#The Nose under the cut. could not decide on an angle for this fucking creature and i don't remember what i did for nosepass

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bigkyloenergy]

𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔𝙀𝘿 𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙈

CHAPTER III: A HARD RIDE.

a witcher!kylo x reader fic. dark themes, smut ahead. 18+.

summary: you are a barmaid / stablewoman at an inn in toussaint, kylo ren, one of the last of the witchers from the school of the viper regularly stays at the establishment. you wonder what keeps him coming back.

read on ao3.

  “Ten barrels then?”

Nodding, you wrote off your name on the order sheet. “Like always, Betty wants to make sure they’re pre-bought before the new fisherman's haul arrives this weekend.”

 “Expecting a crowd? I heard about a bard that everyone seems to be itchin’ to see.”

You wouldn’t normally make small talk with the brewer--he wasn’t a very bright or entertaining man--just like how you didn’t normally go for the orders, only if Betty was extra busy. But you needed to occupy your time as much as you could. Ever since the alley you couldn’t even look at the coral buildings of Toussaint without remembering how the Viper’s tongue felt even better than his fingers. At least it kept true to his title.

 “Hopefully.” You gave him a tight smile before you turned to finish the rest of the small errands that the innkeep had given you to get off of her back, having cleaned every crevice of the Pheasantry before it had even opened.  

You’d eavesdropped on other conversations every time you heard the word Witcher , but most of the time they weren’t talking about the Viper. You’d only caught a few, which seemed to come and go just like the boats--but they were hesitant, tip toeing around their words as if he would interrupt.

And most days, you wished he would.

Sighing, you gazed over to the river, the breeze greeting you as you tried to lose your train of thought, let your muscle memory walk you through the sunny city. You knew it well enough now. It never really rained, so you weren’t worried about the extra time you took avoiding those alleys.

Too often you would find yourself frustrated, wondering if he’d ever come back, promising yourself that he would get a mouthful from you if he ever did. If he never came back to the inn, oh well. Couldn’t be any worse than pining after a ghost--or, that was what your mind was determined to play on a loop.

Until the sight of his dark cloaks broke that.

Your chest filled, nearly dropping the list you had clutched between your fingers. He was making his way over the bridge, high upon his stygian steed. A perfect picture of death.

And your first instinct was to follow him. Your boots clicked against the ground as if someone had shot a gun to urge you forward. He was over the bridge by the time you even got close to it, slicing through the crowd like butter. Meanwhile, you nearly had to shove men to get past them. Bravery was one of your downfalls, and you only confirmed this as you waded to the edge of the forest Kylo had disappeared into.

The sun still hung high, the trees hosting a darkness that it wouldn't touch. Your feet crunched a branch, and you used a thick trunk for assistance. As your eyes adjusted, an eerie the only thing you could identify.

There was a trail--that much you could tell, but no one in sight. If you listened close enough, you could still hear the river running through Toussaint and that comforted you enough to move on. As you kept on the path, you saw a broken wagon tossed aside, obviously stripped by bandits— you wouldn’t stay long enough to find where the owner was.

Your hair fell around your face as you tried to keep focus on your footing while still being aware of your surroundings, knowing that this was a bad idea. Yet the thought of finding the Viper in action beckoned to you like a siren call. You’d been away from the inn a few hours, so you couldn’t know if he had already checked in. Maybe he’d even looked for you.

A sickening shriek whipped your head so fast you almost kinked your neck to peek around one of the evergreens. There you found a dead knight-- that wasn’t what horrified you.

There were creatures around it, tall as any human, their flesh was rotted, holes on their body exposing the decimated tissue. They craned over the corpse, feasting on the carcass, the noise shuddering your bones.

Stumbling slightly, you were unable to take your eyes off of them, too afraid if you did, they’d notice you. You wouldn’t even have a running chance.

Then your heel caught, not having time to look back, sending you tumbling into the grass.

Something seized your wrist, jerking you back to meet the Viper’s angry, yellow eyes. He tilted his head slightly, aiming his ear toward the monsters as he lowered you to the ground with a gentle thud. You squirmed, leaves crunching underneath you--Kylo didn’t hesitate, following you to the forest floor, serving as a personal shield. Your throat thickened. He was so close that he invaded every one of your senses. His body was achingly heavy, even while he used his elbows as a kickstand to not crush you under his weight.

Nose filled with his scent, forest — fresh cut pine and mint, so strong that dizzied you. You didn’t notice how hard your breathing was until your chest touched his.

 “What are those?” you asked in a panicked whisper, nodding toward the beasts. “And why… is this necessary?”

He pulled his chin down to his chest, looking between your bodies before his gaze bore through you again. “You’d rather be in the knight’s position.”  

 “No. No. It’s just…”

Warmth already crept between your thighs--even as danger weighed in the air. Only intensified by the Viper’s presence.

 “Stop talking.”

 “Are they still there?”

He didn’t answer you, but he didn’t look away from you either. You couldn’t stand it, burning under him, you almost debated your survival rate if you would have just ran.

 “Is that who you were after? Or... what?” you asked. “There were like, five of those things around it. Eating him. I couldn’t even see anything other than the helmet, really I —”

 “No.”

 “No?”

 “That isn’t what I was after.” He hushed you through the muzzle.

You took a beat, looking him over. You couldn’t remember if you had ever seen him blink.

 “What were you after then?”

The Viper grunted, a deep sound before collapsing a large hand around your mouth, the leather warm against your skin. It only gave you more time to notice his body positioned, how his large thigh was between both of yours. You couldn’t get over how good he smelled, how you’d never smelled any soaps like it in all of your life, unable to compare it to fresh flowers or a rare rain.

It was a few more minutes with his hand silencing you before he was lifting, pulling you with him.

 “Come.”

 “Oh no. Not this again. You’re not gonna trick me with your fucking--” you gestured toward him, having pulled yourself from his grip now, “--whatever it is that you do to me, Kylo.”

His name left your mouth differently this time, full of spite, and his fists squeezed at his sides.  You waited for him to say something, you figured you were better off continuing.

“You do know there’s brothels for that? I know that you probably get everything you want as the local nightmare, but I’m not exactly okay with being a toy at your once-a-month disposal. Were you even going to come to the inn?”

Another deafening silence. You swore he didn’t move a muscle the whole while you spoke.

 “You followed me.”

Your stomach sank, your eyes darting to the scattered leaves he’d made your sanctuary.

 “I’m not coming with you. I’ll walk back. We aren’t even far.” Your confidence was very convincing. At least you thought.

 “Hm.”

He brought his attention from your toes, to your eyes, then back again before he was turning. You hadn’t noticed Luxe before, but she was barely standing a few feet away from the Witcher, waiting patiently.

You weren’t pouting, but your brows furrowed as you watched him, mouth puckering like he’d just failed a subconscious test. The Viper sent a leg over his horse, mounting it in an easy sweep. You’d get back with or without him.

Brushing some of the mud from your skirts, deciding you needed to tie them up so you could get out of the forest more efficiently.

You leaned down--and were snatched up by your blouse, placed perfectly in front of Kylo on the saddle, facing him, your chests touching as they had before. One of his hands twisted in the reigns, using his fingertips to kick your legs over his like they were an irritant.

And when you did, you felt a hard outline through his trousers. Your heart shot into your ears.

You found your hands tightening into the chainmail at his arms, earning another look from him. He surveyed you under thick lashes before scooping your skirts to your belly.

 “You followed me into the forest.”

Swallowing a whine, you made an effort to keep eye contact with him, finding a new speck of amber each time.

 “I— told you I would follow you back to camp, get you alone…”

Your jaw was captured in his stitched fingertips, turning you toward his eclipsed gaze while the horse continued to walk along.

 “Naughty, naive thing. Trying to get yourself killed.”

His hand moved between the both of you and unzipped his pants--you couldn’t help but watch. It released his cock immediately, breaking any restraint you mustered, a whine coming through parted lips.

You’d never seen it, only felt it against your belly when he’d fingered you in the stables. And it was more than you could have ever imagined. Your mouth watered at the sight of the pink tip, already lined with precum. It was the only skin he’d revealed--other than what you saw around his eyes--but you imagined his cock would reach his navel if he were naked.

You wanted him so badly you couldn’t wait. And it was written all over your face. He lifted your hips, peeling your wet underwear from your cunt. A hiss pushed through his mask, before he jerked his wrist and tore them off in a single motion.

Kylo kept you against the front of his saddle, using it as leverage to angle you down onto his cock. Your jaw nearly unhinged at the feeling of him splitting you open, burning and satisfying all in one go. His brow furrowed, his focus between your thighs as he sunk into you.

It was almost too much to handle, your spine arched against the sculpted wood, desperate to fill yourself with every inch of him. You’d thought about it so many times, spun so many fantasies at your fingertips at the thought of his cock filling you, but nothing matched this.

It was unrivaled.

 “Hold onto me,” the Viper demanded through clenched teeth.

His thighs tightened under your knees, and you did as he asked. Your forehead fell on his shoulder, and his hand left you, sinking you down to the hilt, packing you to the most undiscovered bits.

He snapped at the reigns, and the steed went from a steady trot to a fierce gallop, bouncing you off his lap, his cock pounding your cervix--you squealed, biting at the material of his armor. His body was so easy to hold onto, one of your arms hooked under his, the other draping over his shoulder, fingers linking to secure yourself against his frame.

But that didn’t give you any relief against him. Lewd slaps melded with hooves hitting the ground, not even sure where you were or where you were going now. Your eyes rolled back into your head, an impending orgasm taking hold just as the curve of Kylo’s glove found your throat.

 “My name,” he growled.

You clenched around him and conceded to his demand. A sharp cry broke through your climax, giving the knowledge of exactly who was wrecking you to all of the forest. The Witcher was not in control of the motions that were snapping you to his dick, dropping the lead to lock both of his murderous hands on each side of your waist in order to change that.

Kylo used your weight to slam you down, primal, lascivious noises puffing from the mask. You could barely keep your eyes open, stars fuzzing in your blackened gaze while you just took every delicious inch he was forcing into you.

 “Fuck, slut. You have no idea what you’ve done.”  

You couldn’t answer him, you could barely even comprehend what he was saying. Every time the metal-plated hooves hit the ground it vibrated through Kylo’s body to make home in yours, unyielding in its wreckage.

Another noise fled you--this time it seemed to stir up the horse, nearly knocking you off of the path that was a blur behind the Viper’s back. He removed his hand and waved it behind you, somehow soothing the steed before it found a new home on your already-pulsing clit, using your juices to easily swipe it back and forth with tight urgency. Your body would have twisted if it wasn’t for your heels locked under his calves, but Kylo showed no mercy. He forced you to take all of him once he felt your rigid walls flutter in warning, only the motions of your ride adjusting his cock in the stubborn burrow it found. You felt like human gelatin as you came again, and he gave you no time to relish in it.

He strangled you, snapping you back against the neck of the steed, giving it the perfect angle for your back to curve. He grabbed the ties of your bodice, tugging them and releasing your breasts from their confines. The Viper grunted, keeping his cock deep while he pushed the skirts back above your waist. You could barely breathe. But you didn’t care.

He wanted to see all of you.

Whines combined with quick breaths as you watched him, awaiting his next move. Then he pulled his mask under his chin.

Your heart stopped.

But you only got a glimpse of his lips, perfect and full, before they were on your breasts, suckling as if he would get oxygen from your perked nipples. His hands snaking under your back to force you further into his face. His teeth sank into the soft flesh of your tit, drawing blood as his canines dragged against the skin. You hissed, invading his hood with his hand to find the hidden tendrils of his hair. You couldn’t even wrap your mind around the fact that you had seen a flash of his full face. It was too good--he was your mind and body.

He fucked you relentlessly, your ass starting to sore from the way it shifted on the straddle every time you bounced on it. Your thighs grazed his leather trousers, red with an angry rash that you would feel tomorrow. When he let go of your throat, you sucked in a deprived breath.

Kylo’s mouth was hot, needy, devouring every bit of your chest, leaving possessive purple marks in his wake. He groaned at each force of motion into your saturated cunt, forcing himself over the edge, no warning before he was spilling his seed into you. The only thing you could feel was the slow force of his hips, needing the extra friction, becoming feral on your chest. You glistened with his spit.

Again, the Viper returned his mask before you even had a chance. His back straightened, towering over you as you desperately tried to catch your breath. But he didn’t pull himself out of you, tugging you to the seat properly, your skirts falling back over it. 

You felt dizzy, your cheeks hot with blood, only hiding your tits when you realized you were trailing back into town, crimson staining your top when you redressed.

Your walls still pumped, the aftermath of your orgasm reminding that he was inside of you, his cock softening at every passing building. Still, he made no effort to empty you. Not until you made it to the Phesantry.

He huffed and scooped under your armpits to lift you off his horse, leaving you bare with a cocktail of juices flowing down your legs.

The only thing you noticed was Kylo tucking the ripped material of your panties into his pocket. Then he was gone, without so much as another glance.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Three

Ao3,   MasterPost,   Chap.1,   Chap.2

Relationships: Eventual Romantic Analogince, Romantic Prinxiety, implied background Moceit

Warnings: Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Self-isolation, Arguments, Unintentional Emotional Repression, Body Horror (in the form of Remus being Remus!), swearing, some small descriptions of pain, self-deprecations. There’s some fluff in the middle cuz I’m not pure evil, but this is pretty angsty :3 (I promise it’ll have a happy ending u just gotta wait ok). Remus uses it/its here, and is also aromantic.

Word Count: 8,167

Now, dramatism isn’t one of your functions, so you like to think that you’re being entirely  reasonable when you say that you’d rather die than inform your closest friends that you’ve grown to love them a bit more than platonically. 

And yet, here they are. Sitting on your couch, in your cluttered room, staring up at you with expectation in their eyes. They’re waiting, Logan. You didn’t actually expect to avoid this forever, did you?

Maybe you did, but it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been wrong.

But you digress: you owe them the explanation they came here for. And as you open your mouth to speak, your voice is not nearly as measured as you’d like it to be. 

“As I said before, It was never my intention for you to think I did not want to see you- that is to say, it simply wasn’t feasible, given- well- there were certain complications, you see…”

Virgil narrows his eyes, bemusedly, from his contorted position across the arm and top cushion of your couch. 

“What kind of complications?”

You look at the carpet, but it doesn’t offer much visual stimuli. You look up at the ceiling, but the angle makes your neck ache. You settle your eyes on your bookshelf instead, studying the multi-colored covers of novels that span the length of the entire opposite wall. 

“...Complicated ones.”

Virgil snorts, a sound that usually has you thinking about just how adorable he can be, but the sound is devoid of humor in its current form. 

“Care to elaborate, Teach?” Roman inquires, his legs folded comfortably under himself as he watches you. He’s managed to keep himself pretty still and quiet, though you aren’t sure if that’s attributed to his current restraint or the effects of your room.

  You push your glasses up on your nose. They fall back to their original position. You repeat this action almost compulsively. 

“It’s foolish- Very foolish. I know this is somewhat hypocritical of me, but I believe it is for the best that I do not burden you with it.”

“You aren’t a burden!” Roman squawks indignantly, in conjunction with Virgil snipping: “We’re well past that, buddy.”

You feel your face heat, embarrassingly enough. You aren’t sure why, but their instant and vehement defensiveness for you is a bit motivating. They… they won’t hate you for it. They might even understand, if you’re willing to be optimistic about this. 

“You could call it. Jealousy, I suppose.”

“Jealousy?” Roman scrunches his nose, uncomprehending.

“Yes- I know it isn’t exactly fair of me to feel this way, but it’s the unfortunate truth. I have noticed that the two of you have become much… closer, than you once were,” you see the two of them flush in embarrassment, which only serves to prove your point. “Rest assured, I’m very happy for the both of you and your bond. It’s just that I’ve realized that I have become essentially irrelevant, which I find to be… upsetting. And I know you both are far too kind and non-communicative to outright tell me this, thus I decided that I would take matters into my own hands by giving the two of you your much-needed space willingly.” 

You do not add that you’re also avoiding them because you can barely stomach being around their PDA. It seems unnecessary, and maybe a tad pathetic.

Virgil recovers from his embarrassment at your calling him out quickly enough, his abashment being engulfed by indignation. Oh, wonderful. They really can’t let up without a fight.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His anger is clear, but all three of you know that he’s only upset at the situation. 

“I would love to remain as your friends, of course, I only meant that it would be best if I didn’t interrupt you two-”

“Interrupt us?!” He’s very near shouting, leaping up from his seat and stalking towards you. He stops less than a foot away, and you try desperately not to recoil from him. 

“Yes,” you sound meek, don’t you? “It only made sense-”

He stares at you as though you’re an idiot. It’s a despicable look, but when you turn your attention to Roman for a reprieve, his expression is no different.

And then they- oh, what they do next brings you more pain than any expression ever could. It starts quiet, like they’re trying to hold it at bay, but their resolves crack and crumble. 

They laugh. They’re laughing at you. 

You shouldn’t have let them in- not into your room, not into your head, not into your life at all. You should have known that when your genuine emotions came to light, they’d only find it humorous in the end. Because you, Logan- Logic, your ‘feelings’- they’re hilarious. They are nonsensical and hardly befitting a being such as yourself, yet you have them! And you actually began to speak about them! What a comedic situation. You’re a fool in every sense of the word- both a jester and an idiot. 

They aren’t even laughing that hard, but to you each small sound reads as a raucous, villainous cackle that tears apart your skin and leaves you raw. Roman’s head is tipped back and he appears to be shaking with amusement; Virgil is trying to press his lips together and stifle his chuckling, but he’s doing a poor job of it.

Something writhes in you, much uglier than your shame or guilt. It squirms beneath the layers of your skin and runs up and down your spine, tensing your muscles with its electricity. It’s fury, burning nearly as bright as your face surely must be with this humiliation. 

How could they, tricking you into caring for them, convincing you to help them and support them, only to then heckle you when you hand them your trust. It was such a fragile thing already- which you know is preposterous, trust isn’t tangible, but in this moment it feels quite like a cracked window finally shattering to useless shards.

“Out.”

Virgil is startled into silence immediately; Roman makes a strangled sort of sound as he stops laughing.

“What?” They chorus, both looking ready to contradict you with drawn out and over-emotional arguments. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction.

“Get. Out. Of my. Room,” your shaking speech is blanketed in monotone; it’s like a towel thrown over a forest fire; it won’t last long.

Their eyes widen comically. They speak all over each other, clamoring to explain or excuse their actions, but to you the pleading is naught but white noise. 

You gave them a chance to leave of their own volition, but if they’re so keen on remaining a nuisance, then fine. You huff a sigh, turning your back to Roman and Virgil. With a snap, their chatter cuts off unceremoniously, and you are left cold and lonely. 

When you turn around, they’re gone.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You don’t get a chance to react before you’re thrown upwards through the floor of your bedroom. You land in an unceremonious heap, half-on and half-off of your bed, losing your balance almost immediately and toppling to the floor. Rising up makes you dizzy enough as it is, but being forced away from somewhere makes you want to vomit. 

You pull yourself up from the ground, holding your head in your hands until the world stops spinning. As soon as your brain gets working again, you can hear thunderous footfalls out in the hall. They stomp right past your door and down the hall. There’s a series of loud thumps, rattles, and shouts, before whoever it is retraces their steps.

You walk to your door as if on autopilot, opening it just as Roman was about to knock. He’s panting, distressed. 

“We fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah,” you pull him inside, slamming the door behind him, “We did.”

“I didn’t mean to, you know that right? I wasn’t laughing at him, I wouldn’t, alright?” Roman spirals, “He thinks I did! It was just ridiculous, was all! To think that we don’t want him around- to think-”

He curls into himself. You catch his hand before he can press it against his chest, unfolding him. You hold his wrist and rub little patterns into the back of his hand.

“Ro, hey.”

He glances up at you, wild-eyed. Eyeshadow is already creeping its way down his face.

“Why don’t we talk about this in your room instead, hm?” 

He nods, shaking, with a small mutter of ‘right, right’. You nod back, holding onto him just tight enough that your claws don’t quite dig in. 

You materialize in Roman’s room, dragging him along with you. Almost immediately a fierce pulse of energy overwhelms you. You stagger in shock, but Roman doesn’t even blink at the force. He pulls away from you and falls upon his massive, plush, circular canopy bed with a despairing whine. You can’t really blame him. 

The Creative power of this room takes its effects on you faster than any other side’s abilities could- you really wonder how Roman is so used to it. You sit on the bed beside him, intending to comfort him as he buries himself further into his hoard of pillows. But then, you can’t. You can’t sit down. Far too much troubled excitement is pooling in your stomach; far too many ideas and thoughts are running through your head, and the loudest of them are desperate appeals to start fixing this mess.

Anxiety and Creativity wouldn’t theoretically mix well, but that’s just the thing about theories. They’re often wrong, so very wrong or crackpot or conspiratorial. The truth of it is Creativity and Anxiety work together wonderfully, both as concepts and as actual, metaphysical creatures. You’ve known this, even if you won’t admit it, since you were all teenagers. But only now does it hit you just how much Roman’s abilities can do for you. It takes all of your energy, all that pent-up fear and frustration from what’s just happened, and it gives you the tools to actually use it for something.

It also makes you, ya know. Just a little recklessly confident.

“Alright, Princey, get up.”

He whines again, shifting his head just enough to glare at you.

“I’m wallowing in self-pity! For the reason that one of my dearest friends thinks me a- a bully! How are you not freaking out about this?”

“Honestly?” You wrap your hands around his wrist again, pulling him into a ragdoll-ish sitting position, “I’ve got no idea. Mentally I think I’m in the fifth dimension or some shit, so we gotta work this out quick before I come back down and really lose my mind.”

He grumbles, but you see him biting back an amused smile. Flopping his legs over the edge of the bed and making no movement to stand, Roman narrows his eyes up at you. 

“Alright, alright. We need to give that conversation another go, I know that, but we should give Logan some space first. He’s unlikely to hear us out now. You know how headstrong he is when he gets… like this.”

You nod, vacantly, because you're already three steps ahead of where he is in the conversation. 

“Yeah, good point. More time.”

“Right,” Roman draws the word out, looking at you strangely, “So why aren’t you moping with me?”

You pull the reins of your practically palpable energy enough to sit down, right next to him.

“We obviously have to work out this-” you gesture between yourself and Roman, “-before we can really talk to Logan,” once the sentence is out of your mouth you wish you could swallow back the ‘obviously’, because Roman is usually slow on the uptake and you’d never intentionally make fun of that. But he does nothing more than scrunch his face up in exaggerated confusion, the pink tint to his face giving away that he must have at least some idea what you’re implying. 

“What- what do you mean by that? The two of us already get along famously!”

“I think you know that’s not what I meant. You’re using your stage voice. You always do that when you lie.”

“Who are you- Janus?” He cough-laughs awkwardly, breaking eye-contact with you. You’re surprised that you’re holding up any better than him, but your strongest reaction at the moment is a mild blush and some prickling at your skin. 

It is for these reasons that you both love and hate Creative-Mode Virgil. He is a very productive and efficient version of you, but his propensity for acting bold and impulsive makes you want to strangle him. Him being you, of course.

“Look, Logan was wrong to think that he was a third wheel, or whatever, but I’m pretty sure he was right about the… closeness with us, I guess.”

Roman’s staring at you with wide eyes, a deep red flushing him from his ears right across his nose and cheeks. He’s clearly trying to smile, but it’s coming out awkwardly strained, almost twisted sideways. There’s a second when the anxiety rushes back to you in a wave of oh no you misread this so fucking bad of course he doesn’t feel that way about you you’re his best friend whatthehellwereyouthinkingVirgil- and it almost wins you over, but you’re in Roman’s Room. And that doesn’t just mean motivation and creativity. 

Your paranoid thoughts could never beat what’s ingrained into you as a fact. You can feel the romantic tension, almost like it’s a physical presence in the room. Maybe it is. A part of you- most of you, in fact- still wants to convince you that you’re doing something wrong. But it’s getting harder and harder to believe the longer you sit here, knowing that these emotions you feel aren't entirely your own. 

“Virgil,” he breathes, and you can feel it on your skin- when did you get so close?

“We don’t have to do anything about this,” you start to backpedal, but you don’t move away from him, “Not if you don’t want to, yet. I just… we had to talk about it, I think.”

“So you…?”

The hesitance in his voice destroys your resolve. You reach out, tucking up both of his hands in your own. 

They’re warm. 

“Yeah, I- yeah.”

He surveys you for far too long; it’s hard not to squirm. You let him watch you, though, just so he can find whatever it is he’s looking for in your expression. When he does, it only draws him in nearer.

“You and Logan are right. I love you, V.” 

You try not to smile. It doesn’t work. 

“I figured.”

He huffs at you, shoving you, but he’s grinning widely. You roll your eyes at him. You don’t speak for a while, holding your tongue for as long as you can- but you really need to say it. Just so he knows.

“I love you back, though. Or- something like that, I don’t know…”

Roman laughs outright at that, tossing his head back. You can already feel the energy you were given twisting into an entirely contradictory exhaustion. Because of that, you don’t even try to pretend to be annoyed; you just watch, fondly. 

When he’s settled, that amused look turns sharply to worry. 

“So now what?”

You pause, running your thumb over his knuckles as you think the question over. 

“Logan?” 

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, like you said, we give him some space.”

“And then?”

You glance up at Roman for confirmation, but you don’t need to. Like you said, you can feel it; his room is a pretty big snitch. 

“We tell him we love him.” 

 You let yourself forget about what happened, just for the afternoon. It’s hard, but what choice do you have? It’s out of your hands for now. And, while usually that makes you even more nervous, you manage to force yourself into the shape of something vaguely undaunted. After all, if you can’t tell Logan just how much you care about him, you can still remind Roman. 

In your own way, of course. 

“Hey,” you mutter, for what must be the millionth time that evening. Roman turns his attention away from the vent-art he’s working on, glancing at you.

“Yes, Knightmare?” He asks, but the tired and affectionate smile on his face says that he already knows your game. Damn, and here you were thinking you were subtle. (not.)

“Mmh,” you press your face into the side of his neck, leaving a few miniscule kisses to the skin there. Your arms are twined around his waist, a position that bordered on- oh, who are you kidding, it’s exceptionally clingy.

The embarrassment that you feel from so openly displaying such sappy, disgusting affection is overturned, however slightly, by the quiet laugh and kiss to the top of your head that Roman returns to you for your efforts. You hide your smile in the crook of his neck.

You continue to shower Roman with attention for a minute or so, covering his face with little pecks and pressing yourself against him, before leaning back a few inches. You sigh. He resumes his work, resting his back against your chest as he does so. 

You will let him continue to draw for ten or so minutes. You will ask for his attention again, and he’ll give it to you with a slightly wider smile than the last time you did it- that smile grows exponentially, but only by tiny increments.

You’ll kiss him all up his neck and the side of his face, hug him even tighter, listening to him laugh in a much too relieved voice before you let up once more.

And he’ll be a little more sure of you each time. A little more sure that you two can do this together. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You are not a patient entity when it comes to the things you want. You are, in the best of cases, the exact opposite. This gets about One Million Billion times worse when the one thing that you want is to declare your love for someone, and said someone hasn’t left his room even once in six days.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus (once you’d relayed the situation to the latter two) have essentially been keeping you on a leash at all times of the day- or night- to make absolutely sure that you don’t break Logan’s door down. Which- to be fair- you wouldn’t put it past yourself to do that, but still. 

But even with the distraction of a new boyfriend (boyfriend!!!!) and those two overbearingly caring friends of yours, you are still Physically Unable to Not Do Anything currently. And, you suppose if you can’t break Logan’s door down, you might as well try that idea out on someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at such an, ah, intrusion seems to be the fitting word. 

“Uurghhhhh!”

You drop yourself face first onto Remus’ bed in your usual melodramatic fashion, immediately regretting it because fuck that smells horrid. When was the last time it washed its sheets?

Probably never, actually. You sit up.

Your sibling is sitting cross-legged on its desk, working on something that’s got a good deal of goop and limbs. It looks up at you blankly. 

“Ro? What the hell are you doing in here?” It doesn’t sound angry, just very, very surprised. 

“My life is ending.”

“Fun! Does that mean I get full creative control?”

“No! And it’s not fun, you animal!” 

It scrutinizes you, setting its strange arthropodic creation down on the desk. You lean back when it leans forwards.

“Wow, shit must be really bad if you’ve decided to come here!”

You nod, miserably. 

“Okay,” it claps its hands together, standing up only to fall against the bed beside you. It’s half-sitting, half-laying; the way it twists all its limbs up can not be comfortable. “What’s going on?”

You glare at it, but you aren’t sure why. Probably just because it is there and you need something to glare at while you talk. 

“It’s Logan…” You trail off, waiting for Remus to catch on. It takes its time thinking, even more expressionless than before. 

“You know why he hasn’t left his room in days? I tried to check on him but he barely told me anything. Just said he was tired, and ‘thanks for the concern’,” it says at last, catching you off-guard.

“You mean you haven’t heard? I would’ve thought Patton or Janus might have told you.”

It taps its claw to its chin a couple of times, thoughtful. The implication clicks just a second later, apparently, because it lets out a whining groan and drags its hands down its face.

“Oh, not that. I can’t do anything if it’s that!” It exclaims, “Yeah, they did mention it, but I guess I just tune that kind of thing out,” it pauses, “...It’s because you and Vee are fucking now, right?”

You flush, embarrassment and indignation welling up at the back of your throat. You bat Remus’ shoulder, bristly as a thornbush.

“No, we aren’t- I mean, not yet- I mean, that’s none of your business!”

“You did kinda come to me for help, though, so it actually is.”

You glower, refusing to justify that with a response. It rolls its eyes at you, turning over so that it’s flat on its back with its upper half hanging off the bed.

“It’s your bad to come to me for romance advice. You couldn’t have asked literally anyone else- yourself, for example?” It fusses with its talons as it rants, snapping off a couple of nails absentmindedly, “It’s not even the fun kind of gross.”

You can’t believe you’re considering saying it. You won’t! You shouldn’t! You refuse!

“...Please?” Oh fuck, you’ve done it now.

Remus pulls its head up slightly, a very smug grin across its face. Its teeth are horrendously crooked and yellow-stained, looking much too big and sharp to fit into its mouth. 

“Awww, you’re begging? God, you’re so desperate.”

It’s very difficult to resist the urge to push it off the bed. But you are a pillar of restraint today, because it’s not entirely wrong about that, and you still need it to help you.

“Look, it’s too personal to my own life for my abilities to do me any good. And Virgil can’t talk about it- he’s way too frazzled to even think about it, the poor thing. Plus, Patton and Janus aren’t… great… at things,” that’s a very soft way of putting: the former gets much too emotionally invested and the latter is entirely snarky and unhelpful. “So I came here. I think a more, erm, detached point of view could help.”

Remus hums at that. 

“I guess there’s nothing more detached from romantic issues than someone who’s never had any- you’ve come to the right place in that case.”

“So you’ll help?” 

Remus slides slowly forward until it’s landing in a heap on the ground, various crunching noises resulting from the impact. It huffs, lifts itself up to rest its chin on the edge of the bed, and stares at you unblinkingly.

“You’re not allowed to tangent about how pretty his eyes are or how much you love his voice, or anything like that, got it? Otherwise, I will puke, and probably into your mouth just to shut you up.”

You gag, perhaps a bit exaggeratedly.

“That’s vile!”

“Thank you! Now, bitch to me about your problems before I get bored.”

You look down to your lap, winding and unwinding your fingers repetitiously. You think about the past couple of days; in many aspects, it’s been wonderful. Virgil actually wants to be your boyfriend! And that’s what he is now! Of course, you both are just as cuddly as ever, but now you don’t have to worry about holding back. That’s been an amazing relief.

But there’s always that little thing missing, holding you back from being content completely. You want to give Logan his space, truly you do, but every day you feel a little more distant from him. A little further from being able to fix things. It’s familiar in all the worst ways.

You blink rapidly, remembering where you are before the emotions overcome you. With a shaky breath, you begin to speak. It’s just a summary at first, but then you can’t help but give Remus your most detailed accounts of, well, everything. 

You gauge its reaction intensely, but it’s as inscrutable as ever. You finish the tale hurriedly, expectant for some sort of response from the creature across from you.

There is an intolerable silence as you practically see the gears turning in Remus’ brain, which is funny because you thought Octopuses were supposed to have nine of them. You have no idea what it’s using all the other ones for, if that’s the case.

“You laughed at him,” it smirks when it speaks, sounding out the words slowly. You scoff.

“We were laughing at the situation! We didn’t mean it to seem that way. It was just bad timing! ”

It cackles at you, sitting back on its legs and tossing its head back. It sounds like a shrieking kettle.

“No wonder he’s so pissed! He thinks you think his feelings are a joke! His whole deal is not wanting to be that. That’s, like, his big thing.”

You’d… sort of figured that’s what happened, but hearing it out loud still stings. To think you’d done that to him. He was getting so much better with his feelings, but you had to go and ruin it. 

“I already know that I- we-” mental filtering, Roman, “We caused the issue. I wanted to know how to fix it.”

Remus stops laughing as suddenly as it’d started, looking at you with all the sincerity of, perhaps, someone capable of being serious. 

“Corner him,” it answers simply.

“Excuse me?”

“Corner him. Your first mistake was that you went to him in his room, which meant he could just throw you out of there. He’s stubborn, right? Plus, he thinks you were making fun of him. He’s not gonna come out to have a civilized conversation on his own, cuz he’s a dumbass, so I don’t think more space is gonna help you out here. Lure him out! Tie him up, if it’ll make him listen!” Remus pauses thoughtfully, “Orrrrr you could try amputating his legs entirely, but he’ll probably grow them back. He’s annoying like that.”

You choose to ignore the last suggestion, focusing instead on its main point. 

“Are you sure that won’t make things worse?”

“Define ‘worse’ for me, in terms of right now, currently, in here on this day.”

“Good point.”

Remus nods to itself, standing up from the floor and stretching its arms above its head. Its shoulders dislocate, but it pops them back into their sockets once its done. This almost feels like the conclusion of the conversation, but you get the impression that it’s taking its time to piece together a sentence with a little more finality.

“He was obviously crazy about you two before, which means he probably still is. He’s also a sad little shit, though.”

You move to stand as well, curling your fingers against themselves again.

“You really think so?”

“Oh, I have no idea. That’s your department, remember? Now, get out of my room; no alloromantics allowed after-” it checks the time, clearly making the rule up on the spot, “Five twenty-six P.M.” 

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint,” you place your hands on your hips, feeling just a little more confident in the wake of this talk.

“‘Hint’? I explicitly told you to leave.”

You grumble at Remus, but make your way to the door nonetheless. It turns back to its desk, grabbing for a jar that seems to be filled with insect legs. It’s immediately refocused into whatever strange creatures it was working on, pulling them apart and shoving them back together. You let the affronted look fall from your face, replaced by a small, fond smile.

“Thanks, Re.”

It glances back at you, briefly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing…” it pauses, its hands stilling. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” you say, earnestly.

You leave, letting it get back to its work. 

 The hallway smells like a fucking Macy’s compared to Remus’ room. Jesus Christ, it’s a relief. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning back against it with a deep, shuddering sigh. It’s been a long week. 

Ah, and just on time, as if to prove your point, there’s a gravelly shout and a thump from downstairs. You draw yourself to attention, shaking the slump from your shoulders. You flit through the narrow hall to the top of the stairs, listening carefully for an issue to resolve or an unseemly beast to slay. A prince must protect his subjects, after all.

For a few seconds, all you can hear below is frantic whispering. You set a foot on the top step, but you don’t get the chance to descend.

Virgil is there like a flash of lightning, speeding up the stairs and heading right for you. 

You startle, spiraling back to escape his path, but it’s futile. He catches you at the top, sending you both crashing into the opposite wall. Pain shoots up your back at the impact, as well as sparking in your shoulders where his claws are gripping you. You hiss, the sound dying when you meet his eyes. 

They’re bright. No, glowing. No, seeping- their color is seeping into the world around them, curling in little streaks of murky green and violet around Virgil’s face. 

He speaks, but it’s without distortion. It’s clear and crisp. It isn’t quite anxiety that’s consuming him this way, no, it’s something much more powerful.

“Roman,” he takes your hand in a fervent grip, “Ro, it’s Logan.”

You blink, and before you really know what you’re doing, you're already halfway downstairs.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>

Light, sparse taps are turned out against the solid wood door. The sounds, however small, echo throughout this packed little room.

Your fingers stall above the laptop’s keyboard, and for a fraction of a second frustration overcomes you. It’s gone as soon as it comes, replaced unceremoniously by numbness. This is a minor inconvenience to your work, but not much else. Thankfully, you are not one to dwell on it; after all this time, you are finally in complete control of your faculties and your emotions. 

The knock returns, more sure of itself as it hits against the surface. Bemusedly, you wonder why on earth they’re still bothering- but, that isn’t them, it belatedly occurs to you. The rhythm isn’t that of some showtune or another, nor is it harsh and pounding.

You aren’t sure how many days it’s been since you’ve heard that particular sound. You aren’t sure… What day is it?

Well, regardless, you’ve been jarred from your work. You could ignore it and continue on- you’d likely forget it soon enough- but the fact that you recognize the presence specifically as Patton stops that idea in its tracks. He’s sensitive, an overthinker to an extreme degree. He could entirely misconstrue it as a dislike of his company if you were to not respond, unlike a flippant Remus or a collected Janus. And, well…

You’re over it. You’ve been over what Roman and Virgil did to you. But even though you very much are, it’s still perfectly reasonable to not want to be near them. There would be nothing to gain from talking to them, and you’d like to spare yourself the headache. But, you digress; Patton was not a part of what transpired. He would not do that to you, and therefore he is not an impediment to your work. Looking at it rationally, he is in fact a great source of comfo- help, for you. 

With this in mind you stand, making your way across the room. You stagger when you walk, like something’s pulling you in different directions. Odd. The feeling is somewhere in your head, sinking down your vertebrae, insisting that you need to remain in the sanctity of your room. If you leave, the pull suggests, then all your carefully built clarity of mind should become disrupted. How strange for such a convincing conviction to be so seemingly baseless, you reflect.

The knock returns, and that is of course a much more pressing issue. There’s a pull coming from there as well, only one much fiercer and easier to place. It’s the strongest thing you’ve experienced in some time, like someone’s arm around your waist, guiding you forwards (even if there isn’t anyone there, really). 

“Good afternoon,” you intone, drawing the door open with excessive force. Strange, again; maybe you had just forgotten how heavy it was. 

Patton stands across from you, shock written across his features with his fist still poised in the air, as though to knock again. He drops the hand quickly, reaching out instead with both arms while a grin consumes his face. But the limbs spasm concerningly, and stop. He sweeps his arms back and presses his balled hands tightly against his chest, still smiling at you, only a little more strained. His eyes are big, murky pools of color and emotion, raging and contradictory and impossible to make sense of. Even looking into them is overwhelming. 

“Hi, buddy,” he says it so quietly, but the actual words don’t matter. He says it with force, like perhaps he’s localized every emotion he’s ever felt entirely into his tone of voice.

