#all of these in the poll sound like they’d come out as hissing no?

[screechthemighty]

Me @ me: maybe these chapters would go a lot faster if you didn't take every chance you had to write plot-irrelevant witty banter between these idiots Also me @ me: but. the sillies. Anyway, sorry this took so long, in my defense it is a very lengthy chapter and a lot happens. Also, sorry to the one person who voted in my poll, but you were not correct about the Thing That Does Not Occur. The thing you voted on may or may not happen later, though. Anyways!

the unknowable tomorrow: a tristamp fanfic part fifteen: meryl and wolfwood

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cws: pandemic, religious/cult trauma and religious cults, grief, brief mention of strangulation

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The first thing he noticed was the smell of gunsmoke, and the second was a town surrounded by a very robust barricade. None of the situations Vash had found himself in so far had been great, but something told Wolfwood that this one was going to take the cake.

“Do you hear that?” Meryl said.

Wolfwood listened carefully. The crunch of footsteps and the sound of someone talking to themselves was familiar. “There’s our man,” he said. “Stay close.”

Meryl nodded. She had one hand on her Derringer already. Smart girl.

They moved carefully towards the sound of Vash’s voice. “…and listen, I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I really feel like we can work this out. I…” His voice cracked, and a manic giggle slipped out of him. “Oh, this was a bad idea, bad stupid idea, Vash…”

“Psst!” Wolfwood hissed before leaning around a piece of ancient debris. “Vash!”

Vash spun around. He wasn’t hurt, but the dark circles under his eyes said he hadn’t slept in a week. Even the way his face lit up when he saw them couldn’t hide how exhausted he looked. “Oh, I am so…wait, have you two had dustlung before?”

Ah, crap. “Yep. I’m immune,” Wolfwood said.

“I am, too,” Meryl said. “Has there been an outbreak?”

Vash nodded and pointed towards the barricade. Wolfwood noticed that he had two bandannas tied to his upper arm, one black, one blue. “They’re still in the middle of one. They’ve got it under control, but that’s not the issue.”

“The fatal lung rot isn’t the issue?” Wolfwood repeated flatly.

“Nope!” Another manic giggle escaped Vash as he gestured for them to come closer. “They are. Kind of.”

Wolfwood and Meryl joined Vash. There was a group camped out in front of the barricaded town. It looked like they were setting up for an attack or a siege. “The settlement was built over a wormfall,” Vash explained, “so they’re set for treatment. But these guys came from a town with another outbreak…”

“And the wormfall guys don’t want to share?” Wolfwood finished.

“More like they can’t. They’ve been picking away at the worm for a while now. Whatever’s left can get their people through a full treatment course, but…”

Meryl raised her hand. “Refresh my memory, here,” she said. “The best treatment for dustlung involves a fungus mostly found in great worm corpses, right?” Vash nodded. “If it’s just a fungus and they have access to the corpse, can’t they cultivate more?”

“They’ve tried, but it’s finicky,” Vash said. “Even Ship Three has trouble, and they’ve been researching it for years. And it grows too slowly to be help in an emergency.” Vash started pacing again. “The new group came for help, but the settlement still has a lot of sick people. They can’t spare much. I was going to see if they’d accept enough for an incomplete treatment course, but that still leaves them at risk.”

Wolfwood grimaced. He remembered when it had gone around the orphanage. They’d all gotten partial treatment, and he’d been one of only three not to have long-term problems. One had died later from a different infection his body was too weak to fight off. “So, it’s a standoff,” he said.

“Unfortunately. They already tried negotiating once and it didn’t go well. The new guys think the townspeople are lying about how much is left, and the town council didn’t want to give them even a little at first. They could change their minds at any time…” Vash sighed. “And I don’t even know if the new group will talk to me. They could try to invade and take it all.”

A no-win scenario. Wolfwood thought back to their conversation a few jumps ago, and how much it sucked being right. “Okay,” Meryl said thoughtfully. “Here, let’s figure this out.” She pulled out her notebook. “Do you have figures on how much of the fungus is left?”

“Not concrete ones. They wouldn’t give me that. But I can guess.” Vash crouched next to Meryl as they started talking math. Wolfwood kept one eye on the new guys as they did. The other group was staying put for now, but all the signs were there: they could, and probably would, invade if they wanted to. He found himself scanning the town and wondering how long its defenses would hold.

He wasn’t sure it would be very long. And depending on how much of the town was sick…

Wolfwood was starting to wish he had a vial or ten. And a bigger gun. And backup that wasn’t so softhearted. Though I reckon we won’t have to kill anyone, just hold them off until them getting the medicine is a moot point…not that I think Vash has it in him to do that, either…

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Meryl said. “Except…how are you going to explain where we came from?”

