#I wouldn’t have been so gutted about its closing if it hadn’t made me feel so SEEN and UNDERSTOOD

[sassmill]

In Act 2 of Lempicka when Tamara and Rafaela enter Le Monocle for the first time they look around at all the women together and Rafaela says “a room full of nothing but US” and Tamara says “let’s never leave” and guys I just went to a lesbian bar for the first time (okay it’s actually a deli but they turn it into a lesbian bar at night) and GUYS? That is the safest I have ever felt out drinking and dancing and I felt so natural and I was surrounded by other queer women and that’s. That’s the first actual queer space I’ve been to in YEARS and especially post-pandemic. And I’m feeling such an overwhelming mix of emotions right now because I didn’t realize how isolated I felt from the queer community in my day to day life (ie not online). I just. God.

Dedicated queer spaces are so important. Lesbian bars are so important. This is the only one I’ve been to but I’m VERY aware that these days there are fewer and fewer of them but I just. I didn’t know how badly this kind of place and experience and connection to community was missing from my life until I suddenly had it tonight.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 4 (Jive Part 1)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 12.1k

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter being Dieter. Gratuitous use of the "f" word and talk about Dieter’s member. Cat and Plant dad Dieter cuteness. Brief mentions of intimate partner violence (more protective Dieter).

Chapter Quote: "It’s gonna be a real test of your stamina."

Katarina’s POV

I was taken aback by Dieter’s reaction to Alec’s attempted apology. I knew he had been upset about the incident, but I wasn’t expecting an outright dismissal from him. There was, however, a small part of me that was internally cheering over it. No one had ever challenged Alec like this, and he deserved every bit of it after how he had behaved.

I could tell Dieter was upset when he left the staging area, and I wasn’t buying his excuse of not feeling well. I assumed he just didn’t want to be around Alec. Once I was finally able to slip away from Alec to go check on Dieter, I was shocked to find that he was avoiding me. Something told me that he was hiding out in his dressing room. He wouldn’t come to the door, and he wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. After several minutes of asking around if anyone had seen him, Alec found me. He insisted it was time to head home since the show was over because he felt we needed to spend some time together. I was annoyed with his pushy behavior but relented. I knew it was the right thing to do if I wanted to work on our relationship. As I was walking to my car, I could see that Dieter’s was still in its spot, so he definitely hadn’t left.

On my drive home, I tried calling Dieter again. Still no answer. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my gut that was making me uneasy. I was half tempted to blow Alec off and drive straight to Dieter’s house to wait for him to get home. I glanced in my rear-view mirror as I waited at a red light. I could see Alec in his car behind me. It looked like he was talking to someone on speakerphone. I couldn’t help wondering who he would be talking to right now. The sick feeling I was having seemed to get a little worse with that thought. I suddenly felt like I was making all of the wrong decisions today and didn’t fully understand why.

Once we got to my house, I started making dinner. I had leftovers we could have eaten, but I saw it as an opportunity to avoid Alec for a little longer while he sat on the couch watching TV. I didn’t say much while we ate. He was doing enough talking for the both of us. He made sure to tell me how the “guys” were bugging him about going out tonight, but he would rather spend time with me instead. He also made a point to say he was avoiding them so he wouldn’t be pressured into drinking. If it was actually true, then good for him, but honestly, it sounded rehearsed and disingenuous. It felt like he was trying to say all the right things to placate me. At this point, I felt so jaded by him, I realized that I couldn’t really believe a word he said. Why did I do this to myself? I had an out. I should have taken it. 

When we were finished eating, I did the dishes. Then, without a word, I went to take a shower, locking the bathroom door behind me. The shower lasted way longer than it should have, but the warm water was soothing and worked the tension out of my body. My mind wandered back to Dieter. I couldn’t understand why he was ignoring me like this. It was so unlike him. 

I stood under the shower head, frozen in place as I stared at the wall, thinking back to the previous week. The time that I had spent with Dieter outside of the dance studio had been so refreshing. I quickly realized that I liked being with him while doing mundane things. He always seemed to be in a good mood and genuinely seemed to enjoy his time with me. Even doing something as simple as going to the pet store with him was enjoyable and honestly, had my stomach in a flutter the entire time. 

That feeling only intensified when he asked me over to his place. A little voice in my head told me that going over there might not be a good idea, like it was stepping over some invisible line that had been drawn between us. I entertained the thought for mere seconds before charging over that line without looking back as I agreed to his plans. 

That voice shouted at me once again when I saw the incoming facetime call from him as I was lying in bed that night after leaving the pet store. I wasn’t expecting him to call after sending a text to check in on the new cat food. I hesitated, watching it ring for what seemed like an eternity before finally accepting the call. I forgot my words as I took in his appearance. It looked like he was shirtless, and his hair was more disheveled than normal, like he had been tugging at it with his fingers. I briefly wondered if it would look like that after I ran my hands through it, or would it be worse? We both silently stared at each other through the screen for several seconds before he spoke up and finally snapped me out of my trance.  

As usual, he kept me laughing during our call. Dramatically complaining about the cat tree he was struggling to put together. I offered to help him with it before I even realized what I was saying. He propped his phone up to free his hands and give me a wide view of what he was doing. Who knew that watching a very attractive shirtless actor put together a cat tree could be so captivating? I kept getting distracted by the soft waves of hair hanging down over his eyes as he worked, or the way the muscles in his arms and chest would tighten as he pushed down on and twisted the screwdriver, or the way his gym shorts would ride up his thighs when he would squat down to pick something up. 

Fucking hell Kat, this is not the time to be getting hot and bothered. The guy is avoiding you. I huffed, feeling frustrated with myself for allowing my mind to go down that path right now. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t actually done anything to scratch that itch in a while. 

Once out of the shower, I got ready for bed. I was still feeling a little worked up, so when Alec crawled into bed behind me and began to suggestively rub my back and kiss down the side of my neck, I gave in. Turning my head to kiss him as his hand roamed my body, eventually slipping down the front of my shorts to rub at my center. I wiggled against him, attempting to guide him to the right spot, but failed. Jesus Christ, this guy needs a fucking map and a compass. How is he still this clueless? Out of frustration, I grabbed his hand and guided him to where it needed to be. He mistook the action for eagerness, pushing my hand away and telling me that I could come when he was ready for me to - that he was going to take care of me. Like that's gonna happen at this rate. It seemed more like a half-assed attempt to please me just so he could get what he wanted. 

The longer he went on doing whatever the fuck it was he was doing, the more my mood soured. I could tell he was getting frustrated that I was taking too long. I could have faked it like I often did for his sake, but instead, I stopped him. Suggesting that we just go to bed, citing that I was too tired from the long day of filming and that it was making it hard for me to fully get into it. He wasn’t happy about it, but agreed, turning over to shut off the lights as he settled in on the opposite side of the bed.  

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could do this with him. His actions didn’t align with his words most of the time and I still couldn’t trust him. Also, he fucking sucked in bed. At one time, I had been willing to overlook that, but now it was beyond frustrating. Especially since it seemed more about his needs rather than both of ours and his unwillingness to try and make it better for me. 

I laid there in silence, listening to Alec’s breathing deepen and eventually turn into soft snores. I couldn’t help letting my mind wander back to Dieter. I really hoped he was OK. The more I thought about it, the more upset he seemed. There was something about the look in his eyes that scared me. Did something else happen that I didn’t know about? I really hoped he hadn’t been triggered by something that was possibly threatening his sobriety. 

My mind began to file through the memories of the last few days. Particularly our evening together at his house. It was now clear to me that he was a very sensitive person. I could tell that from being in his home, among his things, his paintings, and after seeing the way he cared for his plants and Zee. I briefly wondered if perhaps his feelings for me were evolving like mine seemed to be for him. It felt like there had been some serious tension between us that night. I had even caught myself flirting a little, and he was possibly reciprocating it. The way he had looked at me and touched me as he was getting into the cabinet caused my breath to catch in my throat. In that brief moment, I considered what it would be like to grab him and kiss him, but the moment passed as I somehow managed to talk some sense into myself.

There were several things that he had said to me that day that seemed to be flirting, but this was also Dieter Bravo we’re talking about. The man did not have a filter, so it was sometimes hard to tell if he was just being his cocky self. Maybe those two things are one and the same for him?

My mind then drifted to thoughts of his paintings and drawings. They were all so amazing. He really was talented and seeing the transformation his artwork had taken since he became sober really struck a chord with me. I could see the changes in him through his paintings in particular. I was honestly shocked he had allowed me into his art studio and what he called his “sanctuary”. They seemed like very personal spaces, and he gave me free reign to look through them. It was clear that he trusted me, which meant so much to me. 

What I did not expect was to find that he played the guitar. I shocked myself when I moved to share that part of me with him. Alec hadn’t even really seen it. That was a part of me that I locked away after my dad passed, mostly because it just brought up too many memories. They were happy ones, but hard to think about just the same because I didn’t have him here to play and sing with anymore. 

It felt good to pick up that guitar. It felt even better when Dieter did the same and started playing. I didn’t hesitate to join in on the song, singing along as he played. Then eventually joining in on playing too. I was almost dumbfounded when he started singing. Was there anything that beautiful man couldn’t do? He sounded amazing. His voice was smooth like honey, so raw and expressive. I was completely mesmerized by him, staring into his soulful eyes as he belted out a verse. I could feel his voice vibrating throughout my entire body as we connected in a way I had never connected with anyone else. It was this moment that had me reevaluating my entire life. It felt like there was something between us that I couldn’t begin to describe or understand. Then the spell was broken, and he suddenly seemed distant - mentioning how late it was.

I brushed away those new feelings at that point, telling myself that it was nothing. Yet, I found myself feeling oddly protective and jealous when Anika of all people asked him to go out after the show. It wasn’t so much the protectiveness that surprised me, but the jealousy. I realized at that point that this was becoming a problem because I had no right to feel that way. I was technically still with Alec and Dieter was not mine. I got all in my head about it after that, reasoning with myself that it had more to do with protecting his sobriety than anything, but now I’m starting to realize that may not be the case. I care about him, deeply. 

Since the beginning, we had a natural chemistry when dancing together. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced with a partner, including when Alec and I first got together. At the time, I didn’t think it could get any better than that. But with Dieter, it was something else entirely. I couldn’t explain or understand it. Every week it had only gotten more intense, and it didn’t show any signs of slowing. I couldn’t ignore it anymore or deny how it was making me feel. 

It had been obvious to me that I found Dieter to be physically attractive, but it was quickly turning into so much more than that. Every trait that I found lacking in Alec, be it personality wise or emotionally, Dieter had. He was quickly helping me realize what I wanted and what I needed to be happy, and he gave it all so willingly that it was hard not to fall for him. Is that what this was, me falling for him?

I think part of me had known all along, but I was too afraid to admit it. I found myself wondering if he was feeling it too. Surely his subtle flirting wasn’t all in my head. Not that any of it mattered, I still had Alec and I had committed to giving him one last chance. So, there was no reason to even be thinking about any of this. 

I glanced over at the clock, I had been laying here for an hour with my mind swirling with questions and analyzing every interaction Dieter and I ever had. I really needed to get to sleep. I checked my phone one last time, still no response. I sighed, then closed my eyes, finally dozing off. My last thought was of Dieter, hoping he was ok.   

 Dieter’s POV

When I woke up on Tuesday, I felt like shit after having stayed up half the night painting away my feelings. It was the first time I had painted since training had started for the show. It felt good, even though I really needed sleep. I wasn’t even sure what I was painting until an hour into it. Staring at the curves in brilliant red and light bronze tones surrounded by meshed shades of dark blues, pinks, purples, and white, I realized it was Kat that I was looking at. A view of her from behind, wearing that red dress as she danced with her arms raised. Of course it was. I had declared her to be my new muse after all. Her curves and the way her hips moved had been haunting my thoughts since day one. It was only a matter of time before images like this started pouring out of me onto the canvas. I was honestly shocked it had taken this long. 

The paint slowly transitioned from an abstract mesh of colors to a more realistic dreamy appearance as the image solidified in my mind. It wasn’t my usual style, but I didn’t hate it. I was about to start adding in the finer details when I realized how late it was. I called it a night and made it to bed around 2 AM, but it still took me another hour to fall asleep. The 7 AM alarm was quickly approaching, which only made me more anxious in my attempts to doze off and exacerbated the sleeplessness. Once Zee curled up at my side, her soft purrs and comforting presence eventually eased me into an unrestful slumber.

When the alarm did finally go off, I awoke feeling groggy and discontent. My emotions were all over the place, creating the urge to talk to someone about it before I spiraled into darkness. I could feel those old cravings lingering in the back of my mind, waiting for me to slip up. So, I pulled up Dr. Smith’s contact information and typed out a quick message asking if I could see her sometime today, preferably this morning. My weekly meeting was already scheduled with her for the following day, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to see her today. Sensing my urgency, she was able to schedule me for 10:30 AM, which meant I would have to skip out on my early lunch with Kat. It was probably for the best because I wasn’t sure if I could handle being alone with her and still carry a conversation without turning into a sulking puddle. At least during rehearsals, I would have the dancing to focus on rather than her and how she was still with that asshole. 

I spent a few minutes cuddling Zee, listening to her purrs and quiet mewls of appreciation for the scratches I gave her. With a loud huff, I finally drug myself out of bed and headed for the shower to get ready for our weekly production meeting. I was in no mood for Stacia and Joe’s bullshit this morning. I stood under the hot stream, silently hoping they would keep things professional for once. If they started pushing their “romantic relationship” agenda again, there was a good chance I may snap. I couldn’t handle it today.  

I didn’t even bother to dress nice like I normally would. Really, what was the point? I was going to rehearsals after the meeting anyway. I opted for black sweatpants, a fitted gray t-shirt, hat, and glasses instead of contacts. At least this casual look wasn’t ratty looking with holes and stains for once. It was more on the stylish sportswear side than anything. 

Once I was dressed, I quickly made Zee’s breakfast, grabbed my gym bag, then headed out the door toward Television City Studios. I stopped on the way for my usual cup of coffee. I second guessed getting Kat’s usual order, silently berating myself for acting like a lovesick puppy as I waited in line. As I exited the building with two to-go cups in hand, I noticed paparazzi hanging around and snapping pictures. It’s too fucking early for this shit. Why are they even here? I sighed, trying my best to ignore them as I walked the short distance to my vehicle. 

Minutes later, I entered the lobby of my destination. My eyes immediately scanned the room to find Kat. I didn’t see her. My shoulders dropped at the realization that she wasn’t here yet. She was always early. My mind jumped to the memory of Alec asking Kat to let him come home with her, so he could “show her how sorry” he was. My stomach turned. I felt sick all over again as I moved to sit in one of the cushy chairs and sat the two coffees down on the nearby end table. 

After looking around the room for a few minutes, I pulled out my phone to scroll through Instagram. Several posts from the Dieter and Kat hashtag filled my feed that included pictures and videos from the Latin club. I knew how it felt when we were dancing that night, but I hadn’t considered how it looked. It did not look like two friends hanging out and having fun. Instead, it looked like two people eye-fucking each other while getting a little too up close and personal on the dance floor. Did we always look like that? Is this what Alec saw that had him so angry? I could see why he was upset, but that still didn’t give him any right to treat Kat the way he did.

My scrolling was interrupted by Kat breathlessly rushing in like she was running late. I glanced at the time, our meeting wasn’t scheduled to start for another ten minutes. She sank down in the seat beside me as she blew air out through her cheeks. 

I raised an eyebrow in her direction, “Everything OK?” I asked. 

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah…I just feel frazzled this morning. I overslept and it went downhill from there.”

“Long night?” I bit the inside of my cheek, already regretting my question. 

She sighed, “Not really. I mean, I had to put up with Alec and his snoring, but I also just couldn’t sleep. I had a lot on my mind.” 

I realized she was avoiding my gaze. Her eyes were looking everywhere but in my direction. I leaned forward in my seat, into her line of sight. Her brow furrowed as she looked me over.

“Whatta bout you, are you ok? I was worried after you left last night. What happened?” 

I shrugged. Now it was my turn to avoid her gaze, “I just wasn’t feeling well. I guess it finally hit me after the adrenaline rush wore off.”

She pursed her lips, “Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or texts? I was half tempted to drive over to your place to check on you. Are you sure you’re good?”

Wait. Does she think I relapsed? “I’m sorry, my phone was on silent. I didn’t see your messages until late. I didn’t wanna wake you. I’m fine. I promise. I was just feeling a little nauseous.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at me for a beat, “You look tired, did you get any rest?” 

The way she was looking at me literally took my breath away. All I could manage was a shake of the head before clearing my throat and reaching for her coffee on the table beside me. I needed to change the subject, “I got you some coffee. Sounds like we both need it.” 

She took it from me as she mumbled a quiet “thanks”. Her eyes focused on the cup in her hands for a time. Her brows knitted together, indicating she was deep in thought. I hated seeing her like this. She seemed conflicted or frustrated about something. I sat back in my seat and sighed, propping my chin on my hand and staring out a nearby window. I could sense a weird tension between us now and I hated it. Or was that all in my head? I wasn’t sure. 

When I turned back toward Kat, she was staring at me. Her lips were slightly pursed, and her brow arched as her eyes took me in.

My brows drew downward as I gave her a nervous smile, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A smile tugged at her lips, “I’ve never seen you in glasses or a hat. It’s just different…”

My brows now shot up into my hairline, “Is that bad? I know I look like a slob this morning…” 

She shook her head, “No…it’s not bad at all. I actually like the glasses. I prefer the soft and wavy hair look, but I could get behind the hat too. It's growing on me.”

My face heated from her words. I couldn’t tell if she was teasing me or hitting on me. As I gave her a look of what I’m sure was confusion, we were interrupted by a production assistant letting us know Stacia and Joe were ready for us in the conference room.

Stacia and Joe greeted us from their seats behind the large table with their usual sneaky smiles. It never failed to amaze me how they always looked like they were up to something. Once we got through the pleasantries, Joe got down to business, a sly smirk still on his face.

“Since you two are one the favorites this season, we wanted to check in with you about your social media posting. We’d like to see you posting more behind the scenes stuff to create some buzz for the show.” 

I snorted, “So, you want free promotion? Is that what you’re saying?”  

Kat sighed beside me and sunk down in her seat. 

Stacia smiled, “Didn’t you read your contract? You’re obligated to do certain promotional activities. Social media posts are one of them.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, but we’ve made a couple of posts. I’m pretty sure the contract doesn’t say how much or what type of stuff we have to post.” 

Stacia’s smile widened, “You’re right. It doesn’t give specifics. It says it’s at the discretion of the executive producers. Consider this to be our discretion. We want more posts from you two…from rehearsals or if you happen to be hanging out for lunch…or whatever, just snap a pic and post it. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” 

I glanced over at Kat, her nostrils flared as a crease formed between her brows. It was obvious to both of us. They were still pushing their agenda, though they were being less obvious with their intentions. They knew all they had to do was create the perception that something was going on between us. Even if it was a subtle one, it would still have the intended effect with viewers. 

I could feel the anger rolling off Kat, but she stayed quiet beside me. They had us backed into a corner on this one. 

I sighed, “Alright, fine. More social media posts. Got it.” 

They both smiled smugly at us, having won that argument. Joe tapped on the table, “Alright. Good. So…the next thing is, we’re gonna start shooting some backstage footage during the live show going forward. It will help fill some of the airtime as couples are voted off. We just wanted to give you a heads up on that because there will be cameras in the staging area and maybe even in hair and makeup too.” 

My mind briefly drifted back to how Kat and I had stood together with our arms around each other to watch the other performances during the last show. Then there was our pre-performance ritual too. Stacia and Joe had noticed it, I just knew it. They wanted to get it on camera for the world to see because it played into their agenda. I suddenly felt like there wasn’t anything that we could do that couldn’t be twisted to look how they wanted it to. It was frustrating and pissed me off. We couldn’t even just enjoy our time together and be friends without it being twisted into something else. 

Neither Kat nor I said anything in response to this new development, but I could sense she was feeling the same as I was about it. Her tense body language told me everything I needed to know. Once Stacia realized we didn’t have any comments on that, she started shuffling through her binder, for I assume, the mockups of our costumes. 

“This week we’re doing a 50’s theme…so all of the music and costumes will be inspired by that time period.”

She slid the drawings over to us. They had Kat in some short black high-waisted shorts, a black and white striped shirt, and a 50’s pin-up model hair style. Mine was the typical white t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket of that era with slicked back hair. 

“We have you guys scheduled to do the Jive to Jailhouse Rock. Do you have any objections?”

Kat again didn’t say anything, she just shook her head. I did the same as I slid the mockups back toward Stacia. 

Not much more was said between us after that. Kat and I soon found ourselves exiting toward the lobby. We were silent most of the way. She finally turned to me when it seemed we were away from everyone, “Do they think we’re that fucking stupid? I know what they’re trying to do.” 

I shrugged, “Yeah, but it is what it is, I guess. Not much we can do about it. They’re gonna do what they do.” 

I hated what they were doing as much as her, but honestly, it wasn’t the thing that was really bothering me at that moment. Seeing Kat so angry about being associated with me romantically felt like another punch to the gut, even though it shouldn’t. She was engaged to someone else for fucks sake. She should be upset about it. It wasn’t like anything had actually changed between us. I was just being delusional. 

I watched as Kat sighed and ran her hand through the top of her hair out of frustration, “I don’t understand why they can’t just let things happen naturally and stop forcing this shit. It’s not fair to us.” 

What the hell does that mean? I stared at her, unblinking and confused by her words. Her eyes widened slightly, “I just mean, they shouldn’t force cast members into situations is all I’m saying. It’s an asshole move.” 

I nodded along, agreeing with her half-heartedly. I felt so confused. 

She chewed on her cheek for a beat, then shook her head, dismissing the conversation all together. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. It’s not worth our energy to worry about it…” She paused, then sighed before continuing, “So, where do you wanna go for lunch today? There’s a diner…”

I held up my hand to stop her, “I’m sorry…I can’t have lunch with you today.” 

Confusion clouded her features and she looked almost…disappointed? She frowned, “Why not?” 

“I-I…have an appointment with my therapist.” I paused, watching the look on her face change to one of concern. I suddenly felt like I needed an explanation. “It was the only time our schedules lined up this week…I go once a week.” Stop fucking rambling, Bravo. She seemed relieved now that she knew it was a routine visit, even though it really wasn’t.  

“Oh…you didn’t have to tell me all that. It’s good to hear your going though.” 

I forced a smile, “Yeah…so I’ll see you after that. I may be a few minutes late though…because of traffic.” 

She nodded, “That’s fine. No big deal. You want me to pick you up some lunch then?”

I shook my head, “Na, I’m good. Thanks for the offer though.”

The way she was looking at me made me feel almost uneasy. I felt like she could see right through me, like she knew what was going through my head. I’m sure it was just my paranoia about her realizing my feelings toward her, but that thought didn’t make it any better. 

I looked down at my watch, “Oh shit, I need to go. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” She gave me a small smile as we said a quick goodbye.

A short time later, I sat down in a chair in front of Dr. Smith as she asked what was going on. I was fidgety, rubbing the tops of my thighs nervously as I thought of the best way to explain it all. I thought it best to start with the events from last week, filling her in about how Kat and I had gone to the club then the subsequent incident that took place with Alec after. She listened intently as I explained how I had been worried about Kat’s safety and what an asshat Alec is. I paused for a beat, trying to decide on the best way to explain everything after that when she interrupted my thoughts with an unexpected question. 

“Did seeing that bring up any feelings or memories related to your parents? Is that why you’re so upset?” 

Honestly, my past family drama hadn’t even crossed my mind. I shook my head, “No…I mean I guess it did in that I know what those types of people are like. It makes me worried for her safety.” 

Dr. Smith stared at me, she looked confused. 

“I’m in love with her,” I blurted out. No sense in sugar coating it at this point. 

Her eyes widened, “Well…that escalated quickly.” 

I shook my head, “No, not really. I’ve had feelings from day one. I only just realized what it was yesterday when she agreed to give that asshole another chance. After our time together last week, I really thought she would tell him to fuck off.” 

“Your time together? What do you mean?”

I realized I hadn’t gotten to that part yet, so I launched into it. Detailing our trip to the pet store, the facetime call, dinner at my place. The vibes between us and how it was making me feel. All of it. 

“I know a relationship isn’t the best idea right now because I need to focus on my sobriety, but I swear this is different. It’s not an urge for a casual hookup…like…I want to be with her, and I don’t mean that in a sexual way. I want all the mundane domesticated stuff too.” 

Dr. Smith sighed, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course!”

She leaned forward, “I had a feeling this was coming. I’m a fan of the show, so yes, I’ve been watching. It’s obvious you two have chemistry. That’s why I keep asking about her. The fact that you were avoiding the topic told me that something was going on inside that brain of yours.”

Damn, I knew that would come back to bite me. 

“I am a little shocked to hear all of this has been going on. Her situation is concerning, but she’ll have to make the decision to leave on her own. The best you can do is continue to offer her support and hope she comes around.”

I started rubbing at the back of my neck, “But what am I supposed to do about how I feel? I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and the whole situation is giving me anxiety. I think I almost had a panic attack last night.”

Dr. Smith clasped her hands under her chin as she thought through her next words, “I’m torn about how to approach this…because I do worry about codependency. Especially if she’s currently in an unhealthy relationship and has been for that long. It could cause some unhealthy habits between the two of you.”

I shook my head, “No. It’s not like that with her. I’m confident that’s not an issue. I mean…we tend to look out for each other, and she would totally call me out on my shit. Everything is different with her. I don’t know how to explain it…Her dad was sober after struggling for a while, so she gets what I’m going through with that. She’s been very supportive.”

Dr. Smith nodded and pursed her lips as she took in my words, “Maybe you should tell her how you’re feeling.”

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like it wouldn’t completely change everything between Kat and me. 

“What if she doesn’t feel the same way though? It will completely ruin our friendship. And…I don’t want to put her in that situation. She’s engaged to someone else…remember?”

She sighed, “Dieter, I’m not really sure what you came here looking for. I can’t tell you what to do about the situation. The only thing I can help you do is to work through your feelings. It’s clear you have strong feelings toward her. My main concern is you and if it’s causing an urge to use again.” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “I mean…I had a brief moment this morning where I thought it would be nice to be numb to it all. That was the main thing that prompted me to come in. I just wanted to talk it out with someone. It was the first time I’ve had that thought in weeks…I’m just a fucking pansy who can’t handle any kind of feelings.”

She gave me an admonishing look, not approving of my negativity toward myself. 

“Sorry…but it’s just facts.” I added.

“Dieter, you are perfectly capable of handling it. You just need to learn how. You’ve made so much progress already…I hope you realize that. I would expect you to have a hard time with something like this. It’s new and different. So, don’t be so hard on yourself. This is all part of the human experience and completely normal emotions to be having.”

I nodded. She wasn’t wrong. I had come a long way from where I had been. The old Dieter probably would have relapsed and never even made it to the first rehearsal. Or if he had made it this far, he would have completely gone on a bender last night without a second thought. I did need to give myself some credit. 

I sighed, “You’re right. I have made progress. I’ll do better to think more positively about myself in that respect.” 

She smiled, “Good. Now, how do you plan to deal with this going forward? I can talk you through that.” 

I shrugged, “I guess…I’ll play it by ear and see what happens? Nothing has really changed. I’m just not really sure how to act around her. I don’t feel like I can be as open with her knowing she’s back with that douche bag. I think I just got my hopes up…ya know what I mean?”

Dr. Smith nodded, “I feel like that’s a good way to deal with it. It sounds like you two do have a good friendship, so try not to let this come between you as far as that goes. I do think she’s been good for you in that sense and as long as you’re managing your expectations you can handle it. For now, just focus on being a supportive friend to her. Maybe that will eventually pay off.” 

My time with Dr. Smith was up soon after that. I did feel a little better after having talked it through with someone. It made me feel a little less crazy for the reaction I had - to know that it was actually normal emotions that I was experiencing. At least I had a plan with how to go forward. I just hoped I could stick to it without making an ass of myself or causing issues for Kat. 

After leaving my appointment, I stopped for some fast food and ate in the parking lot. My mind kept wandering to Kat no matter how hard I tried to focus on other things. The thought of her going home with Alec the previous night was eating away at me. They had clearly spent the night together. It was making me feel sick all over again. I ended up trashing half of my greasy ass food before heading over to the studio to get started on this week’s routine. 

Kat had already started working on the routine while she waited for me to arrive. She didn’t make a big deal out of my appointment, which I appreciated. Only asking if I was feeling ok. Somehow, I got the sense that she knew I was completely full of shit about why I suddenly had therapy this morning. I just hoped she hadn’t figured out the reasons for it. 

We started the way we always did, by listening to our music arrangement and discussing what we wanted to convey with our performance. Then Kat moved into teaching me the basics of the dance since it was new.

“So, the Jive is a little different and is one of the more difficult dances because of the quick footwork. In ballroom it’s considered to be a Latin style dance, however, it’s also part of the swing dance family too. It’s known for its upbeat energy and requires high knee lifts and a lot of hip swinging. It’s gonna be a real test of your stamina.”

I raised a brow at her, and she chuckled. Seriously? I was tempted to make a joke but refrained.

“So, we’re gonna be using both open and closed positions for it. We’ll be doing a triple step with downward leg movements. You have to be sort of bouncy with it. On the finish, legs should be straight with an upright posture.”

She did her usual demonstration as she explained it. She wasn’t wrong, it did look a little more complicated. Even more so when she did it at the speed in which the dance required. It took me a bit to get the footwork down, but I finally caught on. We spent the rest of the afternoon planning out the routine, though I wasn't very engaged. I was unusually quiet and unable to focus on anything other than Kat being with that asshole. From the way she kept eyeing me, I knew she could tell something was up. I hoped that she wouldn’t ask, because I couldn’t lie to her if she asked point blank. Thankfully she didn’t. 

The hours seemed to pass by quickly once we finally got into a groove. My sour mood didn’t abate, but at least I was able to focus on the task at hand. Once our studio time was up, I said a quick goodbye to Kat and moved to leave, instead of waiting around to walk out with her. She didn’t give me a chance to get out the door before calling out to me. I took a deep breath before turning to face her as she approached and placed her hand on my arm. 

“I’m not gonna ask how you’re feeling again…but if you need anything…please call me. I don’t care what time it is. OK?”

The worry in her eyes nearly broke me. It was obvious that she truly cared about me. I would never question that. I felt a lump forming in my throat as I considered telling her everything, just so she wouldn’t worry. I looked away, clearing my throat before speaking. 

“I promise, I’m good. I’m just…working through some things.”

She nodded, the sad look still in her eyes as she released my arm. I gave her a small smile and pulled her in for a side hug. I couldn’t leave her looking like that. It seemed to do the trick as she appeared more relaxed when I pulled away. After another quick goodbye, I headed out and went home.

After having leftovers for dinner, I spent some time checking in with my plants. As I was painting the previous night, I noticed that Goldie, one of my large hanging Pothos plants, was looking a little withered. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually watered her. I had moved her to the art studio away from Zee and sort of forgot about her hanging in the corner. Realizing that I had potentially neglected the viny greenery made me feel like shit. After providing just the right amount of hydration from my rainwater collection barrel, I spent a good hour clipping back the stems and gently dusting each of her leaves. It made me feel better to watch her perk up before my eyes. It also helped me relax and gain a little mental clarity about everything. 

As I had said to Dr. Smith, nothing had really changed about our situation. Kat had never split from Alec. Therefore, there was no reason to try and patch up the wall that was slowly being chipped away between us. There was nothing wrong with us getting closer as friends. Though, I did have to weigh any emotional trauma that might come with that. However, I reasoned it was worth it if that meant keeping Kat in my life long term. Even if it was only as friends.  

After checking in with the rest of the plants in the art studio, I got ready to go to sleep. Zee was already in bed waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. It had become sort of a nighttime ritual to have some cuddles before we both zonked out. 

Since I had met with Dr. Smith a day earlier, we canceled my Wednesday appointment. That meant I had the entire morning to do nothing until our evening rehearsal time. I took advantage of it and did not set an alarm - allowing myself to sleep in for once. Not that I got to sleep in too much later. Zee was on a schedule that she would not let me forget. It was nearing 9AM when I felt her pounce on top of me and meow loudly in my face. Which was just as good because I was almost positive I was having a dream I shouldn’t have been having about Kat. My morning wood corroborated that thought. 

After groaning and grumbling loudly, I finally got out of bed and made my way downstairs to make Zee’s breakfast. Once she was finished, she hopped up on her cat tree and indulged in her favorite pastime, bird watching. I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I passed by her to go back to bed. After settling back in, I grabbed my phone for some morning social media scrolling. 

Since following the ‘Dieter and Kat’ hashtag, my feed was now populating more and more posts related to us. I ended up going down another rabbit hole, looking at videos of our past two performances and behind the scenes rehearsal clips for the first time. There was no question about it, the chemistry between us was off the charts from the start, and not just while we were dancing. I almost didn’t recognize myself watching the way I interacted with her during the rehearsal clip from last week. I figured this is what people mean when they say you have hearts in your eyes. I looked like a lovesick fool. 

I sighed, “Fucking hell, Bravo. You’re down bad, dude.” 

I let last week's rehearsal clip play again, this time focusing on Kat. It was different seeing things from an outsider’s perspective. Seeing it like this made it obvious that Kat had the same energy toward me. I knew she wasn’t like this with other people, not even with Alec. The way she looked at me sometimes when we were dancing hadn’t gone unnoticed by me. However, to see her body language and the way she looked at me when I wasn’t paying attention was a whole other can of worms. I watched her watching me while I was focused on my foot work. Her eyes were sparkling as they roamed up and down my body, a small smirk playing on her lips. Then she would move in to correct my posture, pushing between my shoulder blades or change the positioning of my arms. Most would probably assume she was just minding my form, but some of her touches were lingering and even unnecessary given that she could provide verbal corrections. 

Seeing this made me realize that Kat was definitely into me. It’s no wonder Alec was so worried. The sparks were there for the world to see even though we were doing our best to keep them from turning into blazing flames. It felt almost inevitable at this point. A part of me felt pretty damn smug about it. The other part made me even more concerned that Alec would do something incredibly stupid. My only hope was that he would have a major fuck up and make Kat realize she needed to dump his ass before anything bad happened to her. 

I continued down my rabbit hole, clicking hashtags for the show to see where they led me. I eventually came to a post with the hashtag ‘Dieterina’. I snorted, busting into laughter over it. We officially had one of those cheesy celebrity couple names. Kat was going to love that. I briefly wondered what she would do if I used it on a post but thought better of it. For now, anyway…

My scrolling activities were briefly interrupted by Zee jumping on the bed and rubbing her face against my hands for pets, nearly knocking the phone out of my grasp. Once I got her situated beside me, I continued scratching her with one hand and scrolling with the other. Her soft purrs filled the silence as I dug further into the ‘Dieterina’ posts. It seemed we had a lot of shippers who enjoyed sharing screenshots of our performances. Shots that were timed just right to look as intimate as possible. I had to admit, we looked amazing together. I now understand why Stacia and Joe were all over it too. It seemed to be a big fucking deal, even with us trying to avoid it. 

I sighed and dropped my phone on the bed beside me, turning to Zee to cuddle her fully. 

