up to fate playing games. The third and fourth time had you biting your lip with nervousness, surely you would have seen this man before if he really did have the same schedule as you, unless, you had shaken your head of those thoughts, it couldn’t be. You had decided to swallow down your nerves and approach him on the fifth day, you hadn’t known he was there until you felt a chill run up your spine, the feel of eyes watching your every move as you ordered your favorite caffeinated drink from the overly friendly barista. Sure enough when you had handed your payment to the cashier, you chanced a glance over your shoulder to already find his gaze on yours, he had your breath catching in your throat.

You moved off stiffly to the side to allow the next customer to move up, you gazed away from the predatory eyes focusing on the baristas behind the bar, you took a deep breath deciding that you would go over to the mysterious man and confront him, in your mind there was simply no explanation for why he was always appearing in locations you had never seen him before. Your name was called and you took uneasy steps forward taking the warm cup from the smiling teen. Turning on your heel you steeled yourself as you made your way towards the man sitting in the middle of the local coffee house. Taking a breath, you found your words, “excuse me,” you voiced warmly, “ I feel like I've seen a lot  of you in places I've never seen you before, and maybe that’s just a coincidence, do I know you?” you questioned.

His eyes were looked on yours as he shook his head once, you swallowed fingers tapping on your Styrofoam cup nervously.  

“are you-” you paused, “are you following me?” you questioned voice dropping.

Your nearly dropped the hot drink in your hands when his head nodded once, rather than questioning him any further you probably did the last thing you should have done, you ran. Your heart had was racing in your chest as you raced out the doors and onto the busy streets. You looked behind you with wide eyes to see he was feet away. You quickened your pace, continuing to push through the crowds, eventually the crowd thinned the closer you got to home. You didn’t dare chance a glance back over your shoulder, you already knew he would be there. With a thrumming heart you continued to push forward, the heels of your ankle high boots thumping against the cemented side walk. If you strained your ears enough you could hear the pair of feet trailing you.

You were still another 3 blocks from your home, you began to grow desperate as the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. You did what could be described as your next biggest mistake, the one that was going to do you in. You ran, and in your hurry to get away from him you truly weren't thinking, and you ran into an alleyway, a choked sob fell from your lips as your hit a dead end. You baked away from the stoned brick, silent tears fell from your eyes, a silent gasp fell from your lips when you backed into something hard behind you. Turning ever so slowly, you looked up with wide eyes, your mouth fell open in a scream but nothing ever came as the world around you went black.

The sound of a steel door slamming had you jumping in the wooden chair you had been bound too. You waited with baited breath as you heard heavy footsteps approach you. He appeared under the single industrial pendant light. His eyes were set, jaw stiff, nostrils flaring as he looked you over, your body tensed when they landed on the knife in his hands.

“You know, you almost had me thinking I had gone after the wrong person,” he grunted.

Your eyes widened slightly, a look of horror coming over you features, “i don’t even know who you are, what do you want?” you whimpered.

His jaw clenched, “cut the shit and drop the façade y/n, it's just me and you,”  

You quivered in your chair, “i- I don’t know what you’re talking about, how do you know my name?” you questioned shakily, “please just let me go I swear I won’t tell anyone anything I sw-”

A fist to the face cut off your words, your head snapped to the side, blood seeped from your split lip.

Your jaw clenched, spitting the blood that had gathered in your mouth you turned your head back towards him, he was closer now.

You adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable chair, “did you really forget that I can’t feel the pain you inflict on me?” you glared.

Though Bucky’s face had remained the same stoic stare, his eyes looked away from yours, you scoffed. “You know you could jeopardize this entire mission for us right, what the hell are you even doing Barnes, what the hell is all of this?” you questioned pulling at the restraints.

He let out a tense breath through his lips, “I just,” his fist clenched at his side, “I just needed to make sure you were okay,”

A sarcastic laugh left your lips, “and this,” you growled tugging at the restraints, “this is your way of making sure I was okay, didn’t think you cared, if I recall it was you fleeing the moment you found out we were s-”

“don't say it,” he growled, eyes growing dark as he glared at you.

You shook your head at the man in front of you, “see you still haven’t accepted it,” you muttered, “yet here we are, with me tied to a fucking chair because you wanted to make sure I was okay.”

The two of you grew quiet as you murdered one another with the intensity of killer eyes, “can you untie me my arms uncomfortable,” you muttered. Though Bucky personally couldn’t inflict any pain on you the ropes binding your hands now that was another story.

Bucky didn’t utter a word as he went behind you to cut the restraints, your arms fell limp at your sides, a inaudible pained groan fell from your lips. You pushed yourself up on wobby legs, gathering your bearings. Once the feeling had returned to your numbed limbs, you turned to face the stoic man next to you. It took you a second to reel your hand back, your fist flying into the side of Bucky’s cheek throwing him off guard, your foot was the next thing to swing taking a direct hit into the middle of his chest sending him flying a few feet back.

A growl left his lips as he stood, a pained expression on his face, “that’s what you get Barnes,” you hissed standing your ground, “it's been a damn year, and now all of a sudden you decide to “care”, if you even want to call it that,”

“y/n” he tried

“I don’t want to hear it,” you muttered, “does the team even know you’re here, that you’ve been following me?” You seethed, “Pierce could very well have caught on, he has eyes on me, it’s been a year and the asshole still doesn’t trust me, and now you showing up out of the blue to come check up on me, what the hell bucky!”

You could see his façade fall the longer he stared at you, “the team hasn’t heard from you, they were worried.”

An angry groan tore from your lips, “fuck you Barnes, why is it so hard for you to give into your feelings,” you yelled, “the teams well aware I wouldn’t be in contact until I got everything I needed to frame pierce, and IF they were worried why not send someone else, why YOU!”