“We’re near a pretty well-travelled route. I can always say I saw you passing by.” Vash stood back up. “I don’t know how dangerous this is going to be…”

Meryl started marching towards the camp. “I’m not worried about it,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Vash glanced Wolfwood’s way. Wolfwood responded with a shrug. “Hey, I’m not going to talk her out of it,” he said. “You saw how she clobbered me last time.”

Vash laughed weakly and started after Meryl. “Yeah, good point.”

Wolfwood took up the rear, rifle ready, even though he desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

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She’d been outwardly confident for Vash’s sake, but Meryl’s nerves were in high gear as they approached. These people clearly meant business: they were all armed to the teeth, some in makeshift body armor, and had desperate looks in their eyes.

Desperation could be even more dangerous than outright malice. She knew that now.

“Hi!” Vash called to some of them as he jogged to catch up to her. “I, uh, don’t know if you remember, but we tried to talk…”

Several guns were leveled at them immediately. Wolfwood went to raise his own rifle, but Vash stopped him. “…and I want to try again,” Vash finished, his tone still hyper-cheerful. “There’s no need for all of this.”

“Have they decided to stop bullshitting us?” asked one person, a darker-skinned man who looked just as exhausted as Vash. There was a slight rasp to his voice that said he was getting over a dustlung infection himself. Meryl was honestly surprised he wasn’t bedridden; her case had been comparatively mild, and she’d been out long enough that a few people thought she’d switched schools. “Because we’re not playing around anymore.”

“I didn’t think you were. We’re not playing around, either. We have numbers we can show you.” He gestured towards Meryl. “Lots of math.”

Meryl nodded. They were lucky; Vash knew the history of the place and they’d been able to extrapolate from there how much of the fungus would be left if they’d followed standard harvesting and cultivation procedures. None of the numbers were official, but hopefully it would be enough to convince the group that they weren’t being shortchanged. “We won’t take up too much of your time,” Meryl added.

The group looked skeptical of her and Wolfwood (especially Wolfwood), but Meryl noticed they seemed a bit more accepting of Vash. Granted, they still had a gun trained on him, but it was only one gun, and the guy holding it didn’t look too ready to pull the trigger. “…fine,” said the sick man, “but only because you’ve been straight with us so far.”

The man, whom Vash addressed as James, gathered up the rest of the group to hear what they had to say. Meryl stuck close to Vash and hoped it didn’t turn into a repeat of the oil fires. Vash laid out the math they’d worked out, showing them Meryl’s notebook as he did. Only two people actually double-checked their math; those two whispered between each other as Vash finished up his pitch. “…so they’re really not lying,” he said. “What they offered is all they can spare. It was a big ask to convince them to spare that much. They risk running out themselves if more people get sick and their cultivation program is already stretched thin. They have to think about the future, too.”

He sounded convincing to Meryl, but she wasn’t so sure the others bought it. “You said that these numbers are just your projections,” James said. “You’re sure there’s nothing that might’ve given them more to work with? Extra cultivation you don’t know about or anything?”

“I…well, no,” Vash admitted. “They didn’t let me check out the wormfall personally. I don’t think they’d have any reason to keep that from me, though.”

“You’re an outsider. That’s plenty of reason far as I’m concerned.”

Damn it, that was a good point. “I can try to get access to the wormfall and see,” Vash said, “but I can’t think of anything they’d do to make their cultivation more efficient. All the equipment and techniques I know about – “

“You know about. But you don’t know everything, right?”

“I know a lot more than you’d think.”

“At your age?”

Vash laughed nervously. “Uh…how old do you think I am?”

Wolfwood sighed. “Look, you can grasp at straws and fairy tales all you want, but this is your most likely reality,” he interjected bluntly. He faced the two people who’d double-checked their work. “Am I wrong?”

“Er…no, the math checks out,” one of them admitted. “If it were us, I’d be nervous about outside distribution, too.”

No one liked that answer, but they mostly expressed that through irate glances at the town. Meryl was still bracing herself to have to jump to Vash’s defense, but so far, they didn’t seem to want to shoot the messenger. Good. That’s good. Maybe they’ll still be willing to listen…

“If that’s the case, you should probably go,” James said finally. “We’ve got some things to consider.”

“Right, yeah, of course. Talk it out. We can…” Vash flinched when James suddenly started stepping towards him. “…uh, I mean…”

“Can I have a word?”