“There’s something there, Zee. I fucking know it. I’m just gonna bide my time and wait for that asshole to fuck up again. I know he will. He can’t help himself. When he does, I’m gonna be there for her…and I’ll tell her how I’m feeling when the time's right. For now…I’m just gonna go off her vibes, like I have been.” 

Zee nuzzled into my chin, mewling quietly in response. Her presence helped calm me. It was almost like she knew that I needed it. I was suddenly thankful that this little menace had forced her way into my life. Having her here was a huge positive impact on me mentally. I wondered if she knew? If she could sense it? Is that why she wouldn’t leave? I pondered that thought as I dozed off again.

I woke up a little after noon, shocked at how well I had slept after falling back to sleep. I felt refreshed and ready to deal with whatever the rest of the day brought. After taking a quick shower and throwing on shorts and a t-shirt, I headed to the dance studio for our afternoon rehearsal time. I was surprised to find Alec in our studio space when I entered. It looked like they were just finishing up with a late lunch. I gave Kat a small wave and tight smile as I moved to the empty chairs at the opposite end from where they were. She looked guarded as she returned the wave, her eyes following me as I moved to set my gym bag down. I was completely aware of Alec’s gaze as his eyes shifted between Kat and me with a self-satisfied look on his face. 

I tried to busy myself with looking for nothing in my bag while they told each other goodbye. I just happened to glance over as Alec leaned in to kiss Kat on the cheek. A cocky look overtook his features as he stared me down through it. Like he was asserting his ownership over her and rubbing it in. Fucking asshole. Kat on the other hand seemed tense, not really leaning into his embrace. Why is she doing this to herself? I don’t understand.

Alec made sure to announce rather loudly that he would see her later this evening. He wanted to make sure I heard. Clearly his attitude hadn’t changed any. Kat watched him leave with a stony face before turning to me and smiling. It was so easy for me to tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. I could read her so well.

I gave her a half-hearted smile in return. I couldn’t fake it like she could. Her smile faltered, she could read me too. 

“Dieter…have I done something to make you mad at me? I just feel like you’ve been a little closed off toward me the last couple of days.” 

I sighed, “Mad…no. I could never be mad at you.” 

Her brow furrowed, “There is something though, right? What is it?”

I gave her another tight smile, “You really wanna talk about this right now? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.” 

She shook her head, “No, I wanna hear it. Say what you have to.” 

I blew air out through my cheeks, “Fine. I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” 

Anger briefly flashed in her eyes, “Why?”

I scoffed, “You really have to ask? That asshole physically assaulted you and treats you like shit. I’ve had people like that in my life and I know what they’re capable of. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to get hurt…because believe it or not, I do actually care about your well being.” 

Her eyes widened as she placed her hands on her hips, “Is that the only reason?”

What exactly is she asking me? The question took me by surprise, and I didn’t really know how to answer it. No, it’s not, but I can’t say that. I stared at her wide-eyed, “D-Do I really need another reason? Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I have to like him or approve of it. You’re my only concern in this. He can fuck off.”

Her face softened, she looked conflicted for a moment before finally responding, “I’m sorry, you’re right. You have every reason to feel that way after what you saw. I think I’m taking my frustrations out on you, and I shouldn’t.”

She rubbed her hand through the top of her hair, a nervous habit of hers I noticed. 

“Do you regret your decision?” The question was out of my mouth before I had time to consider it. 

A sad smile tugged at her lips, “Am I that transparent?”

“To me you are…Why did you do it?” 

She chuckled, “Oh…you know me, I believe people can change when given the chance. I’m tired though…all I do is worry and wonder what’s coming next. I think I’m just starting to realize that’s never gonna go away with him…but, I promised him one more chance and I’ll stand by it.” 

“Just promise me you won’t let it get bad…that you'll tell me if you need anything.” 

She reached up to cup my cheek and smiled. This time it reached her eyes, “You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad.”

I couldn’t help leaning into her touch for a brief moment. I felt like there was more she wanted to say but couldn’t. I reached to grab her hand from my face and held it between both of mine, “You deserve the world. You shouldn’t be punished for his shortcomings.”

She nodded, agreeing with my words. The moment felt a little too intimate. She chuckled suddenly, turning away and mock wiping sweat from her brow, “Whew, did we just have our first argument? I don’t like it. Let’s never do that again.” 

I laughed loudly and pulled her in for a side hug, burying my face in the top of her hair as I spoke, “I think it was more like a mild disagreement…and I don’t like it either. I’ve missed you.”

I felt her arms snake around my waist and squeeze gently. We sat like that for a beat too long, causing the tension to return between us. She loosened her grip but didn’t let go of me as she raised her head to meet my gaze, “We should probably actually rehearse at some point today.” I chuckled and nodded in agreement. 

We got to work after that. The vibes between us quickly shifted back to where they were before. I was right, nothing had changed. We had picked up where we left off. Although, it did appear that a few more chips had fallen from the imaginary wall that separated us. 

This rehearsal turned out to be rather productive even though we had a bumpy start. We had the choreography completely figured out by the end of it. The routine was fun and full of energy. Kat kept joking about putting my loose hips to good use and opening with some of the signature Elvis gyrations. I finally gave in. It sent us into a fit of laughter as she showed me how to do it properly. That was how we ended the day, and I was thankful for it. I had missed hearing her laugh like that so damn much. You’d have thought it had been years instead of a couple of days since I heard it last. 

As we were gathering our things to leave, Kat paused and turned to me. “What are your plans for dinner?”

I shrugged, “Probably leftovers, why?”

She rolled her eyes, “Well if it’s leftovers you cooked, it’s probably better than what I was about to suggest.”

I gave her a cocky smirk, “Maybe not. What did ya have in mind?”

She returned my smile, “There’s this little mom and pop diner about ten minutes away that I’ve been wanting to try. It’s Greek, but they have typical diner foods too.”

I rubbed my chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “I GUESS I could give it a try…” I said sarcastically. Kat laughed and shoved my shoulder lightly. 

“Jerk.” 

I cleared my throat, “Is that really a good idea though? I don’t want Alec to get pissed about it.” 

She sighed, “He can get mad if he wants. I’ve already told him to get over it. Again, I’m not doing anything with you that I haven’t done with my past dance partners.”

I gave her a cheesy smile, “Yeah, but none of your past dance partners were hot.” 

She snorted, “Valid point. Let’s go hot guy, I’m starving.”

Does that mean she thinks I’m hot? Her response shocked me a little. I expected a snarky come back, not that. I followed behind her toward the parking lot in a daze, opening the doors for her as we went. I ended up following her to the diner since I had no idea where we were going. We were parked outside the place within minutes. She gave me a shy smile after she got out of her car, walking over toward me so we could go inside together. 

We were seated across from each other in a booth near one of the front windows, thumbing through the menu in silence and stealing glances at each other. She pursed her lips, fighting a smile when I caught her staring over the top of her menu at me. 

“So, what are ya gettin?” she finally asked. 

“Hmm, I dunno, this place has a little bit of everything. The pasta is looking pretty good.”

“Would you like an appetizer? I kind of wanna try the Spanakopita, but that looks like a lot.”

I chuckled, “I don’t even know what the hell that is…” 

She laughed, “It’s like a Greek spinach pie in a flaky pastry crust. It’s really good with tzatziki sauce…usually.” 

I wrinkled my nose, “Spinach pie?” 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds…my grandma used to make it all the time.” She had a faraway look in her eyes now, seeing some past memory as a sad smile tugged at her lips. It obviously meant something to her. 

“Well, then…we have to try it.”

Her eyes lit up, “Really?” I nodded. Then she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh. My. God. They have baklava too! I’m gonna feel miserable when I leave here.”

I snorted out a laugh, eventually managing to ask what baklava was. 

“It’s a dessert…like a pastry, I guess? Smothered in honey.” 

“Mmm, that sounds good actually. You’re right, I think I’m gonna be miserable too.” 

She smiled up at me then, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Now that I know you like Greek food so much, I’ll have to learn to cook some stuff for you.”  Oof, that might have been too forward. 

Her smile widened. Maybe not.

“Dieter Bravo, I told you, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

I chuckled, “I told you I’d cook for you anytime and I enjoy learning new dishes. Besides, I’d love to have you back over. Zee says she needs some more girl time anyway.”

Kat squinted at me, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle, but was interrupted by the waitress coming to take our order. After I asked several questions to narrow down my choice, I settled on the Pastitsio pasta bake and Kat got a Gyro with lamb. Of course, we also got the Spanakopita to share for an appetizer. 

As we sat waiting, Kat was distracted by something outside. She stared for a moment before mumbling a low “fuck” under her breath.

My brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

She huffed, “I think there are some paparazzi across the street.” 

I turned to look in the direction she had been. Sure enough, there were three standing there using long lenses. 

It was my turn to huff, “What the hell? They aren’t usually hanging out at a place like this.”

“You think they followed us from the studio?” 

I scratched at my chin, “Had to…How else would they know to come here?”

She sighed, “I really hope this doesn’t become a thing. It’s so fucking annoying… can’t even eat in peace.” 

I gave her a tight smile, “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s because of me. They’re just dying to catch me doing something the old Dieter would have done…waiting for me to fail.” 

I felt her leg nudge against mine under the table, she didn’t pull it away. It made it hard to focus on anything else but the heat of our bare calves touching. 

“Hey, you’re not that person anymore, so fuck them. Just ignore it.” 

I managed a small smile in response before we were interrupted by the waitress bringing our drinks and various condiments. I turned my attention to the waitress, “I don’t want to be a bother, but can we close the shade?”

The woman gave me a puzzled look. “There are paparazzi out there taking pictures.” I added. 

Her eyes widened, perhaps realizing who we were for the first time. “Absolutely, I can. Would you rather move to a booth in the back? We have one that’s away from everything…it’s more private.” 

Kat and I both shook our heads, “Na, I think just closing the shade will be fine…thank you for the offer though.” 

She moved to the empty booth behind me so that she could reach the cord and lowered the window covering. 

“There you go. Let me know if you guys need anything else. Your food should be out soon.” 

She gave us both a warm smile as she walked toward the back. 

I shook my head, “Now, let’s see if a sneaky pic of us shows up on their social media later.”

Kat rolled her eyes, “Geeez, I hope not. We might as well not go anywhere at that rate.” 

I gave her a toothy smile, “All the more reason for me to cook for us instead.”

She nudged my leg again, peering up at me through her lashes in that way that always takes my breath away, “I’m holding you to that.”

I narrowed my eyes and gave her a cocky grin. The look that passed between us was…something else. I’m not even sure how to describe it, but it definitely made my dick twitch. I finally cleared my throat to break whatever was happening between us, then reached to take a drink of my water just to have something to do so that I wouldn’t get lost in her eyes. 

“Speaking of social media…” I finally said as I sat my glass back down. “Have you been paying attention to anything related to the show on there?”

Her eyebrows arched as she shook her head, “No, I try not to get on there too much. Why?”

I chuckled, “Well, we officially have a hashtag now.”

A crease formed between her brows, “What? What do you mean?” 

I had to work to hold in my laugh, “You know, those cheesy celebrity couple names? We have one now.”

She rolled her eyes, “Seriously? You’re joking. What is it?” She moved to take a drink through her straw.

“Dieterina.” 

She nearly choked on her water as she started laughing, “You have got to be fucking kidding me? Really? Surely there’s something better than that? That’s just…no.”

I had to stifle my laugh, she had the exact reaction that I expected from her. 

“I dunno, I mean there are only so many combinations you can do with our names. Kieter? Is it first names only? If not…then Bravos? Stamo? Bramos?” 

Kat was trying to hold in her laughs now, “OK. OK. They’re all cheesy. There’s no win here. I can’t…” She continued to laugh as she tried to catch her breath. It was a glorious sight. 

“I think imma start using that on our Instagram posts…just to be a punk.” 

She shook her head and threw a napkin at my face, “You will not. You might go missing over that one.” 

Our appetizer came out soon after that. Kat wasted no time digging in, groaning at the taste of it, and getting little Bravo’s attention in the process, like always. At this rate, I had a feeling that was an issue I would have to take care of when I got home later. I must have been gawking at her like a perv because she froze as her eyes widened. She moved to cover her full mouth with her hand as she spoke, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I tried to play it off, laughing slightly and shaking my head. “No reason…just watching you make a fool of yourself. I take it that it’s good?” 

She shoved what was left of her half eaten spinach and cheese filled triangular shaped piece toward my mouth, “Yes. Try it. Now.” 

I laughed, “Geez, so bossy.” I didn’t think twice about what I was doing as I leaned forward and took a bite from the same side she had. She watched me intently, waiting on the edge of her seat for my reaction.

“Well?”

My brows arched upward, “Hmmm. Not bad.” 

She scoffed, “Not bad? Are you kidding me? I mean, it’s not as good as my Yaya's was, but it’ll do.”

She popped the rest of the piece I had bitten off of into her mouth, then gave me a cheesy smile. 

I loved her like this. She seemed so relaxed and carefree. I also loved that she was sharing bits of her life with me. It made me feel more connected to her somehow. 

“How was your Yaya’s different? Maybe I could figure out how to make it like hers.” 

Her eyes rounded, “Gosh, I don’t even know how to explain it. I can’t pick out different flavors. It was a little creamier maybe? Or had another type of cheese in it? And maybe some type of herb? I’m not sure. Maybe my sister might know…” 

“You have a sister? Older or younger?” I asked. 

“Three years older…she lives in North Carolina. I don’t get to see her much.” 

I started munching on my own triangle of spinach pie. “Does she look like you?” 

She nodded, “Very much so.” 

I gave her a sly grin as I arched a brow in her direction, “She single?” 

She scoffed, “You better be fucking joking.” 

I started laughing, “I am. One hundred percent joking.” I only want you. 

She rolled her eyes at me, not amused in the slightest as she pulled out her phone. After tapping at it and scrolling, she showed me a picture of herself hugging a girl who looked very much like her. I took a moment to look at it, mainly focusing on Kat the entire time. She looked genuinely happy in that shot. 

“So, you’re the hotter sister. Noted.” I gave her another sly grin before returning to my appetizer. 

I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look her way. I knew I was pushing the boundaries with that line. I was afraid to see how she had taken it. 

Luckily the rest of our food arrived at that moment, breaking whatever tension my comment had caused. After getting our dishes situated on the table that almost wasn’t big enough, we dug in.

“Oh. My. God. You have to try this!” Kat mumbled through a mouth full of food. She held the Gyro over to me for a bite. Clearly, my comment hadn’t bothered her too much. I leaned in for a quick nibble. 

“Damn, that is good. I’m getting that next time.”

I started cutting into my baked pasta dish and took a quick bite of the cheesy goodness. “Mmm, maybe not. That’s pretty damn good too. You wanna try it?” 

“Oh, yes please!”

I slid my plate toward her, she didn’t hesitate to pick up my fork and take a bite. I don’t know why that was such a fucking turn on, but it was. 

She leaned back in her seat, “Fuck. That’s good too. This might be my new favorite place.” 

I snickered, pulling my plate back over in front of me. “So, how come you didn’t bring Alec to try this place with you?”

She sighed, “He’s not a very adventurous eater and doesn’t really care for this kind of food. I figured you might appreciate it more.”

I was a little stunned. What an asshat. “So…let me get this right…he’s engaged to marry someone with a Greek heritage, but he doesn’t want to make an effort to experience it with you?” 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, now staring down at her food. I don’t think she had actually realized that until now. 

“It’s not something I’ve ever really pushed with him to be honest. I’m sure he would try it if I asked…maybe.” 

It was my turn to nudge her leg with mine, leaving it against hers like she had done to me earlier. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

She shook her head, “No…I mean, you’re not wrong. He’s really not. He’s not very supportive in general. That’s something I really should think on.” 

Man, fuck this guy. At least it seemed like she was beginning to see where he was lacking. Hopefully that was a good sign. 

I changed the subject after that, shifting to sharing Zee’s antics instead. That seemed to cheer her up some. That topic carried us through the rest of our meal until the waitress asked if we wanted dessert. Kat groaned, “I’m so stuffed, but I really want some baklava. You wanna split a piece?” 

It was my turn to groan, “Ugh, I guess. You may have to roll me out of here though.” 

Kat laughed before confirming our order with the waitress. After the waitress gathered all our other dishes, she left, but returned quickly with one piece of baklava and two forks on a small plate and placed it between us. I realized this sort of felt like a date. Not that I had been on many dates to compare it to, but I imagined it wasn’t far off. It was a little weird given the situation, but it still made me want this with her, for real, even more.

The dessert was good, unfortunately. Which caused Kat to resort to making her moaning noises again as she ate. When she wasn’t moaning, she was licking the fucking honey off the fork. It was a new form of torture.

As we were finishing up, the waitress brought our bill. I grabbed it off the end of the table to pay. Kat grumbled but finally relented and allowed it. Soon after that, we were getting into our respective vehicles to head home for the evening. The paparazzi were still hanging around, so we opted for a smile and wave to say goodbye. Heaven forbid we get close to each other.

The whole ride home, the evening replayed in my mind. The way she kept looking at me. The way it felt to have her leg touching mine through most of the meal. The way she looked licking that fucking fork before sticking it in her mouth. I felt my dick involuntarily twitch. 

“Fucking hell. Looks like I have something to take care of when I get home.”

Next: Week 4 (Part 2)

A/N: As you can see, this is only part 1 of week 4. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm shit at judging the length of chapters based on my outline. 😂 So, yes, you will be getting a part 2 very soon. I'm shooting for posting next week. It's basically done. I just have a little bit left for the ending and proofing...and maybe some fun edits. It will probably end up being around the same word count as this one (maybe a little less). It will also mostly be Kat's POV. Why? Because we will be getting Alec's major fuck up. There may be a little bit from Dieter at the end, we'll see how I end up wrapping it up. Once again, we have a lot going on in week 4. Dieter is going through it after finding out Kat has given Alec another chance. Are we yelling at these two to figure their shit out yet?

We of course had more nonsense from Stacia and Joe. We will get more from them in the second half too. They are pulling all sorts of strings behind the scenes.

We also had some breadcrumbs about Dieter's history. How are we feeling about that? How do you think it could have affected him? How could it affect things going forward?

We also got a little more Cat/Plant Daddy Dieter in this one. Swoon!

Please do share your thoughts and predictions for the second half. You know I love it when you guys yell at me and jump into conspiracy theory mode!

💜Mysty

The video for this chapter is a fun little Jive to Tina Turner’s Rolling On the River. Enjoy!

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[amalythea]

「 opposite 」

⤷ info: kazuha x fem!reader || angst || wc: 1014

⤷ warnings: angst. i'm taking my frustrations out. Modern au, mention of paris the city, mention of reader's eye color (not specific, it's just said that they don't have brown eyes), no actual mention of reader's gender but i felt it was more fitting to put fem reader.

⤷ extra: amalythea comeback ??? omg. based on sabrina carpenter's "opposite".

The night air was thick with the scent of rain, a faint mist clinging to the cobblestone streets outside the small café where you sat. Inside, the café buzzed with the hum of conversation, the clatter of dishes, and the occasional hiss of a steaming espresso machine. But all of it was drowned out by the rush of emotions swirling inside you as you stared at your phone, its screen dimming as if tired of being ignored.

Kazuha’s name still sat at the top of your messages, a ghost of a life that wasn’t yours anymore. The image of him—smiling so effortlessly, so genuinely—was burned into your mind. But not at you. Not for you.

When you first saw the photo, it felt like a knife twisting in your gut. You hadn’t been searching for it, hadn’t expected it, but there it was. Kazuha, the one who had once held you so close, who had whispered promises into the quiet of the night, now standing beside someone else. Her. The girl with the brown eyes, the one who looked nothing like you.

The one who was everything you weren’t.

Oh, so you do have a type?

The thought was bitter, acidic, burning your mind with its truth. Kazuha, with his quiet smiles and gentle touch, had always assured you that he didn’t have a type. That it was you he wanted, just as you were. But seeing him now, with her, made you realize how blind you had been. The truth was clear as day—he did have a type, and it wasn’t you.

You scrolled through the messages—his replies were shorter, less frequent. Conversations that once flowed like a river now felt like pulling teeth. He was distant, distracted, always somewhere else even when he was with you. You asked yourself over and over what you had done wrong, why you weren’t enough. If he had wanted anything else, you could have tried to change. You would have tried.

If you wanted brown eyes, I could have got contacts…

The thought crossed your mind unbidden. A pointless musing, but the idea of changing yourself just to fit his desires was a scar that burned. But even that wouldn’t have mattered, would it? Because even if you could change everything about yourself to match her, to become what he apparently wanted, he’d still end up with her. It wasn’t about what you could be. It was about who you weren’t.

So you’re in Paris now? Guess it’s public.

The image flashed in your mind—Kazuha with her, walking through the streets of Paris, the city of love. The thought of them there, of him sharing those moments with someone who wasn’t you, was a wound so deep it felt like you might drown in it. You could almost see the pictures, their smiles, their laughter. You knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you, but how could he not know? How could he not see how much it would destroy you?

She looks nothing like me, so why do you look so happy?

That was the part that stung the most. Seeing the light in his eyes when he was with her, the way he seemed so free, so effortlessly happy. She was everything you weren’t, everything you tried so hard to be. And yet, without even trying, she had him. She had all of him.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was happier because she wasn’t you. If she was the absence of everything he didn’t want, everything he could never say aloud. Was she more gentle, more understanding? Did she make him feel stronger, more important? Did she let him take the lead without hesitation, step out of the spotlight just so he could shine brighter?

Does she just love the picture ’cause you’re painting it?

It was a cruel thought, but one you couldn’t let go. You wondered if she was just another canvas for him, someone who would let him be the artist, who would let him create the world as he wanted it. Maybe that was what he wanted all along. Maybe you had been too much for him—too strong, too opinionated, too… you.

I care, but I don’t, just wondering when you said I’m beautiful, was I being lied to?

Your mind circled back to all the times he had complimented you, told you how beautiful you were, how much he cared. Those words felt empty now, hollow echoes that no longer held any meaning. Were they lies, or had he just changed? Or worse, had he been waiting for her all along, holding out until he found someone who was everything you weren’t?

The café door chimed as someone entered, and you glanced up reflexively, half-hoping to see him standing there, half-dreading it. But it wasn’t him. Just a stranger, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside you. You looked back down, focusing on your coffee, now cold and forgotten.

Even if I tried to change, somehow you’d end up with her anyway…

The realization settled over you like a heavy blanket. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could be, that would change the outcome. Even if you became everything he wanted, everything he needed, he would still choose her. Because it wasn’t about you. It was about her being the opposite of you.

And now you knew. You understood that no matter what, you were never meant to be the one. The truth was painful, but it also brought a strange sense of clarity, a finality that allowed you to let go.

You drained the last of your coffee, pushing the cup away as you stood to leave. The rain had started falling again, a gentle patter against the windows, and you stepped out into it, letting the cool droplets wash over you.

As you left the café, the weight of what you had lost—and what you could never be—pressed down on you, a constant reminder that some things were simply beyond your control.

You didn’t look back.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[cloudlessly-light]

But you make my heart race (Prosecutor Hotch/secretary Emily AU one-shot)

A/N: This is set in the middle of Emily working as Hotch’s secretary since I wanted to keep the prosecutor/secretary thing going, I hope you like this little one-shot!

Title: But you make my heart race  Summary: Emily wanted to push his buttons, if only just a little. It worked.

One shot from my AU Chills on a summer day but can be read on its own. Word Count: 3,1k Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, power dynamics, spanking, rough sex

She’s been working as Aaron’s secretary for almost two months now, been sleeping with him for more than half that time. And she’s been having the best time of her life. Sure while they’re at work he can be demanding, pushing her for more, to be better, but she takes it in stride because she knows that he’s working twice as hard.  

She wasn’t sure what they were, or where things would lead, but what she did know was that she didn’t want to stop whatever they were doing. It was something she hadn’t ever experienced before, how easy it was, how fun, how thrilling it could be.  

It was carnal, exciting, the type of desire she’d only ever read about before. And then there he was, showing her the most unexpected realms of pleasure.  

As she’s getting dressed that morning she smiles to herself, he had spent the previous night teasing her until she was ready to beg him for any type of release, and when he had left she had planned her revenge. Aaron might be in charge most of the time, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t fight him a little for it sometimes.   

He had spent the previous evening in her apartment but hadn’t spent the night because he had court the next day and wanted a few more hours to prepare. She doesn’t fault him for that, he’s a fantastic lawyer. But it was a case they both knew he would win, so she was allowed to have a little fun with him. Or at least that’s what she thought.  

With that thought in mind, she capped her lipstick and grabbed her purse. It was going to be a good day.  

*    

“I’m off, I’ll be back late so I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” He says, stoic as ever with his briefcase in hand, his Rolex glimmering just under the cuff of his suit.    

“Okay Mr. Hotchner.” She smirks, always enjoying their little charade at work. As she looked at him there was something suggestive lurking in her dark orbs and he raises an eyebrow at her. “Want me to pick up dinner for you before I leave for the night?”    

“Not necessary, I’ll pick something up on the way.” He gives her a questioning look, the teasing smile still on her face makes him take a moment. She was planning something, he knew it, he knew that look.  

“See you tomorrow then.” She winks at him and he feels the familiar pull in his gut as she spreads her legs just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her smooth thighs, the hint if a hickey showing. But he’s late so he can’t drag her into his office like he wants to. Instead he nods, grips the handle of his briefcase a little harder and walks towards the elevators, still feeling Emily’s heated gaze on him. 

But as he gets closer to the courthouse he forgets about everything except the case. A case he knew he’d win. In court he was feared, superior to most. It made him feel powerful only adding to the slight arrogance that Emily would tease him about.  

He’s watching the testimony, listens as the frail man on the stand tries to defend himself from what he’s accused off, and memorize what he knows is far from the truth. He can tell that the defending lawyer is starting to close up and he gets ready to stand up for his own line of questioning.  

And then his phone buzzes on the table, Emily’s name flashing on the screen with an incoming text. He knew she wouldn’t reach out while he was in court unless it was important, she never had before, so curiosity gets the better of him and he opens the message. 

When he does he has to do a double take, a low grunt escaping him that thankfully no one seems to hear. 

It was picture of Emily, dressed in the tiniest underwear set he’d ever seen, posing on her knees in front of her bed, legs wide apart and one hand inside her panties.  

Good luck today, Mr. Hotchner. 

The large hickey he’d sucked into her thigh was fresh, meaning that she had taken that picture after he had left the previous night. And he was furious. 

Then another picture came through, this one with Emily in the same panties, minus the bra, bending over, her plump ass arched up.  

Aaron clears his throat, arousal stirring in his belly at the sight, eyes trained on the picture. 

“Mr. Hotchner?”  

He looks up at the sound of his name, and finds the judge looking at him with annoyance. 

“Do you have any questions for our defendant? Or do you have something more important to attend to?” The judge asks, her blue eyes intent as she stares him down, 

“Sorry.” He mutters, his phone landing on the desk with a dull sound and he stands up. For a moment he’s unsure what do say, his mouth dry as the pictures of Emily play on a loop in his mind.

“You- uhm.” He stops mid-sentence and clears his throat, he’s off his game and that’s never happened in court before. He takes a moment, centers himself and then looks back at the defendant who’s looking at him curiously. “You say you were alone at home at the time of the assault.”

“Yes.” The man says, voice steady and Aaron narrows his eyes.

“That’s not completely true is it?” The second the man swallows harder, Aaron knows he has him and he smiles to himself.

By the time he sits back at his table he knows he’s proven that the man in front of him is guilty and he feels confident. He looks at his phone and there’s three more messages from Emily, all more and more risqué, the last picture of her completely naked as she poses on the bed. He feels the dull ache of arousal settle between his legs, his cock stirring at the sight. He knows she’s doing this to rile him up, knows that he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he does, anger at her for trying to throw him off his game and arousal mixing.

He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

*

When he comes back it’s late but he knew she would be there, waiting for him. As he suspected the office was empty, almost eerie quiet as he walked through the space towards his office. As he got closer he could hear the familiar clicking of the keys on the keyboard and when he turned the corner Emily sat there, eyes on the screen but a smug smirk on her lips.  

“Good evening, Mr. Hotchner. How was court?” She met his hard stare and her smirk turned into a grin. If it weren’t for the security cameras he would have grabbed her right then and there.    

“My office.” He muttered, voice thick with pent up frustration. When she didn’t move a muscle he leaned over her desk, effectively towering over her. “Now. I won’t ask you again.” 

Emily waited another second, debating with herself if she should listen or not, but she knew that she would only make things harder for herself if she didn’t so she slowly stood up. When she started to walk the short distance to his office she could feel him behind her and her breathing was already coming out a little faster.  

Aaron closed the door with a soft click, but the second the door was shut all pretense of calm disappeared and he grabbed the back of her neck. When she hissed in surprise and pain, it was his turn to smirk and he bent her over the large desk.  

“So you think it’s fun to tease me huh?” He growled against the back of her ear and Emily shook her head the best she could. “Use your goddamn words.” His grip tightened and she whimpered.  

“No.” It came breathy, her voice trembling slightly from excitement and fear.    

“Don’t lie.” He stood up straight, the hand not pinning her to the desk moving over her body, down to the curve of her ass until he reached the hem of her skirt. When he pulled it up enough to expose her underwear he snickered. “So wet already.” His finger gently traced over her damp silk and Emily moaned softly. “You’ve waited for this all day, haven’t you?”    

“Aaron- oh!” She’s cut off by the hard spank that lands on one butt cheek.  

“Let’s try this again.” He says, his voice suddenly much calmer, restraint she’d always wonder how he possessed making her shiver in excitement. “You think it’s fun to tease me?”    

It’s a moment of silence before she nodded.  

“Yes.”  

Slap!    

“You wanted to distract me while I was in court?”  

“Y-yes.” She braces herself for the third slap that made a cracking sound as his palm connected with her skin.  

Slap!    

“You’re that desperate?” He had to stop himself from palming his erection, the reddening skin and slight whine that came from Emily each time he spanked her made him throb inside his pants. This time she didn’t answer, and he spanked her three times in rapid succession, making her squirm.    

“Fuck!” She gasped but made no move to try and get away. She could feel her slick coating her thighs, felt maddening arousal each time his hand came down.  

“Answer me.” He rubbed over her red skin as he spoke this time, enjoying the warmth that radiated off her.  

“Yes.” She whispered and when he spanked her she pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt to try and get some friction against her clit.    

“Yes, what?” He kept his grip around the back of her neck as he undid his belt and then pushed his pants and boxers down his legs. The tip of him was already slick with precum, shaft thick and hard and he slowly stroked himself.  

“Yes, I’m that desperate.” Her cheeks burned with humiliation, sweat was gathering at her temples and when she heard the low groan behind her she immediately knew what he was doing.    

“Pathetic aren’t you.” He spat the word at her and he saw her clench her thighs again in response. He knew how much she got off on being degraded like this, knew that every second he made her wait only made her more excited. Slowly he pulled her underwear down to the middle of her thighs, just enough to see the way her pussy was glistening.    

“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.” She whined, her hands desperately grabbing onto the edge of the desk to keep herself from moving.  

“Are you sorry for acting like such a slut?”    

Slap, slap, slap, slapslapslap!  

She cried out as he continued to spank her without pause and she had to shift her weight from one foot to the other to keep still.  

“Yes! Yes I’m sorry.” She cried out, tears of pleasurable pain starting to make their way down her cheeks. When his hand didn’t come down again she relaxed, his hand now gentle as he rubbed her lower back and gently comforted her.    

He waited for her to calm down, or to show any sign that she wanted to stop but she only gave a quick nod and he knew she wanted to continue. He moved behind her and pressed his front to her back, speaking right against her ear as he pushed her harder onto the desk.  

“You think you’re sorry now?” He whispered menacingly. “Just you wait, Emily.”    

Before she had the chance to reply, he was pushing inside of her with one rough stroke. He didn’t give her time to adjust to the size of him. He moved to grip both her hips, keeping her still as he set a pace that was bordering on too fast.    

She grunted at the sudden stretch, her hands that had been gripping the edge now fumbling against the smooth wood to try and brace herself. The front of her hips would be bruised from how the edge of the desk dug into her skin, matching marks would be left by his hands, and she loved it, loved every second of it.  

“Oh God.” She gasped as he groaned behind her, clearly using her body to get rid of the pent up frustration from the last few hours.

“There’s nothing I could do to you that you wouldn’t enjoy, is there?” He bit the back of her neck and she whined. “So desperate to please me.”

Emily could barely form a single thought, let alone string a sentence together. She felt him everywhere, her sole focus was his breathing against her ear and the feeling of him inside of her. She arched her back, hips moving back to meet his harsh thrusts. He had been right, she had been waiting for this all day, had felt the familiar thrumming of arousal since this morning.

The desk rattled underneath her every time he pushes forward, pain and pleasure mixing together and she sucked in desperate breaths of air.

“Aaron,” She whimpered, eyes rolling back as he rutted his front against her back, making sure to press against the heated skin of her ass. “so good.”

“You’re dripping onto the floor.” He taunted her and she felt another flush creep up her cheeks “Filthy thing, my perfect, filthy girl.”

Before she had the chance to say another word, Aaron straightened behind her, and she turned her head to look at him. He looked powerful, even with a wrinkled suit and sweat gathered on his forehead, his eyes looked close to wild, jaw clenched as he swallowed hard at the sight of her.

“Please.” She whispered, trying to get him to move as he continued to stand still, simply watching her. He smirked, the smugness radiating off him as he stepped further away from her, slipping out of her and she groaned.

“On your back.” He muttered as he rid himself of his suit jacket, watching her as she turned and laid back against his desk and kicking away her panties that were around her thighs. “Unbutton your shirt.” He did the same as she hurriedly got her shirt off, her fingers trembling slightly

When she laid back, her skirt around her waist and bra still on, Aaron stepped back between her legs. He slapped his cock against her clit, making her jump. The wet sound was bordering on obscene and he snickered and did it again. Then again and again.

“Beg for it.” His dark eyes flashed with something predatory at the way Emily’s skin blushed a darker shade of pink. “Beg me for my cock. Show me you know I’m the one in charge.”

It’s a beat of silence, Emily biting down on her bottom lip as she watches him as he starts to jerk his cock.

“I can easily come like this, leave you here unsatisfied and desperate, messy with my cum. That wouldn’t be a problem for me.” His eyebrow arches and he fists his cock harder.

She whines, something low and breathy as she wordlessly shakes her head. She couldn’t imagine not getting the release she had longed for all day, her body screaming at her from unreleased tension.

Her mouth opened and closed, the words somehow not forming, some of her defiance clearly still present. He noticed, his mouth pursing for a moment and then, so fast she didn’t have time to react, his palm slapped between her legs, hitting her clit with a sharp smack.

“Fuck!” She hissed, legs trying to close automatically but his hips were in the way. She looked at him, eyes wide in surprise and he only raised an eyebrow at her.

“Beg.” He said again, his shaft moving along her clit, taking away the sting of his slap.

“P-please.” She whispered but she knew it wasn’t enough. “Please fuck me.” She said louder.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” He cooed, his hand gentle as he caressed her cheek and then pushed his thumb between her parted lips. He sighed happily when she immediately sucked, her tongue pressing against the pad of his thumb. With his eyes on hers, he pushed back inside of her, filling her completely and she moaned. “Are you begging for my cock or for me to make you come?”

“All of it.” She gasped around his digit. “I’m begging for all of it.”