You blink at him, an undefined question on your lips before that pull behind you turns into a sharp push, and before you know it you’re slumping forward into the hallway and out of your room. As you’re forced out, you narrowly avoid hitting the carpet. That’s thanks to Patton, who rushes forwards with a yelp, hauling you up into his sturdy arms with very little effort. 

The confusion you’d felt leaves you in a great big rush, replaced by fire. Your skin is consumed by burns at your friend’s touch- or at least it feels that way, but logically it cannot possibly be actual flame- but fuck logic because you’re on fucking fire.

It’s an all-consuming heat, but that’s hardly all it is. It’s breathing. Like you’d been holding your breath to the point of mad deliria and only now are you gasping in great, relieved breaths of clear air as some great and stifling weight is lifted from your lungs. It also feels like moving from an ice bath to a sauna all too quickly, giving you the greatest relief in conjunction with horrific pain. 

Oh. You’re crying. 

“Shh,” Patton whispers, as though this isn’t anything out of the ordinary, “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

You hold onto him hesitantly. Are you sitting? You think you must be, judging from this position.

“Do you need me to let go? Is it too much?”

You open your mouth to speak, and your voice is in perfect, frightening monotone.

“Yes, please.”

Patton draws back gently, just far enough so that you’re not touching. Big, crocodile tears crawl down your face still, but they begin to die down after a moment. You get your breathing under control, even if just barely.

“I didn’t want you to fall and get hurt,” Patton explains, “But I realize that making you touch a living vessel for emotion might’ve hurt, too, after- well, after that,” he gestures vaguely to your room, and then to yourself. You tilt your head in confusion.

“What-?” You look down at your arms, and the question dies on your lips.

It’s lifeless; corpse-like. The cold, slate-gray painted up your arms and probably across your whole body. The color looks sucked out of you, leaving only emptiness in its wake. The only sign that you’re a living being and not a husk, a shell, a piece of shed skin- other than the tremble of your frame- is the shocks of electric blue running up your body. They could be veins, if not for the fact that the lines were perfectly straight and geometrically cornered.

Patton reaches out, pensively, and presses a cautious finger against the back of your hand. At his touch, the spot bursts into life like watercolor on wet paper. Lively, peachy skin with cool undertones appears, before fading back to gray as Patton removes his finger. And it stings. 

You jump to your feet with a struggle, hardly registering when Patton follows your lead. You spin on your heel, staring through the open door and into your room. You can’t imagine entering it- just the feeling of being near it shortens your breath. It’s frigid, it’s hard and unshakeable and dark. It is completely and entirely devoid of emotion or life, and you hadn’t left that frozen hellscape in days.

It’s a wonder you can feel anything at all, after what you’ve done to yourself.

A shaking gasp rips out of your throat, and before you can think another panicked thought you jolt forward and wrench the door shut. You back away from it until your back hits the opposite wall.

“I- I didn’t realize I was doing it,” your words sound like pleas, falling from your mouth without your consent.

“I know,” Patton stands beside you, close enough to feel but not to burn.

“I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“I know.”

“I was doing better. I was doing so well, I was happy.”

He nods solemnly. 

You’ve been aware of the existence of your emotions, and relatively accepting of it, for a good deal of time. Hypocrisy is unsustainable. You can’t very well preach the negatives of repression on a weekly basis and then go on to practice it indefinitely. 

But what you are… everything that you encompass, everything that encompasses you, it makes it much too easy to slip up. To force out every pesky feeling in favor of more ‘important’ things. What it really is is a pitiful defense mechanism, unfortunately built deep into you by the purpose of your being. And it seems that your room can even do it without your knowledge.

“Logan?”

You look up, unsure if he can even see how miserable you are. Can you emote anymore? You try to frown, but your muscles are stuck like plastic.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere else and see if we can get some of the feeling back into ya, okay?”

You adjust your glasses once, then twice.

“Not your room, I would hope?”

“Oh, goodness,” he lets out a startled laugh, “Of course not, that would be way too much! I was thinking somewhere a little more, uhm, neutral?”

You perk up at that implication. You could just go to the common room, of course, but that’s hardly the only unaffected area in the Mindpalace. Your world isn’t quite real- and even if it is it’s extremely fluid and easy to influence- meaning you can make about just as many locations as any of you would like. Which includes structures ‘outside’ of your ‘house’.

An ill-defined existence like that might irk you, if you were in a philosophical mood. Thankfully, the only mood you’re in right now is sad. 

“Yes, I think a change of setting could be beneficial.”

Patton chirps happily, much like a tree frog, and makes to lead you downstairs. You follow close behind him, chasing that emotional high but still nervous of the pain that it could cause you. 

You’re on edge for reasons enough already. The idea that you could run into them is a prominent one that you’d rather not focus on. 

For a split second you think you might have to, though, because there’s someone sitting on the couch when you step down from the landing. Your breath catches in your throat, but then he looks up at you, heterochromic eyes wide with surprise, and you exhale steadily. 

“Hello, Janus.”

His eyebrows arch up at your greeting, perplexion in his smile. Appraisingly, he observes you, offering only a small wave. He addresses Patton when he speaks. 

“Well, Dear, it seems you were right to be concerned about him.”

Patton mutters something that you can’t quite make out, looking disconcerted. 

You’d be flushing indignantly, if you had the ability to. Your shoulders hunch up as you glance between your friends.

“You’ve been talking about me?” 

They both look acutely uncomfortable, exchanging looks. That’s answer enough for you, though. 

Oh, just look at yourself. You’re a spectacle now, aren’t you? Poor Logan, getting his metaphorical metaphysical heart broken, only for it to become the talk of the MindPalace for days on end as he relapses into repression. Isn’t it such a lovely thing for you to be? A piece of gossip. Entertainment.

Janus’ worry grows on his face, and soon he’s up from his spot and hastening towards you. You step back from him, trying to remember what glaring is meant to look like. He doesn’t invade your space again, but he just… stares at you. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks. You can almost laugh at the question. 

“I’m sure you already know all about it, though, don’t you?”

Both of them are taken aback by your snapping. You regret it immediately; they haven’t done anything wrong, not really. They’re trying to help you, it isn’t their fault that they got caught up in your ‘tragic tale’. But your frustration is difficult to push down. You get the feeling that you can’t push anything down, without worrying that something will snap; it’s almost like an overworked muscle. 

“Whatever you think has been happening out here,” Janus speaks, even and slow, “It’s not that bad, alright?”

Patton nods along with him, and reaches towards you. He falters, eventually opting to hook a finger through the band of your watch instead. Your skin prickles, but there’s no pain. 

“C’mon, I was thinking we could try heading to the Clubhouse.”

That settles your anger, microscopically. You think Janus is being truthful, and Patton is nothing but consoling. And, of course, there’s the clubhouse…

You might not ever admit how much you like it. It’s been around since before you were around, back in the days of just Anxiety (the oldest), Creativities (tied for second), and a very newly formed Morality. Back when it was first made, it really was just a little child’s clubhouse, made primarily by Roman, with some disruptions by Remus, and small additions by a tiny Patton. It was probably the first neutral structure made up by the sides, as they had just begun to figure out their powers and the ‘world’ that they inhabited. Of course no one had the heart to get rid of it after that.

You give Patton a nod, angling your face so that it maybe looks like you’re smiling. He lets go of you, smiling back as he turns on his heel and heads for the door. You trail behind him, knowing that it must look very silly that you’re basically tailgating him. Janus follows you in turn, a few feet behind. He watches over the both of you protectively. 

You step out onto the lawn, hearing grass crunch beneath your shoes. The wind is particularly biting, and the sky above threatens a storm. You’re sure that the weather in the real world isn’t this chaotic, so someone in the mindscape must be sulking. You don’t mind; it’ll only make the warmth of the Clubhouse all the more pleasant. 

The Clubhouse has changed so much over the years that it’s unrecognizable as its original iteration. What once was a little stick-and-stone glorified fairy house is now a cottage-like building, one story high with a thickly thatched roof. Beside the door on either side are big bay windows, each made into little reading nooks. It’s essentially one big room, the outside painted with such vibrant pastels that it easily stands out against its surroundings.

The doors creak when Patton opens them, but not in a way that denotes damage or wear. It’s an old and comforting sound, one that comes from familiarity and consistent use. You step through the threshold, and affection floods your chest.

It isn’t large, but it’s well-equipped. There are ancient oaken tables stacked up with crafts materials, squashy bean bag chairs, and a bright rug or two thrown over the rustic hardwood floors. The nooks have pillows and blankets piled in them, looking like nests. There are bookshelves, art supplies, vinyl records (complete with a record player)- even some new-looking wall displays of preserved bugs and butterflies for decoration. To top it all off, fairy lights were strung across all the walls, making it all seem quite mystic. 

You find yourself taking another step inwards; the amenities are incredibly inviting. Everything here is inviting, and homey, and lived-in. The house itself almost feels alive, nonsensical as that is.

It’s no wonder this is everyone’s favorite.

Patton watches you patiently, his hand resting on the door handle. You take a deep breath, but you aren’t sure why you need it. You make your way to the perfume-y, floral print sofa against the wall to your right, treating everything around you rather reverently. When you sit, you sink down into the couch.

Patton sits a respectful distance from you. Janus strolls right after him, knocking the door shut with the back of his boot before settling in an armchair on the left of the couch.

There’s a comfortable silence, and you start to feel your numbness abate. With a contented sigh, your head falls back against the cushion and your eyes fall shut. Not in an effort to sleep. You’re just… resting. You breathe deeply, letting the atmosphere envelop you.

The corners of your mouth twitch up.

“Logan!” Patton squeaks, “Look!”

Your eyes blink open, mildly startled at the outburst. Patton’s gaze on you is intense, first focused on your face and then moving down your arms. You follow the look, to see your...

Your perfectly normal, flesh-colored arms. Your human-ish, mildly tan, average arms. You feel what you can now recognize as a smile grow wider on your face. 

“Well,” Janus chimes, “It seems you just needed a little break.”

“Maybe so,” your voice creaks from lack of use. You hadn’t even realized you’d been nonverbal since you’d last snapped at them. Neither had drawn attention to it, which you silently thank them for (they, after all, were all too familiar with the experience). 

“Do you feel good enough to talk about what’s been upsetting you?” Patton gently asks you. And you… don’t have an answer.

“What is there to talk about?” You tilt your head bemusedly. 

“I think he means, are you ready to talk to who’s been upsetting you?” Janus explains. Patton hesitates before nodding his agreement.

“I- what?” Your serenity leaves in a rush, replaced by astonishment and outrage, “You expect me to- to talk to them?”

You give them approximately three seconds to respond before plowing forwards with your rant.

“I’m talking to you both, isn’t that enough? You’ve done nothing to wrong me, of course. What does it matter if I don’t speak to those- those- those-”

Janus’ eyes expand to circles, the pupils shrinking to anxious slits.

“Those?” He prompts.

“Tricksters, betrayers, playactors, wolves- whatever you want to call them!” Where were vocab cards when you needed them? All your synonyms can’t carry the punch that you need them to. Insults aren’t much good if you have to explain them after. 

“No!” Patton practically screams, out of absolutely nowhere. You glance at him, stunned, to see him looking like a kicked puppy- er, froggy. He’s on the verge of tears, leaning towards you precariously, with devastation swirling in his big eyes. “This is why you need to talk to them, please, Logan.”

You are so very bewildered, you barely notice that Janus is standing from his chair until he’s already across the room. 

“As I said earlier: whatever you think happened, didn't. I can prove it, too,” he mutters, standing by the door.

“You weren't there, Janus,” you snap, "I tried to tell them how I felt and they- they laughed at me.”

“They didn't!” Patton squeaks. You shake your head frantically, still reeling.

“It was- it was awful, you can’t-”

“No,” Patton interrupts, “I meant that literally. They didn’t do that.”

This interaction is making your head spin with indignation. You are capable of immense patience when it comes to Patton- and Janus, for that matter- but this has become ridiculous. 

“I’m so tired of being made a mockery of, Patton. I won’t stand for it any longer, even if you’re just trying to help.”

He breathes in sharply, about to argue, but then his gaze catches on something behind you. His mouth stays open, but he’s soundless. You jump to your feet, spinning around to see just what he’s looking at.

The door is open. Janus is gone.

There's a shout from the main house.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @thefivecalls 

(Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :3)

[ayellowcurtain]

I'm already so invested in the story and the kiddos and of course elu 💞💞💞

Part 2

He feels his mattress sinking over and over again with no care, his body moving with it unintentionally and he thinks about Eliott sneaking closer to him, to wake him up with soft morning kisses and hopefully a huge breakfast.

“What’s this?” He hears Margot’s voice instead and he opens his eyes, wide awake suddenly. He wishes he didn’t learn to be like this, he wasn’t like this when he was alone, but he assume it’s his instincts screaming at him like the loudest alarm because these little alpha creatures that depend on him are awake and he doesn’t know for how long and how they got to his bed.

The little girl kneeling right next to him is frowning and grabbing his shirt. Noah is a little behind, struggling to climb to the top of the bed so Margot helps him and he comes crawling and already sniffing and making a face like a dog.

“It’s Eliott!” Margot comes to the conclusion by herself, like Eliott could be a shirt, not a human being.

“No, it’s mine.” Lucas complains, realizing it’s still very much dark around them, relaxing when he finally understand the situation. The kids are safe, nothing bad happened while he was asleep, they just needed to come to his bed, like they always do. He rolls to his side and grabs his phone. 2 a.m. It’s his lucky night, he got almost five full hours of sleep before the intrusion.

“It’s Eliott.” She decides and snuggles under the heavy covers, using all her strength to cover herself all the way to her head. Margot sleeps completely covered, so weird and Noah crawls and adjusts himself on Lucas’ pillow.

Not on the one right next to it, or using Lucas’ pillow but just with his head on the empty pillow, he lies completely on Lucas’ pillow. He doesn’t have the strength to fight them tonight, so he just closes his eyes and it’s even a little bit thankful with Noah’s tiny hands playing with his hair - one of Lucas’ weaknesses -  until both of them fall back asleep.

The week goes by excruciatingly slow, Lucas will never tell anyone, but he’s now addicted to his phone, constantly looking if he has new messages.

He shouldn’t be doing this, really, but he’s already doing it when he notices it and puts his phone away. Eliott hasn’t texted him all week long, they haven’t talked after that night. Lucas should have known and he shouldn’t be this worried about it, feeling so stupidly offended and used.

It’s Thursday night and he’s feeling needy. Lucas never had a relationship, a long, lasting, dreamy relationship like they have in the movies. He only had fuck ups. People leaving him left and right, leaving him worse than when they found him. But sometimes Lucas lets himself accept that he craves connections like an addict. And he doesn’t even know what he’s addicted to.

He sits on his bed, for once missing the annoying, obnoxious voices of his siblings to distract him from doing something stupid. Now it’s late and he has nothing to do, no diaper to change, no bottle to warm up.

There is only his phone on his hand, scrolling down the screen, finding Eliott’s number and calling him instantly.

He puts his phone against his ear and starts biting his nails, praying Eliott won’t pick up and he won’t leave a stupid message for him to hear later.

He’s probably with Lucile…

“This is new.” Eliott’s soothing voice comes suddenly as a smarter line of thought than what Lucas was just thinking.

“What?”

“You, calling me.” He explains and Lucas sighs annoyed, covering his face with his empty hand, waiting for more, too embarrassed to try to justify himself, “A good new though. Everything okay with you? The kids?”

“Hm, yeah...Yeah, they’re fine, sleeping, thankfully.”

Eliott laughs on the other side and Lucas smiles, wanting him close.

“Good. So I guess you’re not calling me to ask for help to put them to bed…” Lucas feels his whole body warming up, blushing, probably. He looks at his bedroom door, almost completely open like always, suddenly back to being aware of how loud he’s talking when there are two babies sleeping.

“Why are you so cocky?”

“I’m not, Lucas. I’m just honest. Too honest, even.”

“Right, that’s what you keep telling yourself.” Lucas tries, paying attention to Eliott if he makes any noise or sign of discomfort.

“I want to be with you. I want you to call me because you want me there with you, not because of the kids…”

“Stop…” Lucas whispers, wanting Eliott to not be another one that plays Lucas like a puppet.

“You know I mean it, so I’ll stop.” They take a break from pushing each other’s limits and Lucas relaxes, lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling, “Why did you call me? Tell me and I’ll be whatever you need.”

Lucas laughs again with how gentle, but brutally honest Eliott is. When they met at the grocery store he never would have guessed that. He thought Eliott would be intimidating, but he’s a different type of intimidating, it’s worst.

When they met, Lucas thought Eliott was something so out of his league, something he would never have and now he’s here. Trying to understand why someone like Eliott, an alpha like Eliott, would give him any attention. He’s real, which makes him and his intimidation so much worse. And sexy.

“I don’t know, actually. Just needed to talk to someone. You, I guess.” Lucas exhales once he’s done talking, trying to get himself back on his feet. He’s usually good with people when it’s about this. He’s better with people he wants, flirting with them.

“Can this conversation be in person?”

“Always inviting yourself to my place…” Lucas shakes his head even though nobody is seeing him.

Eliott laughs quietly, “No, not at all. If you want, I can go to your place, pick you and the kids and we can come to my place.”

Lucas frowns, putting his hand on his forehead, keeping his hair out of his eyes, back to being so aware of how much Eliott is trying. Lucas wants to believe his interest is genuine, but why would he care so much. “Why? Why are you so interested?”

“I don’t know. I just like you, easy as that.” Eliott sighs like he just made a confession and Lucas’ heart goes a little softer.

“It’s never easy as that.”

“It is when it’s about me and you.”

Me and you. Those word don’t leave Lucas’ brain ever again.

-

Lucas doesn’t know why he was so stupid and reckless, but here he is. At Eliott’s place for once, with both kids sleeping peacefully on Eliott’s bed, and he is watching as Eliott makes them some cheesy pasta as a very late dinner.

Eliott looks over his shoulder at Lucas still there, leaning against the small island, not really sure what he should be doing.

“You can go around, explore all you want. You can open any drawer, any closet. I know you’re looking for defects or reasons not to trust me.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking at the back of Eliott’s head now that he’s back to only caring about the food he is making. “Don’t say it twice or I’ll go.”

“Go, Lucas. Please.” Lucas can see from where he is how Eliott smiles just on the corner of his mouth.

And Lucas lowers his head, turning on his heels to go explore like Eliott said for him to do, trying not to smile.

His first stop is at Eliott’s bedroom. Margot and Noah are still asleep, they’re still breathing, Lucas also checks that, putting his hand close to their noses.

They didn’t even woke up to get inside Eliott’s car, or out of it, or to be transferred to his bed. Eliott held Margot like he knew what he was doing and she hooked her legs and arms around him like she knew she could trust him even on her sleep. He even kissed Margot’s forehead after putting her back in bed!

His house is bigger than Lucas’, but definitely not as organized. Eliott is an artist, you can tell by how many sketchbooks he has on his nightstand. Lucas looks at the door, still open in case the kids woke up and they didn’t hear from the kitchen. He carefully opens the top sketchbook on a random page.

Lucas has to grab the sketchbook then, looking at himself on the piece of paper. Suddenly he’s not even sure of how he looks in real life. If his eyebrows are that thick and perfect...if his nose is this angled, square and...pretty. He puts the sketchbook back down before he can get too mindblown. He’s about to open the only drawer on his nightstand, but he stops, looking at the hard, black cover of the book he was just holding, still trying to understand the fact that Eliott knows his every trace by heart.

Lucas tries to think, to not let a single piece of paper to throw his functioning brain into the trash bin underneath the nightstand and let his reckless heart take over his thoughts.

He carefully closes the little he had opened of the drawer and leaves Eliott’s bedroom, looking at the kids one more time to make sure they are sleeping soundly. He walks certainty and quickly down the hall, finding Eliott still busy, moving back and forth between the pot and the sliced cheese on the cutting board.

Lucas stops in between the two and Eliott finally notices him, smiling softly, surprised, but letting Lucas pull him closer by his neck, brushing their lips together.

“Let's go to bed.” He asks and he sounds softer than what he intended, like they have the kind of intimacy where Lucas can go soft and not feel ashamed because of it.

Eliott smiles, clearly staring at Lucas’ probably dry lips, “My bed is busy…”

“Couch then. I wanna be yours.” Lucas stares right back at Eliott’s inviting lips.  

“Lucas…” Eliott is being reasonable. Of course that’s a bad idea, the chances of getting caught are extremely high.

“I mean it. Please, make me yours.” Lucas doesn’t wait another second, kissing Eliott with his whole being, almost hanging on his neck and Eliott turns everything off behind him, giving his full attention back to Lucas and his touch.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Beside The Dying Fire (part eleven)

[DnD AU with the tour!verse]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Word count: 2113

TW: Blood

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

Katherine let out a sharp yelp as she was suddenly thrown across the dunes. The Sand Snake she had been riding does a sharp U-turn and dashed back over to her. Both it and Catalina looked thoroughly amused.

  “You good?” Catalina peered down at her. 

Katherine spat out some sand. “Yeah,” She grunted, rising to her feet.

Sand Snake surfing was a lot harder than the Aasimars made it out to be. Way harder. She could barely even balance on the round board they had to stand on, and the harness pulled tightly at her hips as the serpent glided through the sand, but this mode of transportation was much better than walking, so she got back on.

  “Will YOU be okay?” Katherine asked, eyeing Catalina’s stomach.

Catalina laughed. “I am a PRO, Kat. I’ll be fine.” She pat the side of her bright red Sand Snake. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

The Snakes took off once again, and Katherine jerked forward with them. She wobbled on the board, grabbing onto the rope bridled to the horn of her serpent for balance. She felt like she was gliding through water.

  “What exactly are we looking for out here?” Katherine asked. All she saw in every direction were sand dunes, cacti, shrubs, and more sand dunes. There were a few pillars of old, long-fallen buildings, but nothing more.

  “Uhh… I’m not actually sure!” Catalina answered her, riding next to her. “There’s the giant scorpions and serpents, but I don’t think they’re the beasts we’re looking for. There was also the Brazen Bull, but it’s been dead for centuries.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, and there’s Parthenais, Lord of The Skies!”

  “Excuse me?”

A roar shook the dunes.

An ear splitting roar that might have rendered Katherine deaf if she were any closer. She instinctively reared back, nearly falling off of the board, and closed her eyes when sand billowed straight into her face. When they open again, they go wide at the sight of the beast lumbering in the distance.

Up ahead was a circular plate of sandstone raised above the ground, bearing thriving palm trees and lush greenery. Atop it sat a giant creature, its brass-colored scales shimmering in the sunlight. It stretched out huge, triangular wings that connected all the way down to the base of its webbed tail, making them look even bigger than they already were. Then, it pumped its giant wings and leapt into the air, blocking out the sun with its massive body.

The serpents came to a halt as the Brass Dragon swooped down in front of them. A tidal wave of sand splashed up into the air, and Katherine had to shield her face away from the spray. When she recovered, she looked up at the towering beast looming over her.

After a moment of staring with glittering orange eyes, the dragon moved again, slowly lowering its head to bump Catalina affectionately. Catalina laughed loudly and threw her arms around its large head. 

  “Parthenais!” Catalina cried in glee. “It’s so good to see you again!”

The dragon, Parthenais, growled happily. It flicked its small ears towards Katherine and looked at her.

  “Oh, this is Katherine,” Catalina introduced her. “She’s my friend.”

Parthenais extended her snout out to Katherine and nudged her gently before churring in a sort of approval and turning back to Catalina.

  “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” Catalina said, stroking the scaly plates curving from the sides of Parthenais’ head. “I just had to get away from my dumb family.”

Parthenais rumbled. Slowly, she got down on her front knees, lowering her huge body to lay like a horse on the ground, tucking both legs underneath herself. Folding her massive wings in close and curling her tail inwards, she now looked like a peaceful and happy giant scaly dragon loaf in the dunes. Katherine had to shield her eyes again when sand exploded up into the air for a second time upon the dragon deciding to lounge in front of her and Catalina.

  “You never said you had a pet dragon,” Katherine said to Catalina.

Catalina laughed. “You never asked!” She said back. She looked up at Parthenais. “Par isn’t really my pet. More like a friend.” She scratched under Parthenais’ chin.

Parthenais leaned forward and nudged Catalina’s belly with her nose. Catalina laughed lightly.

  “I’m gonna be a mom soon, Par,” Catalina told the dragon. “But first I have to save the world!” She grinned. “So, have you seen anything suspicious around here? Our mission is to slay the beasts in each of the territories, and we’re starting here.”

Parthenais churred, then lowered one wing. Catalina perked up and clambered onto her back, while Katherine just stared at her with wide eyes. Catalina laughed.

  “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

Katherine had never thought she would ever ride a dragon, yet here she now was.

  “Oh my god!!!” She screamed as Parthenais zipped through the clear blue sky. She gripped tightly onto one of the ridges along the dragon’s back, shrieking. Catalina howled with laughter at her side.

  “Isn’t this incredible?!” Catalina shouted over the wind whipping past them.

  “This is insane!!” Katherine cried.

  “I know!!!”

Parthenais wheeled around in the sky, nearly flinging Katherine off, and landed heavily in the sand. They were now in front of a narrow valley carved into from Highland Cliffs, opening up into the mesas above. The smell of roasting meat whisked out through the gorge.

  “Something is in there?” Catalina asked Parthenais, and Parthenais bobbed her head with a growl. “Alright. We’ll look into it. Come on, Kat.”

Katherine and Catalina ventured into the valley. Katherine was surprised to find that it was a lot cooler in there than out in the dunes, most likely because of the rocky overhangs blocking out the sun from above. Shifting sand turned to sturdy sandstone beneath their feet as they walked through the gorge, deeper and deeper until they came to a small clearing. Several stone shelves jutted out from the wall, sprinkling down sand in golden waterfalls. White tents were set up on one of the larger platforms around a fire, which had been burned out and abandoned. Strange sculptures made from dried wet sand formed squatting wolf-pigs on almost every ledge, staring down at them with dulled coal eyes. Strings of bones and feathers were strung up from wall-to-wall, rattling softly in the breeze. A stone entrance lied ahead, beneath an overhang, where the smell of meat was coming from.

Catalina clenched her fists at her side. “This is one of Henry’s strongholds. He’s fucking set up on my land.” She growled. “We have to take it out, Kat. We can’t let them stay here.”

  “I know,” Katherine said. “But let’s be smart about this, okay? We should just rush in there; we don’t know how many there are inside.”

Catalina took a deep, calming breath and nodded. “Right. Got it. Let’s make a plan and kill these bastards.”

--

One of the wolf-pig statues fell from a ledge and shattered into sandy pieces across the red stone floor. It wasn’t very noisy when it broke apart, but it had hit a strand of bones when it fell and alerted one of the guards inside. The human man went to go investigate, and got a chunk of rock put through his throat when Katherine jumped down from the ledge. When the second guard from inside, a Gith man, heard the commotion, Catalina snuck up behind him and slit his throat before he could yell for the others.

  “Come on,” Catalina whispered.

They slowly slunk inside the large circular room where a rock pedestal stood at the very center. A boar was roasting on a spit over a fire, turning slowly- the source of the smell. All the soldiers inside whipped their head around, and Katherine reached out to the land, and the wind, and the very heat of the sun cradled in the ground’s memory. She clenched her shaking fists and unleashed them all. 

The shabby tents set up against the walls quaked and lost structure, toppling in on themselves while several of the soldiers were impaled by stone spikes that shot out of the ground. The wind buffeted those who tried to escape the chaos and kept the unfortunate souls corralled in the center of the fray.

She spied a high elf shaman, old as time itself, attempting to shout his ritual words over the din, but the wind cut off his words and a vortex surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs.

Eventually the righteous anger of the earth subsided, and what was left were shambles. Many of the soldiers lay unmoving, choked and bludgeoned to death by the Wind Wall spell, while a few crawl about and attempt to rouse their fallen allies or see to their own wounds. Organs and shiny red blood dripped down from stone spikes, pooling across the ground. Catalina wiped her sword’s stained blade against the fur armor of one of the fallen men. Neither of them felt guilty for their actions; Henry’s soldiers brought this fury down upon themselves from the moment they joined his army, and they were merely the vessel.

Beneath the smell of roasting meat, was the smell of blood. Not fresh blood. Old, decaying blood. There was a banner of a wolf-pig up on the wall, and Katherine swept it aside, revealing a small passageway. The smell of death hit her in a thick wave and she wrinkled her nose.

She and Catalina walked down the rocky hallway and into a small room. The smell of death was much stronger in there.

  “I don’t know if I want to light a torch, Kat…”

But Catalina did, and her light shone on a stalagmite, the hair of its occupant casting shadows like sharp quills on the blood-spattered wall behind it. Katherine stepped forward, overtaken by morbid curiosity.

The person’s head hung back at an unnatural angle, and his chest was still. Long, sinuous wounds ran in bloody furrows down the victim’s back.

  “They tore his wings out.”

Catalina’s light shone down to the Aasimar’s slumped form. The feathers usually on the shoulder blades had been brutally ripped out, leaving gaping crimson holes in the flesh.

Suddenly, Catalina careened over to the side and vomited on the floor. Katherine turned to her with a worried frown and began to rub her back, sweeping her hair out of the way.

  “Are you alright?” Katherine asked softly.

  “Shit,” Catalina whispered, wiping a hand over her mouth. “This shit is so fucking wrong. My people-- He was my--” She shook her head, spitting out some bile. “Sorry. I lost my shit for a moment.”

  “It’s alright, love,” Katherine assured her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

They quickly walked out of the stronghold and through the valley, where Parthenais was waiting. They climbed back onto the dragon’s back, and Catalina asked to go back to Aragon. Her expression was furious.

  “How come Parthenais didn’t just go and kill those men?” Katherine asked during the fly back.

  “Par doesn’t kill living things,” Catalina answered. “Unless it’s for food, of course. So that’s why we had to do it.” She clenched her fists. “And I’m glad for that, too. Those bastards should be dying by my hand for what they’ve done.”

The moment Parthenais landed in front of Aragon, Catalina was off the dragon’s back and running through the city. Katherine raced after her, and stumbled into the palace to find Catalina already yelling at her parents.

  “He’s here! Henry is on our land!”

The King and Queen blinked at her. Katherine came up next to Catalina as she continued to shout.

  “Lower your voice, child,” Ferdinand said.

  “What are you talking about?” Isabella asked.

  “Henry! The evil king who’s killing everyone and started a war! He’s here in Braze!” Catalina said. “Kat and I just went to one of his strongholds and took it out. They KILLED one of our people! TORTURED HIM!”

  “Oh, we know,” Isabella said. 

  “That was Ilam, wasn’t it?” Ferdinand looked to his wife for confirmation, and she nodded.

  “Yes. We handed him over a week ago when he kept spying on the stronghold.” Isabella said. “I guess he got what he wanted in the end. Got to go inside their base.”

Catalina was tense at Katherine’s side, and Katherine could practically see the gears turning in her head as she pieced the information together. Her eyes widened.

  “Mother, Father,” The princess whispered, “what are you talking about?”

Isabella looked at Catalina calmly and said, “We work for Henry.”

[renaerys]

20. “Have you slept?” (Brick/Blossom)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #20 originally requested by the lovely philosophicwax. 

Summary: It's finals week at college, and Brick has hardly slept in two days while studying. A weird monster attacks because of course it does, and he has to team up with Blossom to bring it down while all he really wants to do is take a nap. 

xxx

The great thing about college was that Brick was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year completely on his terms. No brothers nagging him for shit, no cleaning up after anyone but himself, and no disruptions during study time. His life, his rules, quiet and tranquil.

Except for the giant, sentient hairball currently terrorizing north campus that some poor asshole (Brick) would have to deal with.

Because the worst thing about college was that he was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year without his brothers around to follow his lead without question.

“Evacuate to Prospect Avenue!” Blossom’s clear, commanding voice rang out over the shouts and screams of fleeing students.

Which, cool. Drunk, sleep-deprived twenty-year-olds in their pajamas at three in the morning were totally going to listen to the imperious Super flying above them in her pink camisole and Ivy University logo sweatpants.

Spoiler: they didn’t, and Brick was forced to abandon his warm, solitary room and his physics textbook in only a pair of old basketball shorts and his favorite red T-shirt in favor of saving a hysterical Freshman from split ends that would have literally split her end to end.

Crimson afterglow marked Brick’s path and singed the sentient tresses that crawled like tentacles after the panicking Freshman. Pudgy and cute and in the throes of a panic attack, she clung to Brick’s shirt even after he set her down a safe distance from the monstrous hairball.

“Please don’t leave me!” she sobbed.

Brick pushed her off him. “Get a grip, you’re not dead.”

She reached for him again, frightened and unable to defend herself against the supernatural monster and yes, okay, logically he knew it wasn’t her fault but fuuuuuuuuck what a pain in the ass this was.

He sidestepped her and she stumbled, almost falling, until he caught her by the elbow so she wouldn’t break her nose on the concrete. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Please,” she sobbed, genuinely frightened.

Brick winced. “Just get to Prospect Avenue. It’s that way.”

And with that, he left her to follow the screams of her fellow fleeing students because she was not his problem. If Blossom had already decided on a proper evacuation plan, then that meant less work for him. Lord knew he was too tired for this shit running on three hours of sleep in the last 50 hours courtesy of two finals in as many days back to back. He had four left. He did not have time for whatever the hell was going on tonight.

Crack!

Blossom crash-landed in the green not four feet from where Brick stood. Her sweatpants were streaked in grass stains and her mane of wild, red hair was swept up in a very messy bun.

“Brick,” she said, a bit breathless, a bit pissed off.

“Blossom,” he returned.

Their passive-aggressive greeting was cut short when a lash of prehensile hair came slamming down on top of them. They bolted in opposite directions, nothing but pink and red vapor, and reconvened high up in the air. Brick got an eyeful of the creature steamrolling through campus and wondered why, even so far from Townsville, he still had to deal with this weird crap.

Talk about a bad hair day, Boomer would have said if he was here. He wasn’t, and Brick just scowled.

“It’s growing,” Blossom said grimly.

Son of a bitch, she was right. The thing was sprouting more arms to help it crawl overland and tangling around the gothic architecture like the ivy this elite college was named for. It slithered through windows and drain pipes, as though searching for life hiding inside.

“Cool,” Brick said.

He was so tired.

“Can you try—”

“Not unless you want me to burn down all of Balin Hall in the process,” he interrupted her, already knowing what she’d ask. Ignoring her frown he said, “What about your—”

“Same problem, opposite outcome. These old buildings will crumble if I freeze them,” she said.

Brick matched her frown. “Fine. Then we split up.”

She looked at him far too gravely for three in the goddamn morning. “That’s not a plan.”

“It’s the best you’re getting from me right now, so stop complaining.”

That earned him a scathing glare. “Brick—”

But she didn’t get her chance to chastise him because a massive hair tentacle shot toward them with deadly accuracy and exploded into nine smaller tentacles when it was upon them. Brick darted away from the mutant tresses, but he wasn’t quick enough. Thick, black hair wrapped around his ankle and yanked him down hard enough to send his jaw rattling.

The stone shingles of a Sophomore dorm building came rushing close. He twisted, tried to get away before impact, but the thing was fast and strong and those shingles couldn’t break him but hell if they didn’t hurt on impact. Brick grunted as he gasped for breath. His back roared with pain, but the Chemical X bonded to his bones was quick to mitigate the damage, leaving him breathless with the brief, phantom memory of it. He gathered scarlet energy in his palms and blasted the hair tentacle shackling him, but the damn thing only quivered like water wherever his energy blasts hit it.

He felt it before he saw it, a cold so unnatural it grabbed him like a vice and squeezed until he nearly choked. Ice crystals bloomed upon the hair, slowing and freezing it until it lost all sentience and cracked like dry pasta under Brick’s immense strength. He blasted out of there and pulled up alongside his savior.

“You said you weren’t going to use your ice breath,” he snapped.

“Thanks for your help, Blossom, I really appreciate it,” she said, flying alongside him in a swoop back around toward north campus.

Brick rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it. Exhausted and severely sleep-deprived, he briefly saw double and faltered. A warm hand steadied his arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” Her voice lacked the smarmy edge this time and she looked at him with a measure of concern.

Brick was about to tell her to focus on the monster instead of him, but he didn’t get the chance when more hair lashes shot after them with the persistence and speed of homing missiles. Brick grabbed Blossom and flew, but he didn’t make it ten feet with her in his arms before a mass of writhing hair surrounded them and constricted.

Blossom gasped for air as she tried in vain to extricate herself, but between Brick’s ironclad hold around her and the hair shackling them together, neither of them could move. The hair squeezed tighter, and Brick gagged.

“B-Brick,” she said, her voice raspy against his neck. Her hands were flat against his chest and they were pressed so tightly together that he could hear his own heartbeat thundering under her fingertips. Even now, he could feel her trembling as they slowly, painfully suffocated.

And now he was good and furious.

Acrid, black smoke swirled in his lungs, hot and building. As little as he could move, he fisted the back of Blossom’s camisole in a silent plea. But three months and change here without either of their siblings around gave them ample time to learn each other free of distraction, and words were hardly necessary anymore. She ducked her head against his shoulder as close as she could get, and he turned his head as far from hers as he could manage before opening his mouth and releasing a concentrated inferno upon the hair binding them.

The effects were instantaneous. The fire gorged on the evil strands with abandon and drew a chilling scream from deep within them. Soon Brick and Blossom were suffocating from the smoke and heat rather than constriction. But it lasted only a moment; the second he felt the pressure around them slacken, he took off as fast as he could before the fire could consume them too.

So much for not burning down north campus, he thought, resigned.

Blossom coughed against him, and he realized he was still holding on to her. Rose met red as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

He as so tired that all he could do was stare at her for a minute. He was pretty sure she’d never looked at him like that before, without a trace of suspicion or superiority, genuinely happy to have him there.

The hair shrieked again, and both of them looked down on the burning mass below. Except, it wasn’t burning much anymore. The hairball somehow managed to sever the huge chunk lost to Brick’s fire and save itself from burning up entirely. The melted mass stank and smoked and made Brick’s bloodshot eyes water as he watched it turn to ash in mere seconds. Unfortunately, the rest of the hair that had escaped the conflagration was resilient and began to gather and engorge as it angled for Brick and Blossom, like it knew they were a threat it needed to eliminate.

“That hair is psychotic,” Blossom said with such gravitas that under different circumstances, he probably would have laughed at the lunacy of it all.

“Yeah,” he said. There wasn’t much else to say.

She’d pulled away as they hovered, sharp eyes narrowed in thought. Brick, head buzzing with adrenaline keeping him excruciatingly awake, also racked his brain for something that might help him. It came to him like lightning, and Blossom glanced at him in the same moment with the same conclusion.

“What if we led it—” she began.

“—to Tower Lake?” he finished.

She smirked. “Genius.”

“Efficient,” he agreed, managing a tired but determined grin of his own.

The great thing about college was that Brick was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year with the only person on the planet who was sharp enough to understand him and his thought processes without the added annoyance of explanation.

She took off in a burst of pink, and he flew in the opposite direction, knowing he could trust her to move and adapt with him without the extra guidance their siblings often required.