Meryl straightened up, and saw Wolfwood do the same. “Anything you want to say to him, you can say to us,” Wolfwood said sternly.

James’s face hardened. Vash was quick to intervene: “It’s okay. They’re actually friends of mine from out of town. I ran into them on the way and they volunteered to help, too. They’re good people.”

James examined them both. “When I say you should go,” he said finally, “I mean you should get out of town. For your own good.”

…oh.

Vash took a deep breath. “What are you planning?” he said quietly.

“Nothing a guy like you wants to be involved in.” James patted Vash on the shoulder. “Listen, you seem like a good guy. I get that you want to help. But I’m not gonna ask you to pick a side one way or another. This isn’t your fight. Look after yourself first.”

He was giving that advice to the wrong person. Meryl knew that Vash was incapable of looking after himself first—even the times he ran away from a fight were to prevent others from being hurt, not so much to save himself. James didn’t realize that, though; he was too busy walking back to his group to notice the horrified look on Vash’s face.

Wolfwood noticed, though, and responded to it with a heavy sigh. “Come on,” he said quietly.

“We…we have to talk them out of it…”

“Look at their faces. They’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” Meryl could see it, too. Their faces had looks of grim inevitability. Vash’s words had only served to make them sure of their decision. “Nothing you can do about it. Come on.”

Vash stared at the group for another moment before following. There was a distant look in his eyes, though it wasn’t just one of dread. He was thinking hard. She could see his eyes darting back and forth as they walked back to the road, as if he were trying to select from different options.

It didn’t seem like any of them were good.

“If we warn the town,” he said quietly, “then they might want to strike first. Then more people will get hurt. But if we don’t say anything…”

“People are gonna get hurt regardless,” Wolfwood said. It seemed that he had been doing some thinking of his own from how steady and certain his words were. “Did you leave anything important back there?”

“What?”

“Can you get it without tipping anyone off?”

Vash’s face finally looked horrified. “You want to just leave?”

“What else are we supposed to do? If you don’t want to pick a side, the only reason you’d stay is to get yourself hurt and then self-flagellate about all the people you watched die.”

“Wolfwood!” Meryl gasped.

“What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re being an ass,” Meryl snapped before turning her attention back to Vash. “Do you think if the town council knew there was a real threat, they’d be willing to negotiate more? Or are you sure they’d strike first?”

“They’ve already started figuring out rationing for a siege. Most of them would take an attack as an excuse to withdraw support entirely,” Vash said. He started pacing again, his hands clenched into fists. “Damn it.”

Damn it, indeed.

Wolfwood watched Vash with a tense jaw and an exasperated expression. “Look, I will drag you out of here if that’s what it takes.”

Vash whipped around to glare at him. “Don’t you dare touch me,” he said. Wolfwood’s eyebrows shot up. “Nico, I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. Vash are you…?”

The sound of a truck horn made all three of them jump. They’d been so busy talking that they’d missed an approaching convoy. They got out of the way. Meryl noticed how Vash kept his distance from both of them.

That had been a strong reaction to what was probably a hyperbolic threat. He’d flinched earlier when James had tried to touch him, now that she thought about it. “Are you okay?” Meryl asked as the trucks drove by.

Vash hesitated before deflating. “No,” he admitted. “I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep and I’ve been helping around the hospital. I think it brought back bad memories…feel like my skin’s going to crawl off if anyone gets too close. Not your fault.” He glanced Wolfwood’s way. “Nico, I’m sorry.”

The tension in Wolfwood’s face melted away. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” he said. “No dragging. Promise. But I stand by the rest of…”

“Bastards!” They all jumped again at the furious scream. “Sons of bitches…!’

A few members of James’ group were screaming after the trucks. “Were they from town?” Meryl asked.

Vash shook his head. “It’s probably a supply convoy going to July City,” he explained. “I get why they’re so angry. July is right next door and they haven’t done anything.”

Meryl suppressed a shudder at the detail. “No help at all?”

“Nothing. They stopped returning alert calls and threatened to shoot any refugees from infected towns.” Vash looked visibly disgusted. “I’d understand if they wanted to protect their own citizens, but they took it too far, threatening to shoot.”

Meryl hummed in agreement. When she glanced Wolfwood’s way, he was still staring after the truck. He had his sunglasses back on, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but the tightness of his jaw made her nervous. “How far away is July?” Wolfwood asked.

“A couple of hours on foot, less on wheels or a thomas. And I haven’t felt Nai in the area, anyway. I’m okay here.”