“That’s right.” He grinned, a low hum of satisfaction falling from his lips as he started to thrust. “Because you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.” It was enough for her to please him, his thumb slipping from between her lips to her clit where he rubbed quickly, making her cry out.

He keeps her pinned with one strong hand pressing against her hip, groaning and grunting between pants as he picks up the pace of his hips. It’s hard, almost furious, the way he fucks her until she’s gripping the desk and her back is arching.

“Come on, let me feel you soak me.” He encourages her, his voice graveled and strained, his own pleasure building by every second.

She comes with a high pitched moan, her eyes rolling back and body trembling and Aaron groans against her chest. Her mind is still reeling, her ears still ringing when his hips starts to jerk, a telltale sign that he was getting close. Through blurry pleasure she grasps his neck and tugs his hair enough for him to look at her.

“Let go, so I can feel it all the way home.”

The mental image of Emily dripping of his cum on the walk home set something off in him. He growled, the sound raw and deep as he claimed her lips in a desperate kiss. His hips stayed pressed against her, his orgasm intense as his knees buckles at the forceful pleasure that rips through him and with that the last of his pent up tension leaves him.

She hums and rakes her nails through his hair, helping him come down from his high, her own thighs still twitching around his hips.

“I knew you’d like those pictures.” She teased and he chuckled breathlessly, giving them both another moment before he stood back up.

“I should have known you were up to no good after last night.” He smiles and pulls her up, placing a quick kiss to the back of her hand before pulling her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re such a brat when you want to be.”

“And you love it, Mr. Hotchner.”

She was right, he really did.

[normal-enderman]

I couldn't stop thinking about my favourite piece of cbeeduo art ever so I woke up and wrote a piece about Tubbo trying to emulate Schlatt and homoromantic tension in New L'Manburg at 3am. I would @ the artist who made it, but.... they fugckin dieded :(

Warning for probably ooc, I'm a "consume the media once and get fundamentally changed by it and then never have the emotional fortitude to consume it again" kinda guy, so it's been years since I watched the DreamSMP. I'm also rather rusty, so apologies for ham-fisted imagery and overabundance of crutch words.

Smoke from the cigarette between Tubbo’s fingers made its way in slow, lazy coils up to the darkwood ceiling somewhere up above, obscured by the thick nicotine haze that had already collected there. They'd been there for hours. The air was hot, humid, oppressive: they were due for a summer storm, but for weeks the storm hadn’t come. Sweat clung to the young president’s skin as he gazed up at the minutes man.

Ranboo met Tubbo’s one remaining eye, and Tubbo noted it, the way the usually shy and unimposing new employee met his gaze with something like determination, even as he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Interesting. Tubbo filed the observation away for later.

His eye wandered lazily down from Ranboo’s face, to rest on his neat red tie.

A fist strangles a green tie, the sharp snap of Tubbo’s head being yanked down. “You lookin’ at me funny, kid? You got something to say? DON’T - fuckin’ answer that - everyone in this cabinet is fUCKIN’ USELESS-“

Tubbo took another puff of his cigarette, staring at the close weave of the red fabric. Schlatt had the guts, the nerve, the sheer strength of ego to enforce his will on people. How did one get up the nerve to become a man like that?

Tubbo glanced back at Ranboo’s face. Still so uncomfortable. He looked like he was barely able to force himself to hold Tubbo's gaze. Ranboo wasn’t a threat.

Tubbo could get away with doing anything he wanted to him, and Ranboo wouldn’t have the guts to complain, Tubbo thought. He caught the absent thought as it crossed his mind, and was almost surprised by it.

In one swift motion, Tubbo’s hand darted out and looped itself twice through Ranboo’s tie. A sharp snap, Ranboo’s claws scrabbling abortively at the desk to steady himself, and then they were face to face.

“You lookin’ at me funny, kid?” Drawled Tubbo. It was ridiculous. Ranboo was twice his size. They were the same age.

“N-no, Mr President” stammered Ranboo.

Tubbo put the cigarette between his teeth for a moment, took another drag, savouring the role reversal. He blew out smoke into Ranboo’s face. Ranboo coughed quietly.

Tubbo’s chewed his lip thoughtfully as his eye roved across Ranboo’s face, taking in his split-toned colouration, the delicate dusting of freckles across his cheeks, his skin raw and irritated by the sheen of perspiration that glistened on its surface. Ranboo’s eyes were wide and anxious, watching him like a rabbit in the headlights. He blinked slowly, and hard, scrunching up his face like a frightened cat before meeting Tubbo’s gaze again, trying desperately to appease, and Tubbo was lost for a moment in a startling kaleidoscope of red and green.

The cigarette smoke, the lack of sleep, the thick and sultry air, something was making a heady feeling come over Tubbo. Holding Ranboo in his hands was like a lifeline, like a hit of something strong, making him feel high, making his heart beat. Tubbo wondered if this was what power felt like. If this was how Schlatt felt.

He couldn’t tear his eye away.

He suddenly felt a little unsteady. Even though Ranboo was in his hands, at his mercy, he suddenly felt as though he was the one who was pinned down, a bug in a jar, restrained by those ruby-emerald eyes. Ranboo’s gaze softened, shifted somehow, even as his eyes remained fearfully locked onto Tubbo's face, the sudden change in the air palpable to both of them. Tubbo felt as though he was tumbling headlong into those eyes, into a tunnel of red and green that he couldn’t pull himself out of. He watched, enchanted, as a red and green blush bled across Ranboo’s cheeks. He felt his own cheeks prickling with heat, spreading up to his ears, and suddenly got the sense that this interaction was spiralling entirely out of control.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.  He had meant to yell at Ranboo, maybe rough him up a little if he could get up the nerve. At the thought of it, he felt nauseous. His mouth was dry. The hand still wrapped in bandages trembled, just for a moment, before he stifled it.

He let go of Ranboo’s tie.

“Well, alright then,” he muttered, breaking eye contact with Ranboo and curling away from him, cradling his cigarette. Ranboo straightened, wobbling a little. Tubbo couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Anyway,” said Tubbo brusquely, “carry on with what you were telling me, about those food supply reports.” He grabbed a pen. “We’re not done until it’s done.”

“O-oh, right!” Ranboo scrambled for his notes.

They don’t talk about it after that. At the very least, Tubbo considered, he has mastered Schlatt’s art of moving on without offering either apology or explanation. A small step on the journey to becoming the sort of man this country demands he be.

[aplaceinthedark]

CONSUMED by the DARK

(a TOWERING MAN story)

Word Count: 2.9k+

CW: supernatural themes, religious sacrifice, body horror, animal cruelty, being buried alive

Pain. Fear. That’s all Noah could feel right now.

He clutched at his side, trying to staunch the blood flowing from the stab wound. Whatever cultists that stabbed him had thankfully not stabbed him deep enough. They had been aiming for the heart, but he twisted just in time.

“Noooo-ahhh!”

He whimpered at the sound of his name being called. He couldn't tell what direction it had come from. Whatever freaks they had out here were searching for him, and they were using his loved ones' voices. Some of them he hadn’t heard in years. Those he could care less about, but when he heard his best friends’ voice, crying out in pain for him, he wanted to curl up and wait until they found him, finishing him off for good.

That's when Noah stumbled face first into another tree, adding more blood to his body. He had entered the woods with a flashlight, but it was gone now. He was stumbling blindly, with no moon to guide him. Why did the gods decide to coincide the summer solstice with the new moon? Whose great idea was that?

Where was the end? How far into the woods was he?

“Noooo-AAAHH!”

God, they had to be close. He could barely run anymore. His fingers were ice cold despite the warm blood slipping between them. His foot caught a loose root, and he fell face down in the dirt. His cry of pain surely would alert them to his location.

Indeed, a low glow lit up the back of his eyelids as he lifted his head. Through bleary eyes, he could make out the dull red glow. Except it wasn’t a cultist standing before him.

Its pelt was black; blacker than the darkness surrounding the two. Noah was certain he would’ve been able to track it in complete darkness. The dull red glow, though, lit up the hollow, and he could see that it came from its antlers. He couldn’t count how many points the stag had, mainly because they seemed to twist and turn in on themselves. Like oak branches, he thought. 

Noah could only imagine what he looked like: covered in blood and dirt, leaves and sticks caught in his shoulder- length hair as well as his clothes. Despite the circumstances, he felt like he wasn’t worthy to be caught in the thing's presence. The stag dug at the ground with one of its massive hooves. Noah was tall, but this beast had to be more than twice his size.

Before Noah could contemplate any further, it spoke, not aloud, but in his mind:

CHILD OF THE VALLEY, WHY HAVE YOU COME TO MY COURT?

Noah flinched at the harsh tone. It was guttural, like a scream that came from the gut rather than the throat. He sputtered, unsure of how he even managed to get to that spot. He told the stag so, through chattering teeth as the coldness of the hollow finally caught up to him. 

The stag tilted its head, the glow of its antlers moving as if filled with liquid. Like blood. The movement almost seemed… human-like. It unsettled Noah even more.

I THINK YOU KNOW WHERE YOU TRULY ARE, NOAH SEBASTIAN DAVIS. YOUR KIND HAVE TOLD THE TALES OF THE WATCHER OF THE WOODS FOR A LONG, LONG TIME.

Noah flinched again at those words that sounded like a parent coldly scolding their child. To be honest, until recently, he never had believed in those tales of darkness roaming the Shenandoah Valley. Then, when what happened with the Folio kid happened, he started to believe it more and more.

“Please… please help me. I-I’ll do anything,” he pleaded, feeling a fresh spurt of blood despite his numb fingers. It wouldn’t be long now.

THERE WILL BE A PRICE.

“I… I don’t care. I- I’ll do any… thing.” He didn’t want to die here, alone in the woods. 

GIVE YOURSELF TO ME. BECOME THE INSTRUMENT OF MY WILL, AND I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN OF YOUR HUMANITY.

Noah could barely speak at that point, so he merely nodded. The Watcher made a sound, and the world went black. With one last steady breath, Noah spoke his final words:

“I think I've had enough… enough now.”

And that was how the young human, Noah Davis, died and became the Towering Man. 

The search parties were few. That didn’t surprise him. Ever since he and Nicholas were made to be the boys who cried wolf, the people in town were quick to make excuses for his disappearance. 

"He was a troubled boy.”

“He probably just ran away."

“Kids these days. He’s probably lying face down in a drain in the city right now.”

If he could feel anger, it would be at the woman who had claimed to love him. The woman who had turned out to be just like the rest of them. She was the reason for the state that he was in. She was the reason why he had died and sold his soul. After that, she only fueled the rumors that he had run away. Even with Nicholas trying his best to combat the rumors, it was only him against a town of five thousand.

Nicholas tried his best to keep the search parties going, but when you live in a town that values old superstitions over the life of a 21-year-old, it’s hard to do anything. Noah wanted to tell his friend that it was okay, to ease Nicholas’ pain and anxiety, but he was forced to watch as Nicholas continued to put up missing flyers and stay up late at night to wait for Noah to come home.

But after a few months, even Nicholas seemed to give up. His family convinced him to move to Richmond, and for a while Noah would only see Nicholas every once and while, when he would visit Granny. And Noah was forced to do nothing but watch from the treeline.

During the day, he would root himself near Granny Ruffilo’s home. He tried to resist the Watcher’s pull, even at night when he was demanded to collect the offerings left by the cult: mostly blood and wine. Except on the nights when the moon was darkest, then he couldn’t resist the voice inside his head.

Noah wanted to scream out whenever he would see Nicholas through one of the windows; scream at him that he was right there, outside of that window, just past the treeline. Except Nicholas wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if he could use his voice.

And Noah’s heart - or whatever counted as his heart now - turned black.

He watched Nicholas move on. Seasons passed, and so did Noah’s feelings. By the time June came back around, he had pretty much given himself over to the Watcher’s will. He accepted the fact that his best friend would no longer be saving him. 

The night before the summer solstice, Noah was summoned to the Watcher’s Grove. Some would joke that it could be a courtroom, except the Black Stag was too proud of itself to share its power. All it needed was its minions, which it was surrounded with now. 

THE TIME HAS COME, CHILD OF THE VALLEY. YOUR GOD DEMANDS ONE LAST THING OF YOU.

Noah thought he was being rewarded, being given his human body back. Like some kind of horrific Cinderella, he just needed to explain to Nicholas everything that had happened; that he had made a deal with the devil that he couldn’t take back. The Watcher knew that the first thing Noah would do was run to Nicholas, and he planned accordingly.

Noah should’ve realized his mistake. When he called for Nicholas, he should’ve realized it when he felt his bones shift in response. He should’ve realized it when he felt his body stretch and grown when Nicholas came out into the woods. It wasn’t until Nicholas’ face twisted in fear did Noah realize the Watcher’s plan.

Nicholas was to be the Watcher’s next Vessel, and Noah was to bring him to the Watcher.

Except the Watcher had underestimated Nicholas. See, it turned out Nicholas was a part of an old bloodline of Practitioners. Usually, it passed down onto the women, skipping a generation if need be. For some reason, instead of picking his sister, the practice chose him. It did so not long before this incident, so Nicholas was still learning the extent of what he could and could not do.

So when Noah reached out for him with a thorny hand, Nicholas accidentally blew him apart. But Noah had died in the Shenandoah Valley, where dead things don’t stay dead.

Nicholas crafted a body made of sticks, leaves and mud, and bound Noah to it. It nearly killed both of them. It wasn’t the best; Nicholas had just learned how to manage his practice, after all. Noah had a body again, and this one wasn’t under the control of the Watcher’s will.

And he would use it to his advantage.

“I’m gonna fuck up that deer god.”

Their plan wasn’t perfect at all. Nicholas was going to pretend to be captured, the perfect Vessel to be sacrificed. That way, hopefully they would have the element of surprise.

Which of course, wasn’t how it happened. Leave it to him to underestimate how good the Watcher was at reading minds.

YOU THINK YOU CAN STAND AGAINST A GOD?

the Watcher of the Woods asked. The cultists stood around them in a circle, not getting too close, but ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

YOU, A SCARED LITTLE BOY AND HIS LITTLE WITCH, AGAINST SOMETHING OLDER THAN THE DIRT YOU STAND UPON? OLDER THAN THE STICKS IN YOUR BODIES THAT YOU CALL BONES?

Was Noah scared? Absolutely, even though he couldn’t really feel it. But for once, he didn’t let his fear show, like he did when he faced the Watcher the first time,  a year and a day ago in this same grove.

This time he was ready.

With Nicholas helping him, his concentration divided between bolding off the Cultists with a warding barrier and aiding Noah, Noah found he was evenly matched with the Black Stag. He had learned the deity's tricks over the past year, and could counteract them easily. Noah acted as an almost perfect counterbalance to the darkness: whenever the Watcher would throw decayed dirt edged with frost that was colder than the universe, Noah would ruin it with life and nature and warmth.

The Watcher of the Woods even tried to take Nicholas out of the equation with a malediction, but Noah wouldn't let it. With a roar that could shake mountains, Noah charged forward and grabbed onto the Stag's twisted antlers. Under his grip, they were bitterly cold, almost turning his fingers instantly blue. The stag tried to rear back to shake off Noah, but he only tightened his grip until his knuckles cracked.

“After all that you've put me through? After all the hell you created for these hollow souls? After all the lives you've torn apart for your sick enjoyment? You think for one second, I'll let you destroy one more? You think that this makes you a god?”

Noah's eyes flared green, lighting up the darkness in his eyes, as with a loud growl, he spoke: 

IF THERE'S A GOD, IT'S FUCKING ME!

And with a twist, Noah tore off the crown of bloody bones with a mighty crack. At first, he thought the sound had come from his body, but when the red in his vision faded, he saw the head of the Black Stay on the ground, separated from its body.

There were numerous cries of disbelief around him. Some might have tried to attack him, but with one look, they stopped. Noah held up the antlers that were still in his hands.

DON'T EVER COME BACK, YOU HEAR ME? IF I FIND OUT YOU EVEN TRY TO START THIS SHIT AGAIN, I WILL COME AFTER ALL OF YOU! YOUR FAMILIES TOO, IF I HAVE TO!

And they scattered like roaches.

Noah and Nicholas stood in the grove, alone and quiet. The corpse of the Black Stag had decayed fast; even the bones and antlers had rotted away. Noah shook his hands until the decay was gone. All that was left was the skin of his palms had been burned black. 

“Now what?" Nicholas said, breaking the silence.

“I don't know. I don't feel any–”

There was a sudden shifting beneath Noah. He looked down in surprise to see that the ground had swallowed his feet. He was sinking.

And with one last raspy chuckle, he heard the Black Stag mutter in his mind:

THERE MUST ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO WATCH OVER THE WOODS.

Nicholas tried to pull him free, but when Noah was up to his waist in the ground, he pushed Nicholas away. “But I just found you!” Nicholas cried.

“Don't worry, I'll be back. Just listen for your name.”

And the earth swallowed Noah up, and darkness claimed him once again. 

He felt the suffocating weight of the ground pressing on him from all sides, the darkness so absolute he didn't know which way was up or down. A weird feeling spread through him, like a panic attack but… absent. Like he should be having one, but it wouldn't come. 

That's when he realized his eyes were closed, but when he opened them, he was faced with something much worse. 

Something fell into his eyes, and when he opened his mouth to scream, it fell in there too. The taste gave him his answer to where he was.

Dirt. He was buried underground.

Still, he didn't feel panic. He struggled against the dirt, trying to claw his way free, but his limbs were numb and weak from disuse. There was no way he was going to get out of this without some help.

Naturally, he called for the person who would help him without question.

NICHOLAS.

He felt ridiculous. How was Nicholas gonna hear him? How did he even get buried in the first place? 

There was no time for questions or memories. He had to dig himself out somehow.

He willed his arms to move, his legs to kick. Either he was so weak, or buried so deep, he couldn't move a muscle. He tried to remember what he was taught about being buried alive. Don't use a lighter; breathe short little gasps to prolong the air. That was if he was buried in a box, though, and he didn't need to worry about breathing. He hadn't needed to for a long time. 

He didn’t know how long he was there, buried deep beneath, barely moving despite his mind shouting at his limbs to just move already! He had almost given up when he felt the earth shift somewhere near his head. Were those voices?

It sounded like great amounts of dirt were being thrown around, like when a dog digs for a bone. It stopped for a moment, a new voice joining whoever was above. Then the digging continued, but with the rhythm of what might be a shovel.

When the weight got lighter, Noah used the last of his strength to move his arm. Without the weight of the dirt pressing down on him, his hand burst up from the ground. There was a shout, and suddenly two pairs of hands grabbed onto his arm and pulled him free.

“I came as soon as I heard your call. In my head,” Nicholas said.

The other two, Joakim and Nick, had heard it too. If there were others like them, they didn’t show. But Noah didn’t care. These were his friends now.

This was the Circle of Omens and Thorns.

And that’s how Noah Sebastian became the new Watcher of the Woods, the King of the Shenandoah Valley.

Something was wrong with the woods, and it was driving Noah crazy.

As he peers over the top of the mountains from his perch on Stony Man Mountain, he feels the Appalachian Spring air sweep through the trees, barely ruffling his long hair. He mindlessly twirls a braid around his finger, thumb rolling a bead around as an anxious tic. A chill runs down his spine, and he knows it’s not because of the wind. The Spring season up here is a lot like a joke; he’s seen wildflowers poking through big heaps of snow before. That wasn’t stopping him from shedding his shirt, like now.

He likes to come up here, despite it being a popular stop on a hiking trail. At night, no one will bother him; not even Folio. He knows that when Noah goes up Stony Man, he doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Except he’s still disturbed, just in a different way.

He lays back on the ground and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he curls his fingers through the dirt and grass. He grounds himself to expand his consciousness through the Valley.

He can feel the way the trees seem to curl in on themselves, like an old man wrapping his coat tighter around him as he trudged on through the bustling air. His skin crawls as he feels roots wind their way through the soil, touching something so foul it fills his throat with black mud and he gags, but can’t move. The black mud chokes him, whispering in a familiar voice that promises nothing but venom and sweet lies. 

He wrenches from his reverie, coughing and spitting despite nothing is in his mouth other than cold air and saliva. 

Something has returned to the Valley. Something dark, and something… black.

[crimsonrae]

Vexation

I have missed you all! It has been a minute since I've posted here, but I feel like Tumblr is the place to put this piece - for now. I haven't had much time recently to do as much writing as I would like, but I was perusing old outlines and ideas and stumbled upon one from ages ago for Pirates of the Caribbean. Suddenly, my muse woke up and I wrote close to twenty pages in three days.

Premise: Basically, this is a what-if for Captain Jack Sparrow. What if during the first three movies he had someone that vexed him. His version of a wife because he can't do anything normal.

The scene written below is set during Dead Man's Chest, after the Brethren Court convened. Be advised it's long.

I would like to know what you all think. I have four other scenes for this all waiting to be flushed out and would welcome any thoughts or critiques.

Mildly horrified and entirely exasperated, Jack wasn’t even sure grief could sink into his measly guts as he watched Teague tuck the shrunken head of his mother away. Mostly because he wasn’t even sure that was his mother and that his father hadn’t completely lost his marbles. He wouldn’t put it past his mother to have such a thing delivered to Teague if the two were on the outs again.  

And people wondered why he was so mad, look at what he sprang from...Christ’s Blood. 

It was almost like another Tuesday; this is what being back on the Cove did to him... No, that wasn’t quite right, this is what being near any of his family did to him. 

Dull amusement began to seep in as the lingering implications of Teague carrying that head around began to settle. 

 Jack smiled as he gestured awkwardly to his father’s coat, “Not a bad way to startle the grandkids.”  

Teague smirked as he quietly admitted, “Already have. Your woman only let me do it once to little Rosie. Done it a few to the boy - I think Rosie handled it better.” 

Jack snorted unsurprised by his family antics. Rose more than likely took the shrunken head to be a new strange doll. Jonah was old enough to know better. He did wonder when Teague had made the time to stop in on them. 

“They’re here. Up in the Alley.” Teague murmured lightly as if sensing his son’s thoughts, fingers strumming gently at his guitar. 

“What!” A sharp flash of surprise lit Jack’s dark eyes before he masked it behind something that Teague couldn’t quite read. Worry if he had to guess and confirmed as Jack quietly growled, “You brought ‘em here?” 

Teague bit back a sigh as he gave his son a pointed look, “Wasn’t intending on it... Honestly, still puzzlin’ out how Quinn talked me into their passage aboard. I had told her no.” 

“She likely just ignored you.” It's what she did when they had been children. Jack rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath about devious strumpets. He felt sick. They weren’t to be here; he never would have made that deal with Beckett otherwise.  

He needed to see to preparations for his ship before Barbossa got too far in his ego thinking he was captain of the Pearl again, but he would make time to see his children and he had a bone to pick with his woman. His hearted lifted a bit...she was here. 

It was only as he lurched away from his father that Teague called out to him, “Go easy on her, Jackie. She’s been through the gamut.” 

Jack nearly scoffed.  

He hadn’t? 

He had been swallowed by a bloody gigantic cephalopod and trapped in Davy’s Locker with stony crabs and far – far too much time with his thoughts. Besides he didn’t bloody remember her being present to save him.  

Admittedly, Jack knew that last uncharitable thought was unfair – he would not have been happy to see her in the Locker. Not when they had their two little treasures to protect, and he was well aware that the onus of that responsibility fell to her.  

Which was why he wasn’t terribly happy on her being here now.  

Despite being a fortress, Shipwreck Cove, the city, and its inhabitants would be raided should the Pirate Lords fail in their endeavor to stop Beckett and Jones. It was the last place he wanted Quinn and the children to be.  

It was with clear intent and purpose that Jack made his way back to the Pearl. Gibbs and Marty would have a head for what was already on board, and they would have to make do with what supplies they could get in the city. Jack could only hope that word had spread already of what was afoot and that the shopkeepers would keep any wily haggling to a minimum – of course, a few would see the coming battle as a golden opportunity to gouge their prices.  

Barbossa was already issuing orders when Jack stepped aboard, but he paid his former first mate and current rival little mind. The brunt of the crew was paying him more attention anyway as he asked a few carefully plotted questions before heading to his cabin for parchment and quill. Barbossa hadn’t spent near as much time on the Cove as Jack had... none of his crew had really, but there were a couple that were familiar with the city’s workings. It would have to be enough. 

Jack tagged a few more orders onto Barbossa’s before snagging a handful of the crew to head into the city. A list of merchants and an inventory of necessities in hand, he passed instructions onto his little group and watched as they dispersed to follow orders. They would be back on ship by the time he was done with his own errands.  

-----

He was stepping out of Doc Nessa’s shop when he felt the familiar glance of a small body skimming his hip. He didn’t even think as his fingers grasped the back of a well-loved shirt and tugged the body inside around. A pair of familiar dark eyes far too intelligent to belong to a child, but in fact did, regarded him.  

A wild thrill of amusement coursed through his gut, though Jack was careful not to show it as he returned his son’s indifferent regard, “Need to be quicker than that, lad. Hand it over.” 

Jonah scowled as he held out his father’s compass. Well, a compass. One that Jack had pilfered from Barbossa. 

Jack took it with gentle care before he arched a brow, “The rest?” 

Jonah slumped and pulled a coin purse and a ring from his pockets.  

Jack blinked in surprise at the ring before casting a glance to his right hand where indeed one of his rings was missing. He hadn’t even noticed that one, that was impressive.  

In return Jack held up a French silver medallion and grinned as Jonah blanched and checked his pockets. 

Jonah reached out to snag it, but Jack yanked it back, “Da!” 

“Pay attention to your possessions next time, eh?” Jack said as he tucked the medallion in his pocket, “Want it back? Best figure out a way to get it. Savvy?” 

A churlish pout curled his boy’s mouth, but he nodded before mumbling a quiet, “Savvy.” 

“Good lad.” Jack murmured before he crouched down, “Now come ‘ere and give your old man a proper greetin’.” 

Jonah hesitated much to Jack’s consternation. He had never known his boy to be leery with him and he didn’t care for it starting now. He refused to have the same relationship with his son that he had with Teague. As if summoned from the depths, Teague’s words about Quinn having a difficult time came floating back to him... What had gone on in his absence? 

He didn’t have time to ask before he had his arms filled with a seven-year-old. He relaxed and wrapped a tight arm around his boy as he felt Jonah turn into a limpet. That was more like it. 

Grinning, he pressed a kiss to Jonah’s ear as he murmured, “Missed ya, lil’ scallywag. You causin’ trouble for your mother?” 

“Aye.” Jonah answered against Jack’s chest. 

“You watchin’ out for your sister?” 

“Aye.” 

“Rosie tormentin’ you?” 

“Aye.” 

“You been getting revenge on her?” 

There was a pause before Jonah uttered, “No.” 

Jack nearly snorted in disbelief, but quite seriously asked, “And why not?” 

“Mum would tan me hide.”  Jonah stated as if it were obvious. He wasn’t dumb enough to admit to any wrongdoing he hadn't been caught at – especially not to his parents.  

Jack chuckled and gently pushed his son to stand back, “Depends on what you did and if you get caught. ‘Sides you probably deserve a good tanning every once in a while.” 

“Daaaa.” Jonah whined, making Jack snicker further before he was attacked by another small body. 

He leaned sideways and he grunted under the sudden impact, but the lilting giggle gave away his accoster long before he caught sight of her face. This was another one that could use a tanning or two.  

“Oi! Careful, darlin’. You gonna break this old man.” Jack cried as he lifted Rose to perch on his hip. He couldn’t stay crouched any longer, “Miss me?” 

“Aye.” Rose chirped as she grinned widely at her father.  

Jack’s heart melted under that smile and damn if his little girl didn’t know the power that she had over him. Just like her mother. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before she snuggled further into his hold. 

Seven bells rang in the distance, and he suddenly realized the hour. It was a bit late for his two wildings to be running amuck. Yet as he peered down the alley Rosie had flown from he saw the familiar shape of Quinn’s guard lingering.  

Poor blighter must have been put on watch. 

“Why are you two not with your mother?” 

“Mummy said youse be here and um- we wanted to find you, but we – uh – we made new friends and we’s got to playin’.” Rosie explained excitedly, “And then Morris came to get us and then Jony disappeared, and we’ve been lookin’ for ‘im.”  

“Is that so?” Jack murmured as he sent a speculative glanced to his son. 

Jonah stared unperturbed back at him, and Jack was reminded that this was very much his son. Stubborn and underhanded. 

As if to reinforce Rose’s words a faint cry from the opposite street caught the children’s attention. A few of the wharf rats were lingering and Jack took them to be the new friends. Jonah had a longing glint in his eye, and he sighed reluctantly, “Back to the quarters by first bell or I’ll put you over me knee meself, savvy?” 

Jonah didn’t wait and went skittering off before Jack had a chance to change his mind, “Savvy!” 

“I wanna go too!” Rosie cried, wriggling to get out of father’s hold.  

Jack held tight, “Ah, ah, no. I don’t think so, luv. You are gonna keep your old man safe as he goes and finds your mum.” 

“Nooo!” Rosie howled. 

“No?” Jack cried back, nodding to Morris as he passed him in the alley, “No? So, you want your dear dad to be savagely attacked? How cruel you be, little Rose. However, will I be able to find your fair mother all be me onesies, I wonder. Be a good lass and help your da out, eh?” 

His attempt at guilt did little to persuade the five-year-old as she stared at him mutinously. She was developing a fine glare to stop a man cold. It was obvious that Rosie had been spending far too much time with her mother. He barely dodged her little hands as she reached to pull his chin braids. Jack had almost forgotten that she needed no instruction to fight dirty.  

And it was a fight...all the way back to the quarters which only ended as he began to regale her with stories from the past. He pitied any man who dared to woo his daughter once she was older.  

It was a thought that vanished as he swept into the old family quarters only to find Quinn nowhere in sight. It was odd to suddenly be standing in a place that he had done everything he could to run away from – an all too familiar unease began to twist in his gut, and he had to bite his tongue to not become lost to ghosts that still haunted him. He tilted his head down the hall and saw a barely perceptible glow emanating from the slap shod parceling of lumber that was to act as a staircase.  

Jack nearly groaned. She was in Grandmama’s old quarters... Quinn was trying to punish him. 

Lovely. 

“Daddy?” Rosie cried softly as she watched her father’s countenance turn sour. Childish worry peered at him through eyes that were so like his. 

Jack forced a small smile to his lips before he tapped her nose, “Let’s get you to bed, eh? You’ll need your energy to go torment your brother come mornin.” 

Surprisingly, Rosie merely pouted a little at the bid for bed. Either she was more tired than she wanted to admit, or she still sensed the poor mood possessing her father. Jack didn’t want to explore either option, but he would take the opportunity her current submissiveness was giving him.  

----

He dawdled. 

He would never admit it, but he loitered in his old bedroom watching his daughter curl around a pillow as she fell into an easy slumber. He itched with the desire to haul her out and bring her to his cabin on the Pearl. Too many memories haunted this decrepit place and only a handful were counted as anything happy or good. He wanted none of it to touch his children.  

Jack couldn’t understand why he was here – Why Quinn had chosen to come back here. Even if it was to check in on him.  She held as little love for this place as he did... less in some regards. But he wouldn’t get any answers by hiding away. 

He came out just as Jonah crept through the front door. Jack arched a brow as he heard first bell in the distance, “Cuttin’ it close, lad.” 

Jonah fidgeted under his father’s stare before uttering, “Still ‘afore the bell.” 

“Aye, so you were.” Jack hummed and nodded to him to get to the bed with his sister, “Go on. To bed wit ya. Don’t let me catch you out of it.” 

“Da?” 

Jonah called as Jack ambled towards the stairs. He turned to find a churlish frown pinching his boy’s features.  

Jonah swallowed tightly as he stuttered out, “Ar- are you leavin’ us again?” 

Again. 

The quiet resignation in his son’s voice fair broke Jack’s heart, but he was unsurprised by it. In a perfect world he would keep his family aboard the Pearl with him. In a perfect world he wouldn’t miss months of his children’s lives. But a pirate ship was no place for a child and Jack had been a pirate for too long to stop now.... The world wasn’t perfect, and reality was a far more painful place as his son was beginning to learn. Jack just wished he wasn’t the one teaching that lesson already. 

He crouched down before Jonah again, this time tilting his boy’s chin up as he answered honestly – because his son deserved honesty, “Aye. I am, but I hope to be with you again soon.” 

“I don’t want you to go.” A suspicious sheen had come to decorate Jonah’s dark eyes. A wobble to his lips.  

It dawned on Jack then that Jonah must have just heard about the coming battle. Word had been slower than he had anticipated reaching the shops, but it would have spread through the city fully by now and his boy wasn’t stupid enough not to listen. 

Jack winced as he murmured soothingly, “Now none of that, lad.” 

“Please.” Jonah choked out, unable to hold back his tears. He was suddenly folded into his father’s embrace as he broke into a sob. Rum, sea salt, and gunpowder invaded the little boy’s senses – it was a unique combination of scents that he would forever associate with his father. It was home and it was safe, and he lost it every time his father disappeared to the sea.  

Jonah burrowed into him in a way that made Jack think he was trying to hide in his pocket. Jack closed his eyes sadly and tightened his hold as he let his boy cry it out, “Wants and needs, Jony. Very rarely do those two ever line up. I would love nothing more than to keep you and your sister and your mother with me always, but it's just not possible. So, we must steal what time we can with each other and not give any of it back.” 

Jonah sniffled, “Be a pirate.” 

“Aye.” Jack murmured, “Be a pirate.” 

They sat together soaking in what comfort they could before Jonah pushed back and wiped at his nose. His eyes were swollen still with his tears, and it hurt something deep in Jack to watch his son try and be brave. He was too young for that skill yet. 

A glint of silver caught his eye, and Jonah gave a watery smile as he held up his medallion, freshly stolen back into his care. 

Jack huffed a faint laugh, “Well done, lad. I’ll make a pirate out of you yet. Or at the very least, a very competent thief.” 

Ruddy cheeks still damp were softly soothed by Jack’s rough hands before he prodded Jonah to the bedroom his sister was in, “Go on. Give your face a wash and get to bed.” 

Jack stood in the doorway as he watched Jonah reluctantly follow his orders. The dry sink holding the washing bowl made his boy seem incredibly small and too grown all at once. He made a mess of washing his face, but it was more of a cover to hide fresh tears and soft hitched breaths.  

Jack pretended not to notice, no sense in embarrassing the boy.  Finally, he shucked his clothes and grabbed a large shirt Quinn had left out. Jack recognized it as an old one of his and that brought on an entire new swell of bittersweet emotion to drown his heart. 

It was only as Jonah began to settle next to his sister that Jack meander back to tuck him in. He smiled faintly under his son’s doleful gaze before giving into the temptation to press a kiss to his temple, “Sleep, lad. Tomorrow’s a new day with new adventures.” 

“Take what you can.” Jonah whispered. 

“And give nothin’ back.” Jack whispered back solemnly. He gave a light squeeze to his boy’s shoulder in silent good night. 

-----

 A heavenly sight greeted Jack when he finally made his way upstairs. The bare expanse of Quinn’s back was on display as her shift hung loosely around her waist. His gaze drifted up from her shapely legs to the delicious curve of her bottom over the dark lines that inked her spine to the thin wispy curls that had found freedom from the mishappened updo she had imprisoned the rest of her mane in.  Steam rose from the tub residing beside her and for a moment Jack quite forgot his irritation with her. 