Her laser eye beams drew the hair monster’s attention eastward, and it roiled like a thundercloud as it scrambled up the side of Balin Hall and launched into the air after her. But Brick was there and ready to blast it with his own laser eye beams, enabling Blossom to slip away from the grabby tentacles. Something within the tangled mass roared, animalistic, and soon it was tearing after him.

Just as it was about to grab him, there was Blossom with a burst of icy wind. They tag teamed the monster, leading it ever closer to the lake where the rowing team practiced, remote and clear of students at this hour. Enraged, the hairball clambered after them, determined to swat them out of the sky until they rebuffed it with fire or ice, only to draw it in again with their lasers.

The giant hairball was not smart, to the surprise of absolutely no one, and when it reached the shore it went tumbling into the dark water, unable to slow its momentum. Screeching, the mass writhed and tried to backtrack to save itself, but the water sapped it of its supernatural strength and the tentacles fell limp and lifeless the wetter they got, until it was nothing but a normal, extremely disgusting hairball.

Brick and Blossom stood an arm’s length apart on the shore watching the mass slowly sink to the bottom. It was an oddly hypnotic sight, and he couldn’t look away even as his eyes began to droop.

“Well. We’re going to need a lot of Draino to clear this out,” Blossom quipped.

Brick, half aware of his bare toes sinking into the damp soft sand, laughed at that one. And then he fell.

“Brick!” she shouted, far away.

He blacked out for all of three seconds, just long enough for her to grab him before he could lose what was left of his dignity by falling flat on his ass. Sluggish, he was slow to react to her looping his arm over her shoulders so she could bear his weight and fly them back toward campus.

“Have you slept?” she demanded in that snobbish way she had.

“Think I just did,” he said, barely able to stay awake despite the ignominy of being half carried like an invalid. That thought ignited something in him and he jerked, making them swerve.

“Watch it! Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

He rubbed his stinging eyes and didn’t really fight her as she led him back through the window to his single dorm room. Luckily, the hair monster hadn’t infiltrated his building, so his room was in the same state as he’d left it.

She let go of him and he landed on his twin bed against the wall. And then he realized what had just happened.

“What the fuck, Blossom?” he growled and staggered to his feet.

He didn’t take even a step from his bed before she pushed him back down with her strength.

“Have you slept?” she asked him again, but it came out sounding more like a threat this time.

“I’m vaguely familiar with the concept,” he snapped and tried to get up again.

She pushed him down again and pressed her hands down on his shoulder so he couldn’t get up again. Red eyes glared up at her, seething, but she matched his venom with her own, and the sight made him falter.

“They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. You need to sleep.”

“I need to study.”

Her hands squeezed his shoulders, and her expression softened. “Is that why you’re so tired?”

“No, I’m always tired after dealing with you.” Absurd, every minute of this. He couldn’t even stand up with her weighing him down and blocking him.

Her hands sparked with her power, pissed off at him as usual. Brick wasn’t one to believe in fate or some higher plan, but it was times like this that he seriously suspected the universe was fucking with him by giving him a literal perfect match with the most annoying personality he had ever encountered.

He sighed and rested his weight on his hands on the bed. The power she channeled to her fingers had a lovely, soporific effect as it danced over his neck and shoulders, though he would never, ever admit this to her. “What are you even doing here?”

Her fingers clenched and slackened, like she couldn’t decide, and he bit his lip to stifle a groan. God, that felt good.

“Rest,” she said, much closer than she’d been before.

Her tempting fingers moved from his shoulders along his neck and threaded through his short, red hair. Her nails were clipped but not so short that he couldn’t feel them scrape pleasantly along his scalp.

Sleep-deprived going on his third all-nighter and utterly drained after the adrenaline burst of having to fight a monster tonight in the midst of finals season, Brick finally gave up and leaned into her touch with a needy sigh.

“Blossom,” he mumbled. She smelled faintly of smoke and of him, and the heady scent made him smile to himself. His hand found the hem of her camisole and clenched it gently, a silent, delirious plea to bring her closer.

So smoothly he barely even realized it was happening, she laid him down on the bed, her hands heavy on his chest as if to push him down deep enough for the covers to swallow him whole. Her hair fell around his face, slipped free from its precarious bun, and he breathed her in.

“Rest now,” she whispered, those magical hands still dowsing him in her cool, calming power like waves over his skin.

Unable to resist her, he finally nodded off into a deep, dreamless slumber and didn’t wake again for another twelve hours.

The worst thing about college was that he was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year with the one girl he could never seem to escape, and whom he’d never managed to keep.

xxx

Blossom gently played with his hair as he lulled to sleep at last, the last vestiges of his controlled resistance finally spent. His fingers remained curled around the hem of her shirt, warm against her waist. Sitting next to him on his bed, she watched his face slacken, at peace as his breathing evened out.

“Why are you so stubborn?” she murmured, running her fingers over his freckled cheek.

He had the determination and purpose of an avalanche, inevitable and absolutely crushing. It had given him the power to catch up to her in school as kids, to challenge her at every turn like no one else could, and to motivate her to try harder, to be better, to give him a challenge worth rising to. She couldn’t say when her feelings had changed. There was not a day, or a moment, or even a sudden epiphany that revealed her deep and tranquil affection for him.

It was as gradual as the changing tides, deep waters hiding truths that had always been there, quietly waiting. She’d been accepted Early Admission to Ivy University, the culmination of her high school efforts, and he wasn’t even sold on college when they went their separate ways for the holiday break. And then, in passing, he mentioned the pre-Frosh weekend in April for new admits; he’d be going, and could he borrow her notes for missed classes since she probably wasn’t?

She couldn’t pinpoint when or how, but maybe that was why. As much as he preferred to remain ineffable and unknowable, he had failed with her. Rather spectacularly, though she would never expose him like that. Not until he was ready.

Carefully so as not to disturb him, Blossom leaned close and kissed his forehead. Ice crystals melted upon his skin, and his fingers unconsciously closed tighter around her shirt.

Stupid, stubborn boy.

But there was time.

The best thing about college was that she was on her own, living her life, nine months out of the year with the boy she’d never been able to leave behind, and never would.

[seven-oomen]

Take me to church | Owen Grady/Male OC | Jurassic World Fanfiction

Because I want to share some of my old work I guess? I don’t think this is particularly good, but it’s a way to see how I progressed over the years and I think that’s pretty cool. Also, I’m in my Jurassic World/ Detroit Become Human phase right now. So, have some old Jurassic World fanfic.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of mpreg, mating cycles/in heat, Alpha Beta Omega dynamics, canon typical violence, creepy old men.

“Attention all Masrani Corp. employees heading for San Jose, we are now boarding flight eighteen. Please check-in at Gate twelve.”

He stood up with a soft sigh and hoisted his backpack on his shoulders. This was it, the chance of a lifetime. His big shot in getting somewhere in life. For years he had studied and worked his ass off to get where he was now. A smile worked its way upon his features as he slowly sauntered his way to the gate.

Like always, people stared after him wherever he went. It was sort of a given thing if you were 6’8 tall with a muscular frame. People were scared of him and nobody was stupid enough to piss him off by coming closer. Even if he was as harmless as a puppy.

His golden blond hair and bright blue eyes stood out on his angled and well-defined face. Not to mention the faded scar that ran across his face. People were terrified of him, but none of that was going to matter anymore.

Jarek Pitka had done it, he’d finally achieved his dream. Not many vets could say that they worked with actual living dinosaurs, but in just a few hours' time, he’d be one of the first to call himself a Dino-vet.

Jarek chuckled and smiled softly as he thought on the start of his new life. This could be the break he so desperately needs. With the money he would be making he could- He collided with another solid object, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him.

“What the-?”

It wasn’t an object, Jarek deduced, as he looked down and cringed at the sight of the man sprawled out onto the floor. “I am so, so sorry.” He quickly apologized as he helped the poor man back onto his feet. Why did these things always happen to him? Big clumsy log that he was.

The man was smaller than he was, like everybody else. Around 6’2 to his own 6’8, with dark sandy blond hair and green eyes. The man was wearing a leather vest with a clean blue shirt under it and a pair of simple jeans and combat boots. He was a pretty average, but yet a good looking man.

The man brushed himself off and looked up at him in annoyance. “Dude, you gotta watch where you’re going.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey” The stranger reached for his jacket and tapped the Jurassic World Logo that was stitched onto it rather sloppily “What did they hire you for?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m the new lead veterinarian. I got a call yesterday.”

“Really, yesterday, huh?” The man seemed rather amused at his answer, the frown on his face slowly turning into a friendly smile. Maybe he hadn’t screwed this up completely. “So you just packed your bags and jumped on a plane, because you got a call?”

“Well… when you say it like that, it sounds kinda crazy.”

“No offense, man. But it kinda is.”

“Then why are you here?”

The other man laughed and grinned up at him “I like you, you’re funny when you’re not barging into me. I got a call a couple of weeks ago. They hired me outta the Navy, now I get to work with raptors.”

“That’s so cool..” It didn’t explain the ‘why’ though, Jarek had been hired because of his outstanding credentials. But this guy just came from the Navy? Sure that was impressive, but why this guy specifically? “But why were you hired? I mean, no offense, but what did you do in the Navy?”

“I trained the canine unit, and I studied animal behavioral patterns on the side. Got my master's degree six months ago.”

That explained it. Sort of.

“Flight eighteen is now boarding at Gate twelve. Attention all passengers, flight eighteen is now boarding at Gate twelve.” The female voice of the intercom sounded through the gate, urging the remaining passengers to stand up and get onto the plane.

“So what’s your seat number?” The raptor guy looked up at him as he picked up his bag.

“B two, it’s an aisle seat.” Jarek pulled the ticket out of his pocket and showed it to his newfound friend.

“No way.. I got B one. Guess you’re my flight buddy. I’m Owen, by the way, Owen Grady.”

Jarek chuckled and took the hand Owen offered him. “Jarek, Jarek Pitka. And it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, flight buddy.” He liked Owen so far, the man was nice. Despite Jarek’s initial clumsiness, Owen had been friendly, and he seemed genuinely interested in what Jarek had to say. Owen seemed so different from those he’d met before.

Owen let out a soft laugh and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s board before they leave without us.”

Jarek shook his head but followed Owen to the boarding desk anyway. He couldn’t wait to see the island or the dinosaurs. His new life was starting right now, with a new friend to support him along the way, and with Owen as a friend he doubted his new life would be a boring one.

~*~ ~*~

Flying was a pretty boring way to travel, even with Owen at his side. Five hours into the flight and he was ready to jank the door open and jump out of the plane. Anything to counter the mind-numbing nothingness that he was experiencing right now. “What time is it?”

“About eight pm, we’ve been in the air for five hours,” Owen mumbled, barely lifting his head off Jarek’s shoulder. The behavioral expert had fallen asleep an hour ago and was now dozing, using the veterinarian as his personal pillow.

Jarek couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped him and groaned softly. “That means we got two and a half hours to kill.” There had to be something he could occupy himself with...

“I’m not gonna tell,” Owen smirked, looking up at Jarek.

“Tell what?” What was Owen talking about? He couldn’t possibly be talking about that one little thing. Jarek didn’t have much to hide, but what he did have to hide was kind of a big thing.

“About what you are, you hide it well, but I can smell it.”

He tensed up, slowly turning to look more closely at Owen. “What?” How did he figure it out? He usually wore scent blockers to prevent anyone from finding out. Would this change the budding friendship between them? Would Owen see him as the others saw him? He didn’t really want to find that out to be honest. He didn’t want anything to change.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m not gonna tell, or try to get into your pants.” Owen gently pushed him back into his seat and squeezed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

Not that it was working… “How? I hide it, I block my scent, suppress my cycles…” Owen knew… Owen knew and this little friendship between them was probably shattered until eternity. The raptor trainer had to hate him for what he was, all the others of Owen’s kind did. Jarek knew what he was, he was weak, he was disgusting, an outcast, he should never have gotten this far...

“Hey, cut that out. I just have a freakishly good nose, alright?” Owen sighed and made himself comfortable against Jarek’s side once again. “Now stop squirming, and stop worrying. One, I’m trying to catch some sleep, and two,” Owen leaned a little closer, whispering as he spoke his next words “I don’t fucking care that you’re an Omega.”

Jarek blinked at the smaller Alpha and stared at him for a moment or two. He was studying Owen’s face for any sign of dishonesty, any sign that the Alpha was gonna turn on him. But he found none. Owen was telling the truth as far as he could tell. “Really?”

“Really. Now lean back, a little. I’m trying to sleep you big log.” Owen yawned and made himself comfortable again, curling up against the Omega once more. This was gonna be a long flight, but at least he had Owen at his side. Just as he should be.

~*~ ~*~

It had been nearly one month since their arrival at Isla Sorna and so far, things were running smoothly. InGen had secured an area near the Southern docks and isolated it from the rest of the island. The Lagoon was their safe haven, base camp, the place they returned to every night after a day in the forest.

Jarek looked up from his book as laughter echoed through the camp. Owen and Barry had returned from their observation of the raptors and were having a good time by the look of it. Currently, the vet was sitting on a log right by the campfire. A chirp next to him made Jarek look down with a slight smile. “Who’s that? Who’s coming, Mishu?”

The little Compsognathus next to him chirped again and jumped around in excitement. She had been somewhat of an accident because they usually didn’t try to domesticate the dinosaurs on this island. Their studies wouldn’t be reliable or scientific, otherwise. Mishu was the only exception. Jarek had found her egg, lying abandoned on a small path near the lagoon. Her egg was still warm when he picked it up and he decided to hatch her after recognizing it was a Compsognathus egg. Jarek had been the first creature she ever saw, causing her to imprint on him. And the rest was history.

Mishu rumbled softly and stared up at Jarek, almost as if she was pleading at him to let her go over.

“Okay, okay. Go say hi.” Jarek laughed, grinning as he watched her run across the campsite, dodging and zigzagging her way across. The little Compy jumped in front of Owen and Barry and chirped loudly to gain their attention, much to the amusement of the two humans.

“Hey girl!” Owen bend down on one knee and scooped up the little Compy. The tiny dinosaur made herself comfortable by perching on his shoulder.

“Hello, Mishu.” Barry gently stroked the top of the Compy’s head and chuckled. “N'êtes-vous pas une douce petite fille?” The dark-skinned Cajun petted the Compy one last time before making his way over to Jarek. “She’s getting cheekier every day.”

“Only when it comes to you, my friend,” Jarek answered, smiling at Owen as the Alpha sat down beside him, before turning his attention on Barry once more. “She respects Owen and I.”

The Beta simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement. “Really? Maybe she doesn’t want to upset mama and papa?”

“Oh, haha. Funny. I know Owen’s not as tall as me, but that’s no reason to call him mama.”

“Hey!” Owen elbowed in the ribs and faked an insulted look on his face, but Jarek could see the corners of his mouth curl up, the Alpha was fighting back a smile. “Be nice, or this mamma’s gonna spank both your asses.”

“Yes, dear.” Jarek dodged Owen’s hand and laughed at the Alpha’s pout. That was Owen alright, always up for a good laugh or prank. Usually at Jarek’s expense.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trio..”

Vic Hoskins was a pretty rounded man, particularly around the stomach, and at first glance, he seemed like a normal guy. Mid-forties, grey hair, a little beard and a general air around him that screamed Alpha. One conversation with him though, and you knew just what to expect from the military man. Hoskins was obsessed with the dinosaurs. Jarek couldn’t tell for what reasons, but he knew it wasn’t gonna be a good thing.

“Hoskins, what’s the occasion?” Owen instinctively leaned into him and laid his hand on Jarek’s thigh. Jarek knew what Owen was doing and he didn’t like it one bit. Owen was always saying he wasn’t weak, and yet the Alpha still pushed him to the background and defended him. It was kind of a contradiction, an unintentional one, but a contradiction nonetheless.

“I’ve got a proposition for you boys, one that’ll benefit us all.”

“Not interested.” Jarek glared at the older Alpha, staring up at him in defiance. Oh no, he didn’t like Vic Hoskins at all, but working with him was one of the job requirements. He hated it, but he had to take the bullshit Hoskins was badgering him with.

“Now, hear me out-”

“Sorry man, but the big guy has spoken.” Owen was picking his side again, which wasn’t surprising, considering that Vic had ticked Owen off more times then he could count. And it had only been one month since their arrival at the camp. That had to be a new record.

“Don’t forget who brought you here, Grady. You still work for me.”

“That doesn’t mean I gotta take shit from you, Hoskins. You’re not getting into his pants.”

“He is sitting right here and he can speak for himself, thank you.” Jarek stood up and faced Hoskins right on, he wouldn’t show his discomfort around the man, wouldn’t become weak. “And the answer is still no. Not interested.” He started to walk away from the scene when a thought occurred to him, and he turned to Barry and Owen once again. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, the Omega stalked off. Disappearing into the campsite that housed the tents and bungalows.

[peachywise]

A Conflict of Truths

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

– one shot

– synopsis: You needed to tell Klaus something. You needed to tell Klaus you loved him, but the idiot decided to just up and walk through your door all cut up and bruised, evading your questions like this is all some infuriating game of detective. You’d get it out of him though. You always do.

– notes: hello!! okay so this is a simple little one shot, around like 3.2k words or something. hope you like it!!! as always, reader pronouns are they/them. 

link on ao3

___________________________

He was late.

You couldn’t believe he was late. Well, actually you could believe it, it was Klaus after all, but that was the fucking problem! Maybe you had been a bit brash in your phone call earlier that day. He’d all but picked up and said hello when you rattled, “meet me at my house at six,” adding in an apparently ignorable “don’t be late,” just before you hung up. But Christ, any normal person would have taken that abruptness at least a bit seriously and not have let a little more than forty-five minutes pass without a call or a text.

It was a shock to you that you loved the idiot.

Yep. You loved the eccentric maniac, and you pretty bloody annoyed about it. It had hit you all of a sudden— the realization. Hit you like a sucker punch that knocked out all your teeth and rattled your brain so much that you couldn’t even make a single coherent thought. Must be what Klaus’s head was like. You’d just been out to lunch with your boyfriend who droned on and on about inconsequential judgments of his coworkers and work and you just… snapped. Broke up with him on the spot. Looking at him felt like looking into a void. He didn’t make you laugh, not anymore. He didn’t seem to hold a particular kind of empathy that pushed you. He just simply coddled you and then dropped your concerns as if that inconsequential bit of validation was enough to justify them and actually seem like he gave a shit.

Klaus was different. Infuriatingly so. You’d been friends for a while, if that’s what you would call it. You had met him through Ben, since where Ben went, Klaus seemed to follow, and the man all but latched himself onto you. Said he liked your spirit. Maybe that’s because the first time you met you knee’d him in the nuts after he jump-scared you from behind a door. But God, did he make you laugh. You felt alive with him in a way you’d never experienced before, a certain vivacity being brought out in you from your constant rapport. He challenged you in ways you’d never been challenged before, and you did the same for him. You’d called him just after breaking up with your boyfriend in your flurry of full realization that you loved Klaus. And then the bitch had the audacity to be late.

You weren’t even fully inclined to go out of your room to greet him when he finally burst through your door— no knock or anything— hollering dramatically, “honey, I’m home and I have a surprise!”

“How nice!” you gritted out, stepping out of your bedroom door to your apartments main area. “Is the surprise you being late? I swear to—” Lifting your head as you rounded the small corner, you finally came face to face with your friend, in all his bloody nose, split lip, bruised glory.

“What the hell?”

“Surprise,” Klaus said, giving pathetically weak jazz hands.

Rushing over, you lifted your hand to gently grasp his chin, tilting his head slightly to inspect the mess. Klaus flinched so slightly you barely noticed it. “What happened?” You questioned, dropping your hand and taking a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

He just strolled on over to your couch and plopped himself down, grabbing one of your throw pillows and cuddling it to his own chest, tilting his head so it rested on his shoulder. He gave you an innocent puppy dog look, but as cute as it was, it didn’t work on you. You might not have powers like the rest of them, but shit, you’re immunity to that look came in handy on multiple occasions.

“Well you see, there was a certain spirit who couldn’t move on until we recreated the scene from Ghost. Next thing you know, the pottery wheel is spinning out of control, the clay flying in all directions, and my face is slamming down on the table,” he went on. It was obviously a lie; for one, he never was the most particularly believable storyteller, no matter how weird and actually outlandish his life was. Second of all, the moment your eyes landed on his hands as they absentmindedly played with the tassels on the pillows, you noticed those were bruised and slightly split too.

So it was a fight then.

Of fucking course.

Rolling your eyes, you walked out of your common area into your tiny kitchenette area without so much as a word in reply. Klaus sputtered a bit as he stood back up from his spot, rambling out, “now I get that your mad, but it was unavoidable! Here I was thinking you’d be understanding, maybe even help a poor guy out with his wounds, and—” as you walked back into the room with a bag of frozen peas and a wet washcloth, he closed his mouth.

You quirked your eyebrow up, asking plainly, “you finished talking to yourself, or do you just need to hear your voice for a while more?” He shook his head no, and wordlessly sat back down on the couch. “well look at that, seems like some brain cells still remain,” you mused under your breath teasingly. Klaus gave a sarcastic laugh in return, adding a small quip of, “cute,” as you made your way to stand in front of him.

Handing him the frozen peas, you muttered a small, “for your hands,” already more focused on cleaning the blood off his face to see if there was anything more serious to it. “Someone’s feeling bossy today, I like it,” Klaus commented as you cleaned off the dried blood from under his nose. You leaned back slightly only to give him a serious look that hopefully read ‘shut up and let me work.’ He gave you a shit eating grin in return. You delightfully chose to ignore it.

“I don’t think it’s broken but you’re probably going to end up with a black eye,” you assessed, moving to his side to look at his nose from a different angle. From the front, you had always noticed his nose looked just slightly tilted to the right, nothing anyone would really notice had they not heavily observed it. But from the side, it looked just as normal as well.

“So why don’t you tell me who you got into a fight with and why?” You continued, leaning back up to peer down at him inquisitively.

“A leprechaun. Stole all me lucky charms.”

“Try again.”

“Found a coat I wanted at goodwill, but as I went and grabbed it, so did this seventeen-year-old girl. The moment we locked eyes the showdown began.”

Hmm. “So where is the coat?” You questioned, and Klaus pouted as he replied, “she won.”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you as you shook your head, adjusting the frozen bag on his hands. “You were close with that one, but how about we try one more time?” You tightly smiled, and Klaus huffed out a small little breath.

“What a relentless creature you are, but alright, I’ll tell you.“ He Leaned back deeper into the chair as he looked you dead in the eye. A serious look befell his face, one you hadn’t seen many times before, and your heart seized up for a moment. Was it that bad? Usually, he evaded just to be funny and to annoy you— both of which he accomplished, but what the hell was he keeping from you? It had to have been pretty serious.

“Luther was jealous that my face is more beautiful than his, so the big old brute just attacked me out of nowhere. It isn’t going to scar, is it doc?”

Well. Never fucking mind, then.

Picking up your pillow, you smacked him with it over and over, punctuated only by your words of “don’t,” smack, “be,” smack, “dumb!” smack. He lifted his hands to defend himself from your attack, dropping the pea bag that had been resting on them to the floor.

“Hey!” he cried out, cracking a wide grin and a laugh as he tore the pillow from your grip, tossing it across the room to get it away from you. “Am I not already wounded enough for you? Not that I’m against rough love and all.” You huffed out in your defeat.

“Whatever,” you muttered, picking back up the washcloth and leaning down to his sitting height again. Klaus had split his lip open once more, probably from smiling like a damned Cheshire cat. “Tell me or don’t tell me, I don’t care.” You totally did. “You’re still late and I’m mad about it.”

“I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be avoided,” Klaus commented back, as you wordlessly wiped the blood from his lip, not bothering to offer a reply in return. His hand moved up to smoothly grip your wrist, tugging your hand away so he could speak again, catching your gaze and holding it so you were unable to look anywhere else. “I really am sorry,” he spoke, his tone so sincere it kind of jarred you. “But I’m here now, and very interested to know what your rushed phone call was about.”

Mmm, right. That.

You had been so ready to blurt it out and get it over when you had first made that call, that now when he was actually here, it was like you had lost that superhuman nerve. What’s the worst he would do when you told him, though? Make fun of you? He did that already. It’s not like he would get mad or anything about your profession. If anything, he would just be a little shocked. You could always brush it off as a joke. Not like he knew you broke up with your boyfriend earlier in what was clearly your mind snapped crisis.

Still. Now you just couldn’t fucking say it. You wanted to slap your own self.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured as heat flushed your cheeks, admittedly sounding a bit defeated. You leaned forward to press the cloth to his lip once again in hopes it would stop him from replying. It worked, but his intense charcoal lined gaze was heavy as it studied you. You just tried to ignore it the best you could, reoccupying yourself on your work yet again.

Unlucky for you, you were a dumbass in thinking that fixating on his lips would in any way be less of a god damn distraction.

Taking the cloth away yet again, the bleeding thankfully stopped, but you couldn’t stop yourself from lightly resting your hand under his jaw and swiping your thumb so gently over the cut to make sure it wasn’t badly split enough that it would start bleeding again. At least, that’s why you told yourself you did it. Slowly you began to subconsciously lean forward, enough that you didn’t even realize you had. That was, of course, until Klaus’s voice cut through your near absorption with a knowingly soft-spoken, “what did you want to tell me?” his eyes still just as penetrating.

You sucked in a breath.

And then your phone began to ring.

Stumbling back a bit as the full realization of what was happening hit you harder than that one-time Ben threw a frisbee at your face, you fumbled for your cell in your back pocket as Klaus stood from his seat, a funny little panicked look crossing his face as he said, “don’t answer that!”. Giving him a questioning stare followed by an oh so eloquent, “what?” you finally peered down at the screen to see your ex’s name flash across. Weird. As you accepted to call and held it up to your ear, Klaus behind you made a half sigh-half grumbled noise of failure that had you turning around and sticking your tongue out at him before you offered a simple “hello?” to the man on the other end of the phone.

“Look, I don’t know why you broke up with me but I’m pretty sure you didn’t need to also have your fucking friend find me and sucker punch me in the face. You proved your point enough at lunch, don’t you think?

Your friend? What the hell was he going on about, you didn’t send anyone—

Oh.

Turning back around to face ‘your friend’, you gave him a hard look as you replied back into the phone, “I’ll deal with it,” Klaus audibly gulped before he started a sprint towards your door. “Sorry,” you grunted back into the phone before ending the call, running after him before he could reach the door handle and jumping right on his back, tackling him down to your carpeted floor. You both struggled against each other’s grip for a moment until you won, pinning him to his back as you held him down by straddling his chest.

“Klaus, you can’t go beating people up!”

“Oh, really?” His mockery ran thick. “You might be more convincing if you hadn’t just tackled me to the floor!”

“Boohoo, does baby need a bottle?”

“No, baby needs a far more… typically natural food source, if you know what I mean.”

Okay, boob joke, that was funny. But you had to keep being mad or he’d take the opportunity to weaken your vigour.

“Take this seriously!” You bit out, pushing yourself off his chest and standing up, running your hands through your hair in frustration. You turned back to look at him as he managed to get himself off the floor as well, plucking a piece of lint off of his swirly, brightly colored shirt. “Why did you do it? And no more stupid stories. Tell me the truth.” You hoped it wasn’t because Klaus found out about your break up and actually thought it was him breaking up with you.

Klaus was silent as he thought, rubbing a hand down his face and then wincing when he realized it was still banged up. He was stalling. For once in his life, he was stalling, and your stomach dropped in concern. “Klaus?” You pushed, your voice dropping lowly as you took a few steps closer to him. He looked at you with eyes that didn’t pity, but eyes that were empathetic nonetheless. “I was at the bar and I saw your boyfriend with someone else. At first, I thought well hey! Could be a coincidence or even a co-worker, but then they started to play a stumbling, virginal looking version of suck face and I just got up and punched him.” Standing back up off the ground, he advanced towards you and closed the remaining distance between you as he continued, “I think that called for a bit of violence don’t you think? I know you’re mad, but if you look at it my way, really it was a favour. You’re welcome! I was defending your honour, a true knight in shining armour, if you will and—”

“Klaus, I broke up with him.”

He paused at that. “On the phone just now? I didn’t hear that part.” Ugh.

“No, idiot, earlier today! He seriously didn’t say anything about it after you just up and attacked him?” You groaned, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him an exasperated look.

“I think he was too busy trying to scratch my eyes out,” Klaus replied before he let out a singular small laugh. “You finally broke up with him though, yeah? Good for you. Don’t think he ever liked me much.”

“You’ve stolen his money before and tried to steal his cat once,” you reminded him, “I don’t think you liked him much either.”

“Well, he’s boring. All I can ever hear come out of his mouth are the words taxes, bills, and brunch,” he stated with a small shudder of his body.  

“Is that why you punched him?” You interrogated, “I understand you thought you were defending my honour or whatever the fuck, but even if we hadn’t broken up, you could have just told me to my face and let me deal with it.” Klaus was silent at that. Whether it was because he felt like a chastised child or he was holding something else back, you didn’t know. “Why did you do it, Klaus? Really?”

“You really want me to answer that?” He questioned back slowly, taking another step towards you.

You kept your arms crossed against your chest. “No, I asked because it was clearly the polite thing to do in this social context.” Klaus blinked at your attempt at sarcasm, and you sighed harshly, uncrossing your arms just to shake your hands, “just tell me!”

And tell you he did.

Kind of.

In a blur of motion, Klaus bridged the remaining space between you, resting a hand on the small of your back as the other cradled your face, his lips smashing into yours, no warning and no gentleness, simply just a craving and desire that rivaled even your own. Pressing yourself against him, you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped you, breath against breath, heat against heat, tongue against tongue. You tangled your hands into his soft brunette curls, and he released his tight hold only to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Breaking apart, he tugged slightly on your bottom lip with his teeth before letting go with a smile, gently bumping his nose with yours. You had to take a moment to fully catch your breath, but he filled the silence. “I showed you mine, now show me yours,” he smirked, leaning into the crook of your neck to murmur into your ear, “I punched that walking sweater vest cause I couldn’t imagine someone wanting to give this up with you. I love it. And you.” Fuck. Cue that ‘it’s getting hot in here’ track. “He was also drinking vodka mixed with water. What offensive barbarian does that to vodka?”

You laughed at that, shoving his shoulder with little force before wrapping your arms right back around his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” you chuckled. “It’s probably why I broke up with him at lunch. Ordered the same thing, and I realized, now how can I love a man like that when I have Klaus who freely breaks into my apartment when he pleases and beats up men I never asked him too? I only feel like I need to throw a punch at someone of your choice to prove I love you too.”

Klaus hummed at that, swiping a gentle thumb across your cheek as he moved his head to the side. “I thought you were against beating people up?” he mused.

“I’m not opposed to getting a little rough sometimes,” you shrugged with a sly grin. Klaus’s own smile matched in return. “Clearly. You can tackle me to the floor again if you like?” He offered, just before he brought his lips back down towards yours, sliding you down to the ground along with him as you let a squealed a delighted laugh.

“Well if you’re offering, want to give monkey boy a bit of a smack next time you see him? I really do think he’s intimidated by my beauty and will attack me any day now.”

“Klaus,“ you warned, "shut up.”

And then you kissed him again, and never wanted to stop.

Well. Never wanted to stop until you moved on to an activity that was a little bit better. 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

“We Test on Rats”

Fandom: Deadly Class Rating: E (it’s all below the cut, it’s all NSFW sexual content) Ship: Petra Yolga/Billy Bennett/Lex Miller Word count: 9493 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

If Billy and Lex can get Petra to pick staying with them over going to get lunch, Billy's life will be made. If Petra can get the boys to quit bickering long enough to locate a condom, it'll be a miracle.

As Petra reached for the doorknob, Lex scoffed.

“You must be bloody joking.”

She rotated back to the boys.

“As much as the Donner Party was joking,” she promised flatly.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means someone’s getting eaten,” Billy piped up, educating his rival.

He was thankful for the gruesome thought; the sight of Petra unbuttoning her shirt had totally blown his mind and he’d gotten hard fast. Maintaining an erection with only Lex beside him on the bed was not something he felt good about.

Lex grinned cheekily at Petra.

“If you wanted to put me in your mouth, you’ve could’ve just said, love.”

She rolled her eyes and Billy’s jaw tightened.

“You’re really bad at convincing me to stay,” Petra said. “Both of you.”

Billy made a sound of protest.

“Are we supposed to be? I thought you were starving.” His eyebrows pushed together at the center and climbed his forehead. He didn’t get it, didn’t get her. Petra was a complex woman, right down to her stomach.

“I actually ate a contraband chocolate bar while you two wholesome creatures took turns huffing glue.”

“Hey,” Lex pointed out, leveling a finger at her, “you huff hard enough and everything’s puppies and rainbows and there’s nothing more wholesome than that.”

“So you’re not starving,” Billy checked, glancing quickly from the moron next to him to the love of his young life.

“Yes, that is what I’m trying to communicate.”

Lex shifted on the mattress so that Billy had to avoid toppling into him.

“Well, then you should just spit it out, shouldn’t you?” Lex suggested. “Give us a fucking break. We saw you with your top off not two minutes ago. Can’t exactly be expecting us to be thinking with the heads up here.” He poked Billy hard in the temple and Billy swatted his hand away.

“I guess that’s fair,” Petra allowed.

Billy’s head swivelled rapidly back to her.

“Stay, Petra. Please stay.” He pouted, hands clasped imploringly in front of his nose. He was in love with her and not above begging. What was the point? Everyone in this room knew how he felt.

She sighed and walked back over to them. Billy’s expression brightened instantly. Stopping with her arms folded, Petra glanced carefully from him to Lex and back. He didn’t understand what sort of assessment was going on, so he just smiled eagerly up at her. Beside him, Lex chewed his fingernail―a tell for his nerves.

“I have some rules,” Petra said after a few intolerably long seconds. She held up a single finger. “No foreign objects.”

“Hear that?” Billy asked Lex jubilantly. “Looks like you’re out after all.”

“Piss off.”

Petra raised another finger.

“No bickering.”

“I’ve got one,” Lex said abruptly. “No biting.”

“Someone’s vanilla,” Billy concluded.

Lex glared at him.

“Did you not see what Petra’s been reading since we got shut in here? A bloody vampire fiction! I will not have any of that seeping into reality, not on my neck, no thank you.”

Billy squeezed his lips together, but when he glanced at Petra and saw her little hint of a smile, a laugh trumpeted out of him. Lex punched him hard in the upper arm and Billy jerked away.

“Shit!”

“Just giving you a nice souvenir.”

“Speaking of unwelcome souvenirs,” Petra interrupted, “anybody have any communicable diseases they’d like to declare?”

“I would like to declare that to be impossible for Billy, whose soul is a single shade of white away from virginal.”

“Oh yeah? Yeah?” Billy challenged. “Well, your spikes get a lot more poking action than you do. All those sharp points feels a little like compensation, don’t you think?”

Petra’s hands smacked her thighs sharply.

“Again with the bickering. Seriously, you assholes. Are you clean?”

Both boys nodded. Petra nodded back in acknowledgement, then sat down between them in the space created by Billy’s flight from Lex’s fist.

“Are you?” Lex demanded of her.

Petra faced him.

“You see my eyeliner? Assume I’m that careful with every part of my body.”

“I just don’t want some fucking Russian pox from Vi―”

“Of course she’s clean!” Billy said, jumping to her defense.

Lex chuckled.

“Oh, touchy subject?”

Billy cracked a knuckle.

“I think you two have lost sight of what brought us together in the first place,” Petra hypothesized.

“Lockdown?” Lex asked.

Petra rolled her eyes and reached for the hem of her t-shirt. And there went Billy’s pulse in his groin, all his blood on a plummeting elevator. She barely had to glance side to side at them as she raised the black shirt and the boys were on her―Lex wedging a hand between her knees to grip her inner thigh while Billy’s palm landed more softly on the bared skin of Petra’s stomach. This was no dead vampire flesh; he could feel her breathing. He swallowed thickly, eyes on her chest, when she tossed the shirt to the floor.

She locked eyes with Billy and he felt brave enough to smooth his hand up over her breast, mouth suddenly on the tense line between her shoulder and neck. Anyone would’ve thought he’d never seen a boob before, but she got him excited. So excited. Petra exhaled heavily, the way she had when he’d had his lips on her the first time around, but it turned into a deeper sound―a sound that caught in Billy’s ears like they were glue traps―the second that Lex’s hand quit kneading her thigh and darted between her legs. Billy’s hand gripped Petra’s breast reflexively at the miraculous noise she’d made, callouses firming up her nipple, and she jerked.

The three of them fell back together onto the bed. Petra’s fingers were brushing over the shaved side of his head, making a prickly feeling go up and down his back. He stuck to his side, kissing her neck as fast as his lips could go, and trusted Lex to stick to the other. They moved bumpily as they tried to get better positioned on the bed, like a bicycle with a dented wheel. If bicycles had three wheels. Or, no, they weren’t necessarily the wheels, just different parts of the same bicycle. Or…. Whatever.

They had their first potential crisis when Billy stroked his palm away from the boob he’d been cupping in search of the other one and encountered Lex’s hand. Instinctively, they recoiled from each other, but Petra emitted a highly manipulative, girlish whine that pulled them back in.

“Tits are yours,” Lex said shortly. Billy assumed the other guy was avoiding making eye contact during this negotiation of territory, because he sure as hell was. “Not that there’s anything wrong with them, love,” he assured Petra. “Quite nice actually. Colour me contrite.”

Billy decided to drown out the Brit-babble by coaxing more noises from Petra. He skated his hand across her skin to that elusive other boob and trailed his lips down to the one closest to him. A jagged zip told him Lex was undoing her pants. He had to bite back a possessive urge with pointy rat teeth; Petra did not belong to him and he wouldn’t get even this much of her unless Lex was included. Shit, this wouldn’t be easy. This would be very, very… hard. He side-eyed his own crotch.

“Lift your arse, would you?”

As Petra shifted to accommodate Lex’s request, Billy waggled his tongue across her nipple. Her hand quickly forced his head tighter to her chest and her skin tasted like victory. Still, he couldn’t resist looking while he began to suck, sacrificing a comfortable angle for his neck in favour of catching a glimpse of Lex pulling Petra’s pants down. His hips humped the mattress once, reflexively, at the sight of black lace.

The bed jostled them as Lex stood, peeling Petra’s pants all the way off.

“The underwear too,” she said after glancing from him to Billy. “Might as well.”

“No objections here, love.”

Billy accidentally caught sight of the bulge in Lex’s shorts and had to look rapidly away or risk being violently sick all over two-thirds of his greatest sexual fantasy―himself and Petra. Lex could still go fuck the plastic bag full of glue for all Billy cared.

“Blonde?!”

Lex’s shout was enough to make Billy’s head jerk up. His gaze’s next stop was Petra’s crotch, which immediately explained the exclamation.

“You’re way more of an idiot than I assumed you were if you thought this,” she held a black strand of hair away from her face, “was natural.”

Her words were as cold as if she’d just chipped them out of the depths of a broken freezer―so, normal―but Billy felt how Petra leaned into him slightly. His expression hardened. Who the hell was the guy whose head looked like the prongs of a hairbrush under a microscope to scrutinize somebody else’s body?