Wolfwood kept staring after the truck. He started rubbing his heel against his bruised shin, as if it itched him. Meryl reached for his arm; he started at the near-touch, and didn’t relax much when he registered it was her. “I don’t think okay is the right word,” he said. “Look, you want me to try taking a stab at those guys alone? Metaphorical stab. Might be able to get them to see reason.”

Vash raised an eyebrow. “They’re pretty closed off…”

“And I’m an asshole who gets where they’re coming from. Give me five minutes. You watch town and make sure they don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right back.”

Vash still looked nervous, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Wolfwood held out a hand when he saw Meryl step towards him. “Stay here. Keep him out of trouble.”

Vash frowned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Clearly you do, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I…” Vash thought about it, then sighed dramatically. “I guess.”

Meryl saw Wolfwood’s point, too, but she couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Something about this didn’t sit right with her, but she couldn’t articulate the feeling enough to protest. “Yell if you need help,” she said.

“Trust me, you’ll know if I do.” Wolfwood slung his rifle back over his shoulder. “Can I have my lighter?” Vash pulled it out and tossed it to him; Wolfwood caught it easily. “Thanks.” He lit a cigarette as he started walking back towards the group. “Be back in a minute.”

Meryl waited until Wolfwood was a good distance away before turning to Vash. “How good is your hearing?” she asked.

“I…” Vash’s cheeks flushed pink. “He knows what he’s doing, right?”

“Didn’t he punch Brad?”

“I…yeah…” Vash started after Wolfwood, his teeth worrying away at his lower lip. “Yeah, he did.”

Wolfwood had reached James by that point and started chatting with him with his back to them. Not knowing what he was saying drove Meryl crazy, but the guilty look on Vash’s face made her dial it back. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” she amended. “He’s just…not really the negotiating type, so I was curious.”

“I understand what you mean, but…honestly, I’m sick of negotiators.” Vash huffed bitterly. “They probably are, too.”

That was fair, she supposed. That didn’t stop Meryl from watching Wolfwood more carefully than she watched Vash. His body language hadn’t changed: still his usual slouch, hands in his pockets, deceptively casual. James was a bit harder to read. It looked like he was listening, and he didn’t seem hostile. He wasn’t any more tense than he was before. So, the conversation was going well, but…

Wolfwood suddenly turned around and waved to them. Vash took off like a shot, Meryl close behind. “You trust me, right?” Wolfwood said as Vash got closer.

“I…” Vash tilted his head. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“So you can vouch that I’m not just some bullshit artist, right?”

Vash nodded and turned to James. “I do vouch for him. Really.”

That seemed a bit overgenerous to Meryl, but she tried to keep that feeling to herself. It seemed like Wolfwood might have been making some progress, and she didn’t want her complicated feelings about him to ruin that. James looked at Vash, then examined Wolfwood’s face carefully. Whatever he saw there, it made him turn back to Vash. “Do you think,” he said carefully, “you can still get us the amount we discussed previously?”

Vash’s face lit up. “Yes! Yes, I definitely can. I’ll go right now.”

“We’re not going anywhere until we get it. But…we’ll take it.”

“Okay! Okay. I’m sorry, I know it’s not much, but…”

“Vash.” Wolfwood waved a hand in front of his face. “Burning daylight, here.”

“Right! Right, of course, sorry…” Vash started for the road, so fast he almost tripped. “We’ll be right back!”

Meryl started after him, but slowed down when she realized James had pulled Wolfwood back to mutter something in his ear. Whatever it was, Wolfwood only rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Give it a rest.” He shrugged the hand off his shoulder and started walking. “What’s this planet coming to? Shit…”

Meryl glanced warily at James as she and Wolfwood walked away. “What did you say to them?” she asked.

“We had a friendly discussion about the risks of starting a fight when you can barely stand,” Wolfwood said calmly. “They’re desperate, not stupid. They just needed a firmer hand to remind them what’s at stake.”

All of that sounded plausible, but Meryl still wasn’t sure she bought it. Maybe it was her still-lingering mistrust of him after July, but something about this situation felt off. “That’s all?”

“Yes, Miss Nosypants, that’s all.”

“Miss…? Wow. Real mature.” Wolfwood grinned at her. “I don’t know how you’ve convinced anyone of anything. Ever.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Wolfwood snatched her hat off her head and jogged forward to plop it onto Vash’s. “Stay focused, Stryfe. We’re not out of the wastes yet.”

If Vash hadn’t been there, slowing down to give Meryl her hat back with a cheerful smile, she would’ve kicked Wolfwood again. Instead, Meryl nursed her disbelief and kept as close an eye on Wolfwood as she could.