For a moment, anyway. The tense set of her shoulders was his first clue that he wasn’t the only one out of sorts. 

“Now, there’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jack murmured as he leaned against the doorframe. Her lukewarm welcome was his second clue. 

Green eyes peeked over a slim shoulder at him as Quinn place a bottle of some concoction down, “Wondered if you’d actually come up here.” 

Jack wasn’t sure if here was the quarters or Grandmama’s room in specific and he didn’t care to ask. He ignored the subtle prompting in her comment with a gesture that said, ‘well, here he stood’. It didn’t surprise him when Quinn rolled her eyes and turned back to her ablutions. 

“Are the children sorted?” 

“Aye.” Jack answered with a frown. He hated talking to her back – even if it was a glorious view. It made it a mite difficult to ascertain what was going on in her head, “As you well know. Surprised you didn’t step in while Jony was cryin’.” 

“He needed you, not me.” She said with a slight shrug, but he felt the truth in her words. Jonah had wanted his papa. There be no denying that. 

“Shall I wash your back, luv? Get those hard-to-reach places.” Jack offered as he sauntered closer, “Nice and squeaky clean, eh?” 

Quinn snorted, “Your dirty hands are not to touch me, Jack. When was the last time you had a washin’, you filthy pirate?” 

Jack paused, slightly offended and unwillingly amused as he pondered that query. He didn’t think that he as that dirty – he had definitely been worse, “I took a dip not too long ago, I’ll have you know.” 

Surely hanging upside down in the ocean counted. 

“You can take another now. Waters for you. I’ve already bathed.” Quinn said, her hands moving to pull up her shift when his came to stop her. 

“Now don’t do that, luv.” Jack whispered against her ear as he pressed against her. He bit back a smile as he felt a faint shudder wrack her body, “I’m quite enjoyin’ you half dressed. Course it’d be even better if you were completely undressed.” 

“Jack...” 

His lips brushed over the curve of her neck as his hands slid over her hips to hold her more firmly...except, there was more of her than he expected. Jack paused as his grip flexed over the small swell of her belly. Only just slightly bigger than a bump. His heart leapt into his throat in realization before his dark gaze snapped up to find her watching him warily. 

“Thought I told you not to touch me with those dirty hands.” Quinn rasped, trying for a light – indifferent tone and failing. 

“I’ll touch you however much I want, woman.” Jack said thickly, “Is that why you came here? To tell me?”   

 “Thought you should know... You’ll have one more to be comin’ back to.” She mumbled, “You need to stop gettin’ me with child.” 

Jack grinned, fierce joy and pride batting back his outright terror for the moment, “Whatever for? I quite enjoy gettin’ you fat with my child.” 

He grunted a moment later as her elbow collided with his side and she growled calmly, “Fat? I’ll show you fat, Jack Sparrow.” 

Despite the playful glint in her eye, Jack chuckling, quickly grasped both her wrists before she could do something decidedly unpleasant to his person. Now, he understood why Teague had let her come. A pregnant Quinn was an impossible Quinn to reason with, “Come ‘ere.”  

He tugged her around and stole the kiss he had been angling for since he had stepped inside. It felt good to have her with him again. It was downright beautiful actually. There had been a few dark moments when he wondered if he’d make it back to her and the kids. And he had – they were here. 

At least for the moment and he’d take it. 

He’d steal this time like he had told Jonah to do. 

Jack broke the kiss, reveling in her mewl of protest as he leant his head against hers, “Another one, eh?” 

“Aye.” Quinn murmured back, “You upset?” 

“Have I ever been upset over being made a father?” He asked blithely, “Or given you cause to think I’d be?” 

“Jack...” She sighed, “It’s different this time and you know it.” 

Tendrils of the terror he had been pushing back were starting to grasp, but he refuse to let it hold. The memory of her last pregnancy was clearer than air for him. The babe they had lost - How he had nearly lost her as well... Damn her for alluding to it. His hold on her tightened almost imperceptibly.  

Jack shrugged, pressing his lips to her crown, “So, we’re a little older – a little more damaged, a little more weary. Still wouldn’t change a thing.” He pushed back and nudged her to do the same as he did a quick calculation in his head, “Let’s have a look at ya. Be about five months, that right?” 

Quinn hesitated, making Jack frown. She had never been shy with him before and he didn’t understand her reluctance now. Jonah had done the same. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something until his appraising gaze found the crest of her bosom or more specifically the top of her left breast and what should have resided there. 

His mark... 

“What’s this?” He breathed. 

The dark lines of the sparrow over the horizon that normally decorated her skin had faded. It wasn’t the type of blanching that would come from the sun, but it was as if the ink had eroded to a thin sketch. His fingers traced the mark bewildered before he yanked the sleeve of his shirt up to view his matching bird.  

It had burned something fierce while he had been in the Locker. A hallucination. Or at least... Had that pain been real? He had thought - taken it to mean really that his soul saying he was too far from his other half... but now?  

It had changed.  

The dull bluish black lines had become more a sickly grey. He hadn’t noticed...it’d had stop hurting once he had left the Locker and he had all but put the odd experience from his mind. 

It was then Jack truly took stock of his woman. Faint circles lined her usually lively emerald eyes, her cheeks a little hollower than he would like... She was pale. Sallow really. Despite that he knew for a fact, that she tended to spend a fair bit of time out in the sun. 

“It may not have been just the babe that brought me here. I guess that bonding ceremony we did wasn’t as much of a lark as we thought.” Quinn uttered quietly. She bit her lip and stepped away as she pulled her shift into place, “Get your bath. I wanna check on the little ones.”  

Jack watched her go with gaping worry. 

Go easy on her, Jackie. She’s been through the gamut. 

What the blood hell had happened in his absence? 

-----

Quinn was mildly astonished to see that Jack had followed her decree to bathe when she returned to the room. Of course, he was already reaching for a towel...  

She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes, “You’ve only made the dirt on you muddy, at least scrape it off.” 

“You want me clean, luv, you best get over here and give me a hand.” Jack grumbled as he sent her a sly glance, “Get those hard-to-reach places.” 

Quinn scoffed at him, “For someone who loves bein’ on the water, you have a peculiar resistance to gettin’ in it.” 

“It’s not the same though is it.” Jack replied as he washed his arms a bit better. He wanted to see the full extent of the change to his mark, “Of course, there be a list of interestin’ questions you’d be good to answer if you want me to sit in this water longer.”  

“I have a feelin’ I’ll be answerin’ those questions regardless.” She muttered, but she snagged a washrag and poked him to sit forward so she could sit on the lip of the tub behind him, her dainty feet brushed his hips. It wouldn’t be too much longer before her belly would make such a feat impossible. 

Jack fairly purred as she worked the rag across his back, lightly massaging as she went, “Aye, you would...What’s happened, Quinn?” 

“Let’s see... You left.” She supplied unhelpfully, but she sensed his unimpressed glare long before he opened his mouth, “I had business in New Orleans – its changed since we’ve last been. Kids caught the measles. That was a miserable few weeks. I missed two of my courses before realizin’ I was increasin’. Oh, and then suddenly, I was struck by the most debilitatin’ pain – bit like takin’ a hot poker to the chest I reckon. Scared poor Jonah half to death with the way I screamed, ended up passin’ out thankfully, but I was sure I had lost the babe. Bloody miracle, I hadn’t. That was when I received word of your demise and then Teague stopped by on his way to here and I figure it best to hear what was goin’ on.” 

Jack hummed as he was once again dropped into a pool of horrified and exasperated. Only Quinn could utter all of that like was the most casual thing in the world. Just afternoon tea, really. It should have clued him in really. That sort of passivity from her only meant that she was brimming with fire beneath the surface.  

It didn’t for his ire with her was definitely rearing its head once more. He didn’t even know where to begin with all of that, so he waspishly muttered, “Oh is that all? Just another bloody Tuesday, is it?” 

“It’s Wednesday actually.” 

“Quinn.” Jack rebuked, losing his patience.  

He needed to see her.  

He twisted, grabbing her wrist, and yanked her around so suddenly that water sloshed out of the tub. She fell haphazardly into his lap. Her shift was soaked within seconds. 

“Oh!” She growled, livid.  

She became even more so when she caught his agitation with her. As far as she was concerned, he didn’t have the bloody right. It was as if a bubble had burst within her. Everything that she had kept bottled up for last half year came flowing out at him.  

The tub wasn’t big enough to accommodate two people, but she somehow maneuvered herself to straddle him before she began raining blows, “You are –Such -A – Bastard!” 

“Ow! Woman!” Jack wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he would rather endure this rage from her than the barbed flippancy she had been spewing behind his head. Though the way she was wriggling in his lap wasn’t helping matters on another end. A particularly hard blow to his stomach had him restraining her wrists again as they both labored for breath. 

Quinn glared at him, hot tears stinging her eyes as she wrathfully muttered, “You died! You died! You -” 

And there was the heart of the matter... at least for her. The anguish in her emerald eyes startled Jack. It had been a long time since he had seen her this upset. A rush of guilt tore through him like a riptide and she saw it too.  

She tried to yank her hands free to strike him again, but Jack held firm, “I know, luv, I know. But I’m here now. I’m back.” 

“Oh, codswallop!” Quinn swore a blue streak, “You’re here? For how long? Or are you not chargin’ out into that bloody massacre that’s set for tomorrow? Shall I plan the eulogy now?” 

Jack’s face darkened and it took some not inconsiderable control for him not lash out the way he wanted to – they had both been through hell. He could recognize that, even with the bare bones accounting that Quinn had given him. Like the sun rose in the east, he knew that she hadn’t told him everything. He also knew he had scared her and if the tables had been turned, he would be just as furious. 

Lord, he didn’t want to fight with her. He really didn’t, but a thought had occurred that he wanted answered, “Quinn - Quinn, stop wrigglin’!” 

She didn’t and he muttered a quick oath before he shifted his grasp on both her wrists to one hand before he delved his other between their bodies. 

Quinn jerked in shock as his fingers grazed over her slit, searching for evidence of arousal as much as desiring a way of stilling her. She didn’t even notice when he let her go, only that she was suddenly bracing herself on his shoulders as he caught her startled gaze and a sank a finger into her. 

She emitted a strangled, “Jack!” 

“Told you to stop wrigglin’.” Jack murmured smugly as he tried not to lose the thread of thought he had been chasing before he decided it’d be a good idea to reexplore tempting territory to get her attention. Throwing her down and ravishing her was fast becoming an overwhelming desire – especially as she made no attempt to stand up and leave. Maybe they needed to fuck this one out, “Now, before you resume abusin’ my person, luv, do us a favor and tell me... when you made the fundamentally stupid decision to come back to the Cove -” 

Her nails dug into his shoulder, and he hissed before adding another finger to his play, “That’s not nice, luv... When you made the decision, did you know I was alive?” 

Quinn frowned at him, wondering why this was so important. Of all the things that she had said to him this was the last line of inquiry she had expected... and really wasn’t that just like him.  

Impatience seemed to get the best of him again at her prolonged silence as he very purposefully curled his fingers inside of her. Quinn suppressed a moan as he grazed that spot that brought such exquisite pleasure. A mordant liquid began to seep to her loins, “...Yes.” 

“Sorry, was that yes to my question or are you beggin’ me for more, darlin’?” Jack asked grinning wickedly. She swore at him which only made him giddy, “Pirate.” 

“Jack, I can’t focus when you’re doin’ that.” She said, trying to tug his arm up, but he didn’t budge. 

“Good, I don’t want you focusin’ too hard.” He murmured back, quite forgetting what he was about as he leaned in and nipped at the skin exposed by her collar. The faded lines of his mark glared up at him. That would be fixed... Had to be. 

“Yes.” Quinn said, “Yes, to your question.”    

“How did you know?” 

“Your bloody mark.” Quinn murmured, “It stopped feeling like it was going to burn me from the inside out.” 

Jack went silent. A deep frown marring his features and she could only wait for him to verbalize his thoughts. He fell back, allowing her the freedom to get up if she so chose. She didn’t. 

“Not as much of a lark, eh?” Jack finally said, but there was no hiding the anguish behind his words.  

Just a bunch of words that ceremony. Neither of them had been keen on a proper marriage but their own promises? A blood pact that was meant to twine their souls?  That added a touch of mystery, and romance, and fun – well that had been right up their alley, now hadn’t it. 

What bloody fools they had been... 

Quinn found that she unwillingly softened in the face of his horror, and she sighed, “I think the babe is what kept me from joinin’ you... wherever you were.” 

Jack peered at her quizzically, not following her line of thought. 

 “A bit of you is in me, isn’t it? It’s how we’re creatin’ this little life.” Quinn whispered, not willing to tell him that she also suspected that was why she had been in such horrible pain. The bond didn’t know where to pull her too – so it tore at her, “An entwining of essences to be forever one.” 

Jack swallowed as she recited the words from the ceremony, “Doesn’t sound quite as sensual anymore, does it?” 

“No...” Quinn agreed, it sounded downright terrifying now. She drew a fortifying breath, “How long? How long before you have to go?” 

“We’re to leave at daybreak.”  

“Right.” Jack froze as she leveled a cold glare on him that made his heart cringe in anticipation of her wrath, “Don’t you dare die on me again, Jack Sparrow.” 

She swiftly removed herself from the tub before he could respond. Her back to him once more as she hid a rush of tears. She shed her wet shift with little care as he murmured, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Quinnie.”     

 Though she was better at hiding her tears than their son, Jack still noticed, and he wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t otherwise.  

The sloshing of water was her only warning before he was on her. His fingers grasped her elbow and spun her around before she could think. Her mouth found his first. Harsh, angry, biting as she unleased her distress upon him and... claimed him. Jack took it all, silently relishing in the rare show of possessiveness from her. Anything to make her tears stop. He couldn’t stand her crying for him, never could. 

His arms became bands around her waist as he pulled her tight. For the first time in months the world seemed to still and feel right. A strange peace fell over them both. Their kiss broke when the need for air became too great, but that didn’t stop her from nuzzling into him, trailing biting kisses along his jaw as he walked them back to the bed.  

Jack hummed as her attentions fell to his neck and he realized she was truly laying claim to him with a mark of her own, “You’re not normally one for love bites, what’s brought this on?” 

“Just a reminder.” Quinn murmured as she let him push her onto the mattress. Her hands traced the panes of his body as if she was trying to commit it to memory. 

Jack crawled over her, nipping her lip, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Reminder? It’s unlikely I’ll be attractin’ a strumpet to me tomorrow for you to chase off with a reminder.” 

“Reminder’s for you.” Quinn said drolly even as she spread her legs for him. She wanted him close – needed it really and he was moving too slow when they had only a few hours before he’d leave again... 

“Woman, you’re not makin’ a lick of sense.” Jack stated stoutly, firmly ignoring her overtures for a quick fuck.  

This wasn’t Tortuga and he wasn’t taking her against an alley wall. Though... A faint smile tugged at his lips at the few good memories they had against said walls. He wanted to see her. He took in the fullness of her breasts and smoothed his palms lovingly over her growing belly. He had always been fascinated by the change pregnancy wrought on her body. 

Quinn tugged on the end of one of his dreads as he leaned down to place a kiss to her stomach, “It’s just to make you think twice before you do something incredibly stupid – Like become so distracted by a kiss as to get yourself shackled to a ship and then killed.” 

Jack reared up to find Quinn staring at him with an indifference that scared him more than her anger, “I haven’t the foggiest of what you’re on about.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

He couldn't stop himself from playing with fire though, “But if I did... How much groveling would one have to do to be forgiven for such an infraction? Pray tell.” 

Quinn was silently amused as she watched him try to puzzle out how much trouble he was in exactly – Never mind that he had her completely naked and willing at the moment, “Alot, more if I have to throw myself at you to get any kind of satisfaction tonight. You’re doin’ a very poor job of making me feel desirous right now.” 

Jack had the gall to look affronted at her critique, “I’ve been harder than a bloody hammer since I’ve stepped into this room, luv. Let’s not pretend you don’t know the effect your utterly delectable and sinful body has on my person or that you intentionally kept yourself half-dressed to lull me into forgetting’ where exactly we are right now. Which well-played by the way.” 

“I haven’t the foggiest of what you’re on about.” Quinn uttered back at him, shrieking with laughter a moment later as he pounced on her. Her laughter was dissolved by a rather thorough kiss that left her with no doubts of Jack’s desire for her. 

A slow heat swept through her as she fell into his touch. The familiarity of him was a comfort that she had been lacking for too long. His scent, his strength, his warmth surrounded her, and she basked in it, just as Jack basked in her. He was almost... reverential. As if he was not entirely sure that she was real as he took his time rediscovering her body.  

Calloused fingers hooked under her knee and pulled her wider as he entered her...slowly... so slowly. As if he were afraid of her hurting her. To be fair, her muscles strained a bit from being split, but it was a welcome discomfort that disappeared with the relief of being fulfilled. 

Quinn emitted a pleased sigh as he bottomed out and Jack moaned, enjoying the way her lurid cavern suckled him so sweetly.  

His lips danced over hers in a gossamer caress as he watched her, “Alright?” 

“Hmmm.” Quinn hummed contently. She drew a finger across his cheek, marveling at his gentleness for not the first time, “I missed you.” 

Jack smiled warmly at her, as his arms came to rest on either side of her head. He stole a true kiss then, “And I, you, luv.” 

“Then you should ravish me, Pirate.” She teased, arching against him in silent demand. 

“Aye. I should.” Jack chuckled as he began to thrust languidly.  

He was intent on drawing their union out for a multitude of reasons. A petty one being that he knew it would drive her mad and he was still stinging over where their fortuitous reunion was occurring. More significantly, Quinn had successfully lit the fuse on every one of his concern canons with her wan appearance and he didn’t trust her to tell him if she was feeling unwell. Stubborn bint that she was.   

Amusedly, he could practically feel Quinn’s frustration build as she shifted, matching his movement, but also trying to get enough purchase to change the pace to something faster. 

“Jack!” 

He shook with laughter but stilled – knowing she had reached the limit of his teasing, “I should have gotten you off before playin’, luv. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten how insatiable this state makes you.” 

“Insufferable.” She grumbled, pinching his side as he reached for a pillow to put under her hips. He jumped, swatting lightly at her as he resituated them, “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.” 

Jack realized then that Quinn didn’t know how fragile she looked to him, like a good gust of wind would knock her down. He sighed and rubbed a soothing trail up her thigh as he murmured, “I haven’t been around to take care of you, Quinnie. Your body’s no longer used to it. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you winced when I breeched you or the way you tensed when I was touchin’ that fair chest of yours. You’re tender, ain’t ya?” 

“Only a little.” Quinn sulked, “I can handle more, luv.” 

Jack arched a brow at her. 

“I’m not gonna break. Promise. Please” She wheedled, reaching for him, “You know I don’t say please often.” 

There was a long moment of silence as he studied her before suddenly, he bucked. It was heavenly, just the right amount of friction they both needed. Jack stifled a groan, but Quinn hadn’t been prepared and failed to hide another wince as a twang of discomfort rippled with the pleasure he brought to her body.  

“You gonna follow my lead now?” Jack demanded. 

“Is your lead gonna go any faster?”  

“Woman...” Jack swore, shaking his head, “You are -” 

“Yours?” Quinn smiled cheekily and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Aye, that you are.” Despite being charmed, he didn’t give into her whims. If they had time for another round he would, but for now she’d have to deal with slow and gentle. He sure as hell was... not that it was much of a trial.  

Her faint moans and whispered mewls were music to his ears after coming uncomfortably close to not being able to hear this ever again. No, he had no problem taking his time to swim her depths. 

-----

Jack fell next to her sweaty and sated as Quinn labor for breath next to him. She lazily squeezed his arm as she murmured, “Alright... I’ll be more willin’ to follow your lead next time.” 

Jack grinned smugly, pulling her against his chest as he recovered from their crush of bliss, “Feel like I’ve heard that ‘afore, luv.” 

Quinn suppressed a smile and entangled their legs as he drew circles over her belly with curious fingers. A wistful grimace painted his vintage that Quinn understood all too clearly... It was different his time around, whether Jack wanted to admit it aloud or not. She placed her hand over his, catching his weary regard. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He murmured after a moment, gaze drifting to her mark. It may have been a trick of the light, but the lines seemed to have thickened – at least a tad. It pained him to think he may have almost caused her demise. 

“No, you’re not.” She arched a knowing brow at him. 

“No, I am not.” Jack agreed dryly, aware she thought he was speaking about being back in the Cove. And aye, that he was not pleased with, “You’re incredibly lucky to be with child right now or else I’d have you over my knee for comin’ back to this hell hole– especially now, luv.” 

Quinn’s emerald eyes glimmered dangerously at the threat as she murmured, “Liked to see you try.” 

“I’ve done it before, haven’t I? Don’t tempt me.” 

It was how unusually serious he was as he uttered those words that let Quinn know how upset she had made him. Coming back to the Cove had never been on her agenda and she wouldn’t have if every bone in her body hadn’t been screaming at her to return. She had learned to trust her instincts ages ago. 

She forced a bland retort, “Hardly think it counts when it's just a lead up to more pleasurable pursuits.” 

Jack sent her a warning look but took the opportunity their turn in mood presented to address the elephant neither wanted to acknowledge, “Should the worst happen tomorrow, I want you to find Teague. Grab the children and go with him. Shipwreck Island won’t be safe. As Keeper of the Code, he’ll be the last to depart which will make him the quickest to get back here.” 

A spark of undo terror tightened Quinn’s throat and she withdrew her hand from his as she protested, “Don’t. Don’t talk like this -” 

“I want you to go with him to Madagascar. You'll be safe there.” Jack pressed, otherwise he’d never get the words out. 

Dropping an explosive would have been a kinder shock. Her eyes widened in quiet outrage, “Mada - you want me to go to your family? Jack, there’s a reason you don’t visit them.” 

“Aye! They’re barmy and insufferable, but harmless for the most part. - Well, now that Grandmama is dead, they’re mostly harmless. You're more than capable of handlin’ Quick Draw and her ilk. The house in Madagascar is nye impossible to get to unless you’ve been before. Beckett has a grudge against me, and you know it. Should he discover I have a family...” Jack shuddered, refusing to travel down that rabbit hole. He was one of the few who knew just what a cruel and cold bastard Beckett to be, “Promise me, you’ll go.” 

“...” Quinn bit her tongue, feeling positively sick from what he was demanding of her. 

“Promise me, Quinn.” 

She glowered at him, scowling faintly as she said, “I will always do what needs to be done to keep our children safe, you know this.” 

He did, he did know that “I’m not just worried about our children now, am I? Promise me.” 

A strangled note of desperation burst free on that last command and Quinn felt her ire quite blown out to sea at the sound of it. Jack wasn’t playing fair.  

She swallowed tightly before she whispered, “...I promise to find Teague.” 

Jack didn’t miss the way she had worded that oath. She’d find him, didn’t necessarily mean she’d go with him. He cursed quietly but acknowledge it was probably the best he would get from her, “Thank you.” 

“...Jack?” Quinn breathed, letting her worry come to the surface as she made her own demand, “Come back to me. Just come back.” 

She didn’t care when he did it or how’ just as long as he came back. 

Jack softened in the face of her concern. Cupping her cheek, he placed as much flippant bravado in his words as possible, “I’ve defied death once and come back to you – think I won’t do it again?” 

His cockiness did the trick of making her relax and roll her eyes at him, “I swear by all that’s holy, if you say that you’re Captain Jack Sparrow and that’s why it won’t happen again, you can go sleep on your bloody ship.”  

“Well, I am...” Jack murmured.  

He knew she didn’t buy it when he acted like this, she was one of the few people in the world that could remind him that he wasn’t as indestructible as he liked to pretend. 

“I think you wouldn’t have had to do it once if you hadn’t been so stupid...” Quinn intoned, leaning into his touch before lightly continuing, “And then you followed up that stupid by making it the Pirate King with your vote and now you’re goin’ to battle.” 

Jack’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he uttered, “You are...annoyingly well informed.” 

Quinn shrugged, “I was in the room when the vote happened. Not my fault you didn’t notice.” 

His dark eyes narrowed at her, “And the kiss?” 

“Oh, so you do know what I was speaking of then.” She murmured a little caustically. 

“Aye, well, it seems that Karma’s fine tone sense of retribution for my brief moment of disloyalty was to have me eaten and spat out in a fish captain’s purgatory. Surely even you must agree that I’ve been sufficiently punished for my crime, eh?” Jack smiled as charmingly as he could, making her snort. 

“It wasn’t the kiss that bothered me, Jack. It was you dying...Miss. Swann may have mentioned it to me in a moment of unburdening.” She answered vaguely, misinterpreting his dubious glare as disbelief when merely he was trying to puzzle out when the two women had met, “She didn’t know who she was confessin’ to.” 

“And you left her unharmed?” Jack asked genuinely surprised.  

While jealousy made a rare appearance in his Quinn, protective did not. There were a few pirates – and maybe one or two of his relatives - residing at the bottom of the ocean for far lesser offenses than killing him.  

Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure Grandmama had died of natural causes as Teague had claimed. He remembered that Quinn had been in their part of the world at the time, and she hated the old bitch almost more than he did.   

“If I had been in her place, I would have done the same.” Quinn said with a shrug. For a moment Jack thought her possessed before she continued, “Sides, I knew Tia had talked her into helping get you back from the Locker, if she happened to get maimed or died in the process I wouldn’t have shed a tear.” 

There it was - that was his Quinn. He relaxed back into his pillow as he sent her another suspicious look, “And how were you privy to what Tia Dalma’s plans were?” 

“...Didn’t I mention?” 

 “No, no, you did not mention, luv.” Jack said pointedly, irritation flashed in his dark eyes at her, “It seems you’ve left quite a bit out of your recounting of our time apart.” 

Quinn smiled sweetly, “And you can get the rest of it when you come back. You should have your own version of events well thought out by then.” 

Jack pursed his lips, debating if he wanted to press the issue. At this point, the only thing he would have edited out of his account, she already knew...  

Deciding it wasn’t worth the headache, he changed the gambit, “Sri Sumbhajee, you heard him speak tonight then, do you know -” 

“He’s a eunuch.” 

“...Is he not married?” Jack asked, perplexed and he faintly pitied the woman if it true. 

“He is.” Quinn said quietly, resting her head over his heart, “On his second wife, if I heard correctly.” 

“I wonder how that works then.” Jack grimaced curiously. 

“For him or her?” 

“Both?” 

-----

The utterly disconcerting feeling of being watched woke Jack sometime later – at least that’s what he would tell Quinn. Confusion briefly descended when he didn’t feel the soft shifting of waves. Then it all came screaming back – he barely muffled a curse. Drowsily, his head tilted toward the doorway to see Teague pulling his fist back from the door. 

Must have knocked. 

Christ, but that was off putting. For a moment, he thought he was thirteen again. 

“It’s time, boy.” Teague growled lowly once he saw Jack was conscious before disappearing from sight like a ghost. 

Very off putting.  

Jack could only grunt before he moved to get up, only to find a weight pressing against his stomach. He thought it Quinn’s leg as he slipped his arm from beneath her head, but a quick peek, showed him a messy curly mane belonging to his daughter. He wasn’t sure how he slept through her clambering into bed with them, but not his father’s knock. 

Sense of self-preservation perhaps. He didn’t need to defend himself against his little girl. 

Gently, he eased her over before he reached for his trousers. He moved with more grace than he typically displayed in public, donning his clothes and wresting his boots into place before he moved back to sort his girls.  

Luckily, Rose’s propensity for sleeping like the dead hadn’t changed in his time away as he slid her up the bed to lay within her mother’s protective reach.  

He was pulling the sheets around their little one when he heard Quinn whisper, “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

Glittering emerald worry peered at him, but Jack met her stare unflinchingly, “As long as you swear to do the same.” 

“When am I ever stupid?” 

“I’ll not answer that.” He said wisely, smiling when she glared at him, “I’ll be back before you know it, luv.” 

“Better be.” Quinn said tightly, fighting back tears as she watched him kiss Rose in farewell, “I love you.” 

Jack stilled as those three words escaped her lips. Rarely did they ever acknowledge it – they never needed to because it was just a fact. He loved Quinn and she loved him and that was it. To hear her say it now felt incredibly wrong – too much like a permanent farewell. His heart thundered loudly in his ears. 

“I thought only heedless fools ever said those words.” Jack said quietly, reminding her of the first time he had ever said it to her. 

“Aye, and you’re the biggest heedless fool I know and maybe I am too. So, I'm saying it.” Quinn stated softly. 

He nodded, suddenly understanding just how frightened she was for him before leaning over and catching her lips in his. His kiss was bruising, almost angry as he took his fill. A wetness splashed his cheeks as Quinn lost the battle with her tears.  

He pulled back and found himself soothing her in much the same way he had Jonah earlier, “None of that now, Quinnie. Don’t you dare cry.” 

Wants and needs, he had told their son. He wanted to stay. Quinn needed him to stay even if she wouldn’t say it, but he also needed to go. His hand had been deep in the pot that caused the current climate with Beckett and Jones, so it would be his hand that helped clear it and kept his family safe. 

He stole one last kiss before he whispered, “I love you too, Little Sprite.” 

Jack turned from her then, knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave if he didn’t. He didn’t dare look back at her, her distress would simply break him. Instead, he snagged his sword and gun from the chair by the door and strode from the room and down the stairs to where Teague waited.  

His father didn’t comment on his grim expression, merely watched as Jack pointedly ignored him in favor of finding his coat, “Is she alright?” 

“No.” Jack said stoutly, but raised his chin as he met Teague’s stare, ���But she will be if I have anything to say about it.” 

[blackberreh-art]

Old Man Yaoi Romance - A Beginning

There was a sense of wrongness that Toshinori couldn’t shake off.

It was a buzz at the back of his mind, droning, bordering on pain. It reminded him of a warning, a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong.

He hadn’t felt it since he was much younger, before his prime even. When he was young, and weak, and uncertain about everything except his goal in life. A sixth sense, an instinctual paranoia he'd felt less as time wore on and he grew older, more experienced, more confident.

He hadn't felt it in so long. Decades. 

He reasoned that it was only logical he felt this way, considering his current circumstances. He felt like he was holding the leash to a rabid dog without so much as a muzzle to protect him from its infectious bite, and it was only the threat of it being put down that kept his jaws firmly shut.

Yeah. It was normal for him to feel like this, with All for One standing next to him with nary a hair's breadth between them. 

With timing appropriate for a man of All for One’s dramatic leanings, his throat cleared, and Toshinori barely restrained a flinch. A glance out of the corner of his eye told him his companion was as unimpressed with their current situation as he was, and spitefully, Toshinori was grateful he wasn't suffering alone. 

Bored red eyes flicker to Toshinori.

Toshinori met them with a glare. He nodded his head to the closed door on their left and said, "it's all set up. Please, make yourself at home." 

And don't bother me for the next 24 hours, at the very least.

All for One's lips curled. He doesn't move, looking as if entering the door was a death sentence. Considering he'd narrowly escaped one as it was, Toshinori didn't know where All for One had the gall left in him to act so entitled.

"This place is disgusting." The villain said, echoing Toshinori’s own thoughts upon their arrival at the apartment complex. "You're alright with them placing us here?"

All for One wasn’t wrong. The place was rather… gross. The carpeted floors of the hallways looked like a steam cleaning wouldn’t save them, and the walls – while graffiti-free, were covered in marks from god knows what, the paint chipping and flaked off entirely in places. The elevator didn’t work, and the stairwell had an unpleasant smell that had Toshinori’s lung wanting to act up the minute he’d breathed in.

Toshinori let out a breath, doing all he could to keep his patience in check. The pervading sense of wrongness made it hard, but he was managing, damn it. 

"It doesn't matter." He grit out. "You're here on the government's dime and not rotting in a cell or on death row, so you don't have room to complain."

All for One pursed his lips. It was an expression Toshinori could almost call a pout. Seeing it made him want to punch All for One until all that remained of that smug, mocking face was a mangled mass of blood and gums and teeth.

But he managed to refrain. Barely.

"I have standards." All for One said. "As should you, Mr. Symbol of Peace."

Oh, Toshinori had standards alright. Said standards included not being here as All for One's indentured prison guard, or even anywhere in his general... thousand mile vicinity.

He was only here out of personal obligation. And the fact that he couldn’t trust the HSPC’s intentions in general, let alone about the ex-super villain-turned-untrained dog. 

He didn't say anything about that. Instead, he said, "lower them."

Without another word, he fished out the set of keys given to them from his pocket, casually tossed one to the glowering ex-villain next to him, and slipped through the door on the right without a second glance.

–

What was going through the HPSC’s heads when they concocted this plan, Toshinori had no clue. He wasn’t sure how it happened, or when, exactly, but somehow, All for One had surrendered. War had been brewing on the horizon, the country struggling to repair itself over the Jaku hospital incident and subsequent prison breaks. The HPSC had dragged itself back together with a rabid ferocity and scrambled to take control back once more, and slowly, under the darkening clouds of war, the world tried to piece itself back together.

And suddenly, All for One surrendered. He, along with young Tomura Shigaraki and the rest of the League and remaining PLF members simply gave up. Most disbanded and slipped into the shadows, but All for One and Tomura Shigaraki were taken into custody and whisked away into the depths of wherever the HPSC’s main base of operation was, and there they remained for months.

Toshinori demanded answers – of course he did. All for One simply surrendering made no sense, and in the blur of time that followed Toshinori received nothing. 

He was retired. It didn’t matter about his history with the super villain, his decades of experience as the Number One Pro Hero, or the fact that he’d been an integral part in their plan of defence against the League. Toshinori – All Might – was barred entirely. 

It left him bitter – agitated. Life around him shifted into something almost normal, and suddenly, U.A was back in session and he was in charge of teaching the new generation how to become the best heroes they could be. There was no climactic end, no satisfying conclusion, no answers. 

Nothing.

Until there was something. 

The arrival of the former-number 2 Hero at the teacher’s dorm was a surprise. The proposition he brought even more so.

Hawks was a tired thing, form slouched, wings drooping, feathers dull. But there was a thread of steel in his words, a glowing ember of strength in his eyes when he greeted All Might that showed that for all the HPSC had their claws sunk back into Hawks, he wasn’t defeated. He wasn’t at all happy or content with the way things were being run, and what he told All Might had his blood running cold, before it began to boil. 

The HPSC wanted to use All for One? 

“They’re trying to spin it as a ‘community service’ thing, since Tartarus is nowhere near functional and running. It was the only thing other than U.A with the right sort of defences to keep All for One in check.” Hawks leaned back against the bench, absently swirling the can of coffee in his grip. There was a bitterly amused curl to his lips as he took in the empty pathways, the students well into their second class of the day. “And even the HPSC is smart enough to not put All for One amongst the next budding generation of heroes. So that’s what they decided.” “They can’t be serious.” There was  a leaden weight in Toshinori’s chest. “They’re essentially letting him walk free?” “Mmhm. Limited freedom in exchange for working for the HPSC. They chipped him, you know. Some sorta new tech that can disrupt quirks, keep him from using them when activated. Can also apparently make him drop dead, if need be.” Toshinori’s stomach turned sour.

This didn’t feel right. The whole damn situation. All for One was planning something, that was obvious, but for him to allow that –

“They want you to be his handler.” Hawks finally said. “They’re still sorting things out, so I thought I’d at least come give you a heads up. It isn’t right that they've been keeping you in the dark.” 