“But… but… blonde?” Lex checked, though the evidence was still there in front of him. Billy wanted to bust a few teeth out of his head for standing there with Petra’s panties dangling in his hand.

“I should probably prepare you for the likelihood that you’re not going to see lime green when Billy strips either,” Petra warned. He wanted to wedge his arm in under her shoulders and hold her closer, but that would be too much.

“He better not see a damn thing,” Billy spat, annoyed and confused now as he was dragged into it. God, the three of them were always like this. Like those mice in Cinderella, when they twisted all their tails together. Except rats. Fucking rats.

Lex snorted.

“Not interested.”

“We good?” Petra asked impatiently. “Because I didn’t stay to listen to you talk.”

“Yeah, no problem, Barbie.”

She sat bolt upright. Billy joined her, belatedly, and much less gracefully.

“Are you cut, Lex?” she asked with poisonous calmness. Billy, at her side, watched her gaze drop purposely to the front of the other guy’s shorts. “I have a knife nearby.”

Lex chuckled nervously.

“I bet you do,” he conceded.

“Are. We. Good.”

“Right as rain.”

Petra turned to Billy. Her eyebrows lifted.

“I’ve never had less problems in my life than I do right now,” he swore. He was serious, though it was a little tricky to show that when he couldn’t stop smiling. Naked Petra. Naked Petra.

“We’re all fucked up enough for me to believe that’s true,” she acknowledged. “Now drop ‘em.”

Petra mimed underwear removal. Lex and Billy looked at each other warily. Billy felt like his face was actually trying to get as far from the other guy as it could, expression scrunching and tugging to one side in utter discomfort. They’d been in the same room half-naked long enough now to almost forget that this was an unsustainable equilibrium. Fuck.

“Can I just…” Billy’s neck arched as he looked to the discoloured ceiling, the assorted crap on Petra’s floor, a pile of shoes in the corner; anywhere but at Lex.

Petra sighed and grabbed Billy firmly by the jaw.

“Please don’t make me watch,” he begged, but she just stared hard into his eyes until he felt melted and sticky, like fresh tar in a hell-deep pothole.

“You know I trust you,” she said. He was getting hypnotized by her eyes, like there was a better world inside them, with free concerts and dealers who didn’t cut weird shit into their goods. “Trust me,” utopia requested of Billy.

Sliding her hand up his cheek, Petra leaned in. At this point, Billy believed it was more likely that he was about to feel Lex’s brass knuckles to the back of his ribs than Petra’s mouth on his. But he didn’t care if this was a trap. He would die happy. He would die… or not.

Billy’s high-pitched noise of excited confusion was muffled as Petra kissed him. He knew she was doing it to distract him, and he was ready to be distracted. Her mouth was warm, her cheek smooth as his nose pressed into it, thrusting forward with his jaw to rock harder into the kiss. Petra’s tongue teased and furled around his. This was making him way more lightheaded than the glue had, and without the threatening pressure of a bastard of a migraine thumping behind the buzz.

There was a rustle which, logically, Billy knew was Lex getting down to his birthday suit, and yet the combination of the paranoia about guerilla attacks that this school had instilled and his extra giddiness thanks to Petra made him begin to turn his head to look. Luckily, she stuck with him like a bee licking a flower (or whatever those little guys did in there), her face moving with his, and then her whole body. Billy inhaled sharply as Petra’s knee skimmed across his thighs to settle on the mattress on his other side; he got a nose full of something dark, but familiar, like coffee or a match that had just been blown out.

Heart racing like they might need to call an ambulance, Billy grabbed her thighs and urged her further into his lap. Petra went without resistance―probably not the first sign that Billy really was glue-stoned right now and none of this was real. She got close enough that Billy felt Lex’s knuckles (flesh, not brass) as he reached between them to massage Petra’s breasts. Yeah, that meant this wasn’t a fantasy.

With shaky fingers, Billy ran his hands to her ass. His dick throbbed. He knew if he looked down he’d see the kind of desperate straining against fabric that he hadn’t witnessed since their hands-on waterboarding lesson. Pulling back from Petra’s mouth to breathe, he watched Lex kissing her neck, her head now lolling back into Lex’s chest where he stood behind her.

Alright, well, if Lex got her head and her boobs, Billy could figure out what was available for him. His fingers retreated from holding her ass, hands scooping around the underside of her thighs. Petra twitched in his lap, shifting her hips nearer to his. Seemed like she was ticklish, but he was the one who laughed, delighted. Her eyes fixed on his as Lex sucked red marks into her neck (pretty damn clear who the real vampire was in their trio), so Billy, exhaling, dragged his palms back over the tops of her thighs until his thumbs were digging in a little about as high up on a girl’s legs as you can get before you’re at the part that’s usually covered by underwear and she’s screaming at you to get the hell out of the change room, even though one of Willie’s guys pushed you in there, and it’s not like you invaded their privacy on purpose.

Billy thought he could feel Petra’s pulse, but then he remembered that his thumbs had a pulse too, and then he wasn’t sure whose heartbeat was whose. She kept staring back at him and he wished that could’ve been enough to give him the balls to touch her, except it was Lex. That British idiot tugged her nipples, Petra’s eyelashes fluttered rather princessishly, Lex grunted, and Billy got jealous. It was possible that she saw it happen; his face wasn’t really great at hiding emotions. Billy turned his wrist, flipped his hand and cupped between her legs.

For a second, Petra traced her fingers down his arm and put her hand over his (which was, like, professional-grade sexy). He sussed her out with his fingertips, ignoring the loss of feeling beginning in his feet from having Petra’s weight on his lap. His long fingers trailed shallowly, barely parting her, but the wetness was there. Unfamiliar territory? No. But this wasn’t just any cunt, this was Petra’s cunt. And, ok, a significant chunk of Billy’s sexual encounters had been blowjobs. He was already ahead though, because she was aroused. Basically, he just had to keep her that way.

He dipped in hesitantly―the way you begin a meal when your demonic classmates have swapped out the anticipated farm-animal-protein for rat in the past. Petra was looking at him, so Billy clenched his jaw and stroked his fingertips forward, bringing some of that arousal across her clit. The look in her eyes sharpened; Lex’s groping might make her drowsy with lust, but Billy’s fingering seemed to increase her focus. And that focus was on him, not Lex. Shit, they were really going to have to work to be cool around one another after all this. Somebody should write a book about this, Billy thought. On how to have a threesome with a friend and afterwards not find yourself hoping that he chokes on his cafeteria lunch every time you see him.

Arcade and video games had gifted Billy with quick fingers and he used them on Petra’s slippery clit. She gasped in a throaty way that was just as satisfying for him as how she’d probably felt right before she did it. Her arm reached up, winding behind the back of Lex’s neck as he bit her earlobe and Billy seriously wondered if this whole thing was just fucking stacked against him… until her other hand found his hip. Her fingers pried their way under the elastic waist of his briefs and circled around to the front―a motion that forced her to caress the head of his erection.

He suddenly yearned to be butt-naked, Lex’s existence in this room be damned, but unseating lovely, nude Petra would be the greatest sin of his life. Billy finally understood what his teachers meant when they said things like ‘situations of moral turmoil.’ That was probably supposed to be in regards to, like, murder or whatever, but he wasn’t just an assassin―he was a teenage boy and he sure hoped the next few years would consist of a higher number of fucks than kills. Was that so much to ask for?

In the spirit of gratitude towards the fact that he had not yet been bumped off by some random junkie thug or a sparring session gone sideways and could, therefore, be here now enjoying the sight, scent, and touch of his one-and-only fantasy babe, Billy ground his teeth together and kept rubbing her. He’d endured worse than the torturously faint passes of her fingertips over the hot skin of his cock. The way Petra practically tickled him with her short nails was extremely bearable. Seriously. His eyes were just rolling back in his head because they were dry. Or he’d developed a tic. A convulsion that only cropped up when circumstances were so totally regular and fine and normal.

Petra kissed Billy again before he could start trying to mentally explain away his cold sweat. When he groaned against her hasty, wet mouth, he heard Lex echo with his own faint groan. Billy decided it was a groan of annoyance. End of story. He sped up, pressing and rolling her clit, sort of like when he had his skateboard flipped upside down on his lap and sat there spinning the wheels rapidly with his fingers. Petra cupped her hand and pushed the dome of her palm onto the head of his dick for him to grind against.

She tore away from their kiss, breathing hard; Lex pinched her nipples with gusto, two-handedly until Petra began to pant. Then, Lex ran one of his hands from her chest up to her throat, not squeezing (Billy had his fucking eyes on him), but massaging. She seemed to like it, from the way her eyes drifted closed. Seconds later, she came, hand flexing on Billy’s dick. He almost choked. Too stunned to keep rubbing her through her climax, Billy felt his hands land on her thighs. Lex leaned into Petra’s back, craning to look over her shoulder in the aftermath of this landmark event of their threesome: The First Orgasm.

Head back against Lex’s chest, Petra opened her eyes. She looked up to meet Lex’s as his hands shifted to neutral, settling lightly on her shoulders, then forward to meet Billy’s. Her face was relaxed, he thought, kind of lazy, except her eyes burned like a pair of Molotov cocktails. He would’ve said ‘cheers’ if that wouldn’t have come across mockingly British, leading to squabbling, leading to Petra being completely fed up with the two boys and ditching. Billy kept his mouth shut.

Until Petra―less sleepy than most of her face would suggest―worked the front of Billy’s briefs down, exposing his erect cock.

“Nononono,” he babbled, face burning because Lex was still peering down between them, over Petra’s shoulder. But then she wrapped her hand around his dick, getting a good grip, and Billy switched to, “Yesyesyesyes.”

He gave up on words completely when Petra shuffled closer on his lap. Billy’s eyes dive-bombed straight between her legs, the absolute only thought in his head that she had just orgasmed and was probably delightfully slippery. And she was definitely thinking what he was thinking, because she kept one finger hooked into the elastic edge of his underwear to stop it from snapping up to cover him while she―Christ on a bike―rocked her slick, hot cunt directly against his penis. Billy just about screamed (probably more like the yelp of a baby animal); Petra grinned.

“Hold up a moment,” Lex interrupted.

“I swear to god,” Billy promised tensely, palms sweaty on Petra’s thighs, “I will skin your face off with the end of my skateboard and use it as a placemat.”

“Uh, I have a valid complaint here, if you would let me speak!”

“Take a number and have a seat in the waiting area,” Billy snipped back.

Petra backed off, retreating to the midway point of his thighs, and sighed.

“What’s your complaint, Lex?” She slanted sideways to glance up at him. His hands remained businesslike on her shoulders, but now he looked at Billy.

“Just wondering how we’re going to figure out who gets to…” His eyebrows lifted and, for Billy, this did enough to convey his meaning, but then Lex had to go and add the old poking-the-index-finger-through-a-hole-made-by-opposite-hand.

The crudity of the gesture wasn’t going to be Billy’s criticism (he planned on suggesting that Lex use his pinky finger in the demonstration instead if it was supposed to be a self-representation), but Petra jumped in, glaring at them each in turn.

“You motherfuckers. Stop discussing this over my head. It’s my vagina! You’re not negotiating access rights to the Suez Canal!”

Billy grimaced, flinched. Lex just shrugged.

“Right,” he said, kneading Petra’s shoulders up to the back of her neck, “so, flip a coin then?”

That sounded pretty reasonable, actually, Billy thought. He pointed to where his pants lay on the floor.

“I should have a quarter in―”

“You’re not flipping a coin for it either!” Petra exclaimed. “Once again,” she grit out, “this is about me. I included both of you, which means I want both of you.”

That was sort of good news and bad news as far as Billy was concerned.

“At the same time?” Lex checked, hand lifting so he could chew at his nail again.

“No.”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Billy said breezily, running soothing hands up Petra’s thighs as he contemplated sliding her towards his crotch again. “The man has no taste.”

“Sounds to me like he’s just been watching too much porn.”

The casual way she said it made Billy wonder what amount of porn Petra had watched and if this was a potential shared activity for the future.

“No taste in porn is what I meant,” he backtracked.

“As if you fucking know,” Lex barked.

“I think he was actually kinda helping you by intervening before I could kick your ass,” Petra informed Lex, reaching to pat one of the hands he had resting on the back of her neck.

“Ah.” Lex glanced at Billy. “Thanks, mate.”

No. No, they were not doing some sappy, tea party display of good manners with Billy’s dick out and Lex standing behind Petra naked as a baby―if babies had been known to accessorize with spiked jewellery. Although, if any baby would, it would’ve been Lex, but Billy had never asked for a peek at the ol’ family scrapbook for the same reason he wouldn’t have invited him into a sweaty tryst with Petra: HE DIDN’T WANT TO SEE LEX IN THE BUFF.

“The point,” Petra said, focusing the boys, “is that we’re going to need two condoms.”

She slumped suddenly in Billy’s lap, bare ass touching down on his thighs. Her hands went to her hips as she glanced around with a contemplative expression. Lex bent quickly, riffling through the pile of clothes on the floor and Petra twisted to see what he was doing, approximately halving the human wall that had shield’s Billy from the sight of Lex’s unclothed backside. Which he now saw, making him flail and hide his eyes in the crook of his elbow. There was a thump, but Billy kept his eyes shut, like the noise had been a trick to get him to look. Like Lex was some sort of ‘80s punk Medusa; the lack of improvement in hairstyle seemed like a clue.

“Are you ok?” Petra asked.

“Give me a minute,” Billy requested, face still buried, trying to picture anything besides the crack of Lex’s ass as he’d bent over. He shuddered.

Petra grabbed his arm and yanked it down from his face.

“Not you.”

He glanced at Lex to see him rubbing the back of his head. Billy snorted. Looked like the other guy had smacked his melon against the wall in his fervour to retrieve… Drum roll? Billy started one on his own thighs in case Petra wasn’t in agreement.

“Ahem,” Lex said, and raised a wrapped condom delicately between thumb and index finger.

“You had that in your pocket? This morning? At school? Who did you think you were…”

The dry way her voice trailed off was a flammable treeline to the wildfire of Billy’s jealousy.

“You, love. Bit obvious by now, isn’t it? A man can dream.” Lex let out a panicky chuckle and rocked on his feet.

“Wow, you really thought that sometime between classes I was just going to decide that I couldn’t get through the rest of my day without nailing you?”

Billy felt like her tone said ‘pathetic,’ but the fact that she was sitting here ready to nail Lex said she didn’t really have an argument.

“Oi,” Lex defended, “I’m not the only one.”

He gave a sharp nod, indicating Billy, who sighed. Cupping his chin in his palm, he watched Lex upend his pants and shake until a telltale square dropped out. Petra extended a hand and Lex deposited both condoms into it. She examined her prize.

“I’m almost disappointed you didn’t write my name on the wrapper,” she teased Billy, her mouth a serious line, but her eyes playful.

“It’s not like I’m some twelve-year-old girl ogling a Rick Springfield poster. I haven’t been saving myself for you.”

It was true that Billy wasn’t a virgin. It was also true that the wrapper bearing Petra’s name was back in his own dorm room, tucked under the mattress, which was nobody’s fucking business.

The three of them sort of looked at each other, but it was as though the presentation of the condoms had restored equality to their power balance. Petra had confirmed a major question in Billy’s mind (about if he’d actually get a chance to, well, screw her) and he was feeling much less antagonistic towards Lex. Somewhat less. Slightly less. So now that they’d worked out the logistics, he guessed, they just continued? Not exactly romantic, but this whole experience so far had been one long standards adjustment.

Petra set the condoms to one side and looked back at Lex, beckoning him to join her and Billy on the bed. Billy made a quick and dirty politician’s peace with the fact that seeing Lex’s erect penis was inevitable. That didn’t mean he’d quit trying to avoid it. Lex sat and though Petra remained perched on Billy’s thighs, it was now Spikey the Bear that she was kissing. Billy snuck a look to make sure Lex was enjoying it as much as he should be―because Petra was a goddamn gift―and yeah, the guy did seem pretty into it, grasping the back of her head with a happy grunt. Maybe a little heavy on the tonguing, if anybody had asked for Billy’s critique.

He raised a frustrated hand, tugging at his own mohawk, then jerked Petra forward in his lap. She let out a sort of moaning yelp against Lex’s mouth that Billy decided to interpret as being for him. Good. Slowly, he stroked his hands up and down the top of her thighs, soothed by the faint rasping sound. Aroused by the feel of her under his palms. He pressed with his thumbs until the motion was more like massaging her as he worked his way up her warm inner thighs. She shifted her hips towards Billy on her own, then draped a hand over his shoulder, looping him into the trio even more.

Before he could put his eager fingers anywhere more interesting, Petra repositioned again. Her knee pinched his inner thigh as she wedged it between Billy’s legs; she did the same with her other knee, but to Lex, so that she was straddling one of each of their thighs. This also forced the boy’s bare legs together. Not awesome. Billy glanced sideways and caught Lex giving him the same look he was sure was on his own face. They were really in it now.

Like she knew she’d just reminded her friends of Potential Naked Contact, Petra lowered her mouth to nip Lex’s throat―Billy saw the impish bite put the fear of god into Lex’s eyes and snorted. All the real world shit to be afraid of and Lex was crapping his pants (or lack thereof) over vampires.

A second later, Billy closed his eyes with a groan as he received his own treatment meant to draw him back into the encounter. Petra’s hand ran from his shoulder to his neck. Her fingernails scratched lightly up into his hairline, making his arms break out in goosebumps. Next, her hand smoothed down his chest and didn’t fucking slow down as it moved over his abdomen. He still jumped when Petra weaseled her hand into his briefs where they’d crept back up like they were trying to restore his modesty. The miracle of him not losing more than his mind right there had something to do with the overall balance of his life, Billy figured. A good thing to weigh against the bad shit. Petra’s fist closed around his shaft and gave him a steady pump. Billy whined and skidded his hand―not as steady as hers―up her inner thigh, claiming that place between her legs as his playground once again while Lex continued to enjoy her tongue doing who-knew-what in his mouth.

Soon, Billy had two fingers hooked firmly inside Petra and she was grinding down onto his hand as much as he was curling up into her body. (Honestly, his wrist was getting sore, but she could break it for all he cared. He’d already had one cast this year, he was pretty sure he could handle another one.) She was jerking him off with an unpredictable rhythm. Not that he was a fucking machine when he went to town on himself, but compared to the uniform up-down-up-down of Lex’s forearm―shit, Billy didn’t want to be aware of Lex stroking the salami, stupid peripheral vision―Petra’s pace was erratic. Billy loved erratic.

His ass bounced on the bed, hips thrusting to get a little more action from her heavenly snug fist. He tilted his head forward and kissed Petra’s shoulder as she whimpered into Lex’s mouth. Billy’s fingers were starting to feel arthritic as he prodded inside her over and over, so he called in the cavalry, rubbing his thumb over her clit.

“Come on, come on,” he hissed against her shoulder, lips bumping her smooth skin.

Then Petra did start to come, cunt clenching Billy’s fingers and hand moving aggressively, desperately over his erection. Because her mouth had finally separated from Lex’s, Billy reveled in her harsh panting. His name didn’t join the panting, but he’d never expected that. (As if he’d expected any of this.) Petra pressed hard into his hand as her orgasm chewed her up and spat her out; her wetness slid down his fingers and palm, trickling to his wrist. He bit her shoulder.

Carefully, Billy extracted his sopping fingers and brought them to his dick. He was too lost in the high of getting her off to worry about anything but following her. More accommodating in bed than in daily life, Petra scooted her hand down, allowing Billy to coat the head of his cock in her arousal. It was practically the real thing, he realized―then he had to stop realizing it or risk jinxing the real thing actually happening, as had basically been promised by Petra earlier.

He smeared and stroked and her fingers traveled lower and lower until it was his balls in the palm of her hand. It felt like his whole body choked, seizing, until she abruptly moved her hand away, drawn fully into Lex’s lap by no one less than Lex himself, that bastard. Billy gasped, floundering. He was sliding backwards down Mount Orgasm and the way was a lot rockier than it had appeared when he’d been heading for the summit. Next to him, Petra and Lex tumbled backwards, Petra still astride Lex’s lap while he―flat out―tore open the condom and rolled it on.

That left Billy flustered and horny. Story of his life. He didn’t really know what his plan was as he twisted around, getting up on his knees, to watch Petra settle onto Lex’s dick with a coy arch of her back that drove Billy absolutely nuts. Oh yeah, and witnessing it cut like a thousand shards of glass. He was looking for a way to insinuate himself back into this three-way tango when the girl of his dreams―day and night―turned her head to catch his eye over her shoulder.

“Both of you,” she insisted to Billy, grasping Lex’s forearm as his fingers slid up to rest against her throat.

“Yeah, mate, get in here,” Lex said, quick and gruff.

Billy recoiled. Had his friend, in the throes of passion, suddenly had a change of heart and/or sexual preference? This was an unnerving development and certainly worse than them just getting through this on extreme discomfort and moderate dislike. Shit, Billy didn’t know if he had the finesse to let someone down gently.

“Lex, man, I don’t really―”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the other spat. “I don’t bloody want you, but if you hadn’t noticed, this one―” A nod towards Petra. “―quit moving the second she looked over at you and saw that look on your face. Sad sack.”

“What should I do?” Billy asked Petra quietly. Lex threw his head back at the mattress, expression tense as he waited, erection buried inside Petra, but immobile.

She gave Billy a soft smile and he wanted to frame it, just her face, with his hands, blocking out the idiot whose hips she sat straddling. With her sparing yet slicing words, Petra had always survived on her actions in this place and now she acknowledged Billy’s question with a touch. Her fingertips were light on his chest. As her gaze dropped into his lap, he quickly shoved his underwear down before awkwardly fighting his way out of them―all knees and ankles. His previously rejected erection was stiffening up again, especially with Petra’s fingernail circling his nipple. Billy felt cold and hot and goosebump-y.

One hand on Billy’s chest and the other on Lex’s, she toyed with one and braced herself with the other, beginning to work her hips in Lex’s lap.

“Well thank god for that,” he said, thrusting upward.

Billy was trying to block him out, shifting close and combing his fingers into Petra’s hair until she closed her eyes and her head fell back into his palm. Lex’s hand flexed briefly at her throat and she rode him harder. The first time her hand started to skid down Billy’s chest, he captured it and pressed it to his skin. Maybe it was right over his heart. Who could say? The second time her hand fell, he was slow to react, trying to intertwine their fingers. Obviously, he would rather have Petra riding him, but the sight of two people fucking right in front of him was kind of distracting in an I could masturbate to this kind of way. But apparently Petra didn’t want to hold hands, shaking her fingers free of Billy’s and stroking down his stomach to grab his dick.

He groaned like he’d just been kicked in the stomach. She could’ve done that to him too and he would’ve said ‘thank you’ because he was fucked up, totally fucked up in love with her. Billy’s hips jolted and he gripped Petra’s thigh for strength―physical and mental. She was his Petra, no matter who was shaking her mattress, and her grasp on him was warm and tight as he propelled himself through her encircling hand. But his favourite part (as he clenched his jaw, trying to last longer) was her face and the way she let him hold her head up. Petra’s neck was exposed and Billy’s training said ‘vulnerable,’ but his eyes and his heart said ‘beautiful.’ It was breathtaking.

No, literally. Because Petra’s clever fist flexed and twisted and Billy came, gasping; he splattered the bedsheet and up her wrist like an ooey gooey bracelet. He slumped, head spinning, hand sweaty on her thigh, as Petra released him to wipe her arm on the sheet. Her fingernails lingered to scratch through his pubic hair. It made him want to thump his leg like a dog. Hell, she could collar him if she damn well felt like it.

Except right now, he had the hold on her. Billy turned her face towards his using the solid grip he had deep in Petra’s hair. Her head wouldn’t stay still, what with all the fucking of Lex she was doing, but Billy wasn’t deterred when he leaned in to kiss her. What was he supposed to be afraid of? A cut lip from her teeth? He wasn’t afraid of anything.

The hair on the back of his neck rose as their lips brushed delicately at first. After a minute, Petra touched his bottom lip with her tongue and Billy felt so zapped that it was possible that his entire mohawk had stood up too. When they broke apart, he thought she looked apologetic, but she turned to stare down at Lex too fast for Billy to be sure.

On impulse, he took Petra by the hips, heart pounding through his body like a stampede as he manhandled her through every rise and fall on Lex’s dick. Billy wanted to run his hands all over her. He wanted to dry hump the pleasured sound coming out of her mouth. Nuzzling his face and mouth from her shoulder to the back of her neck was like giving his blessing to the impending explosion.

Lex’s hands tripped over Billy’s as he reached up for the hearty grope that would accompany the homestretch of their fuck. Billy watched the other set of male hands fleetingly fondle Petra’s boobs, trace her waist, slide over the backs of Billy’s own hands, and go between her legs to wiggle her clit. Her small yelps increased in pitch and volume like they were climbing some precarious ladder. Billy’s groan just under her jaw as she came got blasted to hell volume-wise by Lex’s goddamn bellow (yeah, it felt good to be inside her―he fucking got it), but he knew Petra had heard him right there by her ear; she touched a limp hand to Billy’s cheek as the swaying of her hips gentled, like somebody up high on a swing who quit kicking their legs and just swung gradually to a stop.

Chest rising and falling as Billy’s palms slipped over her sides, grazing her breasts, Petra slapped a hand down to cover Lex’s mouth. Billy had been far too distracted to realize the guy had been about to release a triumphant shout. Lex mumbled against Petra’s palm and she moved it.

“If we get caught,” she informed him with a pant, easing off his lap, “I’ll only have had sex with one of you, which means that Billy will probably kill you.”

Billy nodded, suddenly unsure about touching Petra now that she was regaining her faculties and doing his damnedest not to let his eye be drawn by Lex’s hands removing and tying off the condom.

“I could take him,” Lex boasted, rising up on one elbow and shooting Billy a wink. He chucked the secured condom across the room and thankfully, it landed in the garbage can. “Our Billy’s more of a pipsqueak than a Rat.”

Petra’s bare shoulders jolted in an abrupt laugh.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy.”

She patted Lex’s thigh and he shifted, looking uneasy.

“I am tough,” he said defensively. “If not for my consideration for Billy-boy’s sensibilities, I’d’a been sullying your spotless reputation up against that wall all night, love.”

Lex pointed at a wall that Billy instinctively knew Petra would never have let him rub up against, seeing as it was pasted with overlapping posters, artwork, and other cool-looking shit. But apparently, that wasn’t the part of Lex’s statement that she was most interesting in calling him out on.

“Please,” Petra said flatly, planting her hand on the mattress. “You got exactly what you wanted.”

“Which was?” Lex challenged. Foolish, Billy thought, grinning.

“To submit. Shut up,” she added, pre-emptively. Lex pouted. Petra glanced over at Billy, on the other side of Lex’s still stretched out legs. “And what do you want?”

Billy hoped the question was rhetorical because he had so many issues with answering it. First off, he wanted too many things. Second, he craved whatever she’d be willing to give. Third, it was nothing that he longed to say in front of Lex. His wishes for the love life (yes, life―he was too hopeful to be a realist) of himself and Petra weren’t depraved (not mostly), but they were intimate. They were his. They were… probably never going to have a better opportunity to come true than this one.

Regardless, his mouth was dry. The sharp lines of black makeup around Petra’s eyes weren’t the only things that gave her the look of a predator, a big cat. It was her bright eyes that stared like a jaguar’s, somehow more intense the wider they were opened―as she had them now―than when disinterest kept her eyelids lazily lowered. Billy’s groin felt all hot and thumpy. He knew what was going on down there: he was getting hard again. It seemed like maybe his expression was pleading as he sat paralyzed, dick working its way back up like how they’d raised the flag on Iwo Jima, with Petra crawling over Lex’s shins to get to him.

“I,” he tried. “I… I lov―”

“It’s been established,” she assured him, hand on his thigh.

“You said this was about you,” Billy pointed out, feeling a little gutsier as his gaze darted over to Lex, struggling up to sitting. “So, on some level, even when you’re all ‘aaah, feelings!’, you must have thought about being with me.” He swallowed, but pushed ahead, through his fading bravery. “Even if it was only, like, a millionth of the number of times that I’ve thought about being with you,” he whispered.

“Starting to think that you’d get him off just by drying his tears, poor sod,” Lex contributed with a self-satisfied post-coital grin.

He smacked Billy heartily on the back and just as quickly, Petra had grabbed Lex by the thumb, using this weak point to twist his entire arm. Lex exhaled hard through his nose and kept his lips clamped until she loosened her hold. There was still a warning look in her eyes.

“You’re just about as touchy about him as he is about you,” Lex accused, the grin fighting its way back onto his face.

“Bite me,” she said.

“I think I’ve made my boundaries very clear, thank you, Countess Dracula.” When she glared, Lex held up a hand, laughing. “Kidding.”

“Getting back to me…” Billy hinted. Petra’s eyes shifted to him and he backpedalled. “Getting back to me talking about getting back to you.”

“Yes,” Petra agreed. “I’ve thought about it. I do know what I want.”

Because he couldn’t speak right away, Billy nodded. He glanced over at Lex who, confusingly yet not unhelpfully, gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

“So,” Billy started, “you, me, and this guy. How are we gonna―”

Lurching forward on her knees, Petra kissed him firmly.

“Just let me handle it,” she offered.

“Please do,” Billy said, breathless.

Now it was him, not Lex, being eased down onto his back, Petra’s hand on his chest helping him get there. She didn’t straddle him like before though, just kissed and nudged. Billy tucked her hair back behind her ear when it swung forward. It wisped past her neck, raising that dark scent. Petra still wasn’t making a move to put any more skin against him than her palm over his heart, so he rolled towards her. Unhurriedly, she toppled from her folded up crouch―her torso twisted, her legs shifted, she gradually straightened her body, bringing it in line with his.

Giving her hair a flick to keep it back from her face, Billy reached around, gathering Petra close to him and inching them lengthwise on the bed. He didn’t want his gangly legs hanging off the edge of the mattress to distract him when he finally got to have her. His fingers played where her back arched to curve her towards him, tracing her spine. God, she was soft. But Billy wanted her hips to come forward too, his own tilting restlessly in search of Petra’s. She nipped his lower lip before flashing him a quick smirk. Was she playing with him? Because Billy had to be honest with himself: that was turning him on. Turning him on more. The erection straining towards her probably made that point.

“Aren’t you two just the fucking cutest?”

Billy sighed. He and Petra drew apart, turning to glare (mostly Billy on that one) at Lex. From his spot near their feet, he looked like a huge creep, just looming there, watching.

“Thrown me over already, have you? Forgotten about me?” he checked with the currently impassive Petra. Lex waved a hand at Billy. “Decided to go for someone who is, in every sense of the word, greener than myself? Won’t you be needing this?”

He held up the other condom, still wrapped, from whatever rumple of sheets it had made its way into since the proper intercourse portion of events had begun. Maybe it was threatening, this little power-play Lex seemed to be going for, literally holding the key to their safe sexual gratification over their heads (or knees, actually). Plus the general taunting, consisting of both insults and rhetorical questions. But it was just so fucking Lex. Always a dramatic shithead whenever the occasion didn’t call for it. Billy started to laugh.

“You really do like Petra,” he said through amused wheezes. “You’re so jealous, dude.”

“Oh, shove it up your arse, Bennett.” Lex whipped the condom at him and it smacked his cheek, but it didn’t make Billy quit laughing.

“Come here, moron,” Petra said, stretching to hook her fingers under the cuff around Lex’s wrist.

Once he’d been convinced to lie down on Petra’s other side while she lightly stroked the inner part of his forearm, she switched her attention back to Billy. Her hips quit teasing and the second she came in contact with his erection, Billy felt like he’d been doused in cheap booze and set on fire. He scrambled for her, even though she was right there, clutching and pawing and hugging her close. Their mouths were engaged in a filthy wet kiss that gave his crotch the cavernous thrum of an amped bass. Excitingly, her hands were just as eager: jerking his mohawk, pressing his fingers between her legs, and then―gulp―gripping the back of his neck when she said, “I want you, Billy.”

As if he hadn’t already been wrapped around her finger.

He wasn’t really sure which of them was taking the lead, only that his sweaty palms were dragging across her skin, circumnavigating her waist, as Petra rolled over. Her back was to him now, but her hand was clenching his hip, trembling (though not as much as Billy’s) as he retrieved the condom and rolled it down his dick, aching for her. (Stupid wrapper didn’t want to disengage from his damp fingers and he had to flick repeatedly to send it fluttering away.)

With an abrupt angling of her hips and an assuring glance over her shoulder, Petra made it clear that she was ready. It took Billy a couple extra seconds to be that ready, since her ass pressing against his cock had cracked his brain open like an egg. He remembered about the lockdown, and the cafeteria schedule, and the lack of food in his body―eggs or otherwise. Hopefully supressing the thought would keep stomach rumblings at bay.

Scooting his hips lower, Billy got into a position where he’d be able to push up into the wetness he knew was waiting for him. Petra’s fingers tensed on his hip. As he prodded her entrance, she leaned her upper body away from him, kissing Lex. In search of his limit for how overwhelmed he could possibly feel, Billy pressed slowly into Petra. Wowza.

Once he’d completed the stage where his eyes were clamped shut, he opened them to see Lex’s hand, fingers splayed, on Petra’s back. Now, nausea was a genuine threat, but the sight of Lex’s hand―his bracelets and his fingers―didn’t manage to invoke it. Billy was thinking about Petra, Petra getting what she needed. Petra surrounded. Petra adored. Petra worshipped and caressed from the outside and within. It made the fucking blood pump in his cock.

Billy’s knee hitched up on its own, almost bouncing, as he eased in deep. His leg tangled with Petra’s, then Lex’s too, until the three of them had lower limbs like strands of a shitty friendship bracelet. Because when you were riffraff, when you were a Rat and maybe also an orphan, school was hell on earth and a threesome was a friendship bracelet. Tonight, Billy wasn’t afraid of his life’s grimy details or the grander horrors of its plot. He accepted that the night he would feel most himself and the night that he would see Lex’s balls were in fact the same night. And that night was this night. And this night ruled.

Petra gripped his cock with her insides―felt like she did it on purpose―and Billy whined in pleasure. Every time his hips snapped up and into her, he tried to go deeper, refusing to believe anything to do with this girl had a limit. He held her shoulder with one hand and pressed his other palm flat to the small of her back; his middle finger balanced along her spine. If he’d been a little less out of his mind, Billy would have asked Petra out loud for ways to make it better for her. Although, maybe his lack of constant double-checking made it better for her. She might’ve found his naked (in every sense) devotion sickening.

Her enjoyment wasn’t much of a question though; Petra’s arousal kept Billy moving on his path as slickly as a poisoned dart through a blowpipe. He was panting hard and had no idea when he’d started doing that. Possibly back when Petra had first suggested the threesome. It was getting noisy actually, with the three of them so worked up. Their breathing was all out of sync, then there were the soft, wet pat noises of the boys’ hands hungrily feeling Petra’s skin, plus the sound of Billy driving in and out of her cunt―something like the smack of a bubble gum bubble bursting. Another member or two with a real instrument and they’d basically be a band. And an orgy. Billy didn’t feel ready for that.

He did, however, feel like he was getting ready to flood this condom. Petra’s hips rolled and so did Billy’s eyes―back into his head. Lex was speaking a constant stream of praise for Petra’s boobs and Billy had a feeling that his friend was definitely forgiven for his earlier insult about their shape. There was a moment, a second or less than that, as Billy changed his angle to drill into Petra faster when he realized Lex must be rubbing her clit from his position in front of her. What tipped him off was feeling a brief brush of fingertips along his shaft on an outward stroke. Panicked and thrusting like crazy, he lifted his head to see Lex and was met with wide eyes. Billy dropped his head back to the mattress. Yep, that was something they were going to pretend never happened.

Petra―goddess among women―drew him back into the moment in an instant, reaching up frantically to clap her palm over the back of the hand Billy had on her shoulder. Her hips were slamming back to give his a rough welcome and when he matched the brutality of her thrusts, Petra moaned. It raised bumps up and down his arms. Whatever she was doing to Lex with her other hand, out of Billy’s line of sight, had him saying some really profane things about Jesus’s mother.

Figuring he and Lex were just about there (though also very badly NOT wanting to think about them having simultaneous orgasms), Billy stroked his palm from Petra’s lower back up to her neck. Then, stiffening his fingers into claws, he scratched all the way back down. Petra screamed. Her tightness at the moment of release nearly killed Billy. Which, strangely, would’ve coincided with his more-than-baseless prophesy that he was going to die in this school. Better a really good fuck than a stab wound to the gut, right?

His own orgasm tossed Billy around like an ill-conceived childhood experiment involving the dryer. Up was down and down was up and the center was Petra, like it had been since he met her. Eventually, things felt less intense and Billy pulled out, dick softening with what seemed like reluctance, to attempt to tie off the slippery condom three times before giving up and hurling it into the trash. He flopped back down on the bed and, when she didn’t squirm away, wrapped both arms around Petra’s waist. Yeah, maybe that’s where Lex’s arms were too (a little looser than Billy’s because Billy didn’t do casual), but who fucking cared?

It was kinda therapeutic, Billy thought, getting used to the sound of their breathing.

“Ok,” Petra said finally, twisting onto her back within the boys’ embrace. She had hickeys darkening on her throat. Her voice was hoarse and it tugged the corners of Billy’s mouth up immediately. “I know you two are mentally filling this silence with feelings, so somebody better talk instead.”

“And whatever would we discuss, love?” Lex asked innocently. “What a wicked little thing you are when you’re on top, or how you surprised Billy and I with that barbaric scream?”

Billy froze, horrified that he was about to witness Lex trounced by Petra, but she let out a low laugh.

“There’s no way nobody heard that. We are so fucked.”

“Nah,” Billy promised, “they’ll just think it was someone being murdered.”

Lex snorted, leaning up on his elbow.

“And you don’t think they’ll investigate that?”

Billy glanced at him and shrugged.

“They’ll do what they always do.” He smiled at Petra’s probing look. “Dick-all, and then give whoever did it a gold star.”

“This school doesn’t do gold stars,” Petra informed him.

“Yeah,” Lex acknowledged, “but how’d you expect Billy to know that? Not like he’s ever even come close to―”

Billy reached over Petra and slapped Lex across the ear. Before he’d managed to pull his arm all the way back, Lex―both swearing and laughing―had grabbed it and they were tussling, trying to get a grip on each other and land the next blow. Petra was trapped between the two, verbally berating them and then just directing her elbows towards their bare stomachs when they didn’t listen to her.

No heartfelt declarations, no tender kisses; this was the better ending. All of Billy’s best memories with these two included war wounds.

[master-sass-blast]

Whole list for Ellie, pls!!!!

Can diddly do, darling! Going under a cut, because again, Longe.

What is their favourite food: Mac and cheese. Cheesy potatoes. Pizza. Really, any combination of cheese and carbs.

Do they have a fear of an animal? If so, what animal: She’s not a fan of seagulls. Stupid fucking sky rats.

What do they wear to bed: Whatever. Actual pajamas, leggings and shirt, t shirt and gym shorts, whatever works.