They had to stay outside the town gates while Vash went back inside for the fungus. The townsfolk watching from the tops of the barricades all looked pretty distrustful; Meryl tried look casual and unthreatening, but it was hard with so many eyes on her. Wolfwood remained calm and quiet throughout the wait. The only sign that anything might be wrong was that he started chain smoking, only stopping when Vash emerged with a box in his hands. Then again, Wolfwood chain-smoked at the slightest inconvenience, so that didn’t mean too much.

They passed off the fungus to James. His group packed up and left without a shot fired or another exchange with Wolfwood. Vash waited until they were specks on the horizon before he flopped to the ground, a relieved laugh escaping his lips. “That,” he said, “was scary.”

Wolfwood grunted in agreement and lay down in the dirt next to him. “I’m just glad they saw reason.”

“Yeah.” Vash rolled over so his face was pressed into Wolfwood’s shoulder, muffling his next words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Wolfwood wrapped an arm around Vash and raised an eyebrow at Meryl. See? the look seemed to say. Vash trusts me. Vash doesn’t think I lied.

That was big talk coming from someone who thought Vash was too trusting, but Meryl kept that to herself. Instead, she scanned their surroundings. “Well, I don’t see a portal,” she said as she sat down next to Vash. “Do you need more help in town?”

“Probably. If you’re comfortable. Most people are starting to improve, but there’s still more sick than healthy in town, so…” Vash rolled back over so he could look at Meryl while still staying nestled at Wolfwood’s side. “Every little bit helps and all.”

Meryl smiled and held out her hand. He took it carefully with his prosthetic. She was surprised how cool his fingers still were, even after so much time outside. “It sure does.”

Vash started to sit up, but Wolfwood tugged him back down. “Five minutes,” he said. “You need floor time.”

“Isn’t that something babies do?”

“That’s tummy time. Not the same thing. Everyone needs to lie on the floor sometimes. It’s good for you.” Wolfwood lifted his head enough to look at Meryl. “You, too.”

Meryl rolled her eyes, but lay down next to Vash. The sand was tightly compacted from James’s group camping out there. Vash kept holding her hand as he hummed contently.

She hadn’t expected lying in the dirt to feel so peaceful, but it was.

It was longer than five minutes before they got up, but Vash did seem a lot calmer. They dusted themselves off before heading back into town. “So, uh, what fake names are you using?” Vash asked as they got closer. “Are you using fake names?”

Good question. Meryl decided that other people knowing who she was probably wouldn’t be safe, especially when it felt like they were getting closer to her actual birthday. (She tried not to think about that too hard.) “I can be Claudia again for now,” Meryl said.

“Brad,” Wolfwood said with a deadpan expression.

“Wh-“ Vash laughed. “You can’t be Brad!”

“Why not? He’s not here, and it’s better than when you named your bird after him.”

Vash kept giggling. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The process of getting them inside wiped the smile off of Vash’s face. He had to spend a worrying amount of time insisting they were friends of his, here to help, promise, before all three of them were let in and allowed to register. Once they put their names down—Claudia Smith for her, Brad Thomas for Wolfwood because he was an asshole who thought he was funny—they were given black and blue bandannas and told, very sternly, to wear them at all times while in town. “What for?” Wolfwood asked skeptically.

“They’re tracking exposure,” Vash said. “You’ve been around me, so technically you’ve been exposed…” He tapped the black one, then the blue one. “…and you were immune before the outbreak. Just keep a safe distance from anyone in white or red. They’re at higher exposure risk. The quarantine zone is that way, but that’s only for the people who are actively sick.”

“You’ll make sure they follow all the quarantine rules, right?” interjected the guard sternly.

“Absolutely. No problem at all.” Vash was all smiles until they were a safe distance away. “Sorry about that. They’re nervous about outsiders after…” He gestured at the wall behind them. “Anyway, eastern side of town is where they’re keeping everyone who’s been exposed, but not sick. That’s where I’m staying. It’s not too far.”

Meryl scanned their surroundings as they walked through town. It was as miserable as you’d expect from an ongoing pandemic. The streets were largely abandoned, and a lot of the shops were closed. They walked past a section that was entirely closed off, with large signs posted nearby. Her eyes scanned them quickly, taking in as many details as she could. Visiting hours, special permits needed for the non-immune to enter. That must have been the quarantine zone. An aura of sadness hung over it, worse even than the streets outside.