Hawks smiled at him, tense and sad, so utterly earnest. Hawks was vocal about his admiration of Endeavor, not shy at all about the fact that he had been Hawk’s number one as a child, but that didn’t change the depth of respect that Hawks held for All Might. Toshinori could only marvel at the young man’s strength and tenacity, his chest tight and warm – panicked, maybe, at Hawks’ news, but also so damn grateful that Hawks went out of his way to get All Might back in the loop. 

All Might swallowed down his brewing nausea and forced a smile. “Thank you, Hawks. You have no idea how much I appreciate you telling me this.”

Hawks clasped his shoulder, the gesture filling Toshinori with an encouraging rush of warmth. He drained his coffee and stretched his wings as he stood. “I have to get back now. Keep an ear out, All Might. They’ll be coming to you any day now. Don’t let them bully you too bad, you hear? You’re supposed to be retired.”

Hawks’ grin was a little more natural when he waved and took to the sky. Toshinori felt cold in his absence, the early autumn chill seeping in through his thin clothing and settling deep into his bones.

He was so tired, suddenly. Anxiety was a creeping, snarly thing that hooked its fingers into his mind and set his thoughts racing. 

He sat there for a long time, trying to regain his calm.

–

When the HPSC came with their proposal, Toshinori didn’t hesitate to say yes.

What it boiled down to was the fact that they wanted All Might to be a glorified babysitter. He’d act as All for One’s handler, responsible for food and upkeep and keeping a constant 24/7 watch over him. Why All Might? Well, who out there knew All for One better than his nemesis?

[hannigramislife]

#4 Scene of my Random Mdzs Fanfiction

Prompt: What if 3zun reincarnated in modern au?

Scene: Lan Xichen remembers the past, and tears both Nmj and Jgy a new one.

Walking towards Nie Mingjue’s office, Jin Guangyao had a sinking feeling of dread settled in his gut, and it was growing by the second. He hadn’t heard from Lan Xichen in over a week, all his texts and calls having gone unanswered, which was unusual, as Lan Xichen took only a couple of minutes to reply. Jin Guangyao thought he had been grateful for the opportunity to have Lan Xichen back in his life, but now that he didn’t wake up to good morning texts, and didn’t receive random pictures during the day with Lan Xichen’s humorous captions, Jin Guangyao realized he hadn’t appreciated them enough. Only a week, and he felt Lan Xichen’s absence like a limb. If something had happened to him, Jin Guangyao would never forgive himself.

Going to Nie Mingjue for help had been something of a last resort; Jin Guangyao didn’t trust the man, wouldn’t turn his back on him if the gang leader had both his arms broken and tied behind his back. He was much more volatile than Jin Guangyao remembered him to be, and he could no longer be trusted not to go too fucking far. Lan Xichen was a bleeding heart with a strong sense of justice; how long until he got in Nie Mingjue’s way. How sure could Jin Guangyao be that this Nie Mingjue wouldn’t harm him?

If Nie Mingjue had something to do with his disappearance, Jin Guangyao would kill him, no questions asked. Even if it was the last thing he did in this life, he’d kill him.

If not, then he’d made the right choice in going to him, and if Jin Guangyao had to beg Nie Mingjue on his knees to help him find Lan Xichen, then so be it.

Lan Xichen was worth it. He had always been worth it.

Once he neared the man’s office, Jin Guangyao heard faint voices coming from the small room, its door ajar. Curious and immediately on edge, he made his steps as light as possible, pressing close to the wall.

“…alm down for fuck’s sake, so we can tal-“

“Calm down?!”

Jin Guangyao almost felt his heart stop at hearing Lan Xichen’s enraged voice echo through the room.

“You want me to calm down, da-ge? You want to talk to me now, don’t you? Well, what shall we talk about first? Wanna talk to me about what the Jins are doing? Want to talk to me about how I had to wait for hours to talk to you 3 days ago because you were busy bleeding out in a hospital bed? Or, my personal favorite; when were you going to tell me I was regularly having coffee with the man who killed you, hm?”

Jin Guangyao felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on him. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as his mind processed the words Lan Xichen had screamed. Too many emotions whirled inside him for him to make sense of them all; shock, joy, sadness, fear, anger, regret— and stronger than them all, desperation.

Desperation to prove to Lan Xichen that he wasn’t the same person, that he wanted nothing more than to be a man that could stand by Lan Xichen’s side proudly. He wanted to beg for a second chance, an opportunity to be better. Other people could do it easily, why couldn’t Jin Guangyao?

It took a moment for Jin Guangyao to realize that Nie Mingjue had gone suspiciously quiet.

He only had time to blink, and lean back slightly, before the door was flung open, and Jin Guangyao found himself facing a very tall, very intimidating, very shirtless-while-wrapped-up-in-bandages Nie Mingjue.

“It seems this conversation is no longer private.” He said as he stared down at Jin Guangyao, crossing his arms in disapproval, shifting the suit jacket he had thrown over his shoulder.

No. Bad brain. Not the time.

Jin Guangyao swallowed painfully, keeping his eyes on Nie Mingjue, if only so he didn’t have to face Lan Xichen. “For a private conversation, you sure are loud. And the door is open.”

The gang leader snorted, before pulling Jin Guangyao in.

Jin Guangyao stumbled in as Nie Mingjue closed the door firmly; with his only exit closed, Jin Guangyao had little to do but face his friend, his former sworn brother. Hesitantly, he locked gazes with Lan Xichen, and was taken aback by the emotions he saw in them. The shock he had anticipated, once Lan Xichen remembered, the heartbroken pain, too, because Lan Xichen had always been so honest in his feelings, but the anger- the anger was new.

Lan Xichen was facing them both, eyes shifting from Jin Guangyao’s curled in figure, to Nie Mingjue standing tall behind him.

Lan Xichen was indeed angry. More than that, he was furious.

“Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao started, for once unable to find the right words to say.

Apparently, that wasn’t important, as Lan Xichen wasn’t planning to let him talk. “Was it fun?” The man cut him off, voice shaking from a kind of emotion he had never seen in him. “Tell me, was it fun? Leading me around by the nose again, pretending to be my friend?”

Jin Guangyao wished Lan Xichen had just punched him instead; it would have hurt less.

“No, no, Er-ge, it wasn’t like that—“

“Was it amusing for you, seeing me fall for the same act twice? What was your plan this time, A-Yao, were you waiting for my memories to return, or was a nice, dramatic reveal what you had planned?”

There was a time Jin Guangyao had seen, and caused, many lives to be destroyed, many suffering in people, even those who had been closest to him, and he’d done so without so much as batting an eyelash. And yet, Lan Xichen’s cruel words were enough to make him want to sob— and Jin Guangyao had heard his fair share of cruel words.

“I wouldn’t— I woudn’t do that to you, Er-ge. I would never hurt you like that.” Jin Guangyao said desperately, wanting Lan Xichen to believe that, if nothing else.

“You wouldn’t do what, Jin Guangyao. Wouldn’t do exactly what you did last time?” Lan Xichen was trembling with badly concealed rage, though he never raised his voice.

Jin Guangyao’s mouth clamped up, his words failing him. Lan Xichen wasn’t listening, he didn’t look like he planned to listen anytime soon, and there was nothing Jin Guangyao could say that wouldn’t come off as fake, manipulative.

In their few weeks of ignorant bliss they’d shared together, Jin Guangyao had forgotten what the events in Guanyin temple had reduced him to in the eyes of his Er-ge. Every word was now open to doubt and suspicion, every smile was fake and planned, every touch meant to draw out trust.

Lan Xichen had no naivety left to give Jin Guangyao, this time.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Besides him, Nie Mingjue tensed, and Jin Guangyao didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “I’m sorry, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen blinked in disbelief, before letting out a slight scoff; another thing Jin Guangyao had never seen him do. He had the uncomfortable realization that, like Nie Mingjue, like himself, this Lan Xichen was also different.

“You’re sorry,” Lan Xichen repeated, voice hard as steel. “Isn’t that a bit too little, too late, A-Yao? A couple of centuries, maybe? What am I supposed to forgive you for? You didn’t hurt me, after all. No, that’s the one line you wouldn’t cross.”

Lan Xichen was, indeed, much different. His words cut deeper than his sword ever did. It had been foolish to hold onto a man that hadn’t existed in centuries.

Or maybe, his mind whispered, this is the same Lan Xichen, and that’s just what he would have always thought about you, had he known the truth.

Sometimes, A-Yao didn’t like his own mind.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Jin Guangyao said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I meant this life, our friendship. I didn't mean to hurt you by getting close to you. I assumed you would not remember."

Lan Xichen took a deep breath. "How is it," he said, "that the only way you can be close to me is when you keep me blind?"

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Strained - a Malevolent fanfic

Faroe has made her decision. To find herself, she's stepping away from her father's plans for her life.

Faroe is not quite eleven, and has no idea how to take her decision back. She wouldn’t, anyway, even if she could.

At least she’ll have forever to make it right.

Part of the Surrogate series. We’re back, baby.

AO3

-----------

The trip home was terribly silent.

Faroe’s heart pounded like a drummer leading to war. She knew her father could hear it, knew it wrecked any chance she had of seeming calm over this, but he did not comment. He carried her as if she were very little (and she didn’t really want him to do otherwise), saying nothing.

She was pleased with her decision. Pleased with her declaration. Not so pleased with the fact that her father had said precisely nothing in response, but only reached, waiting for her to take his hand so they could go home.

The Keeper was, of course, wonderful. “Oh!” she’d said. “I highly doubt that was a suggestion from the group.”

It had not been. Exactly. “No, your grace. It’s mine.”

“Oh, I see,” said the Keeper, wringing several of her hands at the same time.

That probably wasn’t a good response. “Thank you for your hospitality!” Faroe called over Hastur’s shoulder as they zoomed (surely faster than usual) for the portal back home.

It had become quite nicely refined, this portal, leading inside the Scriptorium instead of outside the front door in all that ice and snow, and its entry sat in a beautifully innocent place in one of the palace’s inner halls. Doors lined that hall, guarding various private rooms reserved for the use of the King and his family, and this particular door was always locked—magically keyed to her, her father, Parker, and Arthur.

She studied that doorknob as the portal closed behind them—elegant, ornate, flashing with power and shaped for her hand. It had not occurred to her before that all the doorknobs in the palace fit her small, human hand. That had to be intentional.

A tiny seed of guilt stirred in her gut, seeking to put down roots.

Then he was still carrying her down the hall. Past the throne room, past the music room where Arthur played (and she tried to catch what he was playing, but could not determine it except for big and pretty), and then they were in Hastur’s own quarters. Past his magnificently comfortable bed, his various mirrors and magical shiny gewgaws, past the little vanity station/practice stage Odd had set up against one wall, and onto her father’s glorious balcony.

She hadn’t quite reached the point in her magical studies that she could understand how his balcony did this. The sky above was deep space—whirling galaxies, spreading supernovas and vibrant nebulae so clear they invited touch—smoothly transitioning to the sun-kissed sky above sun-kissed Carcosa. An impossible vista from her incredible father’s mind.

He stood there, staring at it.

For once—a rare occasion—she could not read him. He was so still, even the gentle undulations of his tentacles in the breeze like long weeds in the sea’s current. Silent, he held her against his many beating hearts, and together, they regarded his kingdom.

She couldn’t take it. “Dad…”

“Shhh. Just a moment more, my daughter. Just a moment more.”

What the actual heck did that mean?

He hadn’t said yes or no. He hadn’t pushed back or anything, and she knew this was a big enough deal that he should have. Her throat felt tight.

Court Debate teachers had drilled into her that silence was a powerful tool, and if she’d just learn to let it stretch, she’d win most conversations. Well, she was about to lose this one. It was too much. “Dad…”

His sigh was deep. “Yes, my daughter.”

Why did this feel sad instead of rebellious? It was supposed to feel triumphantly rebellious! “Did you hear me? In the Scriptorium?”

“Of course I did, my daughter. I always do.”

This was not the predicted response. “I’m doing it.”

“I’m aware,” he said, and a hint of humor crested his dark tone. “As if I could force you to learn anything against your will, even if I tied you down in a classroom.”

Her brow knit. “So… you’re okay with this?”

The beat of silence stretched just an inch too far. “As in all things, you are precocious. I expected thIs particular spate of willfulness later in your teenage years, but I accept its early arrival.”

He had?

No, that wasn’t fair! This was supposed to throw everything completely off-kilter! This was supposed to be her first step toward finding herself, not another part of his plan! “Well, maybe you didn’t plan for this,” she informed him, chin raised.

“Oh?” he said.

“I’m quitting more than lessons.” She tried to sound sure.

“Quitting… what?” said Hastur.

“Being royalty,” she said out of nowhere, because that had been the problem between her and Walter, and it was something given to her, and Arthur wasn’t royal, anyway, and who cared? (She did, but worried she wasn't supposed to.)

A pause.

If he laughed, she didn’t know what she would say. If he laughed, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Anger? Tears? Tears had a better chance of moving him, but anger would feel better, even though she couldn’t explain why she’d be angry—

He suddenly wrapped himself around her, arms and tentacles all, as if protecting her from a shower of meteors, and gave one terrible, bone-deep shudder.

In familiar and safe darkness, she went absolutely still. “Daddy?”

“As long as you are alive to do so,” he murmured, which didn't make a whole lot of sense. “I wish for your welfare. Though I believe you’ll rule someday with kingdoms of your own, worshipers, priests, I understand what’s happening. The human studies I’ve read stated the developmental importance of you finding your own way to achieve goals. Your timing…” His laugh wasn’t a laugh. It was awful, quiet, breathy, like nothing she’d ever heard, and it made her chest ache. “Your timing is… difficult. I wish you’d waited. But here we are.” He didn’t unwrap her. He stayed where he was, completely encasing, as if the Dreamlands were dying and only he could keep her alive at the end of the world.

This was all wrong. This had gone all wrong. “Dad?”

“Allow me to process your demand,” said Hastur, slowly unwinding, finally releasing her to sun and sky and air. “I must think.”

She gulped. None of this had gone as she’d imagined it would, and she didn’t know what to do. “Okay.”

He gently touched her cheek. “Worry not. I will plan around everything.”

And she did something she had never done and would normally never do, and didn’t feel good about, but she wanted so badly to make her point that she did it anyway: she shoved his hand away. “I don’t want your plan.”

She’d hurt him.

It was there, in the incomplete and quivering stillness of his limbs, in the ramrod straight posture of his being, in the thick and glutinous silence stretching between them like overworked dough. She'd hurt him, the god of Carcosa, the Prince of the Great Old Ones. Hurt her father, maybe badly.

She couldn’t swallow around the lump in her throat. Couldn’t retract her words—they were too big to fit back inside.

“Nevertheless,” he said, his deep voice mild. “Enjoy your day. I will speak to your tutors and cancel your lessons.”

So this was not the upset she’d intended. No. It was so much worse. “Thank you,” she managed out of raw habit and a life of courtly training.

He didn’t touch her again.

She desperately wanted him to, wanted to lean into his safety and familiarity and love. She couldn’t. It would defeat the entire reason she’d done all this.

(She was no longer sure it was good she’d done all this, but it was far too late to change course.)

Too late to change, but not too late to fix it. She had eternity to fix it. Not that she knew how to live forever yet, but she knew there were many ways. He would live forever, and she would take that time. She'd fix it, and still find her own way. “I will see you at breakfast.” And probably not until then because she would be on her own today, who knew where—her own woman, on her own time.

He stayed back on the balcony as she left, and she felt him watching, and though technically, literally, nothing had changed, a deep and growing ache throbbed in her chest, as if she’d lost something with him that she desperately missed.

She couldn’t even name it, and had no idea how to bring it back to life.

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: July 10th, 2023 PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere & Nora @honeysmokedham LOCATION: The Mines SUMMARY: Nora is a fresh made crystal monster who had previously been telling everyone she was dying. Emilio is making sure Nora isn't dead. They talk. CONTENT WARNINGS: Parental Death TW (mention) Sibling Death tw (mention) Child Death tw (mention) (the emilio trauma pack tw list)

Concern ebbed in his gut as he made his way towards the mines. He didn’t know what to do here. It was a bad feeling, the helplessness that had been eating away at him ever since Nora told him she was going to die. It kept dragging him back to that familiar living room, with blood on the floor. How many times, he wondered, could you fail to save the people you cared about before failure became the only thing you were good at? How many graves could you dig before the dirt became a permanent fixture beneath your nails?

Nora was alive, but he hadn’t saved her. Nora was alive, but there was still something wrong. Those pictures she’d sent, with the same purple crystals that had been popping up all over town clawing their way from beneath her skin, they set him on edge in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He felt cold and uncertain and everything was wrong. Dread sat heavy in his chest, paranoia worse than its already impressive default state. 

He stopped in front of the entrance to the mine, leg aching. He sent a quick message telling her he was there, hoping he wouldn’t have to venture into the mines but prepared to do so if it became necessary. Emilio would crawl into the earth if he had to. If crawling into a grave meant he didn’t have to dig another one, he wouldn’t hesitate.

"I don't understand why he's dancing." It was their second watch-through of Morbius. Apparently one hadn't been enough to get into the spirit of the movie. Whatever spirit that was supposed to be, Nora didn't know. She wasn't sure she'd ever find it. A ding from her phone. Nora fumbled it into a reading position. More often than not she found herself dropping her phone thanks to the crystalline talons that tipped her fingers. "Mimi is here," Nora noted to Cass. "I gotta go talk to him. I told him the banshee screamed for me, I don't think he believes I'm alive." Nora extricated herself from the fort the pair had made. The mines were turning into a comfortable home. "I'll be back," Nora told her friend, throwing in one of Matt Smith's atrocious dance moves as a fair well. 

The trip to the entrance of the mines was easy, it was familiar. As familiar as the walk down into her crypt, or the walk into Axis. It was a home. The familiar scent of Irish Spring Soap and cigarettes met her as she neared the entrance. Nora wondered how close he'd gotten, would he enter the mines? That would be nice. Everyone should live in the mines with her. A big family of her favorite people in her favorite place. She was sure that the mines would fix his knee. Just like the mines had saved her life. "'Sup Mimi." Nora made sure her approach was dramatic. Glowing crystals coming out of a darkness that was exaggerated by her illusions. "Welcome to the mines." 

Nora stood there for a second. Two seconds. Three. "Death looks good on me, don't you think?" And like that, she was a kid showing off something she was proud of. Nora did a slow turn, arms held wide, making sure he could see her full monstrosity. "Sick right?" The pictures didn't do it justice. The pictures didn't capture the slight glow or the way they made soft chiming noises when Nora moved. 

Somehow, some part of him hadn’t believed she was alive until now. Logically, he’d known she was. He’d spoken to her, he’d seen the pictures she sent. He knew she was alive, was well enough to talk and look as happy as he’d ever seen her in the photos she sent. Still, there was a flood of relief as she came to the surface — breathing, moving, and tangible. There was no twist in his gut that meant undead, despite her claims that she’d died and risen up down in the mines, and that was a good thing. 

“You’re not dead,” he told her, though he was pretty sure she’d argue. She usually did, when she had her mind set to something. And she seemed to have her mind set pretty firmly to this. Still, saying aloud helped just a little. His heartbeat slowed, his shoulders released some tension. She wasn’t dead.

She also wasn’t normal. He’d half-hoped the pictures she sent him were doctored in some way or another. Emilio might not have known much about photoshop, but he knew that people more talented than him could manage some pretty impressive feats with it. But here Nora stood, in front of him in the flesh, covered in those goddamn crystals. He took a step forward, watching her with a wary eye as she turned. Sick was one word for it, though he figured the way he was thinking meant something a little different than Nora’s use. “What the hell happened to you? Are you —” He choked on his words a little, relief that she was alive and concern that something was wrong fighting it out in his head. “Are you okay, kid?” 

“Anymore.” Nora added the correction to the statement, she wasn’t dead anymore. It was an important distinction. Important to her because it had been a life changing event. It had shifted her world, it had shattered her bones, it had remade her in the image of the mines. Death had wrapped its boney fingers around her heart with the intention of crushing her, but she had been pulled back to the mortal coil with a purpose. The purpose of being an acolyte to the mines. Nora didn’t miss the relief that seemed to seep over Emilio’s features. It came in the subtle way his jaw seemed to unclench, his shoulders relaxed, and a new calmness entered him. “I keep telling you. Death couldn’t keep me. I remain ungovernable.” 

He hadn’t been listening to her. That was typical Emilio. Nora shook her head in the way of the sitcom actors. The way that said, oh there goes Emilio! Being so silly again! “I told you what happened.” She’d spoken it into her phone until her phone got all the words correct and she could send the message explaining her transformation to him. “I’m,” Nora reached out a hand, staring down at the purple talons that made using her phone so difficult now. She flexed the fingers, straightening them and curling them, eyes fixed as if transfixed by her own movements. “I’m perfect. Look at me. I’m perfect.” Nora knew the words she wanted to use to describe how she felt. She knew how to wrap the sentence that explained this is how she should have always looked. How right it felt, but she didn’t need to say them. It was obvious just looking at her. 

“What about you, old man?” Nora allowed a smile to creep over her. “How’ve you been doing? Any new cases? I bet the mines could solve all the cases.” Nora turned and cast a fond gaze at the mines, the mines where all the answers to life remain. She wished Emilio could see that. 

“Me and death go way back. I’m usually pretty good at telling when it’s around.” It was dry, the way his jokes always were. She wasn’t undead; he knew that, and she had to know that he knew that. Emilio might be a shit hunter where action was concerned, but he could still sense the things he was supposed to be after. He still knew when something had been wrapped up in that blanket of death and uncovered as something else with the same certainty as he knew his own name. And Nora hadn’t. There was so much relief in knowing that Nora hadn’t. Emilio was trying, he was trying to be the kind of man who could look at something undead and not feel a sense of disgust wash over him. He could hang out with Metzli, could exist near Zane without wanting to kill him on the spot, could talk to an undead stranger in a bar and not pull a blade. He was getting better. But there was still that deep-seated sense of unease that came with it. There were still years and years of conditioning, of being told that it was bad was wrong was not okay. It’d take a long time to get out from under that. And so, the relief. Nora wasn’t undead.

But Nora was stubborn.

He knew that about as well as he knew his own name, too. Knew that she’d argue with him about it until she was blue in the face — or whatever color her purple gem-face would turn when she ran out of breath. She’d decided that things were a certain way, and she’d fight for that. She always did. In all honesty, it was one of the things Emilio had always admired about her. She was a good kid, strong. And she liked this. The gems, the mines, all of it. She liked it. That much was clear.

He was still going to fix it, of course. He didn’t trust anything like this, and he’d get her back to the way she’d been before if it killed him. If she hated him for that after… he’d learn to live with it. He’d learned to live with worse.

“Yeah,” he said, “okay. Perfect. Are you in pain?” Maybe that was the better question. He wanted the answer to be no, even if the answer being yes might make her more likely to be willing to let him change her back. The idea of her being in constant pain, of it hurting all the time made his stomach clench up. Emilio knew what that felt like. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Nora. “Me? Kid, I didn’t really come here to talk about me. I’m fine. Cases are what they always are. Don’t think the mines will change that.” Though they might solve a few of the missing person files on his desk. 

“Old drinking buddies, right?” Nora quipped. Emilio shrouded his past in mystery. It had to do with Mexico. It had to do with a family that was gone, dead or missing was never clear. She knew his mom was dead, she thought he alluded to some siblings had gone that route too, but there had always been a line drawn when Nora asked a question that went too deep. A simple, I don’t want to talk about it. Nora reached out a crystalline hand and gently patted it against his arm. An abbreviated version of her cataloged comforting touch. “I know you don’t believe me, but he’s not coming here. He can’t. The mines will protect us.” Nora turned, giving the mines a longing look. 

Even while standing just at the entrance, she felt the pull. It called her back. It asked why she was standing outside its embrace? Why didn’t it want her to be cradled in its being, consumed by its energy, and protected by its walls. The outside world felt wide and empty. Had she always lived in the large open world without caring before? Perhaps it was why she made her home in a crypt, the subconscious realization that the mines were for her. The crypt had also protected her with four walls and a ceiling deep within the ground. What was a crypt of not a mine for human bones? 

“Pain?” Nora ran a talon against her jaw. It had been weird, losing all the flesh of her jaw to make way for the crystal. It had hurt in the moment of her death, but now? “I feel heavier, but it doesn’t hurt.” Nora patted one of the shoulder crystals. “Sometimes I run into the walls.” Spatial awareness was something she was working on still, now that she had to be aware of every crystal jutting out of her flesh. Trying to lean back was the hardest, the sharp crystals back there hadn’t done her the deficiency of being the same size, which might have made it easier to lean back against them. “I’m perfect, Mimi. This is everything I’ve always wanted to be. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t bother me. It’s a blessing.” 

Then Emilio was deflecting back at her. Nora gave him her most deadpan stare, built with extra intensity. “You should talk about yourself sometime, you know. You’re deserving of space. The mine knows that, the mine wants you here.” She knew she probably sounded like an evangelical preacher, trying to convince the sinner to lay down his sin and accept Jesus into the church, but Nora worried about Emilio. Nora wanted him to find the same happiness she had in the mines. “The mines and I, we’re here to help. We want to help you.” 

“Right. Drinking buddies.” The joke wasn’t as funny as it usually was. Not in this moment, not even with Nora standing in front of him in one piece. Death was a familiar thing, but it never seemed to have much interest in Emilio himself. It took the people around him one by one, broke them down bit by bit and ground them into powder. His father died before he could form a solid image of his face in his memory, his oldest brother was gone before he turned thirteen. He was thirty-four years old and an orphan, a widower, a father whose child was already in the ground. Death was an old drinking buddy, sure, but not one who had any interest in taking Emilio home.

So there’d been that fear, when Nora first started telling him that she was dying. There’d been that familiar grip of panic, that old ache that took him back in time to a living room floor and blood on the walls. Emilio and death existed in a quiet cohabitation, but there were so many people he couldn’t stand for it to take. Nora had quickly cemented herself as one of them, as a name right up at the top of the list of people he thought ought to be untouchable. And still, he almost couldn’t let himself believe she was here until her hand found his shoulder, until those rough crystals brushed against his shirt. Nora was here. Nora was alive. And death could fuck off, this time. Death could go right back where it came from.

“Okay,” he said quietly, because there was no arguing with her when she was like this. She said the mines were a death free zone, and he knew they weren’t but he knew his arguments would fall on deaf ears all the same. If he were a little less exhausted, he might try it anyway. He was as stubborn as she was, and he knew he was right about this one. There was no safe place in the world that couldn’t be made unsafe, were no walls death couldn’t walk through. He thought back, as he always did, to that living room in Mexico with the cross on the wall and the iron doorframe. He thought of the nights he’d fallen asleep on the couch with a baby on his chest without fear, without anxiety. 

He thought of how the only difference between a safe place and a casket was whether the hearts that sat within it were still beating.

Nora’s was. He could hear it in her chest, a strange echo through the crystals in her skin. Beating oddly, but beating all the same. It could change in an instant, he knew; it only every took a second for one heartbeat to fail to give in to the next, for one breath to become a person’s last. But Nora was alive for now, and maybe that had to be enough. 

His shoulders slumped in quiet relief as she said there was no pain, and he let himself believe her even though it seemed impossible. She was able to stand upright, at least, and wasn’t that more than he could do himself most days? Even now, his leg ached on the uneven ground, as if protesting its own existence. (And maybe Emilio could relate to that sentiment, just a little.) “Well, try not to run into walls.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one, didn’t feel like one. Nothing really did when he felt like this, when the world was heavy. (Everything was always so goddamn heavy.)

He didn’t know what to believe here. Nora swore that she was better than fine, that she was perfect, but his heart still felt like a jackhammer beating down on his ribs, breaking them up into pieces. He was still in that goddamn living room floor, still washing the blood out from under his fingernails. Maybe he always would be. And Nora was talking about him, was saying he deserved space, and he didn’t know how to tell her that she was wrong. He didn’t know how to put to words that the things he deserved probably weren’t the things she wanted him to have, didn’t know how to say that the space he took up would be so much better if it were filled by someone else, someone who’d been gone for years now. 

“I’m not the kind of guy you help,” he said, rather than try to find those ever-elusive words. “You can tell the mines that, too.” He was quiet for a moment, unsure how to proceed. “Said you had a friend down there. The two of you managing all right?”

There was concern written all over his face in bold lettering. Its script spiraled around his features with every word he didn't say. Emilio didn't speak much, he never had. But today he didn't need to. Each look he gave to one of her crystals was a sentence she could hear clearly in his soft voice. The voice he only used when he knew something was wrong, but didn't know how to fix it. The voice that told her he was listening, and he heard her, but he couldn't fix it as much as he wanted to. The unspoken sentences were ones of concern and disbelief. But Nora knew the disbelief wasn't for her, per se, but for the crystals. The story. In a town that was full of the strange and unusual, could she blame him for that? Would she think it was hard to believe something good could happen in this town if she was a jaded old man? Who was to say? 

"Wrong. I help you. That's literally my job, dumbass." A pause, before adding. "Assistant? There was a word Nora had always wanted to use. It was apprentice. But it felt too big. Too official. It sounded too much like a, I want to be like you. Even if she did. Even if she looked up to a guy who couldn't accept any help. Neither could she, if she was being honest. "The mines are listening. I don't need to tell them anything." They sang in her bones, they whispered to her crystals. It wasn't a literal voice. As much as a mine shaft looked like an open mouth, the mine shaft vocal chords with the cart the box moving up and down to activate the tone. It wasn't true. No, everything Nora knew from the mines she just... What was the best way to explain it? It was in her. It was her. She was the mines and the mines were her. Their ideas were her own, and if she had her own ideas? What did they matter? The mines wanted what was best. 

At the entrance, standing near the open sky, Nora wondered if she actually felt that way, or if something was wrong. But a glance down at her crystalline body reminded her of the favor the mines had done for her. It reminded her that she loved the mines with everything she was. "If the mines don't want to help you, they won't. But they want to help everyone. Remember that." He was stubborn. He would stay stubborn. Nora would let him have this for now. 

"Cass." Nora supplied the name because Cass deserved to have her name remembered. Nora glanced back into the darkness. "She's down there. We've been watching things together. It's great. we are fine down there." Words that Nora felt like she repeated a thousand times. Every one was so concerned about the people living in the mines when they should be concerned about living outside the mines. They were missing the beauty of the depths within. For someone who had struggled with words her whole life, she felt like she finally might have them. But only the words that would tell people about the mines. If only they would believe her. If only they wouldn't look at her with faces painted in concern. 

"If you change your mind, come. Whenever you want." Nora listed the steps. You start at this tunnel, and you head down. You take the fourth right, there is a winding path but don't leave it. Those multiple little ones will take you to other caverns. Then you take a final right, left, right and straight. Then there was a home. Waiting for anyone who would take it. "Oh. I haven't seen Babadook and Munch in a while. They are refusing to come to the mines. Can you keep an eye out for them? Babs can feed himself, but..." Nora shrugged. "He doesn't look like other dogs. If hunters are after me, they are after him too, right?" Because god forbid anything be different in this town. That wasn't true anymore. The mines welcomed everyone who was different. 

"I'm going to get back to Cass now." Nora didn't want to admit it, but standing in the open made her uncomfortable. The mines were a soft embrace closing in around her. This? This was an open hell. Anything could go wrong out here without the watchful eye of the mines. "I'm serious, Emilio. Come to the mines sometimes. Just think about it. It'll change your life." 

“You get paid for jobs,” he reminded her. Not that he hadn’t offered to pay her a hundred times now, not that he wouldn’t have shoved cash into her bag when she wasn’t looking if he hadn’t known she’d probably respond by hiding it in his fridge or something. Nora deserved a lot more than he could give her, but he still wished she’d let him give her something. He still wished she’d sleep on his couch instead of sleeping in a crypt or in a mine or wherever it was she decided to lay her head that week. But she wanted freedom, and he understood that. She wanted to be able to pick where she slept and what she did, and Emilio would never take that away from her. He’d never dream of it. “Yeah. Assistant. You pick whatever title you want, okay? We’ll get matching business cards.” Another joke, just as flat and empty as all the ones that had come before it. Even on his best days, Emilio’s humor was dry and flat and unfunny to pretty much everyone but him. 

Nora seemed to understand it better than most, at least. Seemed to understand him better than most. She didn’t tend to laugh, because she wasn’t really the laughing type, but… She also didn’t give him odd looks or chastise him for his poor timing. It was part of what he liked about her, part of why she was one of the few people he wanted around even when he was in a slump so deep that the idea of interacting with anyone at all was exhausting. He wasn’t sure when that kid who’d tried so hard to scare him in the cemetery all those months ago had become the exception to so many of his rules. He tried not to think too hard on it. Some things were better when you just let them be.

And maybe, in turn, he could understand the… appeal of this idea she’d built for herself. Of this vague concept that told her the mines were a healing place, this notion that they could help anyone. It was a tempting thing to believe, he thought. It reminded him a little of his relationship with religion, of how he used to cling to the idea that there was a God who loved him, a higher power who’d chosen him for something bigger, a big important thing somewhere in the universe that saw him not as an inferior version of the older siblings who’d surpassed him but as something worth loving all its own. That idea seemed just as ridiculous to him as Nora’s new mine obsession now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still understand why it was a tempting thing to cling to. He wished he could still believe in it. He wished he could look at himself and think that something — God, a mine shaft, his mother — could love him just as he was.

“Cass,” he repeated, because that was easier than accepting everything else that she was saying. The mines were a delusion, and it hurt a little, because the idea that Emilio was fixable, the idea that there were things that weren’t irreparably broken and that he could be one of them was a delusion just as grand. It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone would think possible without some malicious outside force insisting upon it. “I’m glad you’ve got someone.” And he was glad it was someone better than him.

He nodded, pretending there was any chance that his mind would ever change. Unless he got hit with whatever magic made her this way, he didn’t see himself scrambling to join her in the mines any time soon. But the rest of her request… “I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promised. “Go by the crypt and make sure they’re all right, make sure there’s nobody sniffing around that shouldn’t be.” He was good at steering hunters away from things. It was a skill he figured he’d be using a lot more now that Rhett was in town. 

Sucking his teeth, he nodded. She was going back to the mines, and he wasn’t. Even if he’d wanted to, just the idea of making that trek made his leg ache. It was a bad pain day. There’d been a lot more of those since Nora retreated to the mines; a side effect of Emilio pushing himself harder than usual. Probably a side effect he deserved, if he was being honest with himself. “I’ll think about it,” he lied. “Until then, you stay safe. Okay?”

Matching business cards sounded nice. Because Nora wanted to be a private investigator. As Nora thought about that want, the first passion she’d discovered out of painting since childhood, the thought struck her. If she lived in the mines, how would she be a P.I. Nora glanced over her shoulder, the entrance was a mouth waiting to consume her. It called to her. A Siren song that made her heart dance with joy. She turned back to Emilio. She could be a private investigator in the mines, she decided. He’d come in there and finish training her. Then she’d be the second best P.I. in the mines, until Emilio got old and retired and stayed at his cavern as a consultant while Nora took on the mantle of best private investigator. Because that was surely the life the mines were offering for her, it was the life she wanted. 