Do they like cuddling: Yes, but she doesn’t initiate much after losing her family due to dealing with the trauma from that.

Do they have a secret handshake with anyone: She has one with Leo that changes every time they do it. It mostly exists to annoy Zach.

What do they look like: Ellie is a Very Petite, 13 year old girl, with pale skin, a round face, round, dark brown eyes, a button nose, pouty lips, and stick straight, pitch black hair. She’s too cute to be a mini-vessel of anger and murder.

Do they like chocolate: Yes. She loves chocolate. She’ll straight up eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Frank nearly has a coronary over her dietary habits, but he doesn’t have room to complain because he eats stuff straight out of a can with his Ka-bar.

What are their good and bad traits: Ellie is innovative, creative, and determined, but also aggressive, headstrong to the point of being difficult to work with, and steps past a lot of rules in order to “experiment” with different ideas.

Do they have any artistic talent: She plays the violin and eventually winds up taking dance classes and theater classes with Leo as a way to “keep her brain happy” (at the suggestion of David), but that’s about it.

What is their favourite room to be in, in the house they live in: Once Ellie, Frank, and Karen finally settle in a house? The dining room. They all spend the most time together there.

Do they believe in luck: No. There’s coincidence and probability, but luck in and of itself cannot be scientifically proven. Besides, luck is for people who don’t believe in effort.

Can they do magic: Real magic? No. Sleight of hand magic? Also no.

Do they believe in dragons: As a possible, past existing creature? The common media depictions had to come from somewhere.

What is a pet peeve of theirs: Being talked down to. She can’t stand it. She’s smart, she knows she’s smart, and she will be spoken to as such, thank you very much.

What was the last thing they cried about: In the order of the story? Being adopted by Frank and Karen, though she does get weepy over losing her family (as is natural).

What is their sexuality: She’s a babby gay, and later identifies as a lesbian when she���s older.

Do they have a best friend? If so, who, and what makes them their best friend: Leo Lieberman. They bond while Frank helps David keep an eye on his family, over their mutual love for academics and learning things, and from there they’re just... *crosses fingers* like that.

Have they ever been in a romantic relationship: Yes. Ellie and Leo do wind up dating (once they’re older, which probably won’t be covered in the story, but their mutual interest is hinted at).

What does their relationship with their family look like? Are they close? Distant? Ect: Before her biological family’s passing, she was closest with one her four brothers, Andrew, who was closest to her in age at 21. She was relatively close with her other siblings, save for her sister, whom she is heavily estranged from. Her biological mother died when she was two, and her biological father abused her by exploiting her intellect and mutation set for his own gain, but it takes Ellie a while to recognize that. Post being adopted by Frank and Karen, she’s closer to Frank due to having spent more time with him, but she still loves Karen dearly.

Do they have a pet: In the “good ending,” they get a black and white pitbull named Oreo.

Do they have a familiar: Still dunno what that is, so no.

Are they a supernatural being: Nope.

How do they usually wear their hair: Ellie’s hairstyle changes throughout the story/series. It’s longer at the beginning, then she shaves her head when Frank does (because she asks and he figures there’s no harm so he helps her shave her head), then grows it out longer on the top like he does in S2 of the Punisher, then wears it as an angled bob for S3 of Daredevil, and by the end of the story it’s about shoulder-length again. Eventually, she settles on switching between on longer on the top, shorter sides and the angled bob as her favorites.

Can they play an instrument? If so, what instrument and what can they play: The violin, and she plays just about anything on it.

What type a high schooler are/were they: Ellie graduated high school at the age of nine, so... yeah.

Have they ever been in a physical fight before? If so, with who? Who won: Several. It comes with the territory with being Frank’s “sidekick.” She wins most of them, though does take some notable loses to Billy Russo and Agent Pointdexter.

What is their favourite holiday: Halloween. Hands down.

If they could have one wish, what would they wish for: She doesn’t necessarily believe in wishes, since they usually create various paradoxes.

Do they wants kids? If they already have kids, do they want more: She’s too young to consider having kids during the story, but when she gets older she decides she doesn’t necessarily want any.

Do they have a job: She’s thirteen, so no.

Do they know how to drive: Yes. Her biological father made a point of teaching her how to handle just about any vehicle or craft.

Do they get stressed out easily: Not really. She has her snapping points (being talked down to, people she cares about getting hurt, etc), but all in all she’s pretty easy going.

Did they ever dye their hair before? If so, to what colour? Did they like it: She dyes it magenta when she’s sixteen with Karen’s help and LOVES it.

Have they ever broken the law: Yes. Many times. So many times.

Do they own a plant: Ellie and Frank both fall into the category of “would kill a plastic plant, somehow,” so no.

Have they ever rode a horse before: No.

What is their favorite gif: Don’t have an answer for this, so pass.

Do they get along with others easily: Not really. Ellie can run the end of being argumentative and superior, so she can be difficult to get along with at times.

Do they have any tattoos: Nope.

If I wanted to draw them, what would be distinct physical features that I would have to know to draw them correctly: She has to look like the most innocent, adorable, non-murdery teenage ever. Round face, button nose, big, round eyes, pouty lips, whole nine yards. Very pale skin, very dark hair, very dark eyes.

What is their favourite breed of dog: Ellie hasn’t met a dog she didn’t like.

Do they live with anyone? If so, who: Frank, at the beginning of the story, and then Frank and Karen at the end.

Where is their dream vacation: Ellie traveled a lot when she was younger due to her biological dad’s line of “work,” so she’s seen good chunks of the world. She’d probably enjoy going back to France or Iceland the most, though.

Do they know more than one language: Yes. Ellie speaks English, German, Mandarin, Japanese, Spanish, and Arabic fluently, and is conversational in French and Italian.

Are they a quick learner: Extremely.

Have they ever won a contest before? If so, what for? What did they win: Not really. Her biological father had her more focused on studying as much as she could, so she didn’t enter any contests growing up.

If the world were to end in 24 hours, where would they be and who would they be with: She’d stick close to Frank, Karen, Curtis, and the Liebermans.

What does their room look like: In the “good ending,” Ellie’s room is painted shades of purple and blue, and has a desk with a chair, a dresser, and a double bed in it.

If they could have an extinct animal for a pet, what would they have: Probably a Dodo bird.

If they got called out by someone, what would they do: Argue with them. Ellie’s “flight mode” was replaced with extra fight.

Have they ever shot a gun before: Yes.

Have they ever been axe throwing: No.

What is something that they want but can’t have: The ability to kill the worst billionaires of the world and redistribute their funds to those who need them, and that’s only because there’s no way to do that without getting caught and getting other people in trouble.

Do they know how to fish: No.

What is something they always wanted to do but too scared: Scuba diving.

Do they own their own baby pictures: No.

What makes them standout among others: The way she speaks. She’s very intense in her voice and how she talks, which draws a lot of attention.

Do they like to show off: Yes. One hundred percent. She likes the praise.

What is their favourite song: It changes, but one of her consistent faves is “I Love It” by Icona Pop.

What would be their dream vehicle: Stealth bomber jet.

What is their favourite book: Percy Jackson series.

Who, in their opinion, makes the best food: Karen. Frank eats MREs like they’re going out of style.

Are they approachable: She looks it, but she doesn’t talk it.

Did they ever change their appearance: Yeah. She goes through a few phases of figuring out what style suits her best as she grows up.

What makes them smile: Dumb jokes, making Frank, Karen, and Leo laugh, and fail compilations.

Do they like glowsticks: Sure. Who doesn’t?

What is something that is simple, but always makes them smile: Seeing/talking to Leo.

Are they a day or night person: Night.

Are they allergic to anything: Nope.

What do you, the creator of this OC, like most about them: She’s a spitfire, and she challenges Frank to come out of his shell more.

Who is their ride or die: Frank, Karen, Curtis, and the Lieberman family.

Do they currently have a significant other? If not, are they going to get one later one: She and Leo date when they’re older, but that probably won’t be featured in any of the stories.

What attracts them to another person: Intelligence, humor, and willingness to question rules, ethics, and morals.

Who is one person that can always make them laugh: Leo Lieberman.

Have they ever partied too hard and their friends had to take them home: No.

Who would be their cuddle buddy: Leo is her first go to, but Frank and Karen also step up when she needs/wants it.

Who would cheer them up after a long day: Probably Frank, Karen, or Leo.

If they had a nightmare, who would they run to: Frank or Karen. They understand having the types of nightmares that she has.

What object to the care for the most: A phone built for her by her deceased brother, Andrew.

Do they like other people’s children: Eh, not really.

How would they react if someone broke into their home: Kill the intruder.

Does anyone make them have butterflies in their stomach: Leo Lieberman.

What is something that they are good at: Aside from her innate talents, she’s good at crossword puzzles.

What is their neutral expression: She looks like an adorable woodland fairy.

Do they like to cook: Not really.

What is something they can’t leave home without: The phone her brother built for her. It has access to her family’s private satellite network, their stores of information and blackmail data, and their private bank accounts.

Who is someone that they rely on: Frank. Ellie relies on him for protection (despite her abilities, she’s still thirteen) and companionship.

Do they liked to be tickled: Only by Leo.

Have they ever been a sword fight before: Yes.

What is a joke that they would find funny: Any dumb pun in existence.

Do they have a place that can go and turn off their brain: The Lieberman’s house. She really just gets to be a kid there.

What was their childhood like: Kinda tragic, considering her family’s death and the abuse she took from her biological father and sister.

What are they like as an adult: Ellie comes out well-adjusted, all things considered. She does land in the anti-social personality disorder spectrum, but she’s high-functioning and can blend in with society, for the most part. She does wind up picking up the Punisher mantle when Frank retires, citing that “someone needs to purge the city of its scum” as her reason.

Do they take criticism well: If it’s well founded? Sure. If it isn’t? Absolutely not.

Have they ever jumped out of a plane: No.

Who do they like to make jokes with: Frank, Karen, and Leo.

Have you ever drawn them before? If you are comfortable with it, would you post a picture: I have, but I don’t have anything of her I want to post yet.

[anarchist-puppet-on-strings]

Property Gets Branded

SUMMARY: He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers (let me know if you want to be added)

Dim candlelight danced across the floor, the shadows of the dark warehouse pushing and recoiling. It’s an eerie sight but he supposed that's the energy ill rituals should give off.

Getting over the chain link fence surrounding the abandoned warehouse was difficult—especially in combat boots—but Marvin did it somehow. Here he is, standing inside a circle of lit black candles and jagged, angry looking runes with an ancient tome opened to the last few pages. Inside the circle were more runes drawn in charcoal but this time they were significantly smaller and more numerous than the ones outside the circle. It’s ominous and screamed danger. Not like he particularly cared.

“And now I need a blood sacrifice…” he muttered under his breath, before dogearring the page and setting the book down. He tiptoed around the candles and stood in the middle.

It said a ritual dagger would be preferable but all he had is a boxcutter, so he guessed the ritual had to deal with it. Why'd you even need a specific dagger to draw blood? Blood is blood, right?

Dragging the blade across his forearm hurt more than he thought, and he couldn't help but hiss through his grit teeth. He made sure to angle the cut away from his blue veins. He squeezed the flesh around the cut to milk some more blood out and watched as the red and cyan drops fell onto some of the runes.

He stepped back outside the circle and picked the book back up, ignoring the lingering ebb of pain on his arm.

“Next step: chant the incantation and pour as much magic as you can into the summoning spell. If you're lucky, a nearby demon will be attracted to the blood and magic and come visit you. The process could take anywhere from up to a minute to a few hours, so remain vigilant.” Marvin frowned deeply. So the demon had to choose to come to him based on his magic and blood? That’s… annoying.

The chant wasn't anything particularly difficult—if you counted Latin easy. His magic reacted to the language easily, he could feel it swelling in his veins and intertwining with his words. The atmosphere grew lighter, magic filling the empty warehouse and permeating the air. As soon as the last word fell from his lips, the magic flow halted abruptly and the silence returned heavier than before.

Seconds ticked by… seconds turned into a minute… a minute turned into several…

Every muscle in his body was tense, magic bristling. His breaths had to be forcefully regulated otherwise he might lose control of his magic in his worry. After several minutes, his shoulders slumped forward and he let out a shaky exhale.

He left the summoning ritual, staggering to a nearby wall and slumping against it, hands shoving his mask up and dragging down his face as he groaned loudly.

“This is fucking insane. What am I hoping to accomplish with this?”

Well, obviously he’s trying to find a demon that could remove his shitty curse. And now that he’s thinking about it, this was a very stupid idea. Literally every warning about magic had been ignored to do such a thing. Hell, he even snuck off without Spades and Clubs! Well, it’s a good thing nothing happened, because that meant he could bail before anything decided to show up.

He let a gentle gust of magic blow out the candles before he shoved them back into his bag. Scuffing some the runes off with his battered tennis shoes was harder than he thought but eventually it’s destroyed enough that some poor bastard couldn't recognize what had been going on.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to tilt dangerously and squeeze his eyes shut. His stomach gurgled unhappily, a pang of hunger hitting his gut. Wrapping an arm around his middle, he let out a shaky exhale. Okay, next order of business is to get something to get his stomach to shut up. Then he’d… do whatever. He’ll cross that bridge once he gets to it.

Just as he recollected himself enough to begin to head out, the building’s energy shifted. What had been a neutral energy quickly turned into a violent buzzing—it kind of reminded him of angry bees. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and gooseflesh broke out on his arms. His magic curled up, clearly spooked by whatever is coming.

“L̷ȩa͢vi͞n̡g wi͠t̛hoút͏ me?”͏ A distorted, broken voice asked from behind him. Just hearing it was enough to make his magic cringe.

Marvin spun on his heel, eyes wild. Standing there, shrouded in nearly palpable static, is most certainly a demon. It’s definitely taller than him—probably twice as tall—with unproportional stick thin limbs. Its scaly black skin is tight around its bones, unnaturally long claws tapping the concrete inanely. Its mouth is crammed full of pink stained teeth, translucent black saliva dripping from its jaws and splattering on the ground. Neon green eyes littered the creature’s body, masses of the blinking welts smattering its cheeks and neck. It’s hunched over, spine bent like a quadruped animal. Its body glitched violently, pieces scattering into millions of pixels and magnetizing back together in a different order.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

“̶S͜ur͘p͟rise̕d ͢I sh͘owe̕d͏ up̀?”̨ It asked, stalking forward, knuckles supporting half its weight. It seemed more like a wolf circling its prey. “Ho͏ẃ c͏o҉u̢ld͏ ̸I ͢no̵t w̵it҉h̴ ̨suc̷h ̷p͟ower̷f̷u̸l ḿa͟gic͠ çàl̡l̷i̵ng t̴o ͢me͏?”҉

Marvin wished he could move—wished he could teleport back into the alleyway he called home—but he’s rooted to the spot.

It cocked its head at an inhuman angle, large eyes blinking owlishly. ”̡Wha̶t’s ͞w̸ro͜ng͞?̸ Ca̢t g̨ot your̨ ͡t͝ong͘ue͘?́”͞ Its grin spread at the joke, rows of jagged fangs exposed in some sick smile. “Oh͘! I͡s i̛t̶ ҉ho͞w ͡I͟ lo̸o͢k҉? Wo҉uld̀ you̕ li͝ke me ̀t̵o s̕híf́t̀ ̡in͜to s̵om̕et̡h̀ìn͟g ͜e̕asi͞e͟r t̕o ́l̷ook ͏a̕t?̵”̡

He swallowed, nearly choking on saliva before nodding hesitantly.

Suddenly its body tensed and froze up, glitched, and then burst into a cloud of pixels. When it reformed it no longer looked like an eldritch being—it’s a human.

Oh, great; it’s kinda hot.

It’s still taller than him—probably half a foot or so—with bones showing through pale skin. It had spiked dark green hair, neon green and black eyes, black plugs, pointed ears, a crooked nose, black claws, sharp teeth, a laceration that went from ear to ear and wept liquid static and code. It wore a black shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, black combat boots.

All in all, the definition of intimidating.

“B҉e͜t̢ter?̵”

Willing the heat in his face to go away, Marvin nodded.

It bared its teeth in another poor smile. “̨Gǫòd.̕ I̛t's͡ ̢ņot ́a̕s̨ f̴u̷ņ ̕ẃhen ͝yo͜u҉ c͝an҉'t str̛ug͘gle.”̛

Well fuck. That wasn't good.

It prowled forward—oh where the fuck did the knife come from—eyes predatory. “I ͝do h̵òp͜e͟ ́yơu̕ ҉s̷tru͢gg͝l҉e; th͢e st̛ronger ̸o͟nȩs̨ p̀ųt̢ u͢p ͢more̡ ͜of ̴a͜ f̧i̸g̨ht̕.͠”

“W-wait! I wanted to… I want to make a deal?” He choked out, backing up, magic flaring to life and resting in the very tips of his fingers. It’s stuck. Of all the fucking times—

It stopped in its tracks, head cocked at that same unnerving angle. “̶Òh rea͘l̸ly̡?̵ W̕h̨a̵t couļd y̶ou͡ ̨possi͝b͞ly g͟ai̷n̴ fr̶om t̛hat?̛”͢ The malicious glitter in its eyes sent shivers down his spine.

His throat is dry and the words were lodged under the lump in his throat. All of a sudden it’s hard to find the words and get them out.

“͝Hów͟ ̡a͘bóu͢t͘ this?” It lunged forward, tackling him and pulling him to the ground. His startled shrieking swear only spurred the other on.

Marvin didn't even stand a chance against the demon.

The heel of its palm crushed his airway, knife pressed to his jugular. His hands came up to grasp at its wrist, clawing desperately at the exposed skin. He could feel skin catching under his nails, some kind of tingly, hot liquid caking the underside of his nails. Within mere seconds, the pressure on his neck had him choking and wheezing. Damn his fucking shitty ass lungs.

“I̷f̶ yo̶u mak͜e ̵a ̨d̢e͝al͢ ͏with ͞me, i͡t’́l̴l ͞be on ̧my ͞t͝e̷rms͢ o̶r̸ I͜’͘l͞l ͠r͠i̶p͞ ỳoúr s͞p͝in̴e̢ ̧out ̴y̡o̸u͠r̴ thr͞oa͝t͢. ͏G̵ot͢ ͏ìt?̶” It snarled, face inches from his own.

All he could do is writhe in panic. He didn't register the static from the demon’s neck wound dripping onto his body. Finally—finally—his magic overcame the block and surged forward, cyan fire sparking to life and clinging to the demon.

It howled, recoiling violently, and Marvin gasped when he felt the blade of the knife nick under his jaw and send warmth spilling down his neck. It wasn't enough to kill him… hopefully. It'd be just his luck it caught and tore an artery.

Seeing the demon trying to put out the fire would've normally made him laugh had he not been gasping. His lungs and throat burned and no amount of air was fixing it. He gently touched his hand to his neck, wincing at the soreness there. That’s definitely going to bruise.

“M͟ày̛b͠e͝ yo͜u ͏a̸re̵n̕'͟t͟ a͘s̸ st̴up̕id a͟s ̨y̡ơu loo͝k҉,̨”͏ it hissed. The burns the fire caused vanished with a single glitch.

Oh… that's quite unfortunate.

"I'l̴l̵ g͡iv̢e͟ ̨yo͢u͡ ̛óne ͡c͝h͟an҉c̴e,́" it snarled, circling around Marvin like a shark. "I'l͝l sp͠ár҉e ͜your l̴ife̕ ҉if̡ ̶ỳou s͡e̴l̡l y͞o͝ursel͟f ̴to͘ m̧e.̡"͏

The magician stiffened up, eyes tracking the demon's movements. He knew he couldn't take the beast on himself based on that recent display of power, but taking this deal could end up being a fate worse than death.

"Why... why should I? I wanted to make a deal with you," Marvin said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"I͜'͝m͞ n͝ot ͠a̕ d̵ȩm̀o̴n ̨wh̶o plays ̵fa͞ir,"͝ it growled, teeth bared. "Yòu táke̶ ̴this̀ ͘déal n̵o͡w or̴ I'l͝l b͞reak ͟y̵ou int̷ǫ p͢i͡e͏c͠es a͞nd ͝m͢ak͝e͝ you a͢cc̴e̡p̵t i̢t.͡"

He paled, heart thumping in his throat. So it’s either certain death or prolonged death? What a shitty situation he's gotten himself into. Why does this always happen to him? He already knew which one he’s going to choose but weighing his options... what’s stopping the demon from killing him when he made the deal? What did the demon want with him anyway?

"How do I know you're not just going to off me once I agree?" He asked warily, eyeing the monster suspiciously.

It scoffed. "Yo̸u͟ r͜eall͟y ̧th̴i̷nk ́I̶'m̧ ̷g̀o͡i͏ng thr͞ou̧g̴h́ a͘ll th̵i̶s͞ trouble t̀o͡ o͞ņly ̕k̷il҉l ҉yo͜u any͞w̧ay͝?̷ No̕,͜ ͢I͞'̷ll be k̡eepin̵g y̛ou ҉alįve ̵f̛or as͏ l͟ơn͡g͡ ͡as̴ ̴y͘óų ̸çoope̡ra͟t̕e͠. ͜Mage̛s ́a̧re rar҉e no͞wad̕ays͡, es҉pe̴c͘ially the ͟str̛on̵ger ̢ones͟." It cocked its head. "T̡hough͞ ͞I̴ ̷a̸m̴ qu̵i̷t̷e̢ c̸uri͢ous ab͏óu͟t̡ ̶tha̸t͏ ̸n͟asty ̧littļè ̡cuŕse͏ y̸ou ͝ha͏ve.̢"̡

His blood ran cold at the knowledge it knew about his curse. Maybe… maybe demons could just sense magic on others, especially since it’s a darker type of magic? He chewed his bottom lip, magic squirming inside him in discomfort. He didn't like the implications of that statement but...

"O-okay..." Marvin muttered, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. He could see its eyes glittering in triumph. It grinned, the teeth seeming to take up half his face.

"͠Very͟ ̧goo͠d.̨"̀

Like everything in his life, this had failed spectacularly. He couldn't even manage to summon a fair demon to make a deal with! All he got was an asshole with a god complex and absolutely nothing to help him remove his curse! And to top it all off, he sold himself to it to save whatever’s left of his shitty life. Fantastic. Absolutely perfect.

His cynical thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"̢Y͞o͏u͟ stop̶ped͡ ̸pay͞ìn͢g ̸a͏tt̢en̛t̛ión.͢"̸

The demon stalked closer, its arm with the knife in hand swinging at its side. It walked with intent, drawing uncomfortably closer and closer to the vulnerable magician. Its eyes were... its eyes were shifting with static. And not just static either: it’s like those old technical difficulties screen that popped up and nearly blinded the viewer with bright, neon colors. A bar of yellow, cyan, green, magenta, red, and dark blue covered with a thin layer of static. They shifted, colors bouncing from one bar to the next, forcing his brain to try and keep track of the moving colors.

Thoughts started worming their way into his head. Just fleeting ones but they distracted him.

K͢e͟ep w͏atc̴hi͜n̕g the̛ c̡òl̨o͜rś. R̨el̨ax.͟ Y̧ou'͞r̡e̕ s̀a̶fe. N͟o ̷pai͝n.͡ W͢o͝n't hur̵t.

He blinked, struggling to keep his focus on the situation at hand.

Where were the thoughts... coming...

The eyes were... it's pretty. He's never seen anything so beautiful. He wanted to stare at them forever. He didn't know why he was panicking before. Why'd he need to be upset? He’s safe.

S̶ubmi͠t͏..́.̡..̀ ̀r̵e̡l̸ax̀.́..̴.. ̧giv͟e ͜up͞....̸.̢ ̛l͞e̴t ͠g̸o ̶of ͝y͡ou̶r m̢a͜gi̧c̶..... c͢oơp͘e͘ra̢te..̀.̡..̧ s̨ubm̴it͜..͢. rel̛ax̛..͜. ̨g̸i̷v̡e̴ u̵p̴..͝.͝ ́l͏e͞t ͘ģơ of y̸o͡ur̕ magi͞c͘.́.̷.̕ co͠ope҉r͡a͡t͝e..́.͢ su͞b̸m̀it,͏ ͡re̷lax,͏ ģive ̴up, ̶let̢ ͞g̨o of̵ y̶ou̕r ͘m̴agíc̵, ̕coo͠p̴èrate.͠ ̨Su͠bmit r͢e̢l͝a̢x ͟g͜iv̕e̶ u̵p l͝e̶t g̕o ́o͡f̷ yoùr mag̛ic͘ coopér͘at̛e̴ s͟u̕b͡mits҉u̕bmítg͞i̷v̧e͜up̴subm̕i̷t̵s͜u҉b̡mi͢t͟submitgive͏u̕p͜gi͜veup̶g̷i̸v̶e͟up͝—͡

Marvin was stuck standing still when the demon closed the gap between them.

"̛No͞t ̀so͜ ̧śt͠r̛on͘g͠ ̀a͞n͠ym͠oŕè, ͢eh?̛"͟ It asked, examining the magician curiously.

Everything felt... detached. Like he’s there but not mentally. The static curled around his consciousness like a blanket. He’s unable to move but the whispers in his head soothed his worry.

N͠ot͝hi̕n͢g ba͡d̸ ͟w͜i҉l̴l͘ h̕ap̶pen. ̕Yoư’͜re s̴afe. An̵ţį wil̸l p͟rot̕ec̢t͞ ̧ỳo̡u.̛

Weird... he didn't recognize that name but it had to be the demon's.

The creature—Anti—seemed to be satisfied with his work, a smug smile gracing his features. Seeing him smile made Marvin's lips twitch up, eyes wide and unfocused.

A hand came up and fingers ran carefully across his mask before they dipped down and stroked his cheek delicately.

"̸I ͢wońde͡r̛... ̧wha͠t'͜s u̵nd̕érne̵àt͠h͠ th͡a̕t ͠m̀as͏k ͟o̷f̕ ̶y͠our̛s̶? It̡ ͘l̴oo͜ks͜ ̧q̵u҉ite̛ rid͘icul҉oưs͜. I'́m s͢ur̴e you w̴o̧ul̸d̢n'̧t m͏i̶nd̶,̢ r̛i̸ght͡,͘ ki̶t̀t͟en͝?"͘ Anti's voice is sweet—saccharine.

He hummed uncomprehendingly, unfocused eyes staring forward dazedly.

The mask was removed and dropped to the ground, countless pieces shattering across the cement.

"҉I c̨a͏n̡ s͝e͘e͢ ̧w͝h̴y̷ you͠ wear̢ i͞t̕…҉̷ t̴hóse ́sc̶a͜rs ͏a͏r͘e hi͏deous̛.̧"͞ He remarked, eyes glittering with glee as he looked upon what Marvin tried so hard to hide from the world—and himself.

The voices couldn't calm him down now. Panic spread through his body like wildfire and he thrashed in whatever trance had him pinned down.

His mask is gone, his talisman is broken, he’s exposed, it’s staring at his face—

Anti dragged his claws over the scars with featherlight touches, tracing the edges and watching how the magician twitched and shuddered. The moment he let his claws sink in too deep and rip open skin, Marvin used the last of his mental power to surge through the now screaming voices and regain control.

A burst of magic and the demon was gone in a flurry of glitches. The sound of static appeared behind him and then something yanked on the hood of his cloak, sending him stumbling back into a body. An arm coiled around his waist and held him in place.

“́No̴ẃ t́h̶at̸ ̛y̵ou’r͠ȩ m̸y̶ ͞p̀r͝o̶per͏ty͡–”̧ Anti drawled nonchalantly—as if the previous hadn’t happened—trailing the knife down Marvin’s jawbone–“I͘’͘ve͢ ̀g͏òt͝ ҉to ̡b̀r͠a͞nd͝ you.”

His eyes went wide, heart stuttering to a stop. His magic instinctively swelled, prepared to prevent such a thing from happening only for the static in the air to grow denser, smothering it.

“A̶h̸ ah ah,̸ noǹe͜ ̡of͞ ͟t̢hat̢,̕” Anti chided. “̕Now̧…͟ wh͘ere to ͘p͘ut́ it͝…”̶ Marvin tensed at the hand that reached up and carresed his jawbone reverently. “Ḿaybe̸ yo̢úr ̸che̡e̸k?͠ O͢r...”̧ the hand trailed down, claws digging into the side of his neck, pricking skin. He couldn’t help the pitiful whimper that escaped him. “Yo̵ųr neck? ͢H͘m̵mm...”

The magic inside screamed, boiling to uncomfortable temperatures. His face was flushed so hot he’s worried he’d pass out before whatever the hell happened next.

“A̶ctu͏al̸ļy... I t͟h͢ink̵ ̀I’l̶l͜ m͏ake̴ i̡t̡ b̢i͝gg̛e̕r ̨t̨his̛ t̷i҉me̷. D͢o͜n’̵t̢ ̕w̛ant ̛a͏n͏y͡ ̧o̧th͞e͏r f̕u̕çks ̸to͏ưch̡i͢ng ẃhat̸’̨s͢ m̡i̶n͝e̷.”̸

His heart sank into his stomach.

It released him. “T͟ur͘n ̸a̛round̢. Ag̵a͞in͟s̢t the͝ w҉a͟ll͞.͝”

The magician obeyed, fearing what would happen if he didn’t obey. The stone wall is cool against his forehead. When he felt his cloak and shirt being shoved up, he reacted immediately, thrashing only to feel the knife being dug into his back. He stilled after that.

“̶Stay. ̨F̕uck̸i̕n̕g. ̛Still̢. ͘Or I͜’̴l͏l m̴ès̡s ̴up̡.”

His hands shook against the wall, every instinct in his brain screaming for him to move, to get away—

The first cut drew a startled gasp out of him, pain flaring up in the middle of his back. The next cut came relatively quickly, so he had to grit his teeth. Tiny noises slipped through his teeth, and within a few seconds his jaw is aching. Thankfully, it only lasted a minute or so. Once Anti was done(?), it retraced the lines, sinking the knife deeper into the original cuts. Tears that had been collecting in his eyes spilled down his cheeks and his jaw gave up, letting a pained sob out.

“͘Re͟alĺy?”͝ Anti asked, voice amused as it drug the knife down the previous cut. “҉Th͘ís isn’͜t͝ ̴e̶ven th̸at̷ bad. ͝Gųes̢s we’l̨l҉ ̧h̀av͢e̡ ͡t͜o ̷w̕or̢k on͘ ̸it̵.”̀

Guess we’ll have to work on it.

Dear gods, this was going to be a regular occurance. The thought made his eyes sting more.

He wasn’t sure how long this process lasted but then the knife is removed, and he sagged forward, choked gasps and sobs breaking the silence. The wounds throbbed and he cried out when Anti traced the lines, smearing warmth in its wake. It’s letters.

ANTI.

“̴T͟h҉er͘e̡ w̴e͞ g̨o. ͡M͡u̷ch b̡ette̡r͡, ͞hm͟m?́”̕

Fingers curled in his hair, tugging his head uncomfortably to the side. Bloodied fingers stroked his cheek tenderly, making him cringe. Seeing Anti suck his blood off its fingers only made his empty stomach roil.

“Q͡uit̴e̡ ̨t҉h̵e͟ ͠p͢re҉t͟t̸y ̀do͞ll̴.̢..”̶ the demon murmured, clearly lost in thought. Marvin wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear that but his cheeks flushed, and he cursed himself for getting flustered over such a creepy comment. “D͜on̴’t q͠u̶i͡tę k̢n̢ow͘ wh̢at́ ͟I͢’l̸l dò wi̡t̛h ̸yo̷u y҉et̢, bu̷t͘ ̸I͝’̕m ͠su͠r̷e ̛I’͝l̶l̢ ̴f͏ind͘ a pur͡po̸se fo͝r ỳou̴ ̧soo̸n.”

That look…. Marvin’s seen that look from people he’s met on the streets. Just like always, it made his insides twist.

Anti blinked, mind coming back to reality. It withdrew its hand and backed away. “Wel͟l,̀ ̢I͞ neęd͢ to ͜b̵e g͞oin͞g҉. I ͏e̡x͞pect̨ ͝yoư t̕o ̡lea͡rn͜ ̸how͢ to lis͠t͜éń b̵e̴tter̷ n͠ext̴ t̛i̵me.͡“͟ ͞The air warped, its figure glitching violently before disappearing.

The static lifted as soon as it had come and the oppressive atmosphere shifted back into its neutral one.

He’s alone.

His legs shook violently and he slid down the wall, the remains of his mask littering the ground around him, cursing colorfully when the wall rubbed the fabrics into his wounds.

What the fuck happened. What the fuck happened? Did he… did he really make a deal with a demon...? And not fucking get his curse removed? Gods, he truly is stupider than he thought.

For the first time in a long time, Marvin bowed his head and cried.

[theprodigypenguin]

Thicker Than Water

Ao3 Link

Pairings: none

Summary: James Sirius Potter loves his family, and he isn’t shy about announcing it. He’ll say it to their faces and say it to whoever is listening, that he loves his parents and his amazing sister, his cousins, aunts and uncles, even his ever frustrating younger brother, Albus. Difficult he may be to talk to sometimes, James still loves him, even if he struggles to make Albus understand that; but when Albus disappears not once, but three times, before the first term back at school is even halfway over, James starts to wonder, maybe he didn’t tell Albus he loved him nearly enough, and worries if he didn’t start saying it sooner, he’d lose his chance to entirely. {{Takes place during and after the events of “The Cursed Child”]]

Words: 15529

Warnings: angst (I think that’s it)

Notes: I just wanted to say that I’m honestly really proud of this fic. I managed to type it all out with my stupid thumbs and my lil phone screen because I broke my finger and can’t type normally on my laptop. I wrote over 15k words just with my phone holy shit. I really love family bonds, especially sibling bonds or bonds with really GOOD father figures, so me writing James being the best fucking big brother ever was honestly inevitable, and I’m really happy with it. My only hope is that I got his characterization right. There is no real romantic relationship written about, but there are vague calls to Scorbus, Jeddy (or Je T'aime), and Tedoire, so you can interpret it however you guys want. The main theme, though, is brotherhood, and James’ relationship with Albus. I hope you enjoy it! - Amelia

~#~#~#~#~#~#~

James Sirius Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts started off fantastic. It would be his second year as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of which his cousin was part of, acting as a Chaser. It would be exciting when trials came up, because his little sister, Lily Luna, and younger cousin, Hugo, would be trying out for positions on the team alongside he and Rose. With their family's history with Quidditch in their blood, he was certain they'd both make it onto the team. It would be the greatest Quidditch team the school had seen since his father played Seeker so many years ago.

Of course, he would have preferred his brother to join their top notch team, he'd make an excellent Beater, but unfortunately Albus was Slytherin, and seemed to detest Quidditch and everything about it. That was fine, though. Things were still looking up.

James was an excellent student, Transfiguration was his best subject, Charms and Potions were fun enough to keep his attention, he was a favorite of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and he even had a good time in his Divination and Muggle Studies classes. He didn't have much luck in his Care of Magical Creatures class, but he tried his hardest if only for Hagrid's approval.

On paper he was excellent, but face to face with the magical beasts that Rubeus Hagrid loved so much, and James had absolutely no idea what to do. Even in classes he wasn't good with, he excelled with the professors, and enjoyed the work. He was well liked by the majority of the school in fact, made friends with anyone under the castle roof, and was usually the one laughing loudest in the Great Hall during meal times, or making others laugh if he wasn't.

Everything was going great, he had fun on the train, discussing his summer with his friends, looking through their schedules and planning their next trip to Hogsmede, but things began spiraling quickly downwards, even before they'd reached Hogwarts.

The old Trolley Witch was a quiet one, so when she started carting her way down the aisle at top speed, shrieking about train jumpers, eyes wild, James had to note it.

"What's that about?" he'd asked aloud, leaning towards the door of the compartment as his friend hummed, twisting something between his hands.

"Woman's finally gone mad you figure, all those years dealing with kids."

"She said something about train jumping?"

"Sounds fun if you ask me."

It definitely did, but James didn't think that was allowed, otherwise he absolutely would have tried. The strange occurrence faded from his mind, until he stepped from the train out onto the platform that lead to the school.

It was a habit now, to peer over the shorter heads until he spotted bright red decorated with bows, sifting through the sea of students until he'd reached his sister, who was bouncing on her heels next to Hugo and and his older sister Rose, who didn't look too excited.

"I tried to talk to Al," she said without looking at James, her keen eyes panning around the platform, "Didn't get far with it."

"Mum or dad owled you?" James asked, feeling his mouth dry up at the memory of what happened between Albus and their father, just hours ago it seemed.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror lamenting over his hair when the voices of his father and brother echoed through the house, ending with Albus storming down the hallway, as their arguments usually did. James had quickly stepped out of the bathroom to cut his brother off, hands up and a smile on his face.

The expression that Albus was wearing, green eyes like poison snapping to James' face, stole his voice, and he had absolutely no idea what to say to make him stop from storming out of the house. Albus fought and argued with their father all the time, but James had never seen that look on his face before. He didn't know what to say, to do, to make his brother smile.

Honestly speaking, he hadn't been able to really make him smile for years now. As a last resort, his father had written his aunt and uncle, asking if Rose would try talking to Albus on the train, but it clearly hadn't gone well. The two of them had been inseparable once upon a time, but that friendship had ended when that between Albus and Scorpius Malfoy started.

James didn't dislike Scorpius, really. They talked in passing at times, usually when Albus wasn't around, and the young Malfoy seemed to be a very kind hearted and deeply gentle soul. Sometimes James wondered how the Sorting Hat could have possibly placed him in Slytherin of all houses.

Still, he couldn't argue that these severe problems between Albus and their father had only started after Scorpius Malfoy was introduced. Sometimes James got the idea that maybe their father just didn't like that Albus was in Slytherin, and used Scorpius Malfoy as an excuse to argue about Albus' acting up, but was Harry Potter really that bias?

James set a hand on Rose's shoulder and smiled at her when she looked up at him, "Don't worry too much over it, Rosie, Al is difficult, but things always work out in the end without too many problems."

"This is different, James," Rose said in almost a hiss, "Al's face... there was something going on in his head, I could see something reckless in his eyes."

"He is a Slytherin remember, he always looks like that. I know he appreciates you worrying, even if he doesn't say it."

"Sure he does."

"Let me talk to him," James decided, dropping a hand onto Lily's head and ruffling her hair, messing up the bows tied up in her red braids, "He's my little brother so he's my responsibility."

"I definitely don't envy you," Rose stated, looking to her left where Hugo was yanking on her arm, trying to get her to move towards the carriages, "This is the worst I ever have to deal with."

"We'll join you in a minute," James promised, turning and pushing Lily to follow Rose, before starting his search for his brother.

Instead of looking for Albus directly, he searched for the platinum blond of Scorpius Malfoy's hair, as they were always next to each other (and frankly his hair was easier to spot in a crowd than Albus'), but after several sweeps of his eyes over the bustling crowd of students, he hadn't found either Slytherin, and after a moment, he was alone on the train platform, fingertips buzzing and something sour in his mouth.

"There you are!" the short Charms professor chided at James when he stepped through the gates at last, holding a clipboard and waving a quill, "State your name!"