At least we were able to prevent a shootout. Or at least, Wolfwood says we did. Meryl wasn’t sure how much of a fight this town would’ve been able to put up.

Eventually, they reached one of the few open businesses, an inn with an attached general store. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get separate rooms, but I can probably find us some cots or something,” Vash said apologetically. “And food. I’ll find more food for you guys. Do you need anything else?”

“Does this place have running water?” Wolfwood asked. “Because as long as there’s running water and the windows don’t leak sand, I’m good.”

“Same here,” Meryl said. “You should really focus on resting…”

Vash shook his head. “Too wired. If I don’t have something to do, I’m going to start doing pushups again.”

“In that case, food sounds great.” Maybe if they could get him to sit down for a meal, he’d unwind enough to sleep. “Thanks, Vash.”

As Vash had expected, he was only able to get them spare cots. He and Wolfwood started setting those up while Meryl rinsed off in the shower. She was hesitant to take her eyes off Wolfwood, but Vash would be with him. She trusted Vash a lot more than she trusted Wolfwood.

It was nice to get some alone time to think. Meryl mulled over what they had seen so far and what Vash might need help with. It was possible that he might need some personal defending, like he had at the oil fires, or he might just need them to help take some burdens off his plate. It was obvious he was worn out from working so hard. A few extra hands couldn’t hurt.

Or maybe Wolfwood was wrong and those guys will be back. What do we do then? Try to help, or focus on getting Vash out? It was a tough decision. As much as Meryl hated to admit it, Wolfwood was right. Vash wouldn’t be able to choose sides here, even when one was clearly an aggressor. And honestly, Meryl couldn’t blame him. They were aggressive out of desperation, not malice or greed. That made things a lot more complicated

Meryl caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was a little surprised how tired the face looking back at her was. Then again, she’d been through a lot in the past few months—more than she’d ever expected to go through when she’d left with Roberto. Even more than what was usual for the cruelties of No Man’s Land.

She picked a bit of loose dried skin off her forehead and tried to smile. It didn’t really help, so she let it drop. “You need food,” she told herself sternly. She’d think better on a full stomach.

As Meryl opened the bathroom door, something hit the ground dangerously close to her foot. It was her notebook. It must have been propped against the bathroom door. She hadn’t put it there, and neither of the boys were in the room.

Weird…

Meryl hesitantly picked up the notebook and flipped to the first empty pages. Wolfwood’s handwriting—a messier variation of it—marked one page.

Have to do something. Be back by sun up. Do NOT let Vash follow. -NDW

…oh, no.

Of course, that was when the door re-opened. Vash stepped in with a large paper bag in his arms. “Oh, good, you’re out!” Vash said cheerfully. “I grabbed something for you to change into since you’ve been…” He trailed off when he noticed the bathroom door was wide open, showing no sign of Wolfwood. “Where’s Nico?”

“He’s not with you?”

“No.”

Panic set in. Meryl reread the note, indecision gripping her body. Wolfwood had expressly asked her not to let him follow, but if Wolfwood was going where Meryl thought he was, he might get in trouble on his own.

Correction. He would definitely get in trouble.

“Meryl?” Vash said hesitantly.

She couldn’t keep the truth from him. He was going to look for Wolfwood no matter what; at least this way he’d know what the stakes were. Meryl held out the notebook. “He was gone when I got out,” Meryl admitted, “but he left this by the door.”

Vash put the bags down and read the note, probably multiple times from the way his eyes moved across the page. Eventually, his eyes met Meryl’s. “Do you think he went to July?” he asked. “He seemed weird when he saw the convoy go by, and if he doesn’t want me to follow…”

Meryl nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too. Do you think July would have more of the fungus?”

“If anyone would, it’s them. But he’d have to steal it. We can’t let him do that alone.” Vash passed Meryl back the notebook and started digging through the bags he’d brought up. “I know he said not to let me follow him, but I can’t let him get hurt. I’m going.”

Meryl wanted to argue with him, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him. He was Vash the Stampede; when he put his mind to it, nothing would stop him. But she couldn’t let him run into danger alone, either.

“You’re sure your brother isn’t there?” Meryl said.

“I’m positive.” Vash sat down and started loading his pistol. Meryl wanted to ask why he’d gone to a confrontation earlier with an unloaded gun, but decided to focus on the crisis at hand. “I swear, I’d be able to tell.”

“Okay. I have conditions, though. I’m going with you, and we can’t be too obvious. Do you have anything you can wear as a disguise?”

“Funny you should ask…” Vash pulled something out of the bag and tossed it to her: a pair of sensible linen pants and a light gray poncho-style coat with a high enough collar and big enough hood to obscure her face. “I figured you’d be sick of wearing the same clothes for a few decades and I had some extra money, so…”

Meryl smiled. “Thank you, Vash. This is perfect. What about you?”

“I’ll wear Nico’s. We’re about the same size, I think.” He pulled something else out of a bag—some ammo and a holster—and held it out to her. “It’s not much, but hopefully you won’t need it.”

Meryl swallowed nervously. “Hopefully,” she agreed.

They were headed into July City, though. Meryl was prepared for anything to happen there.

.

Wolfwood may have asked Meryl to make sure Vash didn’t follow, but he also knew the chances those pleas would fall on deaf ears. That awareness sped him up as he moved through town and to the wall. There were guards along the makeshift barrier, but they were mostly armed civilians who, judging from the wheezy coughs, were just barely over their own infections. Getting past them and through a gap in the barrier was a lot easier than he’d braced himself for.

One obstacle down.

From there, he made his way to the road and started in the direction of July. He kept his rifle drawn and kept scanning his surroundings. He wasn’t just watching for military police, raiders, anyone else who might start trouble. His temporary partners were somewhere along this stretch of road.

Unless they’d backed out. James didn’t have any reason to believe him. Hell, for all Wolfwood knew, he was walking right into a trap. Alone.

But he’d seen something in the man’s eyes, a spark jumping from Wolfwood’s dangerous words and blossoming into a more dangerous hope.

There’s more of the fungus in July. I’ve seen it. I can get it for you.

It was the truth. Wolfwood had seen it, and he could get to it, in theory. Doing so would save a lot of lives, and spit in the Eye of Michael while he was at it. But he was still kicking himself for saying it with every step he took towards July.

It was a horrible plan. Absolutely fucked. There were a thousand things that could go wrong along the way, wrong in a very lethal way, and this whole mess was none of his damn business. If it had just been him, he would’ve left by now.

But it wasn’t just him. It was Vash, and Vash’s stupid words that Wolfwood had stupidly promised to think about, and it was the fact that a third option—the mystical winning option that Vash so desperately believed in—had practically been shoved into his face. Wolfwood wasn’t sure how much he believed in divine providence, but that truck might as well have been a glowing neon sign that said, Here you go, idiot.

Another voice had echoed in his head then, too: I’ll save both the town and the ship. There is a way.

And Vash had.

And he’d try again, if he knew the truth. But that would mean running into the lion’s den. Even if Vash wasn’t lying to Wolfwood about Knives not being there, taking him to find the fungus would mean questions. Peeling back layers that might expose the ugliest parts of what Wolfwood was. Wolfwood wasn’t ready for that. So, this was his compromise. He’d go. He’d do what Vash would do, and take the risks Vash would take.

He hated it, and he wasn’t even in July yet.

I hope you appreciate this, jackass.

The sound of movement off to his right made Wolfwood stop and raise his weapon. James stepped out from cover with his own weapon drawn. “Wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he said.

Wolfwood shrugged. “Yeah, well, I had a shadow I needed to dodge.”

“Right. And what kind of trouble is Vash in with July, again?”

That had been Wolfwood’s excuse for why Vash couldn’t be there. It wasn’t a lie, just…hard to explain. See, his homicidal maniac of a brother is secretly in charge of the city and wants to use him to murder humanity wasn’t an explanation most people would buy. Fortunately, there was another way Wolfwood could phrase this that wasn’t a total lie.

“Exactly the kind of thing that’s gotten him in this mess,” Wolfwood said. “You keep trying to solve everyone’s problems and you make as many enemies as you do friends. Especially in a place like that.”

James thought about it, huffed quietly, and lowered his gun. “Yeah, sounds right. How is he not dead yet?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Wolfwood replied as he lowered his own weapon. “Did you bring the bike?”

“Yep. I’m driving, though. You navigate.”

It was fair enough, and the bike did at least have a sidecar. That didn’t stop Wolfwood from feeling twitchy the whole damn drive. Their destination didn’t help. There were a lot of stretches of empty nothingness around July, but the one to the north of the city was special. It didn’t just hold the solar panels that supplied supplementary power to the city. Underneath it was one of the Eye’s training compounds, and one of the places where they kept their backup uniforms. Grabbing two of those was their first step.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” James said skeptically.

“I know the routine.” Wolfwood unscrewed one last bolt and flipped open the ventilation shaft’s cover. “I used to come in and out this way all the time. They didn’t exactly have a backdoor for a smoke break.”

James still looked skeptical, and Wolfwood couldn’t blame him. He’d flashed his lighter with the Eye’s symbol, said that he’d quit, but he wasn’t sure how plausible that sounded to an outsider. “Is there some kind of machinery under there?” James asked. “I keep thinking I hear humming.”

“They’ve got noise makers on the surface. Keeps prying eyes away. You get used to it.” He set the rifle aside. “You promise you’re not going to shoot me?”

“Only if you try something.”

“Fair enough.” Wolfwood lowered himself down carefully. James followed; his pistol was still stowed, so Wolfwood decided to go out on a limb and start crawling. We’re both putting a lot of trust in each other, here, he reminded himself. Mutually assured destruction.

Not exactly the best way to make friends, but hopefully it would be enough to get them through this.

Wolfwood had hoped he’d never have to sneak back through these vents again, but here he was. At least if everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t be there long. And assuming the layout of the place was still the same…

Don’t be stupid. It probably took them ages to build this place. They won’t be shuffling rooms around much. Keep your head on and keep crawling.

Eventually, the metal beneath him was broken up by grates, each one looking down into a storage room. Food. Weapons. Ammo. He was tempted to grab some ammo while he was there, but forced himself to keep moving. The ammo would definitely be watched and counted carefully. The uniforms, not so much.

He remembered where to stop clearly, and fortunately, the setup was still the same. Boxes of freshly-made or mended uniforms were all lined up on shelves. No sign of the tailor or anyone else. And when Wolfwood experimentally pulled on the grate, it popped up easily.

Guess people really have been sneaking out this way for a while.

Wolfwood slipped off his shoes before lowering himself carefully into the room. He landed without a sound. James followed after a delay, having done the same trick. He landed a bit more heavily, but not enough to attract attention.

So far, so good.

It was easy enough to find something in his size; he had to hold up a few shirts before James indicated that one would fit him. “Haven’t you been sick?” Wolfwood said skeptically as he picked a corresponding jacket. “Thought you’d have less meat on your bones.”

“We’re doing fine with food. It’s the medicine that’s screwing us.”

“Lucky you – “

Wolfwood froze.

“What is it?” said James.

Get out, whispered a tiny, panicked voice deep in his brain. Get out now.

Wolfwood didn’t know what had triggered the thought. He couldn’t hear anything and nothing looked off. But that was a whisper born from years of learning how to spot even the smallest sign of danger, and in a place like this, he wasn’t going to question it. “Back up,” Wolfwood hissed. “Back, go.”

James made a dash for the vent. Wolfwood grabbed the last thing he needed, made sure everything was in place, tossed the bundle of clothes into the vent—

Footsteps. That was footsteps.

--climbed up after it—

Don’t panic, you’ll make more noise if you panic and then you’ll get caught.

--pulled the grate closed and got out of sight just as the voices reached the door—

Don’t move. Stay still. Stay quiet.

--and thank God he did, because Wolfwood knew that voice.

“…will have to discuss the latest candidates with Father William. His selection process has been lacking of late.”

In a strange way, the terror that gripped him was worse than what he’d felt when he’d seen Millions Knives. Knives was terrifying, sure, but even after July he was terrifying in theory. Chapel, though?

Chapel was personal.

“I don’t think he’ll be happy to hear that,” said a second voice, one Wolfwood didn’t recognize. All of Chapel’s ass-kissing underlings started to blend together after a while. It may not have been anyone Wolfwood knew at all. “You know he has Lord Knives’ ear. If he wanted to…”

“Lord Knives values results.” Wolfwood could hear things being moved around, the rustling of fabric as clothes were changed. He thought he caught a whiff of blood. Someone must have really pissed him off. “If Father William is not producing adequate results, I’m sure nothing he says about me will matter.” He paused. “I will see if I can oversee the next pilgrimage myself. Perhaps there are more suitable candidates that he overlooked…”

Pilgrimage.

Wolfwood didn’t realize how tightly his hands had gripped into fists until they started trembling. A pilgrimage meant blood draws and endless questions and little faces watching as one of their own was taken away. Would they be honest, or did they have older kids who told them to lie while they answered truthfully and bore the brunt of the scrutiny? Wolfwood had lied his ass off for years, until suddenly he was one of the oldest, until he’d met Livio and found himself with someone he’d pay any price to protect…

The door closed. Silence filled the room.

Wolfwood stayed still. At first it was to be sure that no one was coming back. It took James poking his shoulder to make him realize that he was frozen in sheer fear and dread and…frustration, that he’d been up here the entire time and hadn’t been able to do anything. At