“Cass,” Nora agreed. Nora was glad she had someone too. Nora was glad about Cass all the time. The fact that she hadn’t left. The fact that she’d forgiven Nora. The fact that she existed. “It’d be better with two.” Because who was she to give up her last attempt to get someone else in the mines. Later, Emilio would take that seriously and deliver someone else to Nora’s mine, but it wouldn’t be him. It would be another crystal blessed and Nora would be just as pleased, just as thrilled, to have more people in her home to call family. 

“Thank you. Oh. Babadook has recently started terrorizing a retirement home. Oaks Lawn. I did one of those read to the elderly programs,” Nora wasn’t sure that was an actual program, she just showed up and started reading. “And told them a story about how a big dog with tentacles appearing meant a mass death event. Then showed them Babadook. I thought it would be funny.” It was. “But Babadook has really enjoyed hanging out there. He’s a bit of a legend now. You’ll probably find him there if he’s not at the crypt.” Babadook was a good dog. She missed him. She hoped one day he would stop by and visit her, but it was hard to convince a dog without a phone, or the ability to speak a similar language. 

“Okay.” Nora agreed. She nodded, the tips of her mouth moving up into a smile. It wasn’t her usual rare micro smile, but something close to a real smile. Something foreign to her since her modeling days ended. “I just want you to be happy.” Nora told Emilio, blunt as usual. “And I think you could be happy with us in the mines.” She turned away, eyes focused on the darkness within. “But we’ll be safe. The mines will keep us safe.” And she let the mines swallow her whole once more. 

[katealpha]

Just as Sisu had done when she was coming back from a journey away from Heart, Raya had found herself sauntering down the bridge that led away from her home. With a hand under her belly and one upon her back for support, the princess truly was reduced down to an encumbered waddle. With one foot in front of the other, Raya groaned as a flurry of squirming wriggles jostled within the confines of her womb. Her constantly aching back didn’t help things either. The princess felt like she was carrying an overripe jackfruit in her belly, and it was sitting right in her pelvic region. A brief rub around the circumference of her gut was enough to keep them calm, especially in moments of exertion. She was a good mile away from her bedroom, and she hadn’t stopped for a moment in coming to the entrance of her land. She had something important to do.

The princess knew that she should be resting, but Raya was one to seldom listen to people. It was both a virtue and a flaw. It was tough to take advantage and control her, but there were times this had gotten her into trouble. Chief among those times invoked the very person Raya was waiting for: Namaari. The two princesses of neighboring lands had grown much closer since the time that they were bitter enemies. Sisu made sure that they reconciled after her resurrection, and I turned out all they needed was a while to talk things over and an honest apology from both Namaari and her mother Virana for what they did. While not everyone, not even a few dragons accepted their apologies, Raya and Namaari managed to reconnect.

The last time Raya had seen Namaari in person was about seven months ago, when she went to Fang for a weekend. Raya was pregnant at the time, she was slowing, but when Namaari asked, she simply said that she was bloated from Fang’s generosity. It worked, surprisingly enough, but now there was no hiding how far along she was. A year has passed since Raya had ingested that gem that Sisu formed with her magic, and that meant she was full term now. Huge wasn’t even close to how to describe the princess. Absolutely nothing could fit over her girth at this point except for the stretchiest of fabrics. Feeling bold however, Raya decided to use dresses that split down the middle and spread open like curtains, letting her belly hang out in all its glory. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the feeling.

A few moments went by, and Raya finally arrived at the top steps of the bridge while went down towards the path into the jungle. She’d stay where she was. She didn’t feel the need to exert herself that much, and potentially run the risk of being an easy meal for one of the 12 foot spiders that populated Heart and Talon’s surrounding jungles. There she waited, a hand on her lower back to ease a soft cramp and a huff leaving her mouth. Raya felt another squirm inside her belly, which caused her to look down and smile.

“Excited to meet your aunt…or maybe even your other mother? It’s gonna be love at first sight for when she sees how big you’ve made me.” Raya stroked up and down her belly, the warmth from within soothing her as it drives up her hand and through her arm, right back into her chest. This little moment with her future children wouldn’t last long as she heard the sound of vegetation moving.

“…Raya??”

The princess of Heart looked up from her swollen midriff and met the gaze of Fang’s own princess. Mounted on the back of her serlot cat, Namaari had never been so gobsmacked in her entire life. Of course, her meeting Sisu in her dragon form was a very close second. But this time, Namaari was actually having trouble processing it all. There was her best friend who she’d been writing to and from for the better part of a year, and she was…massive! Raya broke the silence smiled, giving a wave and a sheepish smile, her heart thumping with excitement.

“H-hey Namaari! You’re right on time!”

Namaari got off the massive cat, which was starting up at Raya with equal surprise to its rider. Approaching slowly, Namaari walked up the steps towards Raya.

“Hey…Raya. What’s going on with your stomach? You look…pregnant! Are you?..” Namaari said, finally able to form some words.

“I am…you remember how Sisu ate the gem and gave birth a year later? Well…I decided I wanted to make a dragon of my own…and I wanted to surprise you.” Her hands cradled around her belly, a blush growing upon Raya’s face as she then held her hands out.

“It worked on you?…you could have at least dropped a few hints, depla. I feel like I just got the wind knocked out of me.” Her hands met Raya’s holding onto them as they stood together on the bridge.

“Don’t think I don’t know how clever you are, Maari. You’d have figured it all out before I could knock the wind out of you. Consider this payback for Spine.” Raya chuckled and smiled a bit wider. She loved the banter she shared with Namaari.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Nevermind that. You uh…you look good. I just…I have so many questions about this. I can’t believe you’re pregnant with a dragon…or dragons..”

“Dragons. I’m having twins. I’m way bigger than Sisu was at full term. I feel like I’m going to burst.” Raya rubbed around her stomach after letting go of Namaari. She’d stroll around Fang’s princess and look down to her feline mount. “But I’ll answer all of them for you. As soon as we get someplace more private. Hopefully I don’t break your kitty’s back when she’s getting us back to the Palace.”

The serlot gulped visibly as it starred up at Raya, knowing that the heavy women would be a lot to handle…..

————————————————————

Here comes part three of the Pregnant Raya saga! Here we have her reunion with Namaari. There will be more coming in time so I hope you’ll be patient. Just know that Raya will not be getting any bigger from here. She’s a full size and ready to pop! Big thanks to Julias-Rocks for their amazing work on these art pieces! I hope you’ll enjoy this as well!

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 16

A manorian high school AU 

Words: 3,5k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

TRIGGER WARNING: References homophobia from previous chapter, emotional abuse, alcoholism

Gone are the days of begging

The days of theft

No more gasping for a breath

The air has filled me head to toe

-Florence + The Machine, Between Two Lungs

When Manon had fallen asleep, she and Dorian had been resting side by side, their shoulders barely brushing against each other, but their hands intertwined. 

Now, as she slowly woke up, she was lying on her side, a pair of arms wrapped around her middle. Dorian had to be asleep, still, because she could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back.

Twisting around, Manon allowed herself to shamelessly study his face. He looked so peaceful, such a contrast from the pain and panic she’d seen in him last night.

What his parents had said and done… It filled her with such rage she wanted to scream, but that wasn’t what Dorian needed right now, so she pushed it down.

Even if it had felt like a punch in the gut when he’d told her how his mother had just stood there, doing nothing, while his father kicked him out. It felt too close to her own situation. Was Asterin just as hurt by how Manon had done nothing? Right now, however, it wasn’t about her, so she wouldn’t think about it.

Instead, Manon lifted her hand, gently brushing a finger against Dorian’s lips. They were so soft, and something within her stirred at the thought of kissing them.

The featherlight touch was enough to stir Dorian awake too, though, and his eyes fluttered for a moment, before blinking open. They were still slightly red and puffy, along with his cheeks, Manon now noticed, but Dorian gave her a lazy smile as he found her studying him.

«Hi,» he said in a raspy voice.

«Hey,» Manon answered, her own voice just as raw.

For a long moment they just stared at each other, neither of them saying anything. They had too much to talk about, too little time to stay in this bubble they had created.

One of Dorian’s hands, which were still wrapped around Manon, began stroking up and down her back in soothing motions.

«How did you sleep?» 

The way Dorian winced was answer enough on its own, along with the dark circles under his eyes, but he said, «Better than I thought I would.»

Manon could see the exact moment he decided to cover up the gravity of the situation with his usual teasing and swagger, and his smirk wasn’t fully convincing, but she played along. They could talk later.

«I would have slept much better if you didn’t snore so loudly though.»

Manon gasped, clutching her non-existent pearls. «I do not snore! That you would even suggest such a thing-»

But she smiled, feeling a little lighter, and she could glimpse the usual humor in Dorian’s eyes.

«Why do you think Abraxos left in the middle of the night?»

Throwing a glance at the foot of the bed, Manon confirmed it was indeed empty. She hadn’t even realized her cat wasn’t in the bed with them anymore. Oops…

«He probably left because you take up all the space.»

Dorian scoffed. «What?! That is absurd. Outrageous. Absolute tomfoolery-»

That made Manon snort with laughter, and Dorian soon joined her. They were both grinning now.

«You’re pretty cute when you sleep, though. Even if you snore…»

He still smiled, but his eyes bored into her with a sudden intensity. One that made butterflies appear in her stomach.

«I told you I don’t snore, so I don’t know who you slept with last night,» Manon claimed, fluttering her eyelashes for emphasis.

Raising one eyebrow, Dorian said, «Are you trying to tell me you get possessed by a seventy-year-old man every night? Because that’s actually what you sound like.»

«Oh shut up!»

«Make me.»

So Manon did, by crashing her lips against his.

-

A while later, they were both standing in the kitchen, Manon watching as Dorian made scrambled eggs, Abraxos snaking himself against their legs in hope of getting a treat. It was almost 11 already, but seeing that it was a Sunday, they had all the time in the world to avoid talking about everything.

Or at least until Monday, when they both had school and Manon’s grandmother came back.

As if sensing her thoughts, Dorian turned away from the eggs, asking, «Your grandmother was coming back tomorrow, right?»

And just like that, their bubble was burst.

«Yeah…» Manon looked down as she spoke, unable to meet his eyes. They both knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but Manon felt awful for it. He’d just been kicked out of his own home, for fuck’s sake. 

«I want to let you stay, I really do, but my grandmother-» Before she could continue, Dorian stepped closer, cupping her face.

«I know. You’ve already done so much for me, Manon. Don’t feel bad.»

Manon placed her hands over his, getting lost in his blue eyes.

«I’ll call Chaol or Aelin later today. I can stay with one of them for a while, until I figure out what to do.» It amazed her how he managed to sound so certain, so reassured, after yesterday’s events, so she told him as much.

«You’re amazing, you know that?»

Dorian beamed at her, but then the moment was interrupted when a phone started ringing in the distance.

«Shit, that’s mine,» Dorian said, but he didn’t pull away. 

Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Manon urged him, «Go. I’ll finish breakfast for us.»

Dorian obeyed, disappearing down the hallway, and Manon shifted her attention to the forgotten eggs on the stove, which were moments away from burning.

It didn’t take long before Dorian returned to the kitchen, ringing phone in hand and a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

«It’s my mom.»

-

Dorian just stared at his phone, letting it ring for what seemed like forever, before it finally went silent. He hadn’t believed it at first, when he’d seen who was calling, but it was his mother. He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d called him.

A moment passed, and then it started again, the display still reading Mom. Dorian was frozen, fearing what would happen if he answered.

«Hey,» Manon said in a soft voice, having walked over to him without his notice. «If you don’t like what she has to say, you can just hang up.»

Her words gave him the courage to press answer before it stopped ringing again.

With shaking hands, he lifted the phone to his ear, but he didn’t say anything. 

«Dorian?» The voice on the other sounded like his mom’s, but also not. It was too present, too caring.

He nodded at first, but then realized she couldn’t actually see him, and forced out a quiet «Yeah?»

Manon took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

His mother went silent for a little while, but then he heard her sniffle, as if she was crying, before she said, «Are you far away?»

Dorian wasn’t sure what was happening right now. His mother didn’t call to ask where he was. His mother was too deep in her wine glass to care about anything. His mother had just sat there last night while his father basically disowned him simply for being bisexual.

Except she hadn’t.

Dorian remembered now, how she’d tried to stop him. And it hit him, all of a sudden, that it hadn’t been to avoid an argument during family dinner. No, the intensity, the alertness in those eyes…that had been a mother desperately trying to protect her child.

That moment of action didn’t undo all the other times when she’d remained silent during his father’s constant berating, but it mattered.

To Dorian, it mattered.

«No.»

His heart was still hammering, but he managed short, simple answers.

«I-, I would like to talk to you, to apologize.»

«Okay.»

«But maybe it’s best in person?»

«Yeah.»

«Do you think you could come home? When you’re ready?»

«Mom-»

«Your dad isn’t here….He left last night. I’ll explain later.»

That got his attention. What the fuck had happened after he’d been thrown out? 

«What?»

«I’ll explain in person. I promise, Dorian.»

He looked to Manon, who’d remained by his side this whole time, breakfast forgotten. He still held her hand, as if it was a lifeline, but when she gave him a fierce look, along with a nod of encouragement, he knew what he had to do, even if it scared him.

Taking a deep breath, Dorian finally answered, «Okay. Give me an hour.»

Then he hung up.

-

An hour later, Dorian was walking up to his house with no idea what to expect. Did he even live here, still?

He refused to get his hopes up, for his own sake, refused to believe his mom would finally start being…well, a mom.

Not even 24 hours ago, he’d stood in this very spot, feeling empty and alone, betrayed, thinking he’d just lost his home.

Now, he was just as shocked, but his time with Manon had left him with a little more courage.

After he’d hung up, he’d shared a quiet breakfast with Manon. She’d offered to go with him, and he’d wanted to say yes, but deep down he knew he had to do this on his own. 

So they’d finished their breakfast, and after a long embrace (and a few kisses), he’d left, Manon wishing him good luck and telling him to call at any moment if he needed to.

What would meet him inside that house, no one knew, but it couldn’t get much worse than last night, and he’d survived that, so he could survive this too.

Dorian gave himself one more minute to try and calm down, then he stepped through the front door.

At first, there was nothing but silence, but then his mother rushed into the hallway, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. Hollin came in after her, still in his pajamas, and stopped to hide behind her legs.

Standing there, Dorian looked at his mom, not sure what he was seeing. She seemed more awake, more present, than she had in years, glad to see him whole by the way she smiled, but also nervous by the way her hands shook.

Then she spoke, the words so shocking that for a moment, Dorian believed his mother had actually been abducted by aliens, and this was the impostor they’d sent to take her place.

«Do you want pancakes?»

Dorian just blinked, and he must have looked as clueless as he felt, because his mother/alien-impostor explained, «Pancakes. Hollin and I made them for breakfast.» As she said the last part, she reached out to stroke Hollin’s hair.

Shaking his head, Dorian stammered, «I- Uh…I just had breakfast…actually.»

«Oh, okay.» His mom gestured towards the kitchen. «Would you like to sit down, so we can talk?»

«Yeah,» Dorian breathed, then he followed her into the kitchen.

He sat down by the small table, nothing like the huge, too-formal one in the dining room. Dorian couldn’t help but feel relieved they weren’t having this conversation there. Throwing a nervous glance at the room, it seemed like the mess from last night had been cleaned up.

«Just give me a moment,» his mom said, then she led Hollin into the living room. The way she spoke to him, so gentle and caring, baffled him.

«Why don’t you watch a movie while me and Dorian have a chat? We’ll be right in the kitchen if you need anything, alright? You can come and get me at any moment.»

Dorian could vaguely recall a time when his mother had been this soft and gentle person, but the few good years had easily been overshadowed by the later years, when she’d been distant and drunk most of the time.

Those early years had been good years, though, Dorian thought. He remembered being a pretty happy child, feeling safe and loved. His father had been gone a lot of the time, either at work or traveling, but he’d had his mom and her family.

Then something had changed, seemingly out of the blue. His dad became more controlling, his mom more distant. Their relatives stopped visiting. Then Hollin had been born, and things had gotten even worse.

Lost in thought, Dorian didn’t notice that his mother was back until the noise of a chair scraping against the floor filled the otherwise quiet room.

She sat down across from him, and to his great shock, yet again, she was cupping not a glass of wine, but a mug of coffee. It was into said cup she stared as she spoke. «I don’t even know where to start.»

Not knowing either, Dorian just asked the question he needed the answer to the most: «Where’s dad?»

«I told him to leave last night, so he did.»

His mother finally looked him in the eyes, then, her expression so awake, despite the dark circles. She looked like she’d slept just as little as him.

It sounded so simple, but he knew there was no way it could have been. A million possible replies went through Dorian’s head, but in the end he chose to go with «How?»

She took a long sip of her coffee, before she started explaining.

«As soon as you’d closed the door last night, Hollin completely lost it. He flung himself to the floor and started screaming, hands covering his head. Your dad told me to deal with it, then shut himself inside his office. It took forever to calm your brother down, and I swear I have never seen anyone so terrified…the look on his face-»

His mother stopped for a moment, as if lost in thought, but Dorian didn’t say anything, only waited for her to continue.

«After he’d calmed down in his room, and I’d assured him you were okay, I went to talk to your father, told him I wanted him gone immediately. He just laughed it off at first, but then I reminded him that I actually own this house, that he was nothing before me, that he would still be nothing without me, and it seemed to resonate with him, if only a little.»

Dorian was too stunned to speak. He knew that his mother came from a rich family, and that his father absolutely didn’t, but this-

«Then, I threatened to call the police if he didn’t get out of my house. I don’t think he would have been charged with anything, but it would have damaged his reputation greatly, so he packed a few bags and took off like the coward he is.»

There was no remorse in her voice, no fear, only steely resolve.

«What if he comes back?» Dorian found himself whispering.

«Then he’ll be met with a locked door. I’ll even get a restraining order if I need to.»

Dorian needed a moment to reconcile this woman sitting in front of him with the mother he knew. It was too good to be true. She couldn’t have just decided she wanted to try from now on. It couldn’t be that easy.

«What changed?»

She swallowed. «I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but you looked at me last night, as if begging me to do something, say something, and then when I didn’t, the disappointment in your eyes…as if you knew I wouldn’t act, yet you hoped-»

A tear escaped, then another. «I have never felt so ashamed of myself. Someone was hurting my child, and I just sat there and did nothing. Then it hit me, how I barely even know you anymore. You’ve grown into a wonderful, bright young man, and I can take no credit for it.»

Dorian felt tears of his own fall down his cheeks, and as he sniffled, his mom reached out to grab his hand.

«I’m so sorry, Dorian. For last night, for all the other nights, for the previous years-»

The tears kept falling, but he let them.

«It also hit me that while it might be too late for me to be the mom you deserve, it’s not too late for Hollin. He’s still so young-»

«It’s not too late,» Dorian managed to choke out. 

His mom let out a sob at that, and for a while, they just sat there, crying together over everything they’d lost.

«I can’t promise you things will be perfect, but I’m gonna try, Dorian. For you and Hollin, I’m gonna try.»

Dorian nodded.

«I’m seeing a therapist on Tuesday, already, and I’ve made an appointment with a divorce lawyer.»

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t, but her words filled him with such hope. Maybe things would actually change for the better.

«I also spent a few hours on the phone last night, with your aunt Philippa. Do you remember her?»

Nodding once more, Dorian recalled the image of his aunt. His mother had lost touch with her sister several years ago, but they’d been close when he was little. She was a few years younger than his mom, and as far as he knew, still unmarried with no kids. He’d liked aunt Philippa.

«She’s coming to stay for a while,» his mom said, smiling faintly now. Things really were changing.

Her smile quickly fell, though, at what she said next. «I’ll also start attending AA-meetings.» She looked down. «I know I have a problem, but I’ll try my best to get better.» Dorian looked over her shoulder, towards the wine rack hanging on the wall, but it was empty.

Squeezing his mother’s hand, Dorian whispered, «That sounds like a good idea.»

They talked some more, having a lot to work through, but then his mom asked, «Did you stay with Chaol last night? Or Aelin? You are still friends with them, right?»

Dorian let out a chuckle. «Yeah, I am.» Then his face went warm as he thought of how he’d woken up this morning, the body he’d been pressed against. «I stayed with Manon, though.»

«Is she your girlfriend?»

Dorian quickly shook his head, slightly mortified.

«But she’s more than a friend?» his mom pried, raising an eyebrow.

Was he that obvious?

As if reading his mind, she said, «Your whole face changed when you said her name. In a good way, though.»

That made him blush even more, and he mumbled something about them not labeling anything.

«As long as she makes you happy. Though I always thought you would end up with Chaol.»

Her words didn’t register at first, but when they did, he burst into tears once more. After last night-

It was such a subtle, casual way to let him know she fully accepted his sexuality, and it meant the world to Dorian. He hadn’t known how much he needed this.

As he sobbed, his mom stood up and came around to his side of the table, pulling him into a tight hug. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his mom.

And as she whispered «My brave, beautiful boy. I love you so much», he finally believed everything would be alright.

-

A while later, Dorian entered the living room, where Hollin was sprawled on the couch, hypnotized by what seemed to be a Cars movie.

The seven-year-old was so transfixed he didn’t even notice when Dorian sat down next to him. 

«Is that the one with the spies?»

Hollin nodded absentmindedly. 

«Awesome! I love that one.»

That seemed to catch his attention, because the kid twisted his entire body, frowning at Dorian. «Really?»

«Yeah,» Dorian shrugged. In fact, he’d watched it with Chaol and Aelin just a few weeks ago. Their movie night may or may not have also involved alcohol, but it had still been hilarious.

Hollin stared at him for a long moment, before he flung himself at him. Dorian was stunned for a few seconds, but quickly returned the embrace.

«I’m glad you’re still my brother,» Hollin mumbled into his chest, burrowing even closer.

His words broke Dorian’s heart, and he held back a fresh wave of tears as he said, «I’ll always be your brother, dude.»

Then they both settled on the couch, Hollin snuggling against Dorian’s side, to watch the rest of the movie. All throughout, Hollin excitedly told Dorian about which cars were his favorites and why.

Dorian’s phone buzzed once, and he picked it up to find a text from Manon:

Manon: How did it go? Are you okay?

His heart warmed at her concern, and he found himself smiling at his phone.

Dorian: We’re all good for now

Dorian: Had a really long talk

Dorian: I’ll call you later tonight

Dorian: Thank you, btw, for yesterday<3

Dorian: And this morning<3<3

Manon: <3<3

A/N: An uncommon Georgina W? What is this?

I would just like to say that getting out of an abusive marriage is rarely as easy as portrayed here, but this fic is about Dorian, not Georgina, and he deserved some love and healing for once<3

Stay safe guys<3<3

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @gwynethhberdara @darklingswhxore @onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @rainbowcheetah512 @mirubyjane @zoyalovesbooks​ @wishfulimaginings​

[brotheralyosha]

Media layoffs are nothing new anymore. Surprise and anger has been replaced with this kind of exhausted resignation (no pun intended), this beleaguered acceptance that “this is just the way things are.” The games media industry is certainly no stranger to cuts and closings. Fanbyte gutted, Launcher gone… every other site shedding handfuls of talented people seemingly by the day. It paints a bleak picture. Even before today, the accepted wisdom has already changed to “don’t try to get a job as a critic or a journalist in this industry, at least not right now,” because there are just very few safe, stable options.

Vice shuttering Waypoint, though, is a total unmooring gut-punch.

What does Waypoint mean to games media? I mean, just ask around. Folks all over what’s left of social media have been talking about the often profound effect Waypoint‘s mere existence has had on them, either as freelancers trying to make a name for themselves in a cutthroat industry or simply because of the content the site published. Some of the keywords people have used to describe the criticism and journalism put out by Waypoint: humane. Holistic. Comprehensive. Thoughtful. Life-changing.

I think a lot about this speech from Brassed Off, where Pete Postlethwaite’s character Danny Ormondroyd refuses to accept the award for a national brass band competition after his band, the Grimley Brass Band, wins for their rendition of the William Tell Overture. “This band behind me’ll tell you that that trophy means more to me than aught else in the whole world. But they’d be wrong,” he says. “The truth is, I thought it mattered. I thought that music mattered. But it doesn’t bollocks. Not compared to how people matter.” Waypoint understood this. It was a site that specialized in games criticism that focused on the people who made and played them. Losing it feels like losing a piece of one’s soul. It isn’t like death, per se, but a comprehensive diminishing, a removal of life’s color in a meaningful sense.

Maybe I’m being too hyperbolic here. It’s happened before; I get too emotional about these layoffs. But I can also say (and have said, at this point too often) that I wouldn’t be here, writing this, if Waypoint hadn’t existed in the first place. I started writing about video games in part because Waypoint Radio inspired me to do so. It’s why I spent a year doing work for New Normative. Waypoint was a major reference point for me in the first year of this blog’s existence. My interest in game studies stems from Waypoint and its many academic game studies contributors. I’ve made good friends specifically because of that website. So yeah, maybe I’m overstating its importance a bit. It feels extremely important to me, anyway.

Former Waypoint Editor-in-Chief Austin Walker reposted the site’s mission statement in response to the news today. I’ve spent the afternoon slowly reading through it and digesting it. In the post, Walker talks about how terrifying nights in Dragon’s Dogma are (can confirm, holy shit) and how, in order to complete some of the game’s more involved quests, he would have to plan extensively in advance; and prior to departure, he would set a titular waypoint to guide him.

Waypoints in the context of games, Walker continues, are “the first (and brightest) illustration of a player’s intention.” They are ways of orienting ourselves to our goal in inherently unfamiliar environments combined with statements of purpose: we are going to the place to do a thing, and in so doing we will have Played The Game. “Before we assault the fortress, before we start the race, before we leap from one star system to another, we set a waypoint,” he wrote. “They are the marks we leave on the map, the beacons we place in the dark that declare, yes, we will walk into the night.”

I didn’t get too terribly far through Death Stranding, but waypoints were one of the basic mechanics I loved—and grew to rely on—in my short play sessions. There are different kinds of waypoint markers in Death Stranding, including purely social ones, just little digital pips that let you know someone else had been there before, or liked a bridge you made, or warned of BTs in the area before your baby in a jar could wake up to tell you. These signs of life – also seen in games like Dark Souls and Elden Ring – made the empty world feel less barren. It helped make me as the player feel less alone.

Losing Waypoint feels scary. As others have commented, it feels like the end of a specific era of game criticism, one where thoughtful, considered writing about games and the culture around them had an institutional home, is officially over. But like the little thumbs-up or emoji strewn across the alien America of Death Stranding, I don’t think Waypoint – what it as an institution stood for, what its people represented, what its body of work entails – needs to go away entirely. We can carry its mission forward. We can set new waypoints. We can continue to walk into the night.

Waypoint‘s raison d’être is as follows:

• be a guide to games culture • investigate how and why people play games • make readers think, laugh, and ask new questions about games and the world around them

Games will not save us. But we cannot escape them. They are reflections of the way we interact with work, with household chores, with our friends, family and neighbors, with the world itself. For as long as video games exist, for as long as there is a digital culture to speak of, we can continue to light beacons in the night for ourselves and whoever else might come this way.

[yutaholic]

the point guard (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

YOU: the time has come for a showdown with neonet. you have no one in your corner and everyone is a suspect. then Haechan walks in. he has a bone to pick with neonet and together, maybe the two of you can unveil the monsters behind the hellsite that has ruled NCTU for too long.

HIM: from the moment he set foot on campus, Haechan has been lurking, gathering as much information about neonet as possible without raising suspicion. he knows smashing the six is connected to the site and he needs your help to finally give neonet a taste of its own poison.

WARNINGS: mild language; mentions of blackmail and manipulation; some slut shaming

NOTES: 13k words; this is part six of smashing the six

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you sent the post. Did you want swift retribution or passive aggressive texts?

Regardless, you received neither. Nothing came by way of an unknown number.

You wanted to lash out at them. Did they have any idea what they had stolen from you? But your anger was quickly replaced with misery. You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your head on your knees.

Mark, you thought. I want Mark. It would seem you were just another girl that wanted the one thing she couldn’t have.

Sudden knocking on your door made you lift your head, but you made no moves to get up. You were wracking your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do now.

You didn’t want to answer. You wanted to wallow in your feelings and possibly plot your vengeance, but whoever was banging at your door had no intention of going away anytime soon. So you got up, dragged your feet across the room and opened the door.

“What the hell happened?” Winter exclaimed, rushing forward and enveloping you in a tight hug that you sorely needed at the moment. “Tell me everything.”

You threw up your hands and marched right back to the bed, plopping down on the edge and crying, “How did they know about me and Mark?”

Winter came to stand before you, folding her arms. “Did Mark tell them?”

You frowned at the thought that Mark could betray you. You didn’t want to think it was a possibility. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Her reply was razor sharp, “Are you sure?”

“No,” you huffed, hiding your face in your hands. “Goddamnit.” You had never felt so defeated. Or alone.

It felt like you had no one but yourself and the wolves were closing in.

Winter waited a moment, waited until you looked up at her again with tears glistening in your eyes. Neonet was blowing up. Campus was losing their shit that you had fucked Jeong Jaehyun, even though you didn’t.

“And what about Jaehyun?” Winter asked. It was the painful question that needed to be asked.

You shook your head vehemently. “He wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t do that.”

But was that true? Did you know that for sure? You had spilled your guts to Jaehyun. You told him everything about smashing the six. And everything about you and Mark.

Winter slowly lowered beside you and pressed a little harshly, “So, are you still doing this smashing the six thing or are you just dick hopping from your boyfriend to your ex?”

She couldn’t fathom that you would sleep with Jaehyun when you were head over heels in love with Mark. And you didn’t have the energy to correct her.

You fell back, flat on the mattress. Your head was spinning. If you didn’t find out who neonet was, you were going to lose your mind. If you hadn’t lost it already.

Why were they intent on punishing you?

They took Mark away from you and all the newfound happiness that came with him. For two years, you had refused to deal with your break up and now that you finally had, there was such relief and peace in your heart.

All of which was snatched away in the time it took you to blink.

Tensing with the threat of more tears, you asked, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Winter sighed. She was an endless well of sympathy. “I think you’re human,” she cooed, reaching over to brush some of your hair from your forehead.

“I love him, Winter,” you said shakily, wiping at the tears that escaped your eyes with a tightly clenched fist. God, you hated crying. You resented the pain currently trying to tear you apart from the inside.

It wouldn’t go away. It didn’t slack for even a second.

Winter propped herself next to you, rubbing your arm comfortingly. She was a warm presence by your side, staying with you for as long as you needed.

Your lips trembled. “You should have seen the way he looked at me.”

It was seared into your mind forever.

“He’ll forgive you,” Winter spoke up. “Apologize and tell him how you feel.”

You shook your head. Rage bubbled up in your throat again. “I have other things to deal with first,” you said darkly, blinking away the last of your tears.

Winter perked up at that, full of mischief. “Do tell.”

You met her eyes and offered a tiny smile. “Sorry, Win. You’ll just have to wait and read the story like everyone else.”

She pouted. “Bummer.”

You looked back up at the ceiling, blinking tiredly. Sleep was calling.

Winter laid down beside you, snuggling close, and whispered, “I’m rooting for you. From the bottom of my heart, I really am.”

You let your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you.”

For the next few days, it was imperative that you keep your head down. You kept your mouth shut, but your eyes wide open. You watched and waited, filing away every little thing you noticed.

But at this point, everything and everyone was suspicious. When you were looking for danger, it appeared everywhere.

Your gears were turning. At some point, you had crossed paths with neonet. There was no other explanation that made sense. They had gotten dangerously close to you, close enough to deal a mortal blow.

It felt like the answer was staring you in the face.

If neonet texted you, they texted other people. They pulled the strings of their little birds. Ten came to mind.

Your phone vibrated in your hand and you couldn’t help but smile a little. Jaehyun was checking on you. He apologized despite not being at fault and suggested someone had been in the hallway when you left his room. You told him not to apologize, you had come to a similar conclusion.

And these were the consequences of your own reckless actions. There was no one to blame but yourself. You slipped and let your guard down and neonet had shoved the dagger into your back.

Jaehyun understood when you explained you wanted to keep a distance from him for now. You didn’t want him in neonet’s crosshairs when they were out for blood.

You could feel that you were near the end. This was the last stage of a chess match. Neonet was positioning their pieces to come in for the kill. If you didn’t get your side in order, you wouldn’t survive the final blow.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. To date, neonet hadn’t actually killed anyone. That you knew of anyway.

You were so deep in this little reverie of yours that you jolted when someone pulled out the chair beside yours and dropped into it, greeting you by name.

“Haechan,” was all you said.

You and Mark’s best friend did not get along. Not by any stretch of the imagination. And it went without saying that he probably hated you a bit extra now.

Haechan glanced around. He noticed you were sitting in a corner of the cafeteria, your back against the wall. You were wary; not wanting anyone to blindside you. It was very telling. Neonet had you reeling on the ropes. This had visibly shaken you up.

“What do you want?” you asked brusquely when he said nothing. You weren’t in the mood to entertain visitors or prying questions at the moment. Least of all from Mark’s annoying friend. Haechan was nosy and smug and a royal pain in the ass.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Given all the messages you got from boys lately were for sex, your lips pursed into a hard line and you snapped, “I’m not going to fuck you.”

Haechan leaned in close and whispered, “I want to help you fuck neonet.”

That had your attention, but you shot him a glare because this felt like an obvious trap. You started going through all the information you had on Lee Haechan.

Neonet hated him. He was a lowly freshman, but the day he set foot on campus he started posting about neonet. He threw caddy insults left and right, hurling offensive jabs at neonet every chance he got.

It seemed to work, because they posted about him regularly. Usually in regards to his obnoxious behavior on the site and on campus, but it didn’t seem neonet had any real dirt on him, which could prove frustrating for them. And useful for you.

“I’m listening,” you finally said, arms folded stiffly.

Haechan shuffled his chair even closer to yours and asked, “How many have you smashed?”

You were no longer surprised when someone knew about smashing the six. In this case, you assumed Mark had told him about it. Possibly in the context of discussing what a whore you were.

Little did you know, Haechan had been gathering information. Same as you.

“Five,” you lied. Haechan had done nothing to earn your trust and so you had no qualms about being dishonest with him. “I just need someone from the basketball team.”

“You’re in luck,” Haechan beamed. “I’m the point guard.”

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “I just told you. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“I have no intention of having sex with you, but I’m sure we could make it look convincing,” Haechan purred, smirking like the little devil he was.

It irritated you how giggly he was over the whole thing. Did he have any idea how much was at stake? You shot back, “And then neonet will post about it. I’ll be even worse off with Mark than I already am and he will probably kick your ass.”

Haechan was surprised at that and he softened. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

You turned your head away, eyes stinging. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does. Come on. You need me.”

You couldn’t explain why you followed Haechan that day. Part of you had started to doubt you could trust your gut, but your gut told you that Haechan was on your side. He was an ally in this fight and you were in desperate need of those.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Haechan brought you to an empty classroom, shutting the door and closing the blinds. It would certainly help sell the story if you were seen sneaking off with him, but you were concerned about neonet’s endless eyes.

And how they would strike next.

You hoisted yourself up on top of a desk, legs dangling, and watched as Haechan grabbed a piece of chalk and approached the board at the head of the class.

“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out,” he said. Haechan had determined that neonet punished the right people to inspire enough fear in the student body to keep their mouths shut. He knew that if everyone got together and shared what they knew about neonet, the answer would be right there.