"You've known me for six years professor," James argued, before shaking his head, "Never mind. Is my brother on there?"

"Your brother?" Professor Flitwick looked at his clipboard, flipping through the pages before his nose scrunched up, "No Albus Potter," he said, and James felt his blood run cold as things seemed to click into place.

The argument between Albus and their father, the Trolley Witch yelling about train jumpers, Rose's uneasy statement about Albus being reckless, and the absence of both Albus and Scorpius. They were gone, missing, runaways, but the more James prodded for answers, the more questions he had.

It was days before James heard anything new. His father was in a panic, the school was tense, students whispered behind their hands about Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy running away.

"Doing dark magic you see?"

"Couple years they'll come back as Dark Wizards."

James was on edge the entire time, going so far as to insist he walk Lily to her classes, just to be safe. He was already missing one little sibling, he didn't want to miss another.

When Albus finally turned up, it was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, unconscious with Scorpius Malfoy cradling him, trying to revive him, his arm at a broken angle. James wouldn't soon wipe from his memory the sight of his father carrying Albus, rushing through the corridors towards the hospital, looking pale white.

James had no idea what had happened, and whenever he tried to ask Albus about it after he'd been released from hospital, Albus just turned his back to him. He was rarely in the Gryffindor common room these days (and wait, where did James get the idea that Albus was a Slytherin?), so James had to search hard for him whenever he wanted to talk to him.

He sat next to Albus at every meal, but Albus would always stare speechless at his plate, picking the food on it, taking a nibble and dropping his fork as if the feast was terrible, his face contorting. He would scratch at the red on his tie, mutter and pull at his robes, pick at the Gryffindor crest on the chest of his robes. He'd torn off two crests from two sets of robes, and was working on a third before James was able to catch him and scold him about it.

Scorpius, James noticed, was suffering silently as well. He hadn't spoken to Albus since the Forbidden Forest, and James felt a knot forming in his throat every time he saw them pass each other. Scorpius and Albus would lock eyes, look hopeful, then duck their heads and pass each other. Why? They were such good friends before, weren't they? Albus was so miserable... and Scorpius...

The harassment from the other students seemed to have gotten worse, like Scorpius alone made them bolder. James caught Ravenclaw's dumping ink across his books, Gryffindor's shoving Scorpius against the corridor walls and knocking his books from his hands, Hufflepuff's whispering loudly behind their hands, just enough so Scorpius was clearly able to hear their scathing insults.

Scorpius had always been a target for cruel words and actions, but they'd always been subdued, and it was dizzying in a way to realize that Albus' presence around Scorpius was what had prevented the bullying to escalate. As if two targets were harder to get at.

As if the bullies were afraid to go at Scorpius when Albus Potter was around.

Then, of course, the worst came again, when Albus disappeared a second time. James only remembered his father, Aunt Hermione, the Headmistress, and Draco Malfoy tearing down the hall, Harry clinging to a withered old piece of parchment. James had wanted to follow, knowing this was obviously about Albus, but was dragged on to his next class by a friend.

He heard from a Slytherin, James recognized him as Craig Bowker Jr, that both Albus and Scorpius had gotten into a boat of trouble, that the Headmistress had essentially bled the Slytherin house points dry and taken away the boy's Christmas break, in addition to giving them detentions for the rest of the year.

"Whatever mess they got themselves into, I'm surprised they weren't expelled."

"Do you know what happened?" it was Polly Chapman who asked.

"No one's saying anything," Craig admitted, "but Draco Malfoy, he's that ex-death eater see, Harry Potter, of course we know him, and even the Minister of Magic are here! They did something really bad I think."

James felt that tingle in his fingertips again, and soon as he was free he went in search of his brother, finding him standing with Scorpius tugging his robes, looking far more comfortable than he had before. James decided he looked much more natural in green than red (those were Slytherin robes, right? Merlin did his head ache... was his brother jumping houses? Why did he have such distinct memories of Albus being a Gryffindor when he knew he wasn't? It must have been a very vivid dream).

Scorpius was beaming as he swayed on his feet flipping through a book, and before James could approach them, a door opened in front of them and out came Madam Pomfrey.

"Both along now, let me look you boys over before I send you back to your common room."

"At the hospital twice in just a few weeks," Albus droned to Scorpius, whose smile twitched down a fraction, "I didn't even get hurt this time."

"Better safe to check than to be sorry later on."

James decided to let them go for now, getting a check up was important after all, and instead went in search of his father, whom he found talking with Draco Malfoy, both somewhat stiff and anxious.

"Dad?" Harry's head turned so he could look at James, "Sorry for interrupting... is Albus okay? I mean he's disappeared twice now."

"Don't worry about it, James," Harry assured, "It's fixed now, I hope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, son."

"But do you know why he ran off like he did? I mean, I know Al is spontaneous and impulsive, but it's not like him to-."

"James, I said not to worry," Harry interrupted, "I'll be talking to Albus later to get the full story, but what I do know...," he seemed to pale a bit, "It isn't the business of the school to know these things. Alright?"

"But I'm not the school, I'm his brother, shouldn't I know?"

"Maybe he should," Draco offered, and Harry shook his head at him before looking back at James.

"It's late, I'm returning home in just a bit, I'd like you to get back to your dorm and sleep. It's been a stressful first few weeks of school I imagine, but everything is fine now."

James opened his mouth to protest, but ended up sighing and turning around, "Goodnight."

"Your mother and I will write you. Oh and James, son... don't bother your brother about this."

James didn't say anything in response. Those words, it was like his father just told him not to be a brother. It was in his job description to bother Albus, that's what brothers did. Whatever was going on, James really didn't like it, and with every intention of talking to Albus the next morning, whether he wanted to talk or not, he went to bed.

Only to wake up to the news that his brother, his stupid, stupid brother, was yet again, missing, along with Scorpius Malfoy.

The entire school enlisted to find them, James was one shock away from a heart attack it felt, one arm tightly wrapped around Lily as Professor Longbottom yelled out corridors and castle sections for groups of four and five to check over. He looked in clear distress, but not unusual, he cared deeply for Albus after all, for all of the Potter's, so for one of them to go missing not once, but three times, before the first term had even ended? It was heart wrenching, and James was teetering on the edge of terror.

"I'm checking the Quidditch pitch," Craig Bowker Jr decided with a confident stride towards the door, "Potter, you know your brother, where would he be?"

"Not the Quidditch pitch," James stated, "I'll check the edge of the forest, that's where they were last time. Someone check the edge of the lake!"

"This is stupid," Polly Chapman said, "just let them run away."

"We don't need them here anyway."

"A little less muck out of Hogwarts."

James ignored them, ordered Lily to stay with Professor Longbottom, then took off towards the edge of the forest, riding his broom there to make the search faster.

Hovering high off the ground, he tried to spot something he recognized, the green of Albus' robes, the pale platinum of Scorpius' hair, but nothing caught his eye, until a sudden flash of green seemed to strike into the air from the Quidditch pitch.

James stared in confusing, assessing in his mind that Craig had gone that way, and turned the end of his broom towards the pitch. He froze, hands squeezing the broomstick so tight he felt the wood splinter into his hands, as a gut wrenching, blood curdling scream, seemed to fill and consume the air around him.

Once loudly, long, then a pause, followed by a second scream. From the Quidditch pitch. James shot towards it, holding with one hand as he brandished his wand with the other, but when he passed over the stands at last and started to lower, there was no one to be seen.

The only one there was Craig, lying in the grass on his side. At first, James was furious, his little brother was missing and Craig was taking a nap, but as he jumped off his broom and snatched it from the sky, stomping towards the boy's form, his steps faltered.

Black eyes, listless and clouded, stared at him, the Slytherin turned awkwardly on his side with his arms twisted, face white like parchment.

The broom fell from James' hand, tumbled to the grass, and he inched forward, slowly getting to his knee and reaching a trembling hand to feel Craig's neck. Still, silent, he didn't breathe, didn't blink. Lifeless.

But where was Albus? Who had screamed?

"James!" His head lifted at the call, to see Professor Longbottom tearing across the field, wide eyed with other students and teachers behind him.

James pulled his hand away from Craig, eyes locked on the teachers as they stopped in a half circle around them.

"Gone," he said, "He's...," his head shook, "Where's my brother? Why is this happening, Professor? Where is my brother?"

He felt his voice raising, eyes finding Lily, Rose, and Hugo trying to push through the crowd. Lily couldn't see this, see a corpse...

James stood, with some trouble, leaving his broom and passing the professors, going right to Lily and hugging her, hiding her so she couldn't see Craig.

"James, is it Al, did we find him?" Lily gasped out, whacking a hand against him as he started to lead her backwards out of the crowd, "Stop that, where's Albus? What's going on? James? James where's Albus?"

"Don't go over there Lily," James croaked, squeezing her, "It's not Al... don't look over there."

"But where's Al!"

James didn't know, and not knowing terrified him, he couldn't seem to let go of Lily, who was kicking at his feet in a wild attempt at being released. He only let her go when they were in the castle and Ginny was coming towards them, eyes misty and arms out. She took Lily into her embrace, James stepped back, holding his right hand as if he wanted to rub away the clammy feeling of Craig's cold skin.

"I saw this green flash," James was explaining to the teachers, to his father, "Over by the Quidditch pitch. I flew for it, but I heard screaming just after."

"After? You heard it after?"

"After, yes."

"You're certain?"

"Yes," James grit the word out, Neville looked at Harry with pursed lips.

"That light..."

"How he died," Harry finished, "The killing curse..."

James felt dizzy, hands curling into fists, "That's forbidden dark magic! Who in this decade would use it?!"

"James-."

"You're not thinking Al would-?!"

"No!" Harry snapped, "Al is missing, Scorpius Malfoy is missing, something happened to them, and we are going to find out what! Until then, you will stay within the castle, you will not leave."

"Dad, I wanna help!"

"You'll help by staying put, watching over your sister, do you understand?"

James didn't argue that, he couldn't argue when Lily was involved, but he still felt sick, "What about Al?"

"We'll find him," Harry said simply.

How long it took, James didn't know. Suddenly it was Halloween, and the next morning, Albus was at breakfast, sitting with Scorpius as if nothing had happened. They shrugged when people asked them where they'd been, Scorpius paled and Albus went rigid when they were asked about Craig.

They walked closer to each other than usual, heads bowed towards each other and whispering in low voices so no one else could hear them, lost in their own world.

The rumors had gotten more extravagant, people were spreading around that Scorpius had killed Craig, that he and Albus had killed him together, then successfully covered it up. James didn't believe it, neither did Lily or Hugo.

"Bloody ridiculous!" James had exclaimed, and Rose had just stared at him, looking as if she wanted to add her input, but deciding against it.

After Halloween, everything seemed to return to normal. Albus didn't disappear again, he and Scorpius were present for every meal and every class, lead to and from their dorm by Professor Slughorn, lead to and from classes by Professor Longbottom.

The rumors continued, the whispers, snide comments, and sniggers. People still pushed Scorpius in the halls, messed with his homework, they still snarled insults at Albus that had James burning in anger, but while before now, both would react miserably, Albus flinging himself into a fight and Scorpius ducking his head, now they simply stared at whoever had spurred the bullying, then looked at each other before laughing.

Laughing, of all things. As if the bullies that had harassed them for the past four years weren't that big of a deal anymore.

In fact, they seemed to have gotten bolder, more confident in a way. Scorpius especially, though Rose certainly didn't look happy about the young Malfoy's sudden boost of bravery.

"He asked me out," she said when James asked her what was wrong, her face cold and eyes dark and steely, "Scorpius Malfoy asked me out."

"Oh!" James breathed the word, "What did you say?"

"I told him no," Rose answered, "Why would I go out with him, James? Do you know what kind of person he is? The things people say about him?"

James frowned at that, "People say Al isn't my brother, but we both know he is. They call him a Squib, and he's clearly not. People start a lot of rumors, don't you think maybe, just maybe, they're untrue?"

"I overheard my mum talking," Rose said, sitting on a bench outside and staring at a closed book in her lap, "her and your dad. They were talking about Time Turners, illegal Time Turners."

"So?"

"What do you mean so?" Rose glared at him, "People think the Malfoy's couldn't have kids, so Draco Malfoy sent his wife into the past using a Time Turner, where she... you know... with You-Know-Who... and that's how Scorpius was born."

"Merlin I have ALWAYS hated that rumor!" James snapped, "First of all, you've seen photos of Tom Riddle, yea? You put his genes with Astoria Greengrass and you don't get a pale eyed platinum blonde. He looks exactly like Draco! Second, why would he send his ill wife back in time to sleep with the Dark Lord who ruined his life? Do you really think that lowly of the Malfoy's? Third, where the devil would they even get a Time Turner?"

"I have read a lot, James," Rose stood up, "Books, newspapers, first hand accounts of the war; I've researched forever, I know the Malfoy family, I know their reputation, and I do not want to associate with the son of Voldemort!"

"Book research leaves a lot to desire against first hand association," James said simply, "I like Scorpius, and I don't believe those rumors; never did and never will, and you shouldn't either. Rosie you're the smartest person I know, surely you understand how ridiculous the rumors are?!"

"He killed a boy from his own house, you saw the light!"

"I saw light, I didn't see Scorpius murdering anyone!" James threw his arms up, "Merlin's sake, Rose! I'm not asking you to marry him! Just give him a chance, he's a good kid!"

"Why do you like him so much, then?" Rose demanded, "Exactly how well do you know him?"

"Better than you it seems!" James scoffed, then sighed, shoulders sagging, "Look, give him the benefit of the doubt. Scorpius Malfoy has never done a single thing to hurt you, or me, or Albus, or anyone for that matter. Would you be more willing to befriend him if he was a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, or does your bias of the Malfoy name reach beyond Hogwarts houses?"

Rose grit her teeth and looked away. James folded his arms, standing a little straighter and staring up at the gray sky. Flakes of snow were drifting down to blanket the castle in a beautiful sheet of white.

"Give him a chance, Rosie. If not for his sake, then for the sake of knowledge," this seemed to pique her interest, eyeing James, "You heard me. Who better to discover the truth about Scorpius Malfoy than Rose Granger-Weasley, the brightest witch to attend Hogwarts since her own mother? Be nice to him. I'm not telling you to jump his bones, just be civilized and try to get along. He's Al's best friend, Rosie. What in this world makes him smile aside from Scorpius?"

Rose just huffed through her nose and turned away, hugging her book to her chest, "For the sake of knowledge, fine; and for the sake of Albus, I guess."

"Thank you," James felt so relieved that the argument was over that his shoulders sagged heavily, until Rose glanced sideways at him.

"Have you talked to Albus about what happened yet?"

"I've tried, but I can never get to him before he's ushered to classes, meals, or his dorm."

"Mum and dad won't tell me anything," Rose admitted, pulling a curly strand of hair that had fallen into her face, shaken from her ponytail, "Have you heard anything?"

"Not a peep from my parents, but I've seen dad and Mister Malfoy passing the halls together sometimes, like they're checking on the boys. Headmistress McGonagall won't say anything either."

"Tried Hagrid? He might let something slip."

"He doesn't know any more than us."

"Professor Longbottom?"

"Suppose I could try, but I get the feeling he won't have anything to say either. You know... Scorpius might say something," Rose turned a glare on him again, and he held his hands up, "Never mind, I'll just see if I can get Al alone."

Of course, even for the amazing James Sirius Potter, it was a challenge to so much as greet his brother for the next few weeks. He was always getting escorted, watched by dutiful teachers, and it was starting to both annoy and panic James. Why were the professors keeping such a close eye on Albus anyway? Did they think he'd run off again? That he was dangerous? Or in danger himself, Merlin forbid?

James had no idea, and he didn't get a break in his struggles until one day before Christmas break, where he found Albus and Scorpius in the back of the library. Albus was leaning over a recent copy of the Daily Prophet flattened on the table, while Scorpius scratched away in a notebook bound in black leather. Most likely notes.

"I can't sodding believe this!" Albus hissed out, hands curled into shaking fists that wrinkled the edges of the newspaper, "You'd think there'd be some article, at least a paragraph, of a murderous dark witch being sent to Azkaban, but no!"

James felt himself blanch, ducking behind the closest row of books before either could see him, pushing copies of "Hogwarts: A History" and "Dragon Keeping for Dummies" aside so he could peer at the table just as Scorpius looked up, brow drawn, looking back and forth before leaning over the table to get closer to Albus.

"Are you that surprised?" He asked in a quiet voice, "Albus if the wizarding world actually learned about her... about who she is... they could fall into a panic."

"She's in Azkaban, what harm could she do now?"

"A lot," Scorpius closed his book and pushed it aside, "There are still a lot of dark wizards out there, ex-death-eaters who are still loyal to Voldemort. Revealing her existence will just give them hope, give them power. They could start recruiting again, try to bust her out. Let's face it, Azkaban isn't the most secure of prisons. They boast of being the best, but look at their track record. Barty Crouch Jr, Sirius Black, the break out of 1996."

"Matters of circumstance. Del- the Augery," he spit the name, "has no power where she is."

"But if we reveal her identity, then she will have power. Fear, people will be afraid of her, a lot of people, and that's what she wants. She wants the publicity to strengthen her own prowess, to collect supporters, to bring about eternal darkness... the eternal darkness that I saw..."

"I'm not afraid of her," Albus said, eyes narrowed, and Scorpius narrowed his lips into a thin line, "She can't do anything to us anymore, Scorpius. Aren't you supposed to be the Unbothered now?"

"I mean... I'm unbothered by bullies now," Scorpius argued, "Gryffindor's locking me in closets is a lot less scary than a dark witch torturing me and making it so my best friend never existed."

Albus leaned back, head falling back with a heavy sigh as Scorpius reached out to close the Prophet.

"Listen, it is over right now, but who knows what might happen in the next few weeks, or months, or years? Voldemort didn't return until your dad was fourteen."

"You think this monster is going to come back?"

Scorpius folded his hands and twirled his thumbs, staring down, "Think of it this way. There are a lot of dark wizards, dangerous, evil wizards, locked up in Azkaban. We can keep the wizarding world from learning of her existence, but the only leverage she has in prison is her blood, her birthright. She is going to use that birthright to her advantage, no doubt about that, and if she was able to manipulate us, she's going to be able to manipulate Azkaban prisoners who've been stuck in a cell for the past who knows how many years.

"And that's not the scariest part, Al," his voice dropped quieter, "The world that I saw... dark wizards can learn to control Dementors. They obeyed Voldemort, they might obey... the Augery. She can fly without a broom, we've seen how strong she is, the only reason she lost this time is because so many stronger wizards were fighting her down. Harry Potter, my dad, the Minister of Magic, former Auror Ron Granger-Weasley, your mom; you and I didn't help much I imagine but every bit counts. She was greatly overwhelmed by overpowered wizards and witches, she's young and she never attended a wizarding school. Yet she managed to hold her own against the most powerful magicians of the age for a long time, so just bloody think about this! If she was given the time and schooling, the training, then none of us would have stood a chance against her!"

"Alright I get it!" Albus breathed quickly, leaning against the table again, "I still don't see why we should worry, or why they shouldn't at least warn everyone! If she's going to get out and come back, we should be ready for it!"

"Like I said, it would send out a massive panic. People are still recovering from the last war, we don't need them readying for the next one."

"There's always gonna be another war, Scorpius," Albus mumbled, "and there's always gonna be a Potter stuck in it. Sometimes I think my family is cursed."

"How do you think I feel?"

"That's another thing," Albus pointed, "The rumors are getting even worse now! What they're saying about you, and me, they would stop if people just knew the bloody truth! About Craig's death, about the Augery, it would all go away!"

"Yea... about that...," Scorpius seemed to shuffle his loose papers around, collecting them into a neat pile and fixing the books stacked around him so they were perfectly parallel, "I... was thinking through it just now, that's what I was writing down, my family tree."

"Okay?"

"It really wouldn't matter if people knew the truth about the Augery, and were finally convinced I am not Voldemort's son," Scorpius was explaining this in a slow voice, and James pushed the books further to hear and see better, "my grandmother, Narcissa Malfoy, married into the Malfoy family. She was the second born of the Black sisters. You know, like Sirius and Regulus Black? She was their cousin."

"That's kind of cool."

"Right, and the youngest sister was Andromeda Tonks, that's Teddy Lupin's grandmother; he and I are blood related, cousins."

"I know that."

"Uh-huh, but the oldest sister, first born before Narcissa and Andromeda, was Bellatrix Lestrange," he pushed around his quill, "and the Augery... I mean... if she wasn't lying, and I don't think she was, that makes her more Black than Lestrange..."

"... oh... oh no...," Albus looked sick, and Scorpius nodded, "Tha-that doesn't mean you're related to Voldemort at all! You just have a really messed up family tree!"

"Can you even imagine how annoyed Sirius Black would be? Learning about Delphini?" Scorpius asked, picking his quill up again, "He would be disgusted I think. Might not like me much either, but I think I'm proud to be of blood relation to him, and to Regulus Black too."

"Scorpius..."

"Teddy Lupin and Delphini Riddle are both related to me by blood," Scorpius said, head bowed, the feather of his quill wiggling, "they're my cousins and there's nothing I can do about that. That makes me, and Teddy, Sirius and Regulus Black, related to Voldemort, by a twisted, unfair branch of fate and neanderthal instinct. That's just fact. I was so caught up in the situation I never stopped to think about my relation to her... do you think she knew?"

"No," Albus almost croaked, "She was sheltered by Lestrange, I don't think she knew anything about her family aside from her mother and father's names. You weren't the one she manipulated, you're smart enough to have known she was bad news from the get go. I should have listened to you."

"Well, yea."

"I put you in so much danger, Scorpius," Albus looked tortured, sinking into his seat, green eyes a darker shade of emerald as tears of exhaustion swam but didn't fall, "This is my fault. Why am I such an idiot? You don't deserve any of this."

"Calm down a little Al, I never said I was mad at you or anything," Scorpius chided, not looking up from his book, "I think my family is a really good example of how good and bad can come from anywhere. The Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange families, for decades, have been very notably on the darker side of history, but every now and then someone breaks through it all and shines a little bit of far too brilliant light. Sirius, Andromeda, even Regulus. Those little lights help pave a better path for new generations, like me, and Teddy. We don't have to look back and see inherent evil as the only option to our future. We can look at the lights and realize how easy it is to make choices, because that's really all that separates me from the darker sides of my family. Being good is up to me, not my family or the history of my family.

"I... I feel really sorry for Delphini. She was an orphan. She never got to meet her parents, and she was never given a positive structure while growing up. Her only friend was a bird. Maybe if she'd been given the same role models as me, or as Teddy, then she would've grown up different, nicer."

"Some people are just born evil."

"I don't believe that for a second, Albus."

James could see Scorpius smiling softly where he was leaning over his book, which James was suddenly very interested in seeing the contents of. Everything they were discussing made his head spin, and honestly James didn't know if he should reveal himself or leave to try and talk to Albus another day.

They were discussing quite a bit it seemed, in very hushed, secretive tones, so James had a hunch he might learn exactly what happened if he stayed just a bit longer, carefully pulling a few books off the shelves before returning to peering through the small hole he'd opened in the book case.

Albus was staring at the Daily Prophet, eventually looking down at his lap, arms folded and clinging to his robes, knuckles white.

"I keep seeing it," Albus said slowly, he looked humiliated, "hearing it..."

"Me too," Scorpius admitted after a quiet moment between them, closing his book after a minute and giving a sigh, "If you wanna talk about-."

"What, my feelings? I don't talk about my feelings."

"No, you would never," Scorpius droned, "You and I are the only ones who got caught up in this, we're the only ones who know what happened. The only people we can talk to about it is each other. We're the only ones who really understand it."

"You don't have to twist me, you're the only one I ever talk to anyway," Albus said, the corner of his lips twisting upwards into a smirk.

Scorpius gave out a laugh that sounded like a heavy exhale, breathy like a gust of wind, "It'll be okay. If we managed to live through that, we can do anything; and if we get in another situation like that, and we die, well, at least we'll be together."

Albus snorted at that, reaching up to pick at the green Slytherin crest sewn into the chest of his robes, "You really happy to die with me? What about your endeavor to marry Rose?"

Scorpius responded with a blank expression, but his face lit up in realization after a moment, "Oh, Merlin! I asked out Rose Granger-Weasley!"

"And she still said no," Albus laughed out, "How did you forget that?"

Scorpius pulled one of the books from the stack beside him absently, "I've been busy, Albus. We're taking our O.W.Ls next year remember. We both have a lot of studying to do."

"Scorpius it's December."

"Never too early to start."

"Merlin's sake..."

"Besides, asking her out was kind of spontaneous, I think I was just high off the adrenaline of almost dying and figured it was now or never, I don't really know what I was expecting her to say. I know she absolutely hates me."

"I'm sorry, Scorp," Albus said, "but hey, don't give up that easily. There's definitely still hope. Imagine how impressed she'll be when you smoke her in the O.W.Ls! When she finds out you pretty much helped save the world as we know it! You saved her life especially! You gave up an alternate reality where you basically ran the school, no bullies, no harassment, no getting locked in closets, no Ravenclaw's staining your notes in ink or tearing up your textbooks, because that world was a world where she never existed! Scorpius, you're a catch, she'll be crazy not to say yes to a date eventually! Just give her some time, okay? Don't give up so soon."

Scorpius flicked the edge of his book, staring down, "I didn't... I didn't give it up for Rose," he said, and Albus frowned, "That world, one of eternal darkness, ruled by Voldemort and the Augery. I wasn't a good person in that world... my father wasn't the man he is now, and that was scary. People were afraid of me. I don't care that I wasn't getting bullied, that people were nice to me, it wasn't worth it. Being friends with the entire school wasn't worth sacrificing you... or your family. You're the only friend I need at school. Even if I spend the next three years getting locked in closets and hexed because of an untrue rumor that started just because my father wanted to protect me from this world, just because the Ministry is too afraid to publicize the truth about Delphini, I don't much mind it. So long as I have you."

James could feel his heart seizing, again he was left so entirely confused as to how anyone could hate this kid. Across from him, Albus was watching Scorpius closely, not much emotion on his face itself, but a storm in his eyes that James, honestly, felt a bit afraid of. He couldn't tell what Albus was thinking, but the way he was watching Scorpius was intense in a way James hadn't been expecting.

The duo was quiet just long enough for James to realize why the expression was so familiar; because he'd definitely seen it before, on their mother. It was the same way she'd look at their father when he did something particularly odd.

Messing up while baking and getting covered in flour, Ginny walking into the room to find her husband trying to clean the mess, standing and waiting for a lecture about the kitchen only for Ginny to step over and hold his face between her hands, kissing him.

Oh.

That's right.

That intensely powerful expression was what Ginny gave Harry when she wanted to kiss him.

James really didn't know what to do now. If Albus reached over to try and kiss Scorpius, James might just pass out. Or freeze up like a statue.

Instead, Albus simply said, "Me too," and James almost audibly sighed in relief.

Scorpius was smiling softly down at his hands, "We were surrounded by Dementors, trying to get to the Black Lake. Severus Snape and I. Your aunt and uncle... they, um... but... okay we were surrounded, and Snape told me to think of something happy, something powerful enough to keep the Dementors from killing me. I tried to think of my mum, but it didn't work. I think... probably because I'm still miserable over her death? So, instead... he told me to think of why I was giving up that universe, where I was a king with a kingdom. He told me to think of you, and it kept the Dementors away, long enough for me to get to the lake and fix everything. If... if that makes sense..."

"Oh..."

"Yea... it was really scary," Scorpius flipped open his book, "Now shut up and let me study."

"If you study during the Christmas break I'm taking your books away."

"We're going to be stuck here for Christmas break, Albus, we forfeited our right to go home this year because of the mess we got ourselves into."

"Yea," Albus held his hands out, "Mate we've got the run of the castle, that never happens. We're gonna have so much fun!"

Scorpius smiled and shook his head, "Then let me finish my work now so I don't have anything during break. You too, study, finish your homework, because you know I will force you during Christmas if you don't do it all now."

"Why are you so mean to me?"

"Don't be so dramatic."

Albus sighed and dragged his bag up from the floor and onto the table, pulling out books and parchment looking none too happy about being hoodwinked into doing his homework.

"In the other world," Scorpius was saying as Albus opened his bottle of ink, "I never did any of my homework. I came into the library at one point, looking for answers as to what happened to Cedric Diggory, and you, and I found Craig Bowker in here. He was startled when he saw me and said he hadn't finished my essay yet. That was really horrible."

"Because he was scared of you?"

"Because I wasn't doing my own work," Scorpius looked anxiously at Albus, "I love working! A universe where I don't like homework is not a universe I want to be in!"

"Merlin bless, you're a special one alright," Albus chuckled, smoothing out his parchment, "I'm glad you like doing your work. One of us has to be motivated at least to get anything done between the two of us."

"Suppose you're right."

"We have detention again in a few hours," Albus murmured, and Scorpius smiled.

"Let's see if you can finish your Divination homework before then."

Albus was muttering something about prophecies being bullshit as someone walked up to the table, setting down their bag. James was stunned when he realized it was Rose, and Scorpius' eyes were wide.

"Oh, hello!"

Albus looked up, saw Rose, and sighed, dropping his head, "Of course the minute I decide to do some work someone else shows up."

"You're too easily distracted," Rose noted, pulling out the chair in front of her and sitting down, beginning to pull out her books with Albus and Scorpius just staring at her in confusion.

James felt incredibly proud, though. He felt as though his talk with Rose had really gotten through to her, and beamed through the little gap in the book case as Scorpius cleared his throat a few times.

"Um-."

"What did I say about making things awkward?"

Scorpius flushed, "I-I'm absolutely sorry."

"Don't apologize, Scorp," Albus said to him, then looked at his cousin, "What are you doing interrupting us?"

"My apologies, I didn't realize you owned this section of the library," Albus bristled, but Rose continued before he could respond, "There were no other seats."

"So go work outside," Albus snapped, and James felt physical pain at the way Scorpius seemed to deflate at her excuse.

"It's snowing."

"Wear a hat."

"Hey, it's totally fine!" Scorpius decided, "We don't mind! We're just finishing up our homework!"

"Yea, you missed quite a few classes," Rose noted, and Scorpius winced like she'd physically smacked him, "What are you doing for your History of Magic essay? We're supposed to pick a witch or wizard of importance from the last century."

"Ugh," Albus ran his hands over his face, but Scorpius simply lit up.

"I have a whole list of people I want to write about!"

"For the sake of Merlin and my sanity, do not write an essay on my father," Albus said, smacking the table with his hand, "The other year, everyone wrote an essay on Harry Potter, the poor Professor got so fed up he actually contacted my dad to help grade them."

"I'm not gonna write about him, don't worry," Scorpius laughed, lips in a thin line again, "I don't think he'd be very amused even if I did. No, I might do Regulus Black."

"You're picking a dead person?" Rose asked, and Scorpius frowned, "Professor Binns said that it would probably be better to pick someone alive, unless we know if there's a ghost roaming around. Otherwise it'll be more difficult to research. Not to mention how little is still known of Regulus Black."

"Well...," Scorpius trailed off, suddenly looking disheartened, and Albus snorted.

"Who are you writing about then?"

"My mum of course," Rose seemed to swell in pride, "The first known Muggle born witch to ever make Minister of Magic? Who else would I pick?"

"Huh," Albus looked at Scorpius, "Slughorn knew Regulus personally, remember? You could ask about him. I think it would be good to write about him. If you don't, I'll do it."

Scorpius laughed nervously, "Well, I mean, the essay isn't due till next year. Summer homework and all. I have time."

"I've already got my outline," Rose pulled out a thick scroll, "of course I've been adding a lot as I remember it."

"Is bragging over your essay the only reason you sat down?" Albus asked defensively, and Rose gave him a look.

"There were no other seats, I already said so."

"Well, then we're leaving," Albus stood, shoving all his books and parchment into his back, securing his ink before tossing that in last, "Come on, Scorpius, let's go talk to Slughorn."

"Oh. Oh! Yea!" Scorpius hopped to his feet, "Yea, he's got pictures too! Do you think he'd let me borrow some?"

"Course he will."

They walked off, leaving Rose at the table, glaring after them. James huffed through his nose in disappointment. That had been a pretty big disaster, but at least Rose tried, she had to be given credit for that. She'd just have to try again later.

James backed away, quietly replacing the books he'd taken down and creeping from the library to wander the halls.

It had been and interesting interaction to say the least, James thought he learned quite a bit just from listening and watching as the two Slytherin fourth years talked, and even after Rose joined them. James didn't know who "Delphini Riddle" or "the Augery" were, but he was smart enough to connect that they must have been involved in Albus disappearing those three times. With that simple fact known, James decided he didn't like her.

He wished he could talk to someone about it all, but he got the feeling bringing it up to his father would have the same effect as before.

"Don't bother your brother over it. It's not the school's business," blah, blah, blah.

In addition to their whispers of Delphini, their expressions and actions were also incredibly intriguing. The way Scorpius was sitting comfortably relaxed but tensed in his seat when Rose showed up, greeting her so enthusiastically but deflating the way he did when she implied she was there as a last resort.

Of course, because she would never sit with the son of Voldemort in any other situation.

Then the way Albus grew tense and defensive the minute Scorpius began to shrink, like he was trying to make up for his friend's fading self esteem; he lashed at Rose like he was defending Scorpius, protecting him. Fascinating, watching them interact.

Albus was an entirely different person with Scorpius than he was with everyone else, including his family. Not in a bad way of course.

Still, James wanted to talk to him, needed to, but every time he managed to get Albus alone, he'd dodge James' questions like a pro and sneak off the second James looked away. Then suddenly it was Christmas break, Albus was staying at Hogwarts with Scorpius, while James was hustled onto the train with the rest of his cousins and Lily, heading home for the holidays.

He didn't even try talking to his father about Albus, and tried to enjoy his time off from school without worrying too much, tucked into the Burrow with his largely extended family and slouched on one of the couches in the living area as the youngest of his cousins joined Lily and Hugo in chasing a flying toy that one of his uncle's had given them.

James was being much quieter than he usually was, especially on the holidays, and of course everyone, the adults mostly, noticed something must have been wrong with him. Not that he could help it. He'd been like this since he got off the train and realized Albus wasn't with them. Was it that strange to worry about his brother?

"This is the quietest I have literally ever seen you in my entire life," a sudden familiar voice said, and James flinched from where he'd been slouching against the arm of the couch, looking to the left to watch Teddy Lupin fall onto the couch just beside him.

"Hey, you made it!" James greeted, one of his usual smiles taking to his lips but falling rapidly, "Am I being quiet?"

"Everyone's noticed," Teddy revealed, and James leaned his head into his hand, keeping his elbow propped on the arm of the couch so he could watch Teddy with the least amount of work as the older boy talked, "Gran and I just got here, Harry says you've been sitting here sulking for the past three hours."

"Three hours? Felt shorter than that," James half joked at that, but the humor didn't seem to reach his voice.

Teddy seemed to notice, not surprising (he noticed everything), and his brows knit together above eyes that were currently a swirl of green and gold, flecked with flashes of silver and red. Like he'd decided to morph his eyes into the most Christmassy color he could think of. His hair, on the other hand, was his signature blue with a softer pastel blue frosting the tips.

"I'm fine, Teds," James tried to assure the expression of concern off Teddy's face, but it didn't work, and he just leaned closer to James so their shoulders were touching and their head's bowed close.

"It's Albus, right?" Teddy asked, and James let out a frustrated sigh, "Harry told me. It was a pretty big deal around the Ministry."

"Why?" James asked, "That's what's bothering me, I have no clue what even happened!" he kept his voice as low as he could so only Teddy could hear, grateful for the ruckus the rest of the family was making in their festivities.

Teddy was rubbing his neck, looking awkwardly off to the side, "Well... look, honestly you'd probably be even more worried if you knew. That's likely why you haven't been told yet. Your dad doesn't want to worry you or Lily."

James turned to face Teddy, leaning into his space, "I'm already worried, Lupin, tell me what happened to my brother."

Teddy exhaled through his nose and looked at the door to the kitchen, "I told your dad I was just going to talk to you, let you confide in me, never said anything about telling you Ministry secrets."

"Like you've never done that before," James threw in a blasé manner, "Look, I overheard Al and Scorpius talking in the library the other day."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"Teddy you prick, I was spying, that's much more sophisticated," James stated with a finger in Teddy's face, "I overheard them say a bunch of stuff, but it's like they gave me a bunch of puzzle pieces without telling me what the final piece was supposed to look like. They were talking about the Daily Prophet withholding information, death eaters, Azkaban, Voldemort, someone called the Augery; what's an Augery by the way? You heard a kid died? People have been spreading that Al and Scorpius killed him. I was there, I didn't see anyone, just-just Craig; a flash of green light. I heard someone screaming, and after some time and thought I think it was Scorpius Malfoy who was screaming."

Teddy seemed taken aback by that, the red flecks in his eyes engulfing the rest of his iris before they morphed back into the holiday swirl of colors.

"I didn't know that."

"Well what do you know? Listen, Scorpius was talking about some weird stuff in the library, wording out his family tree and concluding that he wasn't the son of You-Know-Who, but that he was distantly sodding related to him, which sounds like the worst damn family reunion I've ever heard of frankly."

"Alright, I'll tell you what I know, but you can't mention that you actually have this information, because I'm not allowed to talk about it."

"Will you get fired if they find out."

"I think Harry might just ground me."

"No one cares, tell me what happened."

Teddy glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening before leaning closer to James, close enough that their foreheads were touching so he could whisper as lowly as he could.

"A few months ago, Amos Diggory stopped at your house with his niece and caretaker, a young girl about my age calling herself Delphini Diggory."

"Delphini. Scorpius and Al said that name. They didn't call her Diggory though. Isn't that the name of the Hufflepuff who died during the last Triwizard Tournament?"

"That's right, he was murdered by Voldemort because he was in the way of your dad."

"Oh..."

"Amos was his father. The past half year, the Aurors have been raiding the homes of known dark wizards and dark magic enthusiasts, searching for Time Turners and destroying them. Hermione made them illegal see, so we had to enforce the law by confiscating the Time Turners, destroying them, giving the witches and wizards found with them a trial and imprisoning them if the evidence called for it. We found one in the possession of Theodore Nott, but instead of destroying it immediately, it was kept. Somehow Amos Diggory learned of it and came calling your father demanding he use it to bring back his son."

"Merlin..."

"Using time magic like that is illegal for a reason, it's dangerous and can have catastrophic consequences. I think Albus did what he did with good intentions, he fought with your father and ran away, thinking he could right all of Harry's wrongs, or at least one of them. Maybe to gain his approval, I'm not sure, his mind works very differently than yours or mine does. He and Scorpius jumped the Express and went to the home Amos was living in, enlisted Delphini's help, and using polyjuice potion, infiltrated the ministry posing as your dad, Hermione, and Ron. They found the Time Turner in your aunt's office and took it. Standing at the edge of the forest at Hogwarts, they went back in time, trying to save Cedric's life."

"You've got to be kidding me. It's cool they jumped the train and successfully infiltrated the ministry, but is my brother really that dumb?"

"Is that a question?" Teddy asked, then continued, "The first try, from what I understand, failed, but there were still consequences. Five minutes in the past put Albus in Gryffindor house instead of Slytherin, and Harry forbid him from speaking to Scorpius. Dumb move in my opinion, as if they wouldn't find a way past that, which they did. They tried again to save Cedric, succeeded the second time, but... with catastrophic consequences. Scorpius only gave foot notes on the situation, but when he returned to the present, Albus wasn't with him. He returned to a world run by death eaters."

"Oh Merlin..."

"He fixed it, fixed everything, made it so Cedric had died so he could bring back Albus and the way the world is now, safe from Voldemort, but it didn't end there. They were going to destroy the Time Turner, not trusting the Ministry to do it since they failed in it the first time. Albus, unfortunately, made the mistake of contacting Delphini for her input, and instead of helping them, she took the Time Turner and kidnapped them, snapped their wands and brought them to the Quidditch pitch."

"Where Craig died..."

"Hit with the killing curse cast by Delphini."

"Who the hell is she? She kidnapped Al and Scorpius, killed an innocent kid?"

"Harry didn't believe what she claimed at first, until she showed a fraction of her power and flew without the use of a broom," Teddy said grimly, "The daughter of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange."

James felt sick, his mouth drying as he opened it attempting to speak, "You've gotta be kidding."

Teddy shook his head, "She went back to Halloween day, the day your grandparents were murdered. Her intention was to stop her father, so he wouldn't lose his powers to your father in an attempt to kill him. To stop the prophecy of the Chosen One from ever existing. Al and Scorpius were stuck in time, but luckily they managed to send a message to the present. Your father, mother, aunt and uncle, and Draco Malfoy, used another Time Turner to find the boys, managed to stop Delphini, and brought her back to the present, sending her to Azkaban, where she is currently."

"That's what they were talking about in the library then," James said, staring down, "but the Ministry is keeping her existence under wraps they said. There's been no reports of Voldemort's daughter existing at all, let alone that she kidnapped the boys and killed Craig Bowker Jr."

Teddy sighed and looked at the door again before turning back to James, "I know. It was a long and annoying delegation, but after discussion, Hermione and the rest decided to keep her existence from the eyes of the public, for now at least. There's too much at stake they claim-."

"Scorpius said that," James admitted, "That a confirmed child of the Dark Lord would just give his supporters more power to rise up and start another war, with her at the helm of it all."

"Scorpius is right...," Teddy trailed, running a hand through his hair, "not that I enjoy the secrecy. I think it's ridiculous. I'm worried it might come out later, in the worst way possible, and what are people going to think of the Ministry then? Keeping something so important a secret?"

"Not like there's anything we can do about it," James murmured, arms folded, sighing and dropping his shoulders, "Merlin, I can't believe this. Damn it all, Albus. Why's he gotta get himself into this kind of bind?"

"It's done with now, Jamie."

"But the fact it happened in the first place," James argued, "I heard their argument, before term started, it was... it was really bad, Teddy. They both said some awful things to each other."

"They didn't mean it. Your dad is a good man, and Albus is just young and confused about himself."

"I should've done something," James said miserably, running a hand over his face, "I can't believe one wrong move and my brother could've been dead. Poof, gone, just like that. I should've tried harder to talk to him. I was so busy with my stupid hair..."

"None of this is your fault," Teddy scolded, "Things happen."

"It could've been avoided."

"Maybe," Teddy agreed loosely, "but at this point, just be happy he's alive and safe. In a messed up way, I think the experience was good for him. It's unfair a boy was killed, that will never be fair, but Albus will surely grow from it. He's got a lot of potential, he just doesn't know it yet. Not to mention his self confidence is shot from the way he's treated at school."

"I should've tried harder to stop that, too," James said, staring at his hands, "I know some people from my house, from my year even, are some of the people who target him, and Scorpius. I should try harder to stop them."

"You've still got time, Jamie," Teddy assured, "The rest of this year, and next year."

"Then I'm graduated and gone, unable to help him."

"It will never be too late to be his brother," Teddy corrected with a naturally crooked smile, messing up James' hair with a hand, "It'll be alright now. Everything's settled down."

"Yea...," James said, but it didn't quite sound like he actually believed it, so Teddy tugged at his hair.

"Mate I think there's still some pink in your hair."

"What?!" James shot back and grabbed his head, eyes wide, "I thought I got it all!"

"Aw, Jamie, don't worry so much, I think pink looks great on you!" Teddy said, the blue in his hair rapidly shifting color until it was a bright, almost insulting shade of pink, "Very punk rock."

"Merlin you are so fucking gay."

Teddy gave a clearly exaggerated wink, playing right along to James' smile, "Don't tell Vic, she'll be devastated."

"No I won't be," Victoire shot down as she passed through the room carrying extra dishes, and Teddy turned to her with his hands held up as James curled forward laughing.

Talking with Teddy always made him feel better. He was the only one who seemed to know James well enough to know exactly what to say in order to make him smile, to bring his self confidence back.

His spirits were a lot higher than they were before, and he felt more motivated to talk to Albus as soon as they returned to Hogwarts for their next term.

He continued to replay Teddy's words in his head as he got on the train, insisting he, Lily, Rose, and Hugo all share a compartment together ("We'll see our friends in a few hours, let's have some more family time!"), but sat silently with his knee bouncing as he planned what he would say to Albus.

There were still a few more days till classes started up again, but James wanted to get Albus alone as soon as possible, so they could talk, then have a few days just to spend together bonding. James could practically see the face Albus would give him when he recommended they "bond". He tried not to think about it though.

Teddy said it would never be too late to be a brother to Albus, but after such a close call, James didn't want to wait any longer. The fact he waited this long was atrocious. It just wasn't acceptable.

"You know I love you, right Lils?" He asked his sister when they were on the platform, Hogwarts castle silhouetting the slowly darkening sky in the distance.

Lily just gave him a strange look, one eyebrow curved, "I know you love me, thick head, it's very obvious."

"Oh, good," he threw an arm around Rose, "I love you too, you know?"

Rose narrowed her eyes, watching James grab the back of Hugo's shirt to drag him closer, hugging him tightly from behind.

"I love my little Beater too!"

"Ge' offa me!"

"What's the matter with you today?" Rose asked as James ruffled Hugo's ginger head of hair, "Extra family time, confessing your love for us, which we already know."

"You can never say it too much, Rosie!" James exclaimed, squeezing her cheeks between his hands, "Always tell your family you love them! Always, always!"

Rose rubbed her cheeks and stared after James with an uncertain look in her eyes, like she figured he was ill.

"James has gone mad," Hugo said, eyes wide, and Lily laughed softly as she pushed him by his shoulders from behind.

"He's always been that way! I kind of like how straight forward he is, you know? I love you too, James!"

Rose couldn't help smiling a crooked smile at that, watching James spin around to walk backwards and wave, "Me too, James! Kind of!"

"I don't," Hugo decided, "Why are girls so weird?"

"You think James is the coolest big cousin ever though, don't you?" Rose asked, and Hugo frowned.

"No I don't."

"He does," Lily assured, "He told me so."

"No I didn't!"

James had his priorities set when he stepped into the castle, heading straight for the Great Hall where that night's supper would be finishing up. Only a couple handfuls of students had returned, so it was nearly empty, most kids huddled at the Gryffindor or Ravenclaw tables, having condensed the seating just for the holidays and blending houses.

Slytherin table, however, did have a few people sitting at it, small groups huddled together, casting suspicious glances at the end nearest the door, where Albus and Scorpius were sitting alone.

James was going to walk right over to talk to them, no more interruptions, until something did interrupt him, in the form of three familiar seventh year Gryffindor's. James knew their names, but didn't care to address them by such as they exited the Great Hall and into the corridor beyond, shoving each other and laughing.

"Hey," James called to them, and the three stopped simultaneously to grin in his direction, knowing him as the captain of their house Quidditch team and Harry Potter's oldest son; they liked him, but most of the time James got the feeling they were only nice to him because of who he was related to.

Their shared house also played into that, as these three had never been too good to hurl insults at Albus whenever they passed him in the halls. James knew about that, and about the shoving and the fighting that left Albus with a busted lip he lied about ("Care of Magical Creatures class, mum, I need to be more careful." James knew it was a lie because Albus was phenomenal in Hagrid's class).

"Potter! Have a good Christmas, yea?"

"Uh-huh. You didn't go home?"

"Wanted to stay back for once, see what Hogwarts on Christmas was like."

"Hope you haven't been messing around my brother."

It was something James hadn't said before, something he was disappointed in himself for not saying before. The three older boys just stared at him blankly, then snorted in different tones and volumes; the shorter of the three practically guffawed at it.

"You're funny, Potter!"

"I mean it," James quickly tried to clear his point so they would understand, "Stay away from my brother."

They didn't look amused anymore, scowling at James, who'd never been in a fist fight before, but was readying himself just in case, hands in fists at his sides and eyes narrowed.

Instead of fighting him, they just turned, "Whatever, James. Not our problem if you've turned into a snake lover. Completely disregard the fact they're all death eaters and murderers."

"They're not," James snapped, but he was ignored. It gave him the sense that the rest of the year might not be so fantastic for him, but he pushed the thought aside and just walked into the Great Hall to join Albus.

To say his brother was surprised at his appearance would be an understatement, because the moment James dropped himself onto the bench beside him, he froze with a forkful of cake halfway in his mouth, looked at James from the corner of his eyes, and stuffed the dessert into his mouth while mumbling around the utensil.

"He said what are you doing here," Scorpius translated, and James gaped at him.

"You understood that?"

"Well, he used a couple more words, but I decided not to repeat those."

Albus dropped the fork onto his plate and turned his head just enough to stare at James, "Isn't your table across the room?"

"But it's Christmas."

"No it's not."

"Classes don't start for another four days."

"I don't care."

"Gryffindor table is too crowded right now."

"I'm sure they'll make room for Mister James Quidditch Captain Potter."

"I wanted to sit with you though," James lifted the bag he'd been carrying on him, the rest of his luggage had probably been taken upstairs already, and dipped his hand into it, "Brought you something!"

"I don't want it."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"Don't care."

"It could be cool."

"Doubt it."

"I'm giving it to you anyway," James set the gift on the table in front of Albus, who growled lowly, which was almost disheartening, but Scorpius was watching the interaction between them from Albus' other side, absolutely beaming.

"Got something for you too!" James said, and Scorpius' smile fell as his already pale features seemed to get whiter in shock; maybe that was fear though.

"Don't accept it, Scorp, he coulda cursed something."

"I don't even know any curses."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"It's just a book," James lifted the hardcover and Albus turned away with a hiss.

"His only weakness," he whispered under his breath as Scorpius reached out to take the book from James.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"Oh, Rose told me, uh, she met you two in the library before Christmas break. You mentioned wanting to write about Regulus Black for your History of Magic essay due over the summer."

"Oh," Scorpius slumped his shoulders, looking at the velvet cover of 'Black Family Through the Ages', which James had bought for himself a while back.

"I wrote my essay on Sirius, that's why I bought that. Course it's not as good as getting information straight from his mouth, but with that book and some first hand accounts from my dad and other people who knew him, I was able to write a good sized essay! It shouldn't matter if the person you choose to write about is dead or not. Actually I think those are the people who need to be written about the most! The dead don't have voices of their own! Unless they're ghosts of course, but I don't think Regulus Black is a ghost."

"Wow, um...," Scorpius seemed completely at a loss for words, staring at the book before looking at James, seemingly awestruck and clearly touched by the gesture, "Thank you."

"Ugh," Albus made a face and went back to leaning over his dessert as James talked over his head.

"Maybe you can talk to our dad about him! I don't think he knows that much, but you could also try Slughorn, McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey or Professor Sprout, Hagrid or Binns. Hey, you could come with us to Grimmauld Place this summer and try to talk with Kreacher!" James ignored the sound of Albus choking on his cake, "That's the old house elf who lives there, he's taken care of the Black family house for generations! He knew Regulus Black better than anyone! He's hard to talk to, a little snappish and sour, but you get along fine with Albus so dealing with Kreacher should be a walk in the park!"

Albus was red faced, James didn't know if it was because he was choking on his food, he was angry, or embarrassed, but Scorpius was smiling crookedly. He didn't accept or deny the invitation, just looked back down at the book, while James turned to Albus, who was downing his goblet of Pumpkin Juice like he'd been in the desert for weeks.

"Open yours now," James insisted, and Albus set his goblet down with a thud before glaring at James.

"I don't want anything, James," he said simply, pushing the parcel wrapped neatly in brown paper in front of James, "Why didn't you just send it with an owl if you're so insistent?"

"I wanted to watch you open it," James said, pushing the parcel back.

Albus smacked a hand on top of it to stop it from getting closer, then pushed it back towards James, "No thank you. Give it to someone else. Rose or Lily or Hugo maybe."

"But it's yours," James emphasized the word 'yours' with a shove against the package, forcing it closer to Albus.

They were facing each other now, both hands on either side of the present and struggling to shove it away and towards the other.

"I don't want your charity, James."

"It's not charity, it's love!"

"Merlin, I'd rather take charity!"

"Come on, you two, people are staring," Scorpius chided, looking around at the other three tables and the dozen or so sets of eyes staring over at them.

"Only cuz mister perfect Gryffindor here has infiltrated Slytherin," Albus grunted against his struggle to deny the present.

"I can sit here if I want, there are Ravenclaws sitting at my table, it's allowed before term starts."

"You're bloody annoying!"

"Open it!"

"Sod off!"

"Okay!" Scorpius stood up and plucked the wrapped parcel from between them, then stepped away from the bench and held it up, one hand on his hip, "Confiscated! You're making a scene! It was funny at first but now you're getting on my nerves! James, you came here for a reason, right?"

"I go to school here."

"No, that's not what I-," Scorpius paused and rolled his eyes, "I meant you sat at our table for a different reason, not just to give us Christmas presents."

"Oh! Yea I did!" He turned to Albus, "I gotta talk to you."

"No," Albus turned back to his plate, which had been cleared of food, leaving him gaping in disappointment before glaring at James, "You've ruined my night yet again, James. My chocolate cake is gone forever."

"I'll bake you some later."

"No."

"Al, remember earlier you asked me to get the new password from Professor Slughorn?"

Albus looked at Scorpius, "So?"

"So if you don't have a civil conversation with your brother I'm not telling you what it is."

"What? That's not fair. I'll just ask him myself."

"He's gone to bed already."

"I'll ask someone from our dorm."

"You think they'd tell you?"

Albus ground his teeth together before giving a groan and hoisting himself to his feet, "Bloody- Merlin- Sod awful- get the hell up, James, before everyone starts filing to their dorms."

James grinned at Scorpius, who just offered a smug, very Slytherin smile in return, and hurried after Albus as he made his way out of the Great Hall and down the darkest corridor. Likely because it was the one least likely to be interrupted down.

They didn't stop until they were several twists and turns away from the Great Hall, standing by a set of open windows carved into the gray stone, showing the courtyard below, dark but lit up by moonlight.

"So? What do you want? What was so important you lost me my chocolate cake to tell me?"

James found himself hesitating for some reason, looking up and down the hall to make sure no one, student or otherwise, was listening, because clearly this topic wasn't one that should be discussed; especially within the school.

"I talked to Teddy about what happened," he started, careful of how he worded his sentences, "You know, how you disappeared from the trai-."

"Stop," Albus slapped a hand over his mouth, then looked down the hall, dropping his hand and grabbing James by the tie so he could drag him further down the hall, out into the courtyard, releasing James only when they were next to the fountain.

"There, now no one can hear us," he said, and James stared at him, somewhat impressed, before shaking his head and continuing.

"I talked to Teddy about you and Scorpius disappearing those three times. You had everyone worried, you know? Dad wouldn't even let me see you when he found you the first time. He said you hurt your arm?"

Albus just sat down on the wall around the fountain, arms folded, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know everything that happened, Al, Teddy told me. Jumping off the train, Amos Diggory, breaking into the Ministry and stealing the Time Turner, Delphini."

"Don't say that name," Albus snapped, bristling, his green eyes like tar against the darkness of the courtyard.

"What do you want me to call her then? That one bitch? Sorry, I meant witch," he barely saw Albus' lips twitch into a smile he disguised as a scowl, and sat down next to his brother, facing him, "Bottom line is I know what happened, okay? Teddy wasn't supposed to tell me, he said the Ministry is keeping a lid on it to keep the magical world from going chaotic over the existence of... well, her."

"And?" Albus snapped, "What do you want, a fuckin medal? You know what happened, congratulations, five points to Gryffindor, what do you want me to say, huh?"

"Nothing, I just-!" James sighed, "Look I was really worried about you! Why didn't you tell me what was going on? I could've helped!"

"Are you mad? Why the hell would I tell you anything?!"

"Because I'm your brother!"

"Yea and Harry Potter is my dad, but I didn't tell him either!"

"That's a little different," James argued, "Is it that hard to believe you could've confided in me?"

"Kind of?" Albus scoffed, turning away, "Doesn't matter that you know what happened. I imagine what you got were the cliff notes, you don't know what I saw."

"Well... so what?" James felt somewhat desperate, "Tell me then."

"No thanks."

"Why?"

"Aside from the fact this is the first time you've sought me out at school to talk to me about something other than Quidditch, our parents, or the fact I'm in Slytherin house?"

".... yea, aside from that."

"You fucked up my dessert."

"That's petty."

"I'm a Slytherin."

"Being Slytherin doesn't mean you have to be petty- okay stop distracting me. I'm being serious here."

"Sirius is your middle name."

"Stop it," James said, and he must have spoken in an authoritative tone, because Albus went rigid, staring at him with the same silent defiance he'd give their father.

James found himself sighing again, leaning over his knees with his arms folded against them, staring at the castle and the lights flickering in the windows. They wouldn't be able to stay out much longer, it was already nearly pitch dark out, a professor would probably be along to chide them inside soon.

"I'm sorry," the apology slipped out without James thinking about it, but Albus didn't say anything in return, so he continued, desperately, "Just from what Teddy said... it sounded like it was really scary. I saw the light that flashed from her killing curse. I was on my broom by the forest edge looking for you, and that green light just lit the sky over the Quidditch pitch, so I flew over, saw Craig just lying there..."

"... you're the one who found him?"

"Yea," James tapped his fingers together, "I was really scared. You were missing, a kid was dead, I thought... you know, I thought the worst."

"Thought Scorpius and I had killed him?"

"What? No," James sat straighter to look at him, "I thought you were dead, too."

For some reason, Albus looked surprised at his admission, like he never expected James to worry for his safety.

"That witch, Delphini, blood of one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of our history... she came after you like You-Know-Who came after dad. Like the Potter's are cursed... like he cursed our entire family when he killed our grandparents. She manipulated you and nearly killed you, you would've been lost in time, I never would have seen you again."

"Is that such a tragedy?"

"Don't bloody say that!" James snapped, and Albus leaned back, pushed by the raise in volume, "Why is it so hard to get it through your head that I care about you?! You're my brother! You're the only one I got and I don't want to lose you just because you're moody and reckless! Talk to me, damn it! Give me a chance to help you! No one can help you if you don't reach out!"

"I don't need your help, James!"

"That's too bad cuz here I am; I'm not going anywhere!"

"You're annoying!"

"I'm supposed to be!"

"Who's out there?!" James and Albus both froze at the sound of Filch's voice, staring at the lantern bobbing towards the courtyard, "Past curfew! Students out of bed!"

James grabbed Albus and dragged him up, around the fountain and down the far hall that lead onto the grassy hill beyond that lead to the Black Lake, the forest, and Hagrid's hut. They ducked behind the stone structures just beyond the arching doorway, watching the bobbing lantern in the distance before it disappeared back into the castle.

James sighed in relief and Albus muttered under his breath, "I'm expelled if they find me out here..."

"I've got my cloak, don't worry, I won't let you get expelled," James assured, turning and sitting in the grass, staring down at Hagrid's hut, where a single window was lit up.

Albus sat beside him, unable to do much else now. He couldn't just walk into the castle by himself without getting in trouble, so he had to just sit with James until he decided to pull out the cloak and sneak them both back inside.

"I was scared...," James muttered again, and Albus dragged his feet closer, lifting his knees and folding his arms over them, "I'm just sorry, okay? I've been a really bad brother, especially at school. I could've been more supportive of you, but I never tried hard enough. Always teasing you and making jokes about being in Slytherin house."

"That's how you express yourself, by making jokes," Albus muttered, "I don't know how you got it into your head that people wouldn't like you unless you made stupid jokes."

"I don't think that."

"Are you sure?"

James didn't reply, staring up at the stars as he considered it. Those three seventh year Gryffindor's, he recalled, laughing with them about Slytherin students and about Albus and Scorpius, selling his soul to a damaging joke just to be liked and accepted. He wanted to be something other than a Potter.

The first time he ever spoke seriously against those three, defended Albus instead of laughing at him, they scoffed at him. They wanted nothing to do with James Potter unless he was willing to hate Slytherin as much as they did. Maybe... maybe Albus was right.

"What the shit is wrong with me?" He asked, and Albus rolled his head to look at him.

"Get it finally?"

"I'm... sorry."

"It's not my life you're dragging around, it's yours. Look," Albus leaned forward, "I don't care that you laugh at me behind my back, I don't care that ninety percent of the school hates me while nine percent don't give a shit about me. Wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"At least I have a real friend," Albus was staring at the sky, "Even if it's just one, even if he's from a family dad hates... Scorpius saved my life. We saved Cedric Diggory, but it lead to dad dying, Neville dying, and me, you, Lily, never existing. Saving Cedric Diggory by humiliating him turned him, and he became a death eater, murdered Neville, dad was killed in a raid on the school, Voldemort ran the wizarding world with Delphini as the Augery beside him. Scorpius was a king in that alternate reality, ran the school because of his name, because people were either afraid of him or worshiped him, but he gave it up to save me and bring me back.

"My only friend did that for me, James. I couldn't care less about the rest of this school so long as I keep that friend. So go ahead and laugh at me behind my back, I honestly don't care. I've got Scorpius, you've got your jokes, we both win."

"I'd rather have my brother," James decided, hands clenched together, "Scorpius really did that for you?" Albus shrugged, "I should've given him more than a book... I need to thank him..."

"Don't talk to him."

"Why not?"

"Cuz if you make him upset I'll have to kill you."

James barked a laugh, then frowned, "Wait are you serious?"

"He's been through enough," Albus muttered, and James furrowed his brow.

"I heard... I heard someone scream, after I saw that light. It sounded like... Scorpius... what happened to him? After Delphini killed Craig? What did she do to you? To Scorpius?"

"Aside from kidnapping us?" Albus asked, staring at the grass around his shoes, "She was going to torture me."

"Wh- the cruciatus curse?"

"Yea?"

"Merlin... she didn't-."

"No, she didn't, but I would've preferred it."

"Al!"

"I can handle physical pain, James, but I'm not strong enough to watch it happen to my best friend."

James felt himself choke on his own breath, but felt stupid for not realizing that's what happened sooner. Of course a dark witch born of Voldemort would kidnap two innocent kids and torture one of them to manipulate the second into doing what she wanted. James was furious, but felt somehow proud.

"You went with her so she would stop hurting Scorpius..."

"He told me not to," Albus croaked, "Said not to bother, that it was fine, but I couldn't... he's my best friend, I couldn't... let him die..."

James reached out to wrap an arm around Albus, pulling him closer and hugging him with both arms wound around his shoulders and chest. He expected Albus to jerk away or fight the embrace like he usually did, but instead he slumped into it, head on James' shoulder.

"All the rumors, all the history of Slytherin students... you and Scorpius are the least Slytherin-like Slytherins I've ever met."

"No we're not," Albus mumbled, "We're what Slytherin are supposed to be."

James laughed at that, hugging Albus tighter, "Yea, I like that better," he squeezed his brother, "You did a good job, Al. Keeping him safe; keeping each other safe. I... wish I had a friendship like that."

"You can't have Scorpius," Albus said, voice muffled, it sounded like he was crying, and James grinned.

"Maybe we can share him?"

"Fuck off."

James just laughed again, softer this time, and continued to hold Albus until he'd calmed down, pulling out of James' embrace and turning his back to him, rubbing his eyes and sniffing.

James reached into his bag and pulled out the invisibility cloak, rising to his feet, "Hey, Al."

"What now?"

"Remember you can talk to me, okay? Don't ever do something this reckless again. I don't ever want to be scared of you never coming back," he reached his hand down, and Albus took it reluctantly, standing, "We're brothers, remember. We have a special bond."

"That sounds gross."

"Sorry about your cake by the way."

"Whatever."

"I'll make it up to you, promise. Come on, duck under, I'll make sure you don't get caught."

Albus muttered but obeyed, squeezing against James' side beneath the cloak and struggling to walk in tune with his older brother as they snuck back into the castle.

"Stop," Albus hissed, "That's the way to Gryffindor common room."

"Well, what do you expect me to do?"

"Help me down to Slytherin, then sneak back to Gryffindor."

"I thought you didn't know the password?"

"I bloody don't but Scorpius is probably already in bed!"

"Just come with me."

"That fat painting isn't gonna let me in, you know that! Even if she did I do not want to spend the night in Gryffindor tower with the majority of my bullies!"

"I'll beat 'em all up for you, don't worry."

"James you've never been in a fight in your life!"

"Who's there?" A voice echoed down the hall, and James exchanged a panicked look with Albus before jerking out from under the cloak, ensuring it was still covering Albus before spinning on his heel, seconds before a wand lit up in his face.

"James?"

"Oh! Hello Professor Longbottom! What are you doing wandering the halls this late? That's not allowed, you know."

Neville stared blankly at him for a moment, "I am a teacher, you know. I was patrolling. Ever since your brother started popping in and out..."

"Ah, making sure the kiddos are safe? Good man," James reached out to pat him on the shoulder, "Well, I should be off to my room now."

"What are you doing wandering the halls in the first place?" Neville asked, glancing at the space beside James where Albus was probably still standing.

"Just... enjoying the fresh air a moment. I... couldn't remember the password to the portal."

"Mandrake."

"Ah! Yes! Of course! Thank you, Professor!"

"Lacewing."

"Pardon?"

"You can come out, Albus," Neville said, pointing his wand at where Albus was, "I'm not dumb, I went to school with your father. Come on."

The air seemed to ripple as Albus peeled the cloak off, looking sheepishly off to the side as he handed it back to James and Neville set one hand against his hip, brow curved up towards his hairline.

"Honestly."

"We're sorry Professor," James quickly said, "It's my fault, I bullied him out of the Great Hall and outside, I wanted to talk to him about... everything he missed out at Christmas back at home."

Neville eyed him before looking closely at Albus, and maybe he noticed the glassy sheen of his eyes, or the red around them, the streaks of tears dried to his cheeks, but the Godfather in him must have won out over the Professor, because he huffed through his nose and glanced at James.

"The password to Gryffindor common room is Mandrake."

"Yes, sir."

"And Lacewing is the password to Slytherin," he said this to Albus, who glanced at him before looking back at the stone floor, "Both of you run on now, get to bed."

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks," Albus muttered, turning around with James, only a few steps away before Neville called out again.

"Al, come see me tomorrow."

Albus walked backwards to look back at him, "Am I in trouble?"

"No," Neville smiled, "Thought you and I could have tea."

Neville might not have seen it, but James was close enough to see the way Albus' lips curled in a small smile.

"Sounds cool."

"Bring Scorpius if you wish."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now bed, go on."

"Lucky," James said as they turned a corner, "You get your Godfather right next door for tea, and to get you out of trouble."

"I think he's just trying to make me feel better," Albus admitted stopping at the fork in the castle, left hall leading to Slytherin common room and the right leading up to Gryffindor tower, "Thanks, I guess."

"Anytime," James smiled, grabbing Albus as he turned and hugging him from the side, "I love you, Al."

"Let me go before I bind your legs and make you crawl to your bed."

James just laughed, ruffling Albus' hair as he pulled back and turned, his back to Albus so he didn't see the smile on his brother's face.

[the-barn-rat]

IB 1. Dianora Brixie, Sk.

SUP FOLKS i’ve decided im literally going to just post monster hunters (working title Iron Bound) as i fucking write it?? because 1. i really like hearing what people think about what’s happening/what’s going to happen as i go, which ties into 2. I Want The Validation

this is literally a fresh completely unedited draft, so there will be a lot of changes & additions, especially to descriptive setting prose. that being said, if there’s specific shit you want to hear more about immediately, lemme know and i’ll make sure it goes in draft 2

These posts will all be tagged “monster hunters draft” in case you want to track them or don’t want to see them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO: that monster hunters shit i’ve been planning since like november

.....

Sigi is the only one who can tell that she is distracted. They are twins, and so they know each other’s tics and tells, but it still feels like a weakness. He eyes her across the table, squints and tilts his head—dark and owlish like hers, with sharper angles—and she lets out a long breath through her nose, ignoring him. A folded-up letter sits heavy in the pocket of her waistcoat. Dia can’t think about it now.

At the centre of the cabin, the hunter kneels for preparation. She could be made of lifeless bronze but for the steady rise and fall of her breastplate. The mentor, whose virtue-name is Eager, clasps golden ornaments into her hair and onto her black horns.

There’s a murmur outside, beyond the stone walls and locked shutters. Townspeople have gathered, doubtless fascinated by the spectacle of a hunting crew. Dia ignores them in favour of the crossbow resting in front of her: she fidgets with it, checks the springs and sights and checks them again. There is nothing wrong with the crossbow, but she needs to occupy her hands.

Eager steps back, and the hunter stands. Dia never feels right sitting down when the hunter stands. The hunter is too tall, too broad, and it makes her nervous. She feels as though she must be ready to flee or hide at any moment, however futile an exercise that would be.

At least this one is Cornuta, and not one of the stranger breeds. Not Seguna with their twisted animal faces, or fish-like Pescqui with their gills. Hollow comforts. This hunter could still slaughter all of them if she chose to. If the rumours are true, she might yet choose to.

Eager produces an elegantly carved mahogany box, about the size of his own palm. He presses his thumb to the rune on its front, and it opens for its keeper. The single vial inside glows a soft, sickly yellow-green.

“In defense of the common folk, your masters,” Eager intones, “sharpen your senses and steel your mind.”

Wordlessly, the hunter takes the vial, uncaps it, and swallows its contents. If Dia were closer, she might see the hunter’s pupils shrink down to dots for a breath and then dilate until her irises are slender lilac rings. Dia prefers not to be closer until absolutely necessary.

Sigi fits a belt of flasks and tiny grenades around the hunter’s hips. Dia slides the crossbow into the hunter’s hands, checks the straps on her quivers, and backs away.

The pathfinder speaks: “It was last sighted eight miles north of town, in a valley bog between two nameless peaks. We have no expert testimony, but eyewitness accounts continue to support our initial conclusion that the creature is a green hag.”

“You hear that, Ferro?” Eager says, addressing the hunter directly. “This is a fawn’s assignment.”

The hunter nods once, terse. In theory, her kind can speak. Dia has never heard this one’s voice.

“Medic, is she sound?” Eager says.

The medic, Antare, has not risen from his seat at the table. “Do you reckon she injured herself kneeling on the floor?” he asks.

Eager reddens. His mouth twists underneath his full silver-specked beard. “The rituals are not for nothing,” he starts.

Antare sighs, but he stands. He’s the tallest and broadest of them, the only one who can look the hunter right in the eye. Dia has wondered privately if that’s why they sent him to replace the last medic. If she snaps again, he’s the only one with half a chance.

The medic stands square before the hunter. “The body is sound,” he says.

Eager says, “You haven’t…”

Antare cuts him short. “I checked her over at dawn,” he says. “She’s in excellent health. The body is sound.”

“The path is clear,” says the pathfinder, effectively delaying the inevitable argument.

“The steel will bite,” says Dia.

“The fire will burn,” says Sigi.

Eager collects himself. “Murat’s light guide you to your quarry,” he says. “In his name, Valiera’s Nezetta Six Ferro, strike true.”

The hunter gives a shallow, wordless bow from the hips, and otherwise does not respond to any of the proceedings. Eager unlatched and opens the door, and the smell of pig shit and springtime mud billow in before the hunter steps out.

The small gathered crowd flows away from her like water. They fall silent, staring up at this tamed creature of legend. She may well be the first and last they ever see; Apla is a small, unimportant farming village well-protected from most fronts of the First War. This hag is an irregularity at best.

She stands there, not looking at the people, until Antare brings the horse they bought from one of the farmers for well above its value. It looks small and scruffy beside the hunter. When she sits astride, it drops its parrot-mouthed muzzle and arches its ewe neck as though it knows that this is the most important thing it will do in its life.

A murmur starts to rise again from the farmers. Dirty-faced and small-minded, they cast wide-eyed glances at each other, up at the hunter, at the crew standing behind her. Dia knows what they will say, to each other and to Eager and to whomever else is stupid enough to stay outside the tower for longer than necessary. They will continue to say it until the hunter returns with the head of a hag.

Eager senses the shift. “My friends,” he booms, opening his arms wide. “The hunter is strong and true. She will bring your tormentor’s end.”

“We sure that ain’t a demon also?” someone says.

“Go, hunter,” Eager intones. “Win their hearts and minds with the highest gift.”

The hunter swings the horse about and kicks it into a trot, and then a gallop. None stand in her way. Dia watches horse and rider disappear up the dirt road, between the pig farms and into the encroaching woods.

Dia tunes out the villagers’ concerns as well as Eager’s responses to them. As soon as the hunter is out of sight, she turns back into the tower, giving Sigi a look on her way past. He understands and follows her up to the third level, to the bed chamber she claimed as hers.

Sigi goes to open the shutters on the single window.

“Don’t,” Dia says. “I can’t stand the fucking smell.”

Her twin shrugs. “City smells worse.”

“That’s why we don’t live in the city, either.”

Sigi smirks. “That and no other reason, right?” he says.

Normally, she would laugh. This time, she half-turns away from him and rubs at her eyes. His face falls; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the folded-up letter.

“Courier caught me right before we boarded the Olunaria,” she says. “I forgot about it until this morning.”

When she holds it out to him, he approaches it like a skittish deer. He reads it in silence, a small frown wrinkling his brow. He does not shed a tear; neither had she. They were never close to their lord father.

“What does it mean for us?” he says carefully, once he’s through.

Dia sighs. “Hopefully, very little. We weren’t expecting an inheritance, were we?”

“No, I meant…” Sigi says. “Should we go to Brixi? Cecilia may need us.”

“Cecilia needs us as far away as possible,” Dia snorts. “If we go now, the nobility will decide that Signore Fiadri’s bastard twins have come to mine the estate.”

“Or perhaps that Signore Fiadri’s bastard twins have come to their sister’s aid in her time of mourning,” Sigi says. He is charmingly naïve, sometimes.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “We can’t leave the crew now.”

He doesn’t argue. He folds the letter up and slips it back into her pocket. “I’ll be in the cellar,” he says. “Knock before you come in.”

And that’s the end of that, she supposes. They ought to write to Cecilia, eventually, but that will fall to Dia. Sigi is better at expressing emotions, but Dia knows how to avoid political misunderstandings.

There is no one here to call for wine. This little tower is barely maintained and has not hosted a hunting crew in years.

Dia goes to the pantry on the main floor, freshly stocked with bread, cheese, eggs, cured pork, and root vegetables from the local baron’s kitchen. The carrots and turnips are firm and fresh, but they’re not what she wants.

“No drink allowed in a sentinel tower,” says a voice at the door. The pathfinder leans against the frame, a performative boredom etched across his face. Every member of the crew is well-dressed and groomed, but the pathfinder’s class is still obvious to a trained eye. He wears silks, embroidery, and ennui like the wearing is sport.

He pats the limestone wall. “These are sacred stones.”

Dia stands up straight and gives a short curtsy. It feels ridiculous when she’s wearing breeches and a waistcoat. It must look ridiculous, too, because the pathfinder gives a snort of mocking laughter.

“My lord,” Dia starts.

“We could see if Apla has a tavern,” he says. “Though they’re as like to brew pig piss into ale as grain.”

She says nothing. He looks her up and down.

“I’ve heard the Fiadri is short a patriarch,” he says. Dia feels a misplaced flare of anger at his flippancy, but then she notes the wine skin dangling from his hand. He holds it out toward her. “Lesson one of crewing: bring your own.”

Dia takes the wine skin. “Thank you, my Lord,” she says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pathfinder’s brow knits. He tips his head back to squint at her down his aristocratic nose. He always manages to look tired, but now the circles under his eyes are especially pronounced.  “Aren’t you highborn? You’ll take my wine, but you can’t say my name?”

Dia carefully keeps her expression neutral. “Forgive me. It’s safer to stand on ceremony.”

“Fair enough. Drink, it’s Luquian.”

She does. The wine is good: robust and sweet, blooming on her tongue for a long breath after she swallows. She tries to hand the skin back, only to have the pathfinder push it away.

“I have more,” he says. “A Kyriak dry white and a Sahnish spiced red. Both excellent.”

“Each more expensive than that farmer’s horse, I’ll wager,” Dia said, but she took another drink of the Luquian.

“A discerning Brixian palate,” says the pathfinder.

“My lord is too generous,” Dia says, to see if he insists.

“Corso,” says the pathfinder. “Valiera, if you must, though I’m about as near the Valiera seat as you are the Fiadri. If you really think about it, we’re equals.”

“You’re no bastard.”

“Neither do I hope for my brothers to die,” he said, somehow blunt and nonchalant at once. It occurs to Dia that this might be Corso Valiera’s way of offering his condolences. She won’t ask how he knew; information is a pathfinder’s currency. She takes another drink.

“Corso,” she says.

“Dianora,” he says. “There, now we can be colleagues.”

Below their feet, something rumbles like distant thunder. The pathfinder’s thick black brows climb, and Dia sighs and hands him the wineskin. “He’s the more emotional between us,” she offers, by way of explanation.

“And yet you’re the one hiding in the pantry, sharing illicit drinks with your patron’s fifth-born,” says Corso. “At least that sounded productive.”

Dia’s scalp tingles with embarrassment. “I had neither the time nor the space to bring my prototypes,” she snaps.

“Easy, there,” he says and, maintaining eye contact, takes a drink.

She realises, suddenly, that he’s still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking her path. Eager is outside with the masses. Sigi is in the cellar with his concoctions. Antare’s movements are nigh impossible to track. Corso Valiera outranks them all by far.

Dia’s heart beats rabbit-quick. Idiot. “I should go,” she says, controlling her tone. “My sister will expect a reply.”

The pathfinder hums. “Right, yes,” he says. “The worst part, this. The performance. The determination of what parts and pieces of your grief to display, to hide, to inflate for others to notice.”

He seems to turn inward, eyes distant and faded. Dia makes for the door, and the pathfinder stands up straight, blocking her path. He’s not much taller or older than her, but he’s broader and stronger. She doesn’t look him in the eye.

“Take this,” he says.

Dia blinks. The wineskin hangs between them, still mostly full. She reaches out and carefully takes it by the neck, and the pathfinder looks down at her.

“My advice, for what it’s worth, is to write at least four letters and burn the first three.”

She’s quiet and still for long enough that he notices, sighs, takes several deliberate steps backward. It’s the sudden release of tension from a spring, knocking the fear out of her lungs.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Dianora,” he says. When she looks up, he winks. “I’m shocked that you haven’t heard the rumours.”

She has, actually. She assumed they were slander. “I apologize,” she says stiffly. “I’m sure you are an honourable man. I have wronged you with groundless conjecture…”

He waves her off. “Go write your sister,” he says.

A part of her still expects that he’ll stop her as she goes by, but he doesn’t, and she’s left to feel childish and strangely dirty as she half-jogs up to her chamber. She hates it. It’s not Corso Valiera’s fault, really. He gave up a dangerous truth to calm her. Dia wondered, once a heavy door was closed and locked behind her, if he somehow knew or sensed the truth about her.

She takes his advice about the letter, sort of. The first sheet of parchment is utterly wasted on failed greetings alone:

I am so sorry to have heard—

My deepest condolences, dear sister—

We have just received—

This awful spectre follows us to Apla, where—

Father’s timing is impeccable as always—

Dia takes a long pull from the wineskin, corks it, and buries her face in her hands. She might sit there for a minute or an hour, and then she burns the parchment over a candle.

Hoofbeats drum on the dirt road outside. Dia starts: that’s quick, much too quick, even for a hag. She cracks the shutters, holding her nose against the smell. The shaggy brown horse gallops home, riderless.

Dia rushes down the stairs, teetering only once with drink. Corso and Antare stand in the doorway; Eager is outside among the people, has been for hours. Dia stands between the two men, peering out, listening.

“Is it dead? Is the demon dead?”

“We’re doomed. It’ll come for us next.”

“You said the hunter would stop it!”

“It ate my goats.”

“Liar!”

Eager stands, stoic and still, with a hand on the horse’s bridle. The beast is unharmed, without a drop of blood on it that Dia can see. A man comes wading through the crowd, and Eager hands him the reins.

“She has sent the horse back,” Eager intones. “You see? She has returned him unharmed to his master. The hunter will follow in time.”

“He speaks with confidence,” Antare mutters.

“An impressive front,” Corso replies. “He’s about to piss himself, as he should be.” Both Dia and Antare shoot him a look. The pathfinder shrugs and meanders deeper into the tower, ignoring the throng outside and leaving Antare to shut the door.

“I wasn’t aware you were concerned,” says Antare.

“You didn’t see the body,” says Corso. “To be frank, we should already have a courier running back to my father.”

Dia understands, belatedly. “You think she’s gone feral. So suddenly?”

Corso levels her with a look. “You didn’t see the body,” he says again. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and leans against the table at the centre of the room. He looks exhausted. “Maybe, when this is over, we’ll all be reassigned to something normal. I’m fond of the Ottiudi strain, myself, which of course means that the Signore will give me a Seguna. What are the two of you being punished for, by the way? I never asked.”

Antare says nothing. Dia swallows. “We wanted to work a hunting crew,” she says to fill the silence. “Your brother…”

“Ah, yes, right,” says Corso. “The University man himself. I suppose it was the best he could do for a pair of bastards. Terribly sorry that you’ve stepped out into this mess, green as grass.”

Dia has read the last medic’s journals, of course. They all have, but the tension in the pathfinder’s voice is a stretched bowstring, ready to snap. Drinking wine in the pantry, Corso’s face had been a healthy, warm brown. Now, it’s gone grey.

Antare stares out the window like it holds a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “Why would she run off now? She must know she’ll be hunted in turn.”

“You talk like she is a rational, thinking creature,” says Corso. “She was not thinking then, and she is not thinking now. I’ll draft a letter to my father.”

The door swings open. “You’ll do no such thing,” Eager says. “Have a little faith. She either fell off the horse or sent him back and out of danger.”

Corso presses his lips together. Dia thnks that gesture is all that keeps him from yelling at a Brother of Murat.

“You fear her,” Eager says.

“Bloody right I do,” says Corso.

“As you should,” the mentor says, nodding sagely. “As one fears the wolf, or the mountain-lion, or the summer storm. She is a force of nature. She has not lost her mind to a hag.”

Corso scoffs.

Eager presses on. “Do you remember what she was, before? The monsters she slew? She can be that again. It is our task to keep faith and to help her reclaim herself.”

The pathfinder complains, but the mentor helms the ship. They wait. Eager goes back out to the villagers after a time. Dia bangs on the cellar door and tells Sigi what’s happened now. Corso produces the Sahnish red and drinks most of it himself. Antare seems to vanish and reappear at will.

Near midnight, Corso balls up the fourth draft of his letter to the Valiera and tosses it into the hearth. Sigi reaches across the table for what’s left of the Kyriak white. Eager joins them, at last, and bolts the door behind him.

“Sleep soundly, my friends,” the mentor says. “Murat’s light will guide her home.” He flows up the stairs, calm as anything. Antare is the first to follow. Sigi goes next.

Dia meets Corso’s eye. “You saw the body,” she says.

The pathfinder’s face is lit with firelight behind and candlelight before. It flickers across his skin, casting a twisting grimace across his still features. “There was no head,” he says. Slurs, but only barely. “She had not cut it off, mind you. It was gone. It was paste on the stone. My nephew found a tooth in the garden, just last week.”

Dia nods. She sits in silence for a time, watching the fire burn. “If you’re right, then she’ll be gone soon.”

He doesn’t respond. She rises, at last, and puts herself to bed, where she stares at the ceiling until a dozen shouting voices stir her at dawn.

She staggers down the stairs just in time to see Antare shoving his way past Corso and Eager, rushing out the door with his equipment under his arm. Outside, another small throng has gathered, milling about with wordless shrieks and cries. Antare shouts, disperses them just enough for Dia to see the hunter’s body, face down in the mud.

The smell of pig shit hits her then, stained with something acrid and sharp that burns in Dia’s lungs. The hunter’s face is tipped just enough that her nose is not submerged in muck, but her eyes are shut, and they don’t flutter when Antare turns her over. The medic’s eyes bulge, and he swears.

“Clear the table,” he shouts over the din. “Clear it, there’s no time to move her!”

Antare lifts the hunter’s body, draping her across his arms like a gruesome bride, and marches through the villagers in a straight line. It’s only when he passes through the door that Dia sees the gore and sinew dropping from the empty socket of the hunter’s right shoulder.

“Alchemist!” the mentor shouts. Sigi has already recovered Antare’s equipment. He arranges knives and cloth and bottles of bubbling fluid on the table beside the filthy, prone body.

Corso mumbles. “Just let her die. Just let her die. It would be a mercy.”

Eager grips him by the shoulders and shakes, once, before turning to Dia. “Take him away, girl. You don’t need to see this.”

Dia wants to protest that she’s seen any number of surgeries and dissections. Instead, she grabs Corso by the arm, decorum be damned, and pulls him toward the stairs.

[unholyhelbig]

Floorboards & Footprints

This is my entry for #PPHW2, Cabin in the woods. I got a little carried away... What can I say? Horror is my element. 

The fire crackled, sucking away the only coolness that the stone fireplace offered. It was unsure of itself, seeping through the logs and caving out the middle of the wood. It emitted a heated scent; one that reminded Beca of the one camp she went to as a child.

She had taken a white church bus with obnoxious blue cursive on the side. There were only twelve seats in total, six on either side. Not many kids had been signed up to travel three hours through Maine to get to a little get-away for only five days.

During those five days, she had been hit in the stomach with the pit of an ore, got at least thirteen bug bites, and just nearly escaped a runaway arrow that almost shot its way through her eye. She hated camp. She hated the preachy sermons that she sat through, and her bunk mate that silently ate the teenage counselors face off like a flesh-hungry zombie.

When Aubrey suggested they actually spend winter break away from the world at a tiny little cabin, she immediately hated the idea. But it seemed like a better alternative than heading home for the holidays. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the late nights with her father tilting his head back and emptying a bottle of buttery alcohol. Her stepmother retiring to her room early like the drinking didn’t bother her as much as it did.

Her girlfriend didn’t mention the idea of heading home herself; her father not making an effort to come home for the holidays. Her own brothers conspiring for celebration in their own family homes. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it, instead pouring herself into creating a perfect weekend getaway.

Beca curled into Aubrey. Despite the heat of the fire, the cold still found a way past her clothes. Her nose was buried in the nave of Aubrey’s neck, breathing in her floral scent as the older woman stroked her hair patiently. It was a loving and tender gesture that Beca was quick to melt into after months of realizing feelings and pulling one another close.

It was an intimate edge of domestic life that Beca didn’t realize she craved. Her arm slung over Aubrey’s mid-section as a checkered blanket covered both of them. The cabin furnished with a rustic charm. The type of cabin that you could only imagine as a happy place; windows fogging as the heat met brutal cold. An imaginary dog curled up on the fur rug that nearly sparkled against the hazy fire.

“This is nice.” Beca decided in a breathy sigh, cuddling deeper into her girlfriend's embrace.

Aubrey let out a bit of a hum in return. She was admittedly content too, turning as she placed a small but affectionate kiss on Beca’s forehead. She felt drowsy herself, listening to her breath deepening as the two of them drifted off into a calm and collected sleep.

Beca awoke with a start, the air bitterly cold and humid all at once. The fire must have gone out, that signature sound not lulling her back into rest but instead lacking completely. The second thing she noticed was how stiff she was- neck plagued with a crick that brought icy fingers to her neck. The room was dark.

She was curled up on one end of the leather couch, the blanket having flung onto the floor at some point during sleep. Beca blinked a few times, dragging her hand down her face as she stared around the room; Aubrey wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  

Beca licked her lips. They were dry and cracked, almost tasting metallic like blood. She pulled herself up shaking away the rest of exhaustion. Her breath was visible in the air, her throat raw and torn. God damn it, Mitchell. She cursed herself for falling asleep in the first place. If Aubrey had gone into the one separate room the cabin had to offer, she would have scooped her up and curled into her like they usually did when she fell asleep during movie nights.

Her socked feet were loud against the wooden floor, long creaks ripping against the silence as if someone had pried them up and reapplied them to the frame sloppily. She didn’t bother cringing away. There was no one to unsettle.

Instead, she wondered to the kitchen, fishing for one of the mismatched mugs that were housed in the cabinet. ‘You’re the bee’s Knee’s.’  The one she grabbed, read. An audible scoff fell from her lips. It reminded her of a certain redhead that would have that embroidered onto a few pillows in a golden thread fit for a king.

She filled the mug with cool well water, steam close to balancing off the liquid itself. It burned as it passed her lips. Dripping down her chin as she hungrily gulped it down letting the water cling to the collar of her college logoed sweatshirt.

“Thirsty?”

The mug fell to the floor as Beca coughed on water. She flicked her eyes up quickly. Neither woman flinched as the glass shattered into a million pieces. It ruined the cute little saying and chip the wings off the cute cartoon bee. “Jesus Christ, Bree.” Her hand had found a way to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart.

Aubrey lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on her lips “Should I start wearing a bell, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Beca let out a sound that was a mix between a snort and scoff. Aubrey had her position at the edge of the counter. Not exactly narrowing her eyes but holding them at an odd angle that looked nearly curious like a cat following a mouse. The light from the moon shaded her features. “I didn’t see you when I woke up.”

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to stir you. I heard a noise.”

Beca furrowed her brow and glanced past the foggy window that rested above the kitchen sink. There was a thick coat of snow covering the ground in pristine white. None of it was disturbed. Trees resting 30 feet beyond the cabin walls. There was nothing but inky black behind the initial wall of bark.

“What kind of noise?”

“Howling, it was just the wind.”

Beca nodded softly, sleep still on her mind. The fire must have blown out the second Aubrey opened and closed the cabin door. It left in them in a stark cold that made Beca fold into herself, pulling her sleeves past her wrists.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” She glanced down at her feet. Fuck. The glass had dug evenly into the side of her foot, an angry crimson dripping onto the hardwood floor. Usually, Aubrey would have been beside herself; if not for the ugly mess, then for the safety of Beca. A normally protective woman stood rigidly, swallowing thickly as she refused to stare anywhere but at the large rafters that littered the ceiling. “I didn’t notice.”

“You should clean that.” Aubrey’s voice was husky, she took a step back, almost cautious. “We’re out of firewood, I’ll be back.”

A noise escaped Beca’s throat. It’s the middle of the night, Aubrey. She could have said what if that noise wasn’t the just the wind? Instead, she stayed silent. Partly in shock as she flexed her toes and winced. It burned. Aubrey had walked out the door, a flannel covering a tank top and a pair of fuzz lined boots with sweatpants tucked into them. Not exactly the warmest. Beca watched as Aubrey stalked into the woods.

Beca operated on impulse decisions. Her mind buzzing oddly as she hobbled over to the front door. Her fingers moist with blood as she painfully slid on her own boots, forgetting the socks. She slid Aubrey’s jacket on, the woman having evaded it completely.

The snow caved under her first step, movements making her wince for a few paces before she got used the splayed feeling of the cut on her foot. Her eyes begged to trace the prints left in the snow by Aubrey. There were none.

Her breath hitched, but she continued against the slowly deadening wind. She pulled the collar of the jacket over her face, trying to block out the cold as she walked away from the safety of the Cabin’s yard and into the cool darkness of the forest. Still no footprints.

“Aubrey?” Her voice was a low whisper. It sounded deafening in the quiet.

She walked a few feet, ducking under low hanging branches made even lower by the snow piled on the slim limbs. Thorns tore at the fabric of her jacket. She had no idea where she was heading, the floral scent of Aubrey’s perfume on her clothes overwhelming and forging some form of comfort.

A dark form was crouched in front of her. A blob in the horrid darkness. Beca found herself ducking low, hugging the side of the tree as she purposely hitched her breath in her throat. Aubrey shifted her shoulders in an inhuman way. They cracked like broken twigs under a boot tip. A low snarl breaking through the air.

Beca clenched her eyes shut for a moment. Was this Aubrey? It couldn’t’ be. It carried such a primal and unforgiving nature. One that the DJ had convinced her girlfriend carried when she first allowed her into the Bella’s their freshmen year. But this? This was angry, and the air reminded her of the color red.

No, those were eyes. Eyes that cut through the center of the figure and were trained directly on Beca. They were brighter than the blood that soaked into her boot and meaner than Beca had ever seen. Fully unblinking, fully cloaked as snow began to trickle from the air as it found its way through the trees.

She ran.

Aubrey, the beast, whatever it truly was, nipped at her heels, moving with such unimaginable speed. Beca was a wounded animal that had nothing more than the sickly scent of blood attached to her and the allure of a quickening heartbeat that she wished she could hide under the floorboards.

It dragged her to the forest floor, breath escaping her as her ribs came in stark contact with the rocky ground. Her hands- Its hands; were clawed and digging roughly into her skin. Beca hissed as she flipped herself over, trying to edge her foot somewhere under the creature so she could kick it off.

It wore Aubrey’s clothes, but they were torn and tattered. It carried Aubrey’s physical nature and slowly morphed features but had dripping fangs the same exact color as that stupid mug that broke in the cabin’s kitchen. It was coming at her throat, mixing primal animal growls with dripping drool.  

Beca let out a yell of pain as she struggled to hold her arm up enough to block the teeth of the beast. Their pointed ends dug into her forearm with an ungodly crunch, pushing past tendons and dying yellowed teeth with a crimson brine. It’s claws stinging as it thrashed easily, nails starting at Beca’s collarbone and dragging in four even leans down to the tip of her stomach. She cried in distress- letting out a bark of anger as she finally got enough of a hook to kick the creature away from her.

Beca used her impulse, dashing to her feet as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She sprinted, not bothering to dodge away from the low hanging branches or a slippery mix of mud and leaves carved in ice.

She dropped to her knees in a clumsy fall once she burst through the edge of woods, yelping as she cradled her wounded arm against her stomach. She didn’t’ stop- rushing onto the porch and into the golden light of the porch lamp. It was a small circle, her back resting against the side of the cabin as her legs buzzed on separated steps. Breath thick in the air as she scanned her eyes near the perimeter of the woods.

Two rose colored orbs peered at her for a few moments before clouding away. It was gone, whatever it was had left the battle for the safety of the woods. A safety that Beca so desperately wanted to feel herself.

“Oh my god, Beca!” she didn’t realize that the door had opened. Aubrey disregarding the cold as she dropped to her knees on the snow-coated deck. Beca flinched away, letting out a mix between a cough and a pained exclaim. Aubrey was dressed in flannel pants and a long sleeve shirt that was Beca’s. It looked tight on her, but comfortable. She looked undeniably like her.

“Y-you did this to me,” Beca croaked out, voice hot as blood continued to soak through her clothes. Warming her and chilling her all at once.

Aubrey held her hands in the air like she wanted to comfort her girlfriend. Pull her in close and make sure she was okay. But Beca had folded into herself. Cradling a wounded arm between knees pulled up to her chest. She decided to talk her down.

“Sweetie, you were asleep on the couch,” Aubrey tried “I didn’t’ want to wake you, so I went to change but by the time I got back you were gone.” She swallowed thickly “There was a broken mug on the floor.”

Beca blinked dumbly. She hadn’t checked the room, why would she? Aubrey had appeared so easily in front of her being the complete opposite of who she had fallen in love with. Alluring enough to pull her into the forest. A tricky creature that used a weakness and a strength all at once. Aubrey would never leave a broken mug on the floor, she would never go out in the middle of the night for firewood.

Beca let a sob rock through her body as she allowed Aubrey to carefully pull her into a soft embrace, not wanting to hurt the woman. Everything stung, her eyes burning as the beginning of a sunrise turned a dark night into a rain filled day. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position before Aubrey said something, she wasn’t quite sure, about calling an ambulance.

She nodded, fingers still curled into Aubrey’s shirt as she stared out at the large expanse of snow that covered deadened grass. There were no footprints.        

[welshsidekick]

To The Stars - The First Half of a Draft of Chapter 1

Pairing: Gamora/Peter Quill/OC (this is gonna be super slow burn though I’m so sorry I just want to emulate the actual Peter/Gamora romance in the films)

AU: Soulmate AU (name tattoos, although that doesn’t really come up in this part)

Word Count: 2456

Notes: Catch me posting this first half of a draft of the first chapter in the hopes that it’ll push me to actually get this damn thing done and published, because I’ve been working on it for months.

“So, what do you say? We have a deal?”

“A deal? Ha!” The large, fleshy man spat in her face, causing her to recoil slightly. “You expect us to believe that you have the pass codes to the largest bank in the galaxy?”

“And I’m willing to hand them over for just 20% of what I’m sure you’ll ‘rightfully liberate’.” ‘And trying incredibly hard to not stare at that nutsack you call a head.’ She thought, although she wouldn’t dare say it aloud. Not until they were at a fairly safe distance, anyway.

The man scoffed. “No deal, Chip.”

“Oh come on!” She exclaimed. “When have I ever lied to you?” There was a brief silence from the thugs that surrounded the dealing table as they shared looks, before the murmuring began.

“Well, there was that time with the nuclear launch codes from Terra-“

“The Sovereigns’ Anulax batteries-“

“The Kyln blueprints-“

“Okay, okay! I get it, I’ve screwed you guys over.” A pointed look from a purple, but equally phallic looking man caused her to continue. “A lot. But I promise that it’s the real deal this time.”

“Promise?” Sack-head inquired, leaning over the table and extending his pinky. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but locked her own with his.

“Pinky promise.” That seemed to satisfy him, if the smirk on his face was any indication, as if the self-serving grunt wasn’t a big enough sign already. Only seconds after handing over the chip he shot his fist victoriously into the air, standing up so quickly that his chair clattered to the ground as his men yelled in celebration.

Shaking her head, Chip carefully got up from her own seat and tucked it back beneath the table, before making her leave from the dingy base, weaving between the sweaty men who’s now raised arms allowed a wave of BO to assault her nostrils, resulting in her nose wrinkling as she sped up her pace.

“Suckers.” She grinned to herself, flipping the actual memory chip from one hand to the other before placing it back into the appropriate pouch on one of her many belts. You’d think that they’d stop trusting her after a while, but they were far too naive. It’s a miracle that they got out of trouble as much as they did, but she supposed that someone had to take pity on them. If not for their gullible incompetence, then for their unfortunately shaped heads.

The streets of Xandar were far cleaner up top than down in the underground where she had been. Of course, that was likely due to the fact that the underground was the home to the dumber criminals, while the ones up here were smarter to disguise themselves and their transactions with the assistance of their vast wealth. But she always had had a soft spot for the stupid ones – they were much easier to mess with.

Speaking of the Intergalactic Bank, she should probably utilize those codes to draw out some money herself. She doubted that they’d notice if about 2% went missing from some of their wealthiest accounts, and that would be more than enough to keep her going for the rest of the year.

She was ripped from her thoughts when a green woman suddenly shoved her out of the way. Despite her slight disorientation as she stumbled to the railing, it would have been difficult to miss the red wire flying past and wrapping around the woman’s legs, causing her to fall and trip. It didn’t help her confusion when a man wearing red suddenly jumped on the woman, only to be easily kicked away and – hey, when did she get that wire from around her legs?

“This wasn’t the plan.” She heard the green lady say as she finally got the upper hand, pulling out a knife. It seemed that the universe didn’t want her to wrap her head around this situation because, out of fucking nowhere, a raccoon of all things tackled the green lady to the side.

“Put him in the bag, put him in the bag!” The raccoon repeated as a humanoid tree, as if this couldn’t get any stranger, approached the scuffle with a large sack, his branches seemingly extending to wrap around the woman. “No! Not her, him! Learn genders man!”

Chip’s attention was quickly drawn away from whatever the hell was going on over there when she noticed the small metal orb rolling around the ground, only for it to quickly be snatched up by the man in red who began running. This was the kind of thing that was probably best to not get involved in, especially as she swore that she knew some of these people’s faces from somewhere, which was hardly ever a good sign in her line of work. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. But, satisfaction did bring it back…

A quick glance to make sure that the other three were still preoccupied was all she needed before she took off after the man with the orb.

“Hey! That’s our bounty, back off!” She heard a yell from behind her, which merely caused her to smirk. A bounty, huh? Not her usual game, sure, but she did need  the money, so she’d bite.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers!”

It didn’t take long for her to close the distance between them and seal the deal by sliding along the ground with one leg extended to sweep his out from underneath him.  As he fell, she stood and twisted her torso so she could grab his arm and flip him onto his stomach, turning his arm to an uncomfortable angle and placing a foot on his back to keep him down. She grabbed the orb as he whined underneath her, turning it over in her hand to inspect it.

“Oh, quit being such a- Ow!” She was cut off when a dagger hit her hand, causing her to drop the orb and turn to look at the perpetrator.

So, apparently the green woman had gotten free. Somehow.

The man below her used her distraction to flip the tables, literally. He rolled over, causing her to fall onto her back as he leaped off the side of the bridge. “Oh, come on.” She groaned, turning herself over to her stomach. She caught the cut on her hand quickly healing up and brought it to her mouth to lick the blood away before pushing herself up and running over to the railing where he had jumped, only to see him roughing it up with the green woman again. Deciding to jump down after them was apparently a mistake, as the woman somehow slammed into her, causing Chip to fly over a fountain while the she landed in the water.

Pulling herself up using the wall allowed her to see that the raccoon and tree were back, and trapping the man in the bag this time. “Wait, are we after him or the orb?” She asked, leaning against the wall with one arm resting on top of it as she blew a stray hair out of her face. The green woman merely shook her head before planting a palm straight into Chip’s face, shoving her back down to the ground and using the force as leverage to begin storming back to the scene. “Not much of a talker. Gotcha.” She clicked her finger, pointing it over the wall towards the woman, although she doubted that she would turn back and notice.

Getting back on her feet a little slower this time allowed her to get back just as the man in red fell flat on his face in front of her, being shot down by a shock that apparently came from the raccoon. The gun looked bigger than the creature, but she decided not to question it.

“Taken down by a raccoon, huh?” She chuckled, crouching down to search through his pockets. “I’d say we’ve all been there, but we really haven’t. It’s pretty embarrassing, really-” Of course, her train of thought was cut off when a pair of hands grabbed at her upper arms to haul her up.

“Alright, let’s take this nice and-” This time, Chip didn’t let them finish as she threw her head back, hearing a satisfying crack and an even more satisfying “Ow!” as she was let go. In hindsight, she really should have paid attention to where she was running, but the truth of matters was that she didn’t. Instead, she simply sprinted forward, running over the man in red as she kept her head down, only to quickly be stopped as she found herself caught in a Star Blaster tractor beam, alongside the raccoon and humanoid tree.

“Good going, Einstein.” The raccoon huffed, seemingly amused. Chip only rolled her eyes as she held up her hands in a mock surrender to appease the Corps.

“Junth Lagrinne, by the authority of the Nova Corps you are under arrest for endangerment to life, the destruction of public property, and assaulting an officer.

Chip merely smiled sweetly as she turned to look over at the now disgruntled officer holding his bloody, and likely broken, nose as he helped another corp arrest the man in red. A mischievous glint appeared in her eye as she turned back, the grin morphing into a smirk as she shrugged.

“Well, I wasn’t about to make it ‘nice and easy’,  was I?”

The silence that fell over them while they were being shipped out in handcuffs was to be expected, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. There was a lot of unwarranted - and warranted - glaring. Most of their backs were hunched to some extent, like bristling cats, yet the green woman was sat ramrod straight, and successfully ignoring the rest of them. Something Chip wasn’t wholly succeeding at.

“- yeah? Well at least I didn’t run into the tractor beam!” The man in red was only getting more and more aggravated by the raccoon, who seemed to be enjoying said aggravation far too much, if his hysterical laughter was any indication.

“Well at least I didn’t get shot down by a rodent.” Chip shot back, eyebrow arched like a taut bow. The man looked like he was preparing to fire back, but the raccoon’s laughter suddenly ceased.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. “I’m not a rodent!”

“Fine, Raccoon.”

“No!”

“Rabbit?”

“Wha- No!”

“Meerkat?”

“N-”

“Chihuahua?”

“No!” His final retort was the loudest, and it needed to be, to be heard over the terran’s laughter. But as amusing as it was, it also drew the ire of the Corps, who were quick to try and calm the situation.

“Hey! Quiet back there!” The words themselves weren’t threatening, but the way the ones who were watching them adjusted their positions on their guns were, which quickly caused the group to shut up.

“At least I don’t have a butt for a chin…” The raccoon muttered grumpily under his breath.

“Hey!” Chip turned suddenly, her expression stormy, only to once again draw the ire of their captors.

“I said quiet!” The voice yelled out once more, allowing the raccoon to huff in self-satisfaction as Chip grumpily returned her attention to the metal beneath her feet, but not before catching a glance of the green womens seemingly eternal sour expression.

Chip only squinted slightly at the bright lights that reflected from the screen in front of her, but quickly composed herself. She knew the deal; they were going to rattle on and on about her and her crimes from the safety at the other side of the screen while she was expected to stand there like a mannequin as if she couldn’t hear every single word.

“Junth Lagrinne, although most folks just know her as ‘Chip’. She’s Terran, but was raised on an unregistered spacecraft where they conducted illegal experiments into cybernetics, particularly in connection to the brain. Seems like they were trying to make some kind of living AI, but all that seems to start and end with her.” While he was rattling off what he’d likely read on some report, Chip read the information they were showing on the screen. It had been a while since she’d been here, so it must have updated. She would be severely disappointed if it hadn’t. Her fingerprints showed up on the left side of the screen from her perspective and were noted as a ‘system match’. On the right side there was some more personal information about herself,

JUNTH LAGRINNE

ALIAS: “CHIP”

ORIGIN: RS DLDC*

LENGTH: 224 MICROBULES

WEIGHT: 831 GRETS

LEGS: 2

ARMS: 2

ENHANCEMENTS: CYBERNETIC BRAIN & OCULAR IMPLANTS, ENHANCED REGENERATION & MUSCULATURE, INCREASED METABOLISM, TRANSLATOR IMPLANT IN NECK

The images on-screen soon faded and changed, with the fingerprints on the left being replaced by a strand of her DNA and, if the notes surrounding it were any indication, the typical confusion as to the aspects weren’t quite Terran but not quite any other species either. The right side now sported an interesting x-ray view of her skeleton, with her the image of her brain lighting up and the orange of the cybernetics in her brain and eye-sockets showing up as orange, with the image soon filling that section of the screen. Some new information appeared beneath her name, causing her to look up from underneath her hair and wink at her captors while wetting her chapped lips.

ASSOCIATES: DEFENSE LAB OF THE DIAGNOSIS OF CRYPTOLOGY

CRIMINAL RECORD: 75 COUNTS COMPUTER FRAUD AND ABUSE, 81 COUNTS ILLEGAL MANIPULATION, 63 COUNTS FRAUD, 1 COUNT OF ASSISTING ESCAPE FROM INCARCERATION

“She’s a well-known intergalactic hacker. Word has it that she downloads anything and everything on those little memory chips of hers, from top government secrets to your grandma’s secret cookie recipe.” The skinnier Corp gave her an almost offended look after that.

“If it makes you feel any better, they were delicious.” She winked, which only seemed to upset him further, as she was soon shoved out of the way for the next person. The raccoon, seemingly.

The green woman was already waiting on the other side, and despite Chip’s attempt at an acknowledgatory nod she continued to ignore the rest of them, purposefully looking the opposite direction. Soon enough the disgruntled nuisance followed, followed suit by the overgrown houseplant. The man in red was the last behind the screen, and decided to hold up procedures by flipping off the Corps.

“What a bunch of a-holes.” The Corp’s irritatingly posh voice didn’t go unnoticed, but it definitely went unappreciated.

“Says you.” She muttered under her breath, which seemed to draw the attention of some of her fellow prisoners, but any conversation that may have developed was quickly cut short.

“Transport all five to the Kyln.”

Extra Notes: Once I get this chapter done it’ll extend to the beginning of the scene in the Kyln too, but I’d just like to thank @quinnhayden for both her help with writing this, agreeing to beta read it, and her writing being the inspiration! While it’s not super clear here without the prologue, and won’t become incredibly important until later on in the story, this is technically an AU based on the Fenrir AU for her own series Not the Standard Unit, which is an amazing Stucky/OC Soulmate AU story that I’d recommend to all of you! The Fenrir AU itself is only a single chapter (+ a teaser chapter if you want to read both, which I’d also recommend), so that’s all you’d really need to read to fully understand what’s going on when the relevant stuff comes up later in the story, but like I said for the most part it won’t be necessary to understand it.

[mysmesomefluff]

Reading all your Mc x Saeran fluff makes me so happy but how about some angst, I know it's Summer but what if Mc got stuck in blizzard and wasn't able to contact saeran before it happened. You can decide on a fluffy or angst end. Oh, and take your time with request, I send hugs, good luck with everything, your writing is amazing and never doubt yourself!

A/N: This is the oldest ask sitting in my askbox. Sorry that it took me months (?) to get to this. Thank you for your patience and your love (hugs you back). ^^

It was -15 degrees out, you were nowhere to be found, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

He sneezed once. Twice. He hastily adjusted his thick woollen scarf – the one you had bought for him – so it was covering his chin, and pulled his beanie lower so it was hiding the tips of his reddening ears. His nose was stinging painfully from the cold even though he was wearing a face mask.

All he could hear was the loud rumbling of the snowmobile’s engine and the relentless whipping of the wind against his face and body. He squinted his eyes, scanning the area on the mountain slope where you were said to have wandered off to. It was difficult though, with the wind in his eyes. It was unbearable to keep them open for more than three seconds. The army of snowflakes furiously pelting the earth didn’t help to clear his vision either.

Damn it! Where are you?

He continued up the slope, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of you. The worst scenarios looped through his mind repeatedly, thoughts of you lying half-buried in the snow, eyes frozen open and your body stiff as a rock; thoughts of your legs buckling from the strong wind and rolling down the slope, only to be stopped by colliding headfirst with a random rock or boulder, and then bleeding till you took your last breath.

His heart hammered painfully against his ribcage, fear constricting his chest so it was hard to breathe. He couldn’t lose you. Not now, not ever.

He had to find you.

It was nothing short of a miracle when he spotted what he did next. They were faint, still vanishing gradually as the falling snow continued to pile up.

But there they were, clear even in the dark covers of night: footsteps. A thin line of footsteps, much like an ant trail.

Saeran never prayed much. He wasn’t as religious as Saeyoung is. But he prayed with all his might that this would lead him to you, that he would find you safe and sound.

He pressed down on the accelerator, and with a loud roar of the engine, he sped up the slope, following the trail of footsteps closely, all while muttering the word “please” over and over into his scarf.

It didn’t take too long to reach the end of the trail. What greeted him was a modest wooden cabin, one that didn’t look like it had been used in a while. Frost coated the two windows on the side of it so he couldn’t see who or what was in it from the outside, but the indisputable presence of light indicated that there was someone in there.

Without a second to waste, he leaped off the snowmobile, bolted towards the door and threw it open with a loud bang, all sense of courtesy and manners tossed to the wind.

You were dozing off when the door to the cabin you were taking shelter in was nearly thrown clean off its hinges. The first thing you thought was that a bear or some other beastly creature that had picked up on your scent and followed you here. With a sharp gasp, you ducked behind a chair next to you. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but you hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn’t find you and that it would leave quickly.

You held your breath, clamping your gloved hand over your mouth to keep silent, as you listened intently to its breathing and the sound of wood creaking under its approaching footsteps. Your heart began racing in your chest, thumping loud in your ears while a chill ran through your body.

Please go away, please go away, please go away, please go awa–

“You idiot,” an all-too-familiar and inviting voice breathed. “You fucking idiot.” You could hear the annoyance, anger and fear in his raspy voice slowly melt into relief as he stepped over towards where you were.

Carefully, you raised your head, and your eyes met his golden pupils, glowing brightly in the dim cabin as he glowered at you. The only thing you could register was the way his nose and cheeks were flushed red, and how his lips were turning a light shade of purple, before he got down on a knee to snatch you in for a tight hug.

So warm. You leaned into him, pressing your cheek against his soft woollen scarf, noting the pleasant fluttering of your heart each time his hot breaths fanned out against your neck. His arms tightened around you as you soaked in the warmth of his presence and the relief of being found after hours of being stranded in here.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” he demanded in a rough voice. “When I couldn’t find you back in the inn and they said you had wandered out in the middle of a fucking blizzard, I thought– I thought you– I rushed out here and tried to look for you and I couldn’t and I thought that maybe I wouldn’t–” He cut himself off abruptly and took a shaky breath to compose himself a little before saying in a tiny whisper, “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears springing to your eyes now, both from relief and of guilt, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. See, look at me, I’m okay! It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You worry too much,” you added with a smile. You tried not to grimace when you felt a tear in your cracked lips.

“Stupid,” he muttered before pulling away, much to your displeasure at the loss of warmth. But before you could pull him back for another embrace he had removed his scarf and wrapped it around you, effectively shutting you up. “You say you’re fine when your teeth are chattering so loudly.”

Then he leaned in once more, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. You could feel the delightful heat on his breath fanning out against your cold cheeks. “I’m sorry, Saeran.”

“What did you even come out here for?” he asked, annoyance seeping back into his voice. It was cute how you could feel his facial muscles tense as his eyebrows drew down into a frown.

“I…” you hesitated, wondering if you should tell him. Your pause made him open one eye to glare at you, and you decided you didn’t want to see him glare at you when you were literally eye to eye, so you gave in.

“I was looking for something…”

“What was it that was so important that you would come running out here in the middle of a blizzard?” he pressed.

“Well…” You raised your hand up towards your chest, feeling emptier with the notable absence of the item. “Remember that necklace you gave me? I… must have dropped it somewhere earlier in the day when we were skiing, so I wanted to look for it…”

He released a long, exasperated sigh. “And so you thought it would be a good idea to come out here in this weather anyway to look for a stupid piece of metal?”

“It’s not a stupid piece of metal!” you exclaimed a little louder and angrier than you should have. It stunned Saeran for a good moment. Regretting it almost immediately, you slumped back against the wall, lower lip protruding into a pout as tears welled up in your eyes. Stupid tears.

“It was a precious gift from you…” you muttered under your breath, frustration at yourself for losing it and sadness at not being able to find it bubbling to the surface all at once.

A few seconds of silence passed, you having nothing to say while Saeran had no clue what to do. You rarely ever acted this way in front of him, after all.

You thought to apologise for your sudden outburst, when his gloved hands found yours. The action prompted you to look at him. His eyes were softer now, the edge to his tone gone when he spoke next.

“Look, I can get as many necklaces for you as you want. That’s the first thing we’ll do when we get home.”

“But it’s not the same,” you insisted, still pouting, but he shook his head, indicating that he had more to say.

“I don’t care about a necklace. What I care about is you. If you lost that necklace we can just get a new one, but if I lost you, then I would never be able to find another you.” He gave your hands a little squeeze, swallowing thickly. “I can’t lose you. I just– I can’t deal with that. Ever. So don’t do something like this ever again, you hear me? You’re all that matters to me in this world, if you go and disappear on me–”

“I won’t,” you cut in seriously. “I won’t disappear. I promise. I’m sorry, I won’t do something like this again.”  

He stared at you for a good second or two before allowing a small smile to lift his lips. “Good.”

Then he pulled you towards him again, though instead of a hug that you were expecting, his lips swiftly caught yours in a surprise kiss.

Both your lips were dry and cracked from the cold, but you didn’t care about the sting and neither did he. All you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours, the heat rising to your cheeks and the tingles spreading through your stomach into the tips of your numb toes and fingers. Your nose brushed against his as he kissed you over and over, melting your insides to mush. His tongue deftly glided across your bottom lip, gently soothing the tear in your lip before pushing it past your parted lips. His tongue was hot against yours, and as he deepened the kiss, you failed to stop the quiet moan that escaped you. A pleasant warmth was starting to pool in your stomach, and a haze began to build in your mind as he angled his head slightly, gently grazing his teeth along your bottom lip. He began to move down slowly, peppering light kisses down your chin, along your jaw, before suddenly licking at the spot just below your ear.

You gasped sharply and pulled away, and you felt your face flush a bright red as your hand covered the sensitive spot.

A smirk tugged his lips upwards as he arched a brow at you, clearly pleased at the reaction you had given him.

“Feel warmer now?” he asked smugly.

He was playing dirty now. He knew that was your weak spot.

You couldn’t even manage a reply, which made him laugh. The most beautiful laugh in the world, even if it was at your expense.

Embarrassed, your eyes darted about to think of something that would take his attention off you. Then your eyes fell on the window. It was mostly frosted over, but there was just one spot from which you could see outside clearly enough. Snow was still falling rapidly, and it didn’t seem like it would end soon.

“Saeran, we’ll have to be out here all night, don’t we?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he answered, following your gaze. “According to the weather report, the blizzard won’t stop till 10am tomorrow.”

“Mmm…” Your face began to heat up as a naughty little thing crept into your mind.

You were going to regret this, but your tongue had ideas of its own.

“Well then, you’ll need to do better to keep me warm for the rest of the night,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.  

Saeran was obviously taken by surprise, and his cheeks turned a little redder as he blinked at you, trying to register your words.

It didn’t take long for him to catch on though, and soon he was shifting closer to you, till you could feel his breath on your face once more.

“I think I can manage that,” he murmured, lips drawing upwards into a smirk.

A/N: I’m blushing oh noooooooo (*/ω＼*)