But no one dared. They didn’t want to be leveled.

Your expression grew full of scrutiny. Everything in your instincts screamed not to let your guard down, but your brain knew you had to get more information. “And how do I know you aren’t a part of neonet?”

Haechan rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.”

You waited.

Haechan turned away from the board and saw the look on your face. He exhaled loudly and smarted, “I guess that’s a risk you gotta take, but just so you know, I hate neonet way more than you do.”

That was arguable, but you let it slide for now. “Why?” you pressed. It wasn’t unreasonable for you to question him. Neonet had already proven how ruthless they were.

Haechan tipped his head back, mumbling something. He knew if he wanted your trust, he would have to give you something of value. “Let’s just say my father used to work here a couple years ago. Thanks to them, he doesn’t anymore. And also thanks to them, he’s not with my mother anymore.”

You winced. It wasn’t unheard of for neonet to target faculty. “Jesus. That bad?”

“Yep.”

You mulled for a second or two, but decided you really had nothing left to lose. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

Haechan returned to the chalkboard with a nod. “Go for it.”

And you did. You believed Haechan. Not to mention, he was a freshman. How in the hell would a freshman, someone who had only been on campus for a few months, be an admin of neonet?

He had drawn their ire, much like you had. And that made you think. Were you pushed toward smashing the six because neonet had seen you as a threat or an asset? Were your stories stepping on their toes and encroaching on their territory?

Or had you been close to exposing them?

You took Haechan through all of it. He would ask questions, getting more and more details out of you, even things you had forgotten. He didn’t pass any criticism in the way you handled things (though plenty of your decisions certainly left much to be desired) and he didn’t voice any conclusions, he simply made a branching chart of names on the board.

All the people you had told about smashing the six.

When you got to Mark’s sequence in your story, you stopped, hesitating. This was his best friend you were talking to, after all.

Haechan pivoted around when you’d gone quiet, meeting your eyes. His voice was surprisingly tender when he said, “Keep going.”

“It’s just…,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes where tears had escaped. “I hurt him so much.”

“Why?” Haechan asked. He had wanted to ask. He needed to know what Mark had done to deserve the wounding you’d given him. Or if he was just another casualty in neonet’s path.

“I didn’t sleep with Jaehyun. I swear to god, Haechan,” you told him, shaking your head as you dabbed at your cheeks with your sleeves.

Haechan studied you a moment. “I believe you.”

You glanced up sharply. Those were three words you thought you would never hear. “You do?”

“Neonet lies,” he said calmly, but with a roughness that revealed his anger. “Not everything they say is the truth. They make assumptions of things or twist perfectly innocent things. They weaponize whatever they can.”

You shivered with rage and snapped, “Fuck. Who is behind this? What kind of people…”

A sinking sensation in your chest made you stop, pinching your lips together. What kind of people did this? You were reminded that you were that kind of person. The list of people you had exposed for your own gain was longer than you cared to admit.

You’d been blind. Driven. No matter how many enemies you made. Or how many innocent people had their reputations tarnished. You never slowed down.

Haechan cocked his head. He was very good at reading people and to him, you were an easy read. “Finish that thought,” he prodded.

You cast your gaze down to the floor and said in a quiet voice full of remorse, “Lisa was right about me. I’m no different than neonet. I exposed people to get ahead. All for some damn editor position.”

Haechan knew that. It was no secret on campus. Instead of scolding you or even agreeing with you, Haechan only said, “Do better. Be better.”

You blinked in surprise, knowing you didn’t deserve his kindness. Warmth kindled in your chest that even though he would have been in the right to put you in your place, he chose not to. “I’ll try,” you said after a moment, fighting back more tears.

“There are more important things in life. Keep that in mind.”

You nodded. His words were comforting.

Haechan faced the chalkboard again and you continued.

By the end of it, both of you were sitting on chairs pulled up to the board, staring at the web of suspects he had made. There was too much overlap and too many people unaccounted for.

You felt like you had less of a clue than when you started.

“I have a theory,” Haechan spoke up.

“About?”

Haechan swiveled back and forth in his chair, arms folded and legs stretched. “I think the admins are phased in and out. Think about it. Neonet has been around since the birth of social media. Students graduate and leave.”

You tilted your head, having never thought about that before. “Could it be faculty?”

Haechan made a face. “I don’t think so. Staff would definitely be noticed hanging around parties and such.”

He had a point. “You’re right. That makes sense.”

Haechan uncrossed his arms and rubbed his hands together, adding, “If admins graduate, they have to find their replacements. But with something this secretive and dangerous, they have to be careful about who they pick.”

Your eyes widened. You knew exactly where he was going.

Haechan chuckled at your reaction and said, “Yep. Smashing the six is the way to get into neonet. It’s like the test to see if you’re up to it. I’m sure of that.”

“Which would explain why they’ve helped me do it,” you said in disbelief. You were essentially being selected.

“You would be an asset to them. You’ve proven that you’re good at digging.”

You furrowed your brow. “But why hook up with guys? Why not have me dig up a big secret instead?”

Haechan had thought about that when he first started to suspect the connection between neonet and smashing the six. “Because in hooking up with dudes, you’ve given them leverage over you. That’s why they posted about you, to show you how easily they can cut you down.”

It was starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle fitting into place. “I handed them the power to destroy me,” you murmured, shaking your head. “It enforces that I have to be loyal to them or they will ruin my life.”

Haechan nodded his agreement. It was a smart tactic and would explain why neonet had survived this long without being exposed. “That has to be it. You’re being recruited and this is your audition.”

A tiny silence passed. You eyed the board. It unnerved you that a name on there was the culprit. You knew in your heart that you had unwittingly trusted someone that ultimately betrayed you. Which left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“But what about the guys?” you asked curiously.

Haechan replied, “Sleeping around doesn’t hurt a guy’s reputation. You know that.”

“I feel like there’s more to this that I’m not seeing,” you said, more so to yourself. Something felt out of place. Like you had most of the pieces figured out, but a few weren’t fitting like they were supposed to.

You felt so close and yet farther than ever.

“If you want to get them, I think you’ll have to join them,” Haechan said, revealing his plan all along. “You can work yourself to death trying to figure out who they are, but you’ll get nowhere. This system has been in place for over ten years. They’ve had plenty of time to patch up their weak points.”

You snorted. “If you can’t beat them, join them?”

Haechan clenched his jaw when he hissed, “And then tear them apart from the inside.”

You nodded.

“It’s interesting they never posted about you and Johnny.”

“Nope.”

Haechan was thinking out loud and continued, “Even though they connected you with him through Ten. Which means they knew you hooked up with him.”

You agreed. It had been a thought on your mind as well. “It seems like a careless mistake, doesn’t it?”

Haechan tensed. “Which tells me it’s intentional.”

You frowned. What set Johnny apart from the others?

Haechan stood, surprising you and began erasing the board after snapping a picture of it with his phone. “I have an idea,” he called over his shoulder.

“Let’s hear it.”

“We have a small list of suspects - people who know about you and Mark. I’m going to run my mouth to a few of them about how well you ride my dick.”

Your eyes flickered. That was the last idea you expected him to come up with.

Haechan whipped around, checking to see if he had stepped out of bounds with you. “But only if you’re okay with that?”

You merely shrugged. “Knock yourself out. I don’t have any leads.”

Haechan gave you a thumbs up and grabbed his backpack, heading out.

You were still seated in the chair, thinking and thinking until your head hurt. “Haechan?”

He stopped just shy of the door. “Yes?”

“Do you think Mark is an admin?”

It was the thought that kept you up at night. That the boy you loved and the boy you’d let your guard down for had sold you to neonet. If so, you knew you would never recover.

Falling in love with him was hard enough. Picking up the pieces would be impossible.

Haechan scoffed and replied, “I love him and I say this with all due respect, but Mark is too dumb for that and a terrible liar.”

You burst into laughter, covering your mouth. Though you needed the moment of levity, it vanished almost as quickly as it came. Sadness washed over you. You missed Mark so much.

Haechan was lying through his teeth, of course. The moment he left you, he marched straight to his best friend. Mark had been at the scene of the crime too many damn times.

You told him about the story. He was at the party when you hooked up with Jeno. He had found you after you slept with Yuta. And he’d obviously been present when having sex with you in the backseat of your car.

Haechan found his friend sulking near the food court, tucked far away from the looks of pity constantly sent his way. Ironically close to the place he had found you earlier. “Hey, bestie,” he exclaimed cheerfully, sitting down next to him at the table.

“What’s up, dude?” Mark didn’t look up. He was pretending to be intently reading a book that he had to write an entire essay on by Friday for English Comp. And in typical Mark fashion, he hadn’t started yet.

Trying to do assignments while nursing a broken heart wasn’t easy.

“Are you neonet?” Haechan asked, point blank.

Given the hell neonet had made his life in recent weeks, Mark recoiled. He lurched up, brows stitched as wrath filled his face. “The fuck?”

Haechan leaned in, smirking sheepishly. “You can tell me,” he whispered in a high-pitched voice. Of all things, he sounded playful. Which was by design.

First of all, Mark knew about Haechan’s hatred and vendetta against neonet. What they had done to his father was nothing short of brutal. Second, did Haechan - who knew him better than anyone - really think Mark could keep that big of a secret?

He couldn’t even tell a little white lie when confronted over who ate the last piece of cake without blushing and giggling.

While the thought amused him, very briefly, Mark was consumed from head to toe with anger. If he wasn’t already in a foul mood over the situation with you, this really pissed him off.

“I’m not in neonet,” he snapped harshly. “What the hell are you smoking?”

Haechan leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out over Mark’s lap, pretending to be nonchalant about the whole thing and said offhandedly, “I’ve been hanging out with your girlfriend.”

Mark immediately scowled. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She didn’t hook up with Jaehyun.”

Mark went rigidly still. It was the tiny shred of hope that his poor broken heart didn’t need right then. Nope. His guard was up and it had to stay up. He couldn’t fold now. He had learned his fucking lesson.

Haechan waited. He could practically hear the argument Mark was having with himself in his own head.

“How do you know that?” Mark asked under his breath. He couldn’t resist. He had to know if there was a chance you hadn’t betrayed him.

Haechan replied, “She told me.”

“And you believe her?”

Haechan shot him a look that was quite stern. “Don’t you?”

Mark paused. Then, he finally relented. “Yes.”

Haechan could work with that. He turned toward his friend, lowering his voice, “I think they did this on purpose. They wanted to humble her. And the best way to do that was to hit her where it hurts - you.”

Mark shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. His voice trembled as he whispered, “How the hell did they know I’m in love with her?”

Haechan scoffed with amusement, but he had his suspicions. None of which he would voice in present company. “Anyone that has seen the two of you together in the past few weeks figured that out, dummy. I don’t think you realize how gross you and your girl have been recently.”

Mark snorted and said weakly, “Shut up.”

Haechan was relieved to see his friend softening. Some of the light was back in his eyes, but it was safe to say Mark was a target in this scheme. If neonet was really pursuing you, they knew Mark was a weak spot to exploit.

It was better for all parties involved that Mark stay out of their way. Then, he couldn’t be used against you. So for now, Mark needed to stay angry with you. He needed neonet to be convinced he was done with you.

“Stay clear of her for a while,” Haechan told him quietly, to which Mark nodded. “She’s in the homestretch now.”

Mark narrowed his eyes and was painfully blunt. “Are you going to fuck her?”

Haechan laughed. He was too entertained to be mad at that. You and Mark were both dealing with betrayal, but it was obvious the love was strong between you and him. “Hell no,” Haechan shot back. “The only one left for her to fuck is neonet.”

Mark’s lips broke into a smile.

If anyone could do it, it was you. That’s what he had said from the very beginning.

A day passed. And another. Neonet continued business as normal, making petty digs at your classmates for their mistakes as it always did.

Nothing about you. Nothing about Haechan.

The next time you met with your new partner in crime, you asked, “Who did you tell?”

“Mark,” he replied without missing a beat.

Your jaw dropped. “But I thought…”

Haechan met your eyes and he looked softer than usual when he cut you off to say, “I had to be sure.”

You understood that. Better than anyone. Fiddling with your fingers, you asked, “And are you?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yes. He’s not neonet.”

You exhaled in relief. It was easier to breathe now, knowing you hadn’t fallen in love with someone intent on destroying you.

“I told him to keep away from you,” Haechan added a moment later.

You made a little disgruntled noise, but you knew it was the right thing to do.

“He’s my best friend and they’ve hurt him enough,” Haechan insisted, protective. “He needs to stay out of their way until we finish this.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, sinking a little deeper into your chair. “I just wish I could talk to him.”

Haechan reached over, rubbing your shoulder. “You will. But right now, you have work to do.”

You agreed, but your heart still hurt.

Things were beyond tense when you returned to the school paper. Your station was next to Mark’s. The moment you walked in, Mark got his stuff together and left without a word.

Given the scenarios that had played in your head over what would happen when you were in the same room with Mark, this was the most expected. And probably the least embarrassing.

You tried not to let the way he completely avoided looking at you drive you into the floor, but your eyes stung. It was unimaginable that you still had tears left to cry over this boy. You walked quietly to your desk without a fuss, glancing at his empty chair, and set your things down, firing up the computer.

For a while, you focused on coming up with an article for the next issue, but you couldn’t stop squirming. You had never felt so uncomfortable in a place you once considered your home. The NCTU newspaper had been your favorite place in the world.

Now, you felt like a sinner sitting in the middle of church.

It was the eye of the storm. That was the best way to describe it and Haechan agreed. This was the endgame. Neonet was lining you up, waiting for you to set one toe out of line so they could annihilate you for it.

Or you could smash number six and throw yourself at their mercy.

But you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to hand them satisfaction after what they had done. The idea of surrendering to the monster made you nauseous.

There were no texts. You had no guidance as to which way you were supposed to go. For what felt like hours, you stared at the picture of the board. All the names Haechan had written down, connecting them with lines that meant nothing.

Was neonet one person or was it everyone? Were all of your classmates, including yourself, unknowingly or intentionally playing into the hands of the evil entity neonet had become?

After all, neonet had sniped stories from you. On more than one occasion, they had snatched scandals that you pursued and unearthed. You hadn’t been a willing participant. No, your relationship was adversarial. Neither was Ten, according to him. They more or less blackmailed him into doing their bidding.

Maybe that was how the engine ran. You looked around the room curiously, sizing up the other students at their stations. Was everyone involved? Did some send in tips from a place of spite or ambition, while others were recruited against their will?

How could you defeat something like that?

No, you told yourself. Someone has to be pulling the strings. Every pack has an alpha.

Who was capable of that? Someone ruthless, but equally intelligent. Someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Someone people trusted unequivocally.

Winter waved her hand in front of your face and quipped, “Oop, she’s gone again.”

You snickered, snapping out of your daze. “Sorry.”

“Where did you go?” she asked curiously.

The two of you sipped iced coffee outside. It was a beautiful day and you had spent too much time hidden away with Haechan or typing away at newspaper headquarters. Haechan urged you to take a break; to stop and smell the roses. Preferably with your best friend who was constantly worrying over you.

“Nowhere interesting,” you mumbled. The inside of your mind was a scary place that made very little sense nowadays. You were a jumble of theories and suspicions.

“I’m really glad you and Jaehyun worked things out,” Winter said a moment later.

You smiled faintly at the thought of him and sighed. “Me too.”

“And Mark?”

You shrugged. “I don’t think that bridge will be mended anytime soon.”

Winter pressed, “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m working on my story. It ain’t gonna write itself,” you said, resorting to humor. You hoped the levity would steer her from this line of questioning. There were things you just couldn’t tell your best friend until the coast was clear.

Winter rolled her eyes, chuckling at you. She put the coffee to her lips and said, “You’re committed. I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, well. I have some help.”

“Oh? From who?”

“Haechan,” you replied coolly. “He’s been helping me organize my ideas.”

Winter made a face, like that was the last person she ever expected you to get with. “Ah…,” she said, seeming less than enthused. “That’s nice of him.”

“Mm-hm.”

Winter thought about it, then an idea struck her, which she didn’t hesitate to voice aloud, “Hey, isn’t he on the basketball team?”

You hid your exasperation. Of course she was still thinking about smashing the six. “Technically, yes,” you answered impatiently. “But he has a knee injury so he probably won’t be playing until next year.”

Haechan had turned out to be a good friend and you bonded with him over the shared time spent together trying to bring down a maniacal social media leech. When you offered to come watch his games, he told you that sadly he couldn’t play yet because of a dumb knee injury he got from a keg stand gone wrong.

Needless to say, his teammates and the coach gave him the scolding of a lifetime.

“That sucks,” Winter grimaced.

You nodded. “Yeah.” But you were actually relieved to not have to sit on those hard bleachers again.

It was definitely unfortunate for Haechan. He didn’t particularly like sports, but basketball was one of the few avenues he had to let off steam. Still, he was on the team and could be counted toward your six. But that was a last resort.

You didn’t want to give neonet what they wanted. You didn’t want to submit.

A few minutes later, you bid farewell to your best friend so you could get to your next class. In between classes, you started going around with your iPad at the ready like you used to, but instead of siphoning information, you decided a different approach.

You asked your classmates how they felt about the student council or the university administration. You began asking them what they would like to change at NCT University or the things they didn’t want changed whatsoever.

Your fellow students were surprisingly honest and forthcoming. There were traditions that they agreed should be upheld, but others that needed to die. There were disgruntled students toward certain departments and the abuse of funds or lack thereof.

And you were surprised at how much appreciation students wanted to show to faculty or to each other. There were teachers your classmates felt weren’t given enough acknowledgement for what they had done and even other staff, like the cafeteria workers who weren’t given a shred of the recognition they deserved.

It was heart-warming, to say the least. You found yourself smiling at their answers. All the people you had been eyeing, treating them like enemies, just needed the opportunity to show some kindness.

Doyoung peered over your shoulder, watching you type the article. He made a face that could only convey he was vaguely intrigued. “Keeping your fingers on the NCTU pulse?” he asked coyly.

“Yes,” you replied with a nod, still typing. “It would be a different column for each issue of the paper, discussing a topic of concern among the students. Some will be things that they feel need to be changed, while others are things that students feel should be appreciated.”

“I like it,” Doyoung said. Three words he very rarely uttered.

You fought a smile at the compliment. “I do too. It’s got a much better vibe.”

Doyoung cocked his head. “No more exposés?”

You quickly fought a frown and replied, “I just wanna try something a little different, boss. But if you wanted, I could put that hat back on.”

“Oh, I know,” Doyoung teased. He motioned toward the article. “Stick with this for now. I have faith in you.”

You turned to face him, grinning. “You do?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes and playfully jeered, “God, one compliment and you let it go to your head. Get back to work.”

You giggled. “Yes, boss.”

When you turned back around to your computer, your heart sank.

Mark had walked in.

You immediately darted your eyes back to the screen, typing away.

Mark dragged his feet over, sitting at his station and dropping his backpack heavily to the floor.

What kind of obnoxious torture was this? The minutes ticked by at a glacial pace. You and Mark worked on your articles side-by-side, but felt like you were worlds away.

You thought fondly of the days neither of you got any work done because you were too busy gabbing and making each other laugh. Had that even happened? It felt so long ago now. Maybe you dreamt all of it.

Mark was thinking of you in his bed, the way you held him close as he drifted to sleep with his head on your chest over your steadily beating heart. He couldn’t believe he was sitting next to the girl he loved. You were within arm’s reach.

But it felt like you weren’t his to hold anymore. Like loving each other was too dangerous with too high a cost.

I want her so much I can’t fucking stand it.

Mark glanced at your computer from the corner of his eye. He’d overheard most of your conversation with Doyoung. It was an interesting change of subject matter for you and it ironically gave Mark hope that the insanity of your ambitions could be calming down a little.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to work on your new article, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Mark. He was right there. You wanted to tell him you were sorry and that nothing happened between you and Jaehyun.

But what if he rejected you again? What if he told you he didn’t want to hear it? Even worse, what if he completely ignored you?

You realized you weren’t prepared to deal with any of those outcomes, mentally or emotionally. Your heart was too fragile and your brain was too overworked. So you scooped up your things, shut down the computer and left.

Mark tried to shake the images of you from his mind. He played that night over and over - when you had chased him down outside the dorm. When you told him you loved him and that nothing had happened with you and Jaehyun. But he didn’t listen.

He remembered the tears pouring down your face and the desperation in your voice, but the need for self-preservation won in the end. So did the pain in his chest.

Mark would never forgive himself for telling you that he hated you. No matter how true it was at the time. Mark did hate you for making him fall in love with you.

But he hated himself more for letting you.

You walked across campus with your head held down, one foot in front of the other. You had to hope that a day would come when this didn’t hurt so goddamn much.

Haechan glanced up when you approached him in the library, flashing his signature broad smile. He was reading something, his feet propped up on the table. Though the librarian gave him a fierce scowl over it, Haechan didn’t budge.

“He won’t even look at me,” you said quietly, slumping into the empty seat beside him.

Haechan closed his book with a sigh and consoled, “I told him to keep a distance. Mark’s a good boy. He does what he’s told.”

You snorted, trying to appreciate his joke, but you were too melancholy. Changing the subject, you asked, “Any leads?”

“Nothing,” Haechan huffed, frustrated. “It’s insane that there are so many dots, but none of them connect.”

You had the same thought. “Unless they’re all connected and that’s why we can’t make any sense of it.”

Haechan mulled it over, but he had no answers. Now, it was his turn to change the subject. “What did your editor think of the new article idea?”

“He was actually supportive,” you replied with a smile, reminded of your passion for writing and journalism that had been buried by your ambition. It was nice to not be looking for the next scandal, but instead, writing about the issues people cared about.

“No kidding,” Haechan said, grinning. He was happy for you. “Maybe because it’s a good idea.”

“You think so?”

Haechan nodded. “Absolutely. You will make people feel like they actually have a voice around here. It’s better to spread good vibes instead of tearing people down.”

You couldn’t agree more and told him humbly, “I’m mending the bridges.”

“It’s a good start.”

You added with a vengeance, “I still wanna burn down neonet.”

“You will.”

You chuckled.

Haechan returned to his book and you got as comfortable as you could in the little library chair beside him until you started to doze off. You liked Haechan’s company. He made you feel safe and secure, like he was watching your back.

When your phone dinged, Haechan’s did too. At the same time. The perfectly in sync chimes made you lurch, woken up out of your daze as quickly as if you had been smacked across the face.

Haechan met your eyes. He looked as alarmed as you did.

You opened your phone and saw there was a new post on neonet tagged to your profile. And Haechan’s.

From the golden boy to the bench warmer? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Your lips parted. There was a dull ringing in your ears with adrenaline as a white hot fury burned its way through your chest.

Haechan gawked. “Bench warmer? I’m gonna fuck somebody up.”

“It’s Winter,” you exclaimed, jumping to your feet.

Haechan peered up at you confusedly. “What?”

You were already running toward the exit, yelling, “It’s my best friend, Winter!”

As you ran across campus, your mind had more in common with a violent tornado than a brain. Winter had suggested Jeno to you; the one that started it all. She had been with you every step of the way.

She knew about your break up with Jaehyun. She knew about your feelings for Mark.

Winter was in the gym at cheer practice. When you slammed the doors open as you entered with the energy of a pissed off pitbull, all the cheerleaders looked over at you in surprise.

“Winter!” you shouted, stomping toward her.

Your best friend instantly took on the expression of a deer in the middle of a busy highway. “I’ll be right back,” she told the other girls in a panic and sprinted toward you with her hands held up in surrender. “Let me explain.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass,” you roared, clenching your hands into fists. It was taking all of your restraint not to tackle her.

“Because they will ruin me,” she whispered in hushed tones. “Please.”

To your surprise, you simmered and weighed your options. Winter didn’t look like a malicious criminal mastermind. At the moment, she looked like a terrified little girl. Was it an act or was she far more afraid of neonet than she could ever be of you?

“They have so much shit on me,” Winter said, trying desperately to appease you. “You know how much I fooled around during freshman year.”

You set your jaw. God, you wanted to be angry, but you loved her too much. And you believed her. Winter had never lied to you. At least that you knew of.

This was your best friend. You had been together through thick and thin. It was Winter who held you when you cried all night after Jaehyun dumped you. It was Winter that laid her head in your lap and confessed how scared she was no one would ever love her.

Ten had said, They have so much shit on me. Winter must have been no different. She fed them information to stay alive. They pulled her strings because they had a rope wrapped tightly around her neck.

Winter saw you wavering and crept closer, whispering for your ears alone, “You’re so close, babe. Just finish it.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then turned around and left without another word.

Neonet took the boy you loved and the girl you trusted.

Just finish it.

“I was right,” you groaned, trembling with emotion. “Everyone is in on it. Everyone is neonet!”

Haechan ran a hand through his hair.

Your fists had finally stopped shaking. From pacing in his dorm room to collapsing on his bed, you vented all of your anger and Haechan listened. You let it all out and he didn’t stop you.

Haechan allowed a tiny moment of silence to pass before he began, “Don’t lose hope. I know you want to give up, but…”

You had been on your back, but at his words you rolled over to stare him in the face, interjecting, “You can’t even say it, Haechan. You know I’m right.”

Haechan frowned.

“Everyone wants their piece of neonet. Friends betray friends. Lovers betray lovers. Nothing is sacred here. It’s all petty revenge or blind ambition.”

“That’s the melodramatic writer in you talking,” Haechan countered, stern. He sidled closer to you on the bed and reached for your hands, taking them in his and squeezing tightly. “I’ve never given secrets to neonet. Mark has never betrayed your trust. People are - at their cores - good. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t,” you hissed, shaking your head. Resistant. “Maybe neonet is the punishment we deserve.”

Haechan bristled and wasted no time in scolding you. “My dad didn’t deserve it and neither do you. You’re allowed to live your life the way you want without someone profiting off your mistakes. Neonet is fucking evil.”

You kept your mouth shut. You said nothing. Your convictions were shaken.

Haechan tilted his head and said your name gently. “Don’t let them win.”

You let your hands slip from his and fell back on the bed. For a moment you closed your eyes and tried to think of anything besides Winter. Because thinking about Winter made you realize she was to blame for you and Mark.

She had destroyed it. She had taken him away. Your best friend. The person you loved and trusted like a sister.

Eyes burning with tears, you sat up sharply again. “Fuck it.”

Haechan watched you intently.

“I’m ready to be done with this,” you said, taking out your phone and readying the camera.

Haechan studied you. Then, he nodded and took off his shirt. He knew it was inevitable; you had to smash the six. You could only get close to neonet, but not close enough to wound them.

You stripped off your own top, down to your bra, and leaned in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Haechan took the phone out of your hand and snapped the photo. He even bit his lip for effect.

A heavy silence wrapped around his dorm room. The two of you dressed again and sat side-by-side, leaning back against the wall. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

“What if it’s bad?” you asked under your breath. “Like really, really bad?”

“Then, you run,” Haechan said without missing a beat.

You turned to look at him. “But what if it’s good?”

Haechan’s gaze hardened on you. “Run even harder. Remember the person you want to be.”

You nodded.

An envelope of six photos came to stay in your pocket at all times. You had printed them off and deleted the copies from your phone. For safe keeping.

You found Ten at the food court the next day, crossing into his path just as he was about to leave.

“Can I help you, sunshine?” he asked almost in mocking.

“You’re a little birdie,” you began in barely a whisper.

Ten shrugged. “So?”

“Let them know I’ve got all six. And evidence. If they want me, tell them to move their asses or I’ll burn everything.”

Ten smirked and gave a faux bow of his head. “You got it.”

There was nothing left to do now but wait. It was the deep breath before the jump.

To you, it felt like holding your breath until your lungs exploded.

You sat on your bed, typing on your laptop. In this void, you could only work on your upcoming column to distract from your nerves.

A ding from your phone made you jolt. And you weren’t surprised to see a text from an unknown number.

Midnight, it read. Library. Restricted section. Don’t be late.

You didn’t respond. You rightfully assumed a reply wasn’t needed. They knew you would come. This was it. You were finally going to meet neonet.

Glancing at the clock, you groaned. Midnight was still two whole hours away. How were you going to keep from going insane in that time?

The restricted section of the library was under lock and key. Only the librarians had access. It wasn’t anything spectacular. Just a room that kept the old fragile books that could only be viewed in the library and with supervision to prevent any damage.

A lot of the books were classics or rarities that had been donated by enormously wealthy alumni or the equally wealthy parents of students. It made them look good to do so.

You closed your laptop, resigning yourself to two hours of torture. There was no point in trying to do anything except watch the clock tick.

Part of you wondered how many girls had been in your position before. Did they lay there, waiting and wondering? Did they feel any remorse for what they had done to get neonet’s approval?

When the hands came closer to midnight, you took out the envelope and withdrew the photos, flipping through them to make sure no one was missing.

You lingered on Mark. Of the many, many pictures you and Mark had taken in your short time together, you had chosen your favorite. It killed you to delete all the others, but you knew it needed to be done.

A smile tugged at your lips. You were in Mark’s arms and he was kissing your cheek. You barely recognized yourself in the photo, so happy and giggling at his endless affection. Mark had held you tightly then, like you would be torn away.

Maybe he knew he wouldn’t get to keep you long.

You sighed loudly and put the photos back in the envelope, slipping it into your pocket. Then, you began the long walk to the library.

It was dark and cold outside. You felt vulnerable and that wasn’t a feeling you handled well. Among others. You passed a few of your classmates, exchanging awkward smiles as you walked. Perhaps they knew you were walking willingly to your own execution.

The library stayed open at all times. There were students inside, cramming for exams or researching their essays that were on looming deadlines. No one paid you any mind when you entered. The lights were dim except for over the tables where they illuminated open books and cups of coffee.

You made for the back and as you did, your surroundings grew darker and darker. As a freshman, you remembered being teased that the back of the library was haunted by ghosts. It was dusty and damp and smelled of rotten wood, but you found no ghosts to speak of.

When you reached the door tucked away in the very back with ‘Restricted’ stamped across the front in red letters, you blinked in surprise to see someone sitting on the floor in front of it. Waiting for you.

“Winter,” you grumbled, disappointed.

She clambered to her feet and greeted, “Hi, bestie.”

You stared her down. “Well?”

“I may have fibbed a little.”

You felt angry enough to spit fire, but the feeling of betrayal washed over you like a cold tidal wave of emotions. None of them good.

Winter approached you as if nothing was out of place, nothing out of the ordinary. She was sporting a beaming smile, radiating with pride. “I was so worried you wouldn’t do it, you know, considered how anti-sex you’ve been for the past two years.”

You scowled. The words to describe the utter betrayal and manipulation you felt wouldn’t come to you. Although, you were tempted to just resort to a long string of profanity.

Winter reached for your hands, trying to coax you out of your wrath. To no avail thus far. “You and me running neonet,” she exclaimed, happy as could be. “Obviously, not by ourselves, but come on. It’s crazy, right?”

“Batshit crazy,” you deadpanned in the lowest voice you could muster. Venom was seeping onto your tongue, scorching the back of your throat.

The door behind you cracked open and a familiar voice called, “Winter?”

You and Winter looked to the door and your eyes widened.

There stood Rosé. You should have known.

She was quite pleased with your reaction and sang, “Bring her in.”

The Restricted room of the library was what you would expect. Old books lined the walls, protected behind glass doors. Some were even padlocked. It put an even worse taste in your mouth.

This damned school did more to protect old books than the well-being of its students.

There were a few tables in the little room. Yellow light cast a glow from above. The air felt closed and too warm, uncomfortable. Which was probably by design.

Rosé and Winter led you forward and instructed you to sit directly in front of Jisoo, who ignored you entirely as she typed away at her phone. The girls sat on her left and right side with an air about them like they were the right and left hands of God.

From what you knew of Kim Jisoo, she was the queen bee on campus ever since the day she arrived at NCTU. The only daughter of outrageously powerful parents, and gorgeous to boot, she had anyone and everyone under her thumb.

And yet, most who had interacted with her didn’t hesitate to characterize her as kind.

She was the last person anyone expected to be involved with neonet. The perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing. You eyed her with disdain.

Jisoo finally glanced up, looking at you with disinterest, and droned, “Congratulations. You’re about to be a member of the most powerful and elusive club on campus.”

“I’m honored,” you replied rather blandly.

Your tone was not lost on Jisoo for a second. She set down her phone and asked, “Did you bring the evidence?”

You held the envelope a little tighter in your hands beneath the table. “Yes. I took photos.”

“Not bad,” said Rosé, running a hand through her blonde hair. “I did videos.”

“Some of us believe less is more,” Jisoo chided.

Rosé rolled her eyes. Winter looked awkward.

As she should, you thought bitterly, shooting your best friend a scathing glance.

“Soccer?” Jisoo asked, waiting expectantly.

“Yuta,” you told her, but with confusion. They obviously already knew, since they posted about it.

Rosé beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“Yuta’s a bit of a slut,” Jisoo sneered, like he was easy prey.

“A bit?” Winter quipped.

You gave Winter a look that could freeze hell over and she cowered a little, pressing her lips into a flat line.

“Football?” Jisoo asked next.

An icy fist wrapped around your heart. You felt protective.

“She bagged Jaehyun,” Winter spoke up, leaning toward Jisoo. Wanting to please her alpha. Wanting to prove she belonged.

Hearing her say his name and in this context no less made you want to reach across the table and smack her into next week.

Jisoo met your eyes, recognizing the anger burning within them, and quipped, “We may have to promote you.”

Rosé was practically jumping out of her seat. “Seriously. Major points and bragging rights.”

“He doesn’t give anyone the time of day.”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

You could feel yourself starting to shake. And you quickly interjected, “He’s just shy.”

All three girls leveled their gazes at you and studied you, surprised, but above all, confused. Why was your first instinct to defend him?

“Moving on,” Jisoo said after a pause. She was watching you with obvious suspicion now. “Basketball?”

You locked eyes with Winter and hissed, “Haechan.”

Your best friend couldn’t hold your stare and looked down at her hands.

“Well, can’t win them all,” Rosé joked.

Jisoo pressed, “Do you like him?”

There was obvious taunting in her voice. She was trying to get a reaction out of you, trying to gauge where your head was at.

She could sense she was on the verge of losing you.

Jisoo had wondered if you were too strong to break. She didn’t need to break you all the way, just enough for you to fill the mold she had created. You would be taking her place. She was the leader.

She had to appoint another leader.

“He’s really nice,” you started, but you knew whatever you had to say would fall on deaf ears.

Jisoo rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh, please. He’s a boy.”

Rosé added cutely, “Boys just take up space.”

Your face tensed, because you were totally baffled. But you were also getting angrier. “Wait,” you said, running out of restraint. “Your entire club is built around bagging boys.”

Rosé and Jisoo exchanged smug glances. “Well, yeah,” the latter replied. “Didn’t you figure it out yet?”

You arched a brow, waiting for the grand explanation.

“Athletes. Photographic evidence.”

“Blackmail.”

That one word sent a shock through your system. Your eyes widened incredulously. “What?”

Rosé told you levelly, “Neonet costs money and resources to operate. Who has more to lose than a prospective athlete with a rich daddy?”

Your lips parted. That was the connection you had been missing. The boys didn’t get off scot free, after all. They were on the hook for years to come, protecting their careers and relationships. Even when they graduated, they didn’t escape neonet’s claws.

As long as they had something to lose, they were screwed.

Everyone from NCTU came from prominent, respectable families. Yourself included. Any of these boys would be cut off or disowned if their bedroom pursuits were put out in public for all to see. Image was everything in this insular little town.

“That’s why we pimped you out to Johnny,” Jisoo added, typing on her phone again. “He had been with his girlfriend the whole time he was here and his parents have more money than God.”

Rosé propped her head on her hand and crooned, “To think, one more semester and he would have been home free.”

You almost threw up in your mouth, but then your attention flew to Winter. She clearly was uncomfortable, having tugged her sleeves over her hands and constantly shifting in her seat. She was also obviously the odd one out in this dynamic.

Jisoo cut you a stern glance and frowned, holding out her hand. “You can give us the pictures now.” She had shown her cards, but it was apparent you were not persuaded.

You tucked the photos to your chest, prepared to guard them with your life if that was what it took, and asked, “What did I win exactly?”

Rosé replied gleefully, “A place at the table running neonet.”

Winter spoke up to explain, “Jisoo is graduating this year and she has chosen you to be her replacement.”

Haechan was right. This had been your audition, your interview process. You had been recruited into the monster that was neonet.

“So, what do you say?” Jisoo asked, cocking her head. “Ready to join?”

You took a breath to steady yourself. “No.”

Rosé recoiled. “No?”

“This is wrong,” you told them firmly, shaking your head in reproach. “I want no part of it.”

“No one has ever turned down neonet before,” Winter warned you. She looked worried on your behalf, turning to see Jisoo’s reaction.

Jisoo, on the other hand, looked downright livid. “You think you’re better than us?”

Your first answer was no. You were no better. But the difference was you were trying to be better. “In some ways, maybe,” you told her softly. “I don’t see boys as meat.”

Rosé scoffed. Her sweet demeanor had all but evaporated. “Men have been treating women like meat since the beginning of time.”

You turned to her and asked in a taunt, “An eye for an eye, huh? How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s been very profitable, actually,” she argued, bristling. “I don’t think you realize how much money and power you’d be giving up.”

Oh, but you did know. The lust for power in you had been strong. You’d battled with it for two years and now, at long last, you had finally won.

In the past few months you’d learned that people didn’t just deserve basic respect, they deserved kindness and compassion. Each of the boys you had used for your own gain gave you even more in return. More than you deserved and in some cases, more than they had to give.

You’d be damned if you let these girls hurt your boys.

And so, all you did was shrug. They would get nothing from you.

Jisoo went for the kill. “And because you expose people under the official label of the school paper, you’re any different?”

Haechan’s words echoed in your mind, making you smile. “I’m gonna do better,” you said. “And be better.”

Rosé leaned toward Jisoo and whispered, “We’ve told her too much now.”

Jisoo knew that. She was panicking though you wouldn’t recognize it by the icy look on her face. She had the highest responsibility, finding someone to sit on her throne, and she had failed miserably. She had underestimated you. There would be judgement. There would be repercussions.

Meanwhile, Winter was sitting back comfortably in her chair, watching this unfold with a little smirk playing on her lips. They had dirt on her, mountains of it, but not you. From the moment they brought her into the fold, neonet had wanted something on you.

It wasn’t until you began smashing the six that you gave them any power to control you. But you had just taken it back and now they had nothing.

Jisoo threatened, “If you leave and feel like blabbing about us, we will tell the entire school just how big of a slut you are. We’ll make sure to contact all your future employers. Maybe even send some messages to your family.”

“I’m a slut,” you said with a chuckle. “I smashed the six. I own it.”

“You’re bluffing.”

You laughed. It was clear you had her on the ropes. You had taken any and all leverage over you away from them. You retorted, “Not even a little. For your information, I’ll be writing a killer article about this whole experience. If anyone is going to out me as the school’s biggest slut, it’s going to be me.”

“You’ve got balls,” Rosé said, wide-eyed. “Are you sure you don’t want to join?”

Jisoo chided, “We literally just threatened to label her the campus whore.”

You stood up, tucking the envelope of photos safely into your back pocket, and said, “I don’t care. At the end of the day, slut is just a label. I know my worth and I’m starting to figure out who I am. And honestly? I would rather be a whore than a shitty cruel person.”

Jisoo glowered, setting her jaw.

You slapped on a victorious smile and cooed, “You girls take care and - a bit of friendly advice - find less toxic ways to spend your time.”

The moment you left the room and shut the door behind you, you rifled in your other pocket, bringing out your trusty little recorder and making sure it had been running. That it got every single word.

Needless to say, you were grinning from ear to ear.

That was it. You had beaten neonet at its own game. Once the article was written and posted, the entire school would know who their tormentors were and how the operation ran.

It almost felt too easy, but you quickly shook that thought from your mind.

As you walked back to the dorm, you knew what needed to be added. You would remind your fellow classmates that they all contributed to neonet. For better or for worse. The blame couldn’t solely be put on three girls’ shoulders.

You weren’t the only one that needed to strive to be better.

And maybe in the future, if they tried to recruit new admins as they had done so many times before, you could be the one to prove that it was okay to say no. Someone had to take a stand and the rest would follow.

Winter’s voice echoed, calling your name as she ran after you.

You stopped, turning around, and barked, “What?”

She was winded. “This is big. They’re talking about going underground indefinitely. Or at least until the heat dies down.”

Sounds like the consequences of their actions, you almost joked aloud, but instead you simply said, “And?”

“I’m proud of you,” Winter said, lips trembling. Adrenaline had been weighing heavily on her tiny frame. “For what you did back there.”

You came closer to her, intimidating, and hissed, “You told them everything about me and Mark. Didn’t you?”

Winter slowly nodded.

Your eyes burned with tears. It would seem that though you’d won the battle, you weren’t without casualties. Victory had a cost. Yours was your best friend.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. The power had been too overwhelming for her to resist. Not to mention all the shit they had on her. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

“You’ve been there for me when I needed it most and I’ll never forget that,” you told her, emotionless. Your heart was twisting around an invisible knife driven into your back. “That’s the only reason I haven’t hit you.”

Winter tensed up, but she ultimately nodded again. She wanted to explain, but there were no good explanations - only excuses. She desperately wanted you running neonet with her.

It wasn’t just power Winter was attracted to, it was vengeance. All those boys she hooked up with, none of them ever dated her. Her reputation was of one of the girls you fucked, but not the girl you loved.

Winter hated that, because it inevitably made her hate herself. And getting revenge on those boys, exposing them for the assholes they were and ruining their picture perfect relationships, kept her from walking away.

Revenge was supposed to make her feel better. It didn’t.

But Winter realized you had been brave enough to do what she always knew should have been done from the beginning.

Telling neonet to go fuck itself.

You walked away without a goodbye, because you knew in your heart, you and Winter would cross paths again. You knew, deep down, she wasn’t capable of cruelty or malice. She was hurt, like you. She was lonely, like you. She just wanted to be loved, like you. And those things had driven her to be someone she wasn’t. Same as you.

One day, you would mend the bridge and you would let her mend her side until you both could meet in the middle again. Time would maybe heal that wound.

You went to Haechan’s dorm, because you knew he would be gaming until three in the morning. Your first knocks went unanswered, thanks to his noise-canceling headphones, but a few calls to his phone got him to open the door.

“Hey,” Haechan greeted brightly.

You smiled at the sight of him. Something about Haechan put your heart at ease. You had a feeling he would be your friend for years and years to come. “Hey, you.”

Haechan ushered you inside, asking impatiently, “So, did you make the club?”

“Yes and no,” you answered, sitting on the edge of his bed. “They offered me a position. Even said they would promote me for bagging Jaehyun.”

Haechan scoffed. “And?”

You could tell by the look on Haechan’s face that he already knew, but you told him anyway, “They are not the company I want to keep and that is not the person I want to be.”

“Atta girl.”

You took his photo out of the envelope and handed it to him.

Haechan looked down at the photo of you and him. He thought about the time he had spent with you and how happy he was to be able to call you his friend. “What happens now?” he asked sheepishly.

You rose, standing a little taller and with your head held high. “Now, I write the biggest article in NCTU history,” you said dramatically.

Haechan chuckled, clapping his hands together. “I can’t wait to read it.”

The moment he stood to walk you to his door, you slipped into Haechan’s arms and hugged him. “Thank you,” you whispered in his ear.

Haechan wrapped his arms around you and gave you a squeeze. He played clueless though he was anything but. He just liked hearing you say it. “For what?”

You pulled back, peering into his eyes, and said, “For showing me there’s more important things.”

He smiled proudly. “You’re welcome.”

Believe it or not, you went back to your dorm and slept like a baby that night. You knew you needed plenty of rest. There was a lot of work to be done. But it was easier to sleep knowing the monster was dead.

The next day, you walked across campus with a spring in your step. The sun was bright. The air didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore, but maybe that was all because a weight had been taken off your shoulders.

Neonet hadn’t updated since yesterday and you had a feeling they wouldn’t again for a while.

If ever.

It was their turn now to wait; wait for you to post the article that would reveal them to the world for what they really were. There wasn’t enough damage control in the world for them to escape the oncoming punishment.

Grabbing an iced coffee, you found an empty bench in the busiest part of the lawn between buildings and watched people come and go. It was easier than trying to track someone down.

And it was nice to just stop and enjoy the fresh air for once.

Doyoung appeared, taking the seat beside you and saying your name in greeting.

“Hi, boss,” you replied, sipping your coffee.

A smile spread across his face as his eyes locked with yours and he murmured, “I knew you could do it.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “How did you know?”

“I received an anonymous text this morning that neonet is going on hiatus.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

Doyoung slouched back like he had not a care in the world and said, “NCTU deserves a little peace and quiet. Don’t you think?”

You nodded emphatically, letting go a deep sigh. It certainly did.

What Doyoung said next shook you to your very core, “My chair is as good as yours. If you want it.”

There was a pause on your part. You were being handed the thing you wanted most, the greatest of your desires. The goddamn chair you had been working day in and day out for since you first set foot on campus.

“Actually, I don’t think I do,” you told him, surprising him, but surprising yourself more.

Doyoung arched a brow and a little smirk played at his lips. “Oh?”

You shrugged, almost laughing in disbelief that you replied, “It will be my senior year and all I’ve done is grind. I think I just want to have fun and make memories. Maybe even try to make some friends before I blow outta this town for good.”

Doyoung looked even more impressed with you and praised, “You’re going to be one hell of a journalist one day. And an even better editor in chief. Wherever you decide to be one, you’ll have my letter of recommendation.”

“Thanks, Doyoung,” you said, eyes glistening. That meant the world to you.

He flipped mercurially and scolded, “Are we on a first name basis now? I’m still your boss.”

Once again, you expected nothing less. Fighting back a giggle, it seeped into your tone as you apologized, “I’m sorry, boss. It went straight to my head.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending to be annoyed. “See you at the paper. I can’t wait to read your story and I have high expectations for your new column.”

“I’ll be there.”

Alone again on the bench, you watched your classmates casually and finished your coffee. A few studied at the tables. Some were laying on the grass using their backpacks as pillows, stealing cat naps before their next class. Others threw a football back and forth.

The atmosphere felt different. Did they know the dragon was dead?

When you spotted Jeno, you hopped up and raced over to him, a little nervous as to how he would react. “Hey, Jeno,” you called, waving him down.

Jeno was walking with a few of the guys on the baseball team and after noticing you, told them, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”

That made you smile as you closed the rest of the distance.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted sweetly. “How have you been?”

You flushed at his big smile and all the energy that radiated from it. You handed him the photo of you and him from that night and explained, “I destroyed the original file. This is the only copy.”

Jeno studied the photo with interest before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket for safe keeping. “I wish you kept one for yourself,” he said quietly, a little playful.

“I have the memories,” you replied, giving him a wink.

Jeno snickered. He sure did too. He had been so lonely before you came into his life that night. He reached out and pulled you into his arms for a brief hug, leaving a little kiss on your cheek. “You take care of yourself,” he whispered.

You nodded. “You too.”

Jeno stole one last glance of you over his shoulder as he walked away, jogging to catch up with his friends.

With a quick scan of your surroundings, you went in search of someone else.

Johnny was predictably in the gym. He and a few of his friends were lifting weights. The whole place smelled of sweat, as you would expect.

Speaking of sweat, Johnny dabbed his glistening face with a towel slung around his neck when he saw you coming toward him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?” Johnny flirted shamelessly.

You snickered and handed him the picture. “To give you something to remember me by.”

He took the photograph and replied without skipping a beat, “I could never forget you.”

“I’ll never be able to tell you how much you helped me,” you said, smiling at him fondly. “Just know that I’m eternally grateful.”

“I know it sounds cliché as fuck to say this, but ditto,” Johnny quipped, taking your hand and leaving a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

You bit your lip, stifling a grin, and waved goodbye. You didn’t have the heart to tell him how close he had been to danger. You wondered what his reaction would be when he read the article. When any of the boys did, for that matter.

How quickly would they realize you had protected them?

Yuta was vaping outside the building, per a few of the guys at the gym when you asked where you could find him. Sure enough, there he was, leaning back against the brick wall with his ankles crossed.

You eyed him, wondering if he was in the mood to be approached at all, because if the resting bitch face was any indication, your first instinct was no. Despite that, you were on a mission and so you marched right up to him.

Yuta blew out a pillar of smoke and asked harshly, “What do you want?”

You took his attitude in stride, because you knew it was all a front. Not too long ago he had been vulnerable with you and you with him. “Just to give you this,” you said, unbothered.

Yuta took the photo from your outstretched hand, studying it with suspicion for obvious reasons. “Why?”

“Do whatever you want with it,” you told him. “It’s the only copy.”

“A condition of getting into the club?”

“I’m not in the club. I turned them down.”

Yuta made a face, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t go toward you. “I’m impressed,” he said a moment later, slipping the photograph into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Don’t be,” you countered. “It’s literally bare minimum to be a decent person. Or so I’ve heard.”

Yuta snorted, but there was a little twinkle in his eyes.

You reached for him, sliding into his arms and hugging him tightly, which you could feel caught Yuta off guard. He stiffened at first and then embraced you back warmly. “You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” you whispered into his ear.

Yuta trembled in your arms. “So are you.”

You drew back with a sigh. “I hope that day is today.”

He smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear tenderly. “Good luck.”

It was hard walking away from Yuta. You hated seeing him alone, but you had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he would come looking for you one day soon. Because your offer to be his friend still stood.

You sent a text to Jaehyun and he met you outside the rec center. No sooner had he laid eyes on you did Jaehyun rush right into your arms and sweep you up in a hug like you weighed nothing.

To say you were laughing was an understatement. He almost knocked you over in his excitement. Jaehyun rarely knew his own strength.

“Did you do it?” he asked, setting you back down. “Is it over?”

“It’s done,” you replied and it felt so damn good to say it.

Jaehyun was understandably curious, all things considered. “Who all knows?”

“A few. It will be front page news in a couple of days.”

Jaehyun shook his head in amazement and let out a long whistle. Then, a thought crossed his mind and he sombered. “The article - will it talk about me?”

You replied swiftly to put him at ease, “I’m not naming any of the guys even though most were posted on neonet. Everyone will be anonymous, except for neonet, of course.”

Jaehyun looked into your face and deep into your eyes, asking in a whisper, “Are you going to talk about us? Before all of this?”

You thought of him. You thought of your sixteen year old self. You thought of the beach and the quiet nights together and all the good memories you hadn’t allowed yourself to remember for years.

“Do you want me to?” you asked him.

“It’s your story to tell. You should tell it how you want.”

You asserted gently, “But it’s your story too, Jay.”

His cheeks flushed and he smiled warmly. He only needed to think about it for a second or two before deciding. “Tell it. Let people know it’s okay to forgive and move on.”

“Thank you.”

Jaehyun nodded.

You gave him the photo and hugged him once more before heading on your way.

Jaehyun watched you go. He had realized that you and him were meant to be together all these years ago. But some people aren’t meant to be together forever and that’s okay.

Oddly enough, you had reached a similar conclusion. The memories were no longer bitter to you. They were a part of who you were.

You ambled along the path, letting your heart lead the way. You were searching and hoping, maybe even praying. The boy you loved liked to sit back here. Where the plants were overgrown and the hedges went untrimmed. Where the trees blocked out the sun and the breeze shook the leaves until they covered the path in blankets.

There you found him, sitting on an old rickety bench, waiting for you.

“Hi, Mark,” you called out timidly.

Mark turned and something changed in his eyes when he saw you, something that didn’t have a word yet to describe it. He got to his feet and came toward you, saying, “Haechan told me everything.”

“That was nice of him,” you quipped, nervous.

“You didn’t sleep with Jaehyun.”

“No.”

“You haven’t slept with anyone since me.”

You shook your head.

Mark exhaled heavily and came toward you, gathering you in his arms and pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so sorry,” he started, voice trembling with the threat of tears.

“Don’t apologize, Mark,” you said, cradling his head in your hands and meeting him the rest of the way for a kiss.

Mark wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you flush against him, and kissed you endlessly.

You were the one to break away, smiling as he kissed the corner of your mouth, and said, “About that date.”

Mark perked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m free this Friday,” you whispered, draping your arms across his shoulders. He was yours again and you never wanted to let go.

Mark was trying so hard not to grin, but there was no fighting it. Just like he couldn’t fight the way he felt about you. “I thought you had an article to write,” he teased.

“I do, but I’ll make time for you,” you flirted, stealing another quick kiss.

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

From across the way, Doyoung watched you and Mark with a faint smile as he passed by. A mixture of pride and amusement maybe.

He took out his phone, scrolling to a contact designated with only a smirking devil emoji and texted, It’s been a fun ride.

We’ll be back.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[arcticlegend]

Dante, Vergil, Nero, V and their SO decide to do the deed in public and being charged with public indecency The DMC guys getting caught (literally!😜 ) with their pants down is hilarious to me 😁 😆.

Finally done!!! Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy this as much as i do lol

❤️Don't forget to like, reblog, or comment!❤️

*Gasp* Getting... Caught?!!!

🔥(Nsfw)🔥

-Dante-

It’s body fell with an earth shattering thud, one that had you almost losing your balance in the aftershock. Its head had landed with a significantly softer sound that could be described like a giant sack of flour hitting the ground, but meatier. It left you exhausted, staring down at the beast in utter shock that you’d even been able to best it at all. If Dante wasn’t there, you probably wouldn’t have won.

You looked up at him, his shoulders tense as his bloody sword’s dripping was all that could be heard after everything was said and done. It was like a tree had fallen in the forest and returned to silence. When he turned back to you, eyes red, your breath caught in your throat. There was a fiery passion that literally seared within him, threatening to sweep you up in the wave. You could feel the need pooling in your gut as you gazed upon him, loving the rivers of blood that webbed over his skin, streaked over his muscles, blossomed in his clothes. In a similar state, you could also feel the hot stickiness of the demon’s life drying in your hair, thick on your cheeks. The eye contact felt like chains binding you, wrapped around you iron hot and leaving you wanting, needing him.

In only a moment, he was on you, gloved hands gripping your hair with a desperate force as he smashed his lips into yours, hungrily devouring your mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. It was like your lips were something he needed to survive, as if he’d die without his mouth on yours. He tore at your clothes, shucking your pants down before working at his own belt, wanting to be inside of you as soon as humanly possible.

He pressed your face into the cold brick of the building. His rock hard dick sliding over the soft skin of your ass; he groaned deep in is throat as he began to rut against you like an animal.

“Dan-! DANTE!” you cried out, not thinking, mind empty as all you could process was the demanding need in your crotch.

“I got you, baby. Sweet, perfect baby… gonna make you full… gonna make you all mine.”

He shoved deep inside of you, pain and pleasure intermingling within each other as he took what he wanted. It hurt, but something about this side of him aroused you to no end, the pain ebbing in to something burning hot. Hearing his ragged breaths, his desperate whines right in your ear had you falling apart for him.

“Fuck baby, you’re so good. Perfect… Look so good covered in blood. Watching you kill that thing?... Has me so fucking hard for you.”

You keened with pleasure, arching into the wall with each thrust, the scratch of the brick against your nipples only making the blaze ignite hotter within you.

“You did most of it… I- OH GOD~ … I stole your kill.”

He chuckled warmly and pressed his lips to your ear lobe.

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I let you have it.”

He picked up his pace, pressing you harder into the wall, his hips slapping into your ass. His cock dragged over all the right places, hitting deep inside of you with every pounding. It made the arousal come to a head, made your orgasm just start to build. You weren’t close yet, but you could feel the heat in your stomach begin to twist just right, the feeling of your breath affecting every wave of pleasure crashing over you.

A shriek from behind startled the both of you, Dante pulling away to summon his sword, pointing it straight at the woman covering her face. Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach like a stone in a pond, realizing that this woman had just seen you both fucking while covered in blood.

“So uh… The demon is dealt with. We are… still getting paid, right?”

The next day, there was a knock at the door of Devil May Cry and lets just say that the fine took that paycheck and then some.

>Vergil<

“Gosh, these have to be the best seats in the house! How in the hell did you get balcony seats?! These have to be so expensive!” he smirked at you, those cute dimples forming in his cheeks. You could see that mischievous look in his eye and knew he was absolutely up to no good.

“The owner of this theatre owed me a favor. I simply cashed in for it. I wanted you to watch this one with me. I thought you’d maybe find it appealing.”

The play so far had been pretty good. It was very dark, but had hopeful moments. It felt a lot like your life with Vergil before, where the two of you had made mistakes and your relationship- his life had almost been the cost. Even in the coldest parts, there was a warmth, the warmth of her presence still guiding the main character through his strife to eventually find her again. Yeah. He knew why you would find it so appealing. You didn’t hesitate to slide your hand into his and gave him a reassuring smile that you did indeed love the play.

In fact, you were so touched by it that you started to feel aroused. It turned you on to know that he loved you this much. There was something in the way he looked at you, how he viewed this play as a reflection of his relationship with you, that made you emotional. If it was true, then you could only tear up as the man sung of his desire for her company, his need to hold her and love her. He sang of his desire to be held and it made you want Vergil inside of you more than anything.

You gave his hand one more squeeze before pulling away to squeeze his thigh instead, drawing a quiet gasp from him. Wasting no time, you kissed his neck, sucking sweet bruises into his skin that you knew would soon disappear. Your leg swung over his lap and you finally took his lips, moving in tandem with the sultry sound of the play’s main actor, crying out in need of the one he loved.

“Verge, I need you… I need you inside me, darling… please,” you whined into his ear as you ground your ass into his lap, rubbing your most intimate parts against his own in a blind heat. Vergil wasn’t one to do these kinds of things in a public setting, rather preferring to keep these private activities in the bedroom or at the least in the house. However, you both were supposed to be the only ones on this balcony seating, so why not? He seemed to have come to that conclusion as well since it didn’t take him very long to undo the buckle of his belt and slide down the zipper of his dark leather pants.

“I have you, love… I’ll give it to you… everything you need.”

He helped you pull down your own pants, rubbing his long fingers over your hole, teasing the entrance before pushing his finger in. Usually, Vergil was very quiet when beginning any intimate moments, but here was different. The setting, the words of the song that played below them, his hot, desperate arousal made his breath hitch right along with yours. He was quick to add fingers, pumping them deep inside you and you ground against him as he did, leaving you a pathetic, mewling mess for him.

“Verge! Verge please… I need you! I want you inside…”

He grinned dangerously through that rose colored cloud of lust, a gaze you knew meant he wanted to tease you. He wanted specifics.

“I am inside of you, my love. Are you wanting something else?”

Fuck, you thought as you desperately rut into his hand.

“I want your cock… I need your cock, Vergil, please!”

Only because you behaved so well for him, he replaced those dexterous fingers with his thick, swollen cock, sliding it so deep within you that you had to cover your mouth, your moan muffled underneath your hand. You couldn’t move as you processed the raw pleasure that quaked through your body at the delicious stretch. Of course, if you weren’t able to start, he would happily pick up the slack. With his hands under your ass, he lifted you effortlessly and dropped you back down onto his dick, making a mouthwatering pace that left you speechless. The only sounds that left you were your pathetic whines that you muffled into his vest.

His lips were parted next to your cheek, hot air fanning over you as his breath had quickened, a sweet grunt slipping through grit teeth had your insides twisting with need.

“Verge, so… fucking good! It’s so deep, love! If you keep this up, I’ll cum soon…”

He whined at your words, his cock twitching and getting hard at the thought of you cumming around him.

“Um… Sir?”

You both froze and you shoved your face deep into his neck, ashamed to have been caught. How in the hell did they know? No one else was supposed to be up here?!

“I’m sorry to… um… interrupt, but this kind of behavior is not allowed in this theater and I must ask you to leave. There are security officers downstairs waiting to speak to you.”

He rolled his eyes and asked the person to leave so they could become decent.

“I’m sorry, Verge… This is all my fault.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at you.

“Don’t worry. You don’t miss much after this scene. I still have connections. We wont be banned from this place long.”

÷Nero÷

Nero sat down beside you, put his cola in the holder, and adjusted to get more comfortable. The wall lights were still on. The giant screen before you played the usual ads at the start of the film and you waited impatiently for the movie to start. He’d been really busy in the past month, not really having time to spend with you as the jobs kept piling on. He promised he’d make it up to you and this was the perfect way to start. You had to plan this movie a week in advance and now that it was finally here, you couldn't he happier.

He gave you that adorable, bashful smile and pressed a buttery piece of popcorn to your lips. After you took it into your mouth, he sealed the loving gesture with a quick peck. You practically swooned over him, his tough guy demeanor that crumbled the moment you smiled at him. You didn’t even need to mention that you found him attractive. He just had that perfect jock body- those broad shoulders, thick arms and muscled back that had you melting into a pool on the floor.

“You’re so cute.” You whispered to him as the lights began to dim, the title of the movie appearing on the screen. The red burned on his cheeks even through the shadow of the dark room and the bright light of the screen.

“Yeah, well, say what you want…” he looked away, finding interest in the neat, folding design of the walls.

“I think I will. After all, big guy, you can’t be the one to have all the fun, hm?”

You squeezed his thigh and slowly dragged your palm higher, brushing over the top of his pants. He shivered at your touch and his fists gripped the armrests with white knuckles. Nero’s eyes met yours, taking up your challenge.

“You’re right. It’d be awfully rude of me to just take everything all to myself, now wouldn’t it?”

You went for his zipper like a moth to flame, pulled down the offending thing. You needed to tug it down and out of the way of your prize. He wore those black boxers, the ones that hugged his toned thighs so deliciously. It wasn’t difficult to free his cock from the confines of those tantalizing boxer shorts and you relished in the sweet hiss that slipped between his clenched teeth when your hand stroked the bare skin of his cock. He was so unbelievably hard. You could feel the veins ripple under your fingers, his cock straining hard with every other stroke. The fact that you were in a theatre with people just a couple rows down only made the sensation better and you knew he loved this. Nero was a troublemaker, though he was shy and wouldn’t really want to get caught, he got a thrill from it.

Nero wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer so he could nuzzle his cheek into your hair, his quickened breaths were warm on your scalp. he occasionally pressed his lips to your temple when your hand treated especially good.

“Babe, your killing me here… We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Ah, playing the good boy? Sure.

“Come on, Nero… I want to repay you for all the hard work you do. I want to thank you for taking me out to such a nice movie.”

His breath was caught in his throat when he watched your hand slip over your own crotch to tease yourself in front of him and that…? That made him snap.

He quickly gripped your shirt and stood you up to bend you over the chair in front of you, quietly of course. You didn’t want to get caught so early on in the movie. The sound of his pants hitting the floor was like a bell to a hungry dog, your arousal pooling thick in your gut. He moved for yours like a starved animal, pulling them down over your ass to reveal the sweet hole he was going to ruin.

He teased you with his fingers to stretch you, teeth dug into your shoulder and you had to bite your knuckles to keep quiet.

“Nero! Nero, please!” you whispered as quietly as you could, and hoped the sounds of the movie’s music would overpower your whines. Like the sweet boy he was, he listened and gave into your begging.

“Here it is, babe.”

He pressed into you, your mouth slack as he filled your slick hole, the girth of his cock dragging over your insides with a friction that only served to ignite that damned arousal within you. You thought it would help sate you, but instead it only made you crave more. You needed it harder and faster, needed his cock to fuck you til you couldn’t function. This damned theatre full of people meant that he couldn’t do that, couldn’t pound away at you til you could only babble in pure bliss.

You wanted to say his name, wanted to cry out for him to go faster, but instead he kept that same slow pace, not wanting to attract attention. That might have been too late, you thought as you heard the door to the room close. Whatever. They might have went to the bathroom. Didn’t mean you had been caught yet.

He squeezed your hips, fingertips pressing into your pelvic bone as he rutted into you, the soft sound of his skin against your ass made you pulse around him, the need to cum growing ever so quick, but like most quickies in public, sometimes it just wasn’t meant to be.

You heard the door open again in the center, very back of the theatre and moments after that, Nero was shuddering, dumping his huge load into you. Strangled moans were muffled into the sleeve of his coat as he pressed every shot of cum as deep as he could inside of you. The feeling of him filling you with seed was something that couldn’t be beat. It was a feeling you craved so much that sometimes you didn’t even care about cumming. All you needed was that powerful feeling of knowing you could make this man fall apart at the seems, the feeling of him pumping you full of cum and failing to hold back the sounds of his pleasure as he did so? That was a high all on its own.

“Sir? We need you and your partner to pull up your pants and come with me. We cannot allow this behavior in our facility. Please leave.”

Nero’s face fell to that of absolute horror. He had never been caught doing this kind of thing before, so you could only imagine the inner turmoil your lover was feeling as you both were led away to the lobby of the theatre.

As you both stood outside the theatre waiting for the police officer that was called for public indecency, you started laughing.

“What in the hell are you laughing about? This is serious! Dante and Ver- my father… they’re gonna kill me for this. They’re never gonna let this go.”

You sighed, feeling bad that you had instigated this, having been the one to jerk him in the first place, but wasn’t sorry. You knew he liked it and you told him as much.

“You’d do it again, Nero.”

He tried to be upset, but rolled his eyes and smirked, trying to hide the look of agreement in those eyes.

When you both got out of this, you would do it… again and again.

~V~

He stood beside you as the guitars growled in unison, the drums beat, and the bass rumbled above you. The lead singer’s voice was deep, speaking strongly for the verses and crying out for the chorus. Dark, ragged cries of a cruel and melancholic tale that spun from the his vocals only gave the song more depth. It made you think, sent you on a rollercoaster of emotions with every line, every powerful riff that compelled you to rock your head forward or tap your foot to the unforgettable beat.

He was there beside you, listening to the music, though not getting quite as into it as you were, was definitely intrigued by the poetic verses of each song that played. He had never heard of this band before and though you both didn’t share the same taste in music, he was more than happy to come along and learn more about things you loved. When the concert ended, he held your hand as you excitedly told him about which ones were your favorite, which ones were presented the best. You rambled on about the meanings of each song, how you enjoyed the lights and the pyrotechnics. You could tell by that loving look in his eye that he enjoyed every second.

"You say it was about a child that couldn’t comprehend his emotions…”

You nodded, explaining the story behind the song, about how the boy had watched his sister’s murder and that the boy, being so young, didn’t understand how he felt, so he destroyed the doll she had given him.

“It was delightfully horrifying how he sang it. The pain in his voice sounded nearly real.”

Happiness bubbled in your chest. Not many people usually cared to discuss things you liked whether it be music, movies, anything you loved really… Though your topic of choice was very dark and terrible, you couldn’t help but feel arousal at the thought of him actually caring enough to discuss your interests.

“Yeah! His performances are incredible! He’s very theatric on stage and I’m so happy to have finally seen it in person!”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, bright green eyes full of tender admiration, “I’m happy to have been able to come along with you. This was a delightful experience.”

Fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to have him.

Squeezing his hand back tighter, you tugged him into a nearby alleyway. He was shocked, unsure of what was going on, but you knew that was to change very soon when you dropped to your knees before him. A hand on each hip, you pressed him back into the cold brick and worked the button and zipper of his pants.

“What-! What are you doing?!” he sputtered as you pulled out his half hard cock. Normally you jerked him to full thickness, but this time you just wanted him in your mouth at all costs, not caring if he wasn’t quite there yet. He would be.

His moans were like sweet syrup to your ears, rolling down your spine. It was like kindling, strengthening the fire growing deep in your belly, shooting straight down into your crotch. You sucked his cock, reveling in the feeling of his soft skin on your lips, how your saliva coated him with each time you took him deep in your mouth. You wouldn’t be able to for long, because the harder he got, the longer he got. It was nearly impossible to take all of him in one go unless you planned on holding your breath.

“My love, we shouldn’t do this here. Please lets just get home and we can finish this-!”

One particularly hard suck had his knees buckling, your tongue had swept over him just right and sucked him back in, dragged him over your tongue and the roof of your mouth. His plush lips were parted so perfect as he moaned for you. You wanted to comment on how absolutely wrecked he looked already, but of course your mouth was a little too busy.

Your lower regions ached with every little thrust of his hips, every push of his cock head to the back of your throat. It drove you mad how he stroked his fingers through your hair, feeling the warm metal of the ring on your skin.

“This is so good, darling… so good, but I need to be inside. I want to be inside of you, dearest.”

You take him down your throat as deep as he could go before pulling back with a sweet little pop. He was fucking delectable how he stood above you, staring down. His cheeks were dusted with red, the black locks falling into his eyes, and the gentle stretch of his ribcage with every deep, ragged inhale.

He had you against the wall, facing him, your pants shoved down off one leg, after all, he needed to lift that leg up if he wanted to bury deep inside that tight little hole of yours.

“V! Please hurry, V!”

He pulled had his pants down just under his ass and ground his cock against your crotch, and you savored he sweet friction he gave you and as much as you wanted to him to take his time, you really just needed to feel him deep inside of you.

“V!” you keened, stretching his name out with your desperate moan, wordlessly begging him to please just fuck you, please just shove that perfect cock into your needy little hole.

As if he could read your mind, he complied, pressing the head of his cock in nice and slow. It made you crazy with lust, incinerated your stomach with the mix of pain and blinding white pleasure as he finally filled that emptiness and sated that desperate need. Yes, it sated one need and then awakened another. Now the mission wasn’t to be filled, it was to cum. If he kept up this pace, with this angle, it wouldn’t be long. He had this look on his face, too, one that meant that he wasn’t very far behind.

He pounded into you, his teeth bared, sweat dripping down his forehead. Silky black strands stuck to his slick skin.

“You’re so beautiful… so perfect for me… You pull my strings and make me sing.”

Oh he cant say things like that…

“My sweet dove, bringing me peace with each crash, every wave of pleasure with the beat of your wings.”

You moan as you feel him get harder inside of you. He’s going to cum. The arousal floods your brain, but soon crashes like a plate shattering on the floor.

“You cant do that back here. This is a public place. I’m going to have to ask you to become decent and please follow me.”

It was an officer, a flushed and flustered one at that. You weren’t sure how much she’d seen, but it was enough that she couldn’t even meet your eyes.

V was bright red, looking down at the ground as he buttoned his pants. Shame sunk into your gut, but there was still something else, something even hotter. You were still so fucking turned on that not even getting caught could help you. In fact, it only made it worse.

Luckily, you both only got off with a slap on the hand and a hefty fine for public indecency.

“So… uh… about yesterday…”

He gave you that naughty little smirk and it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt. You had a feeling you’d be doing it again very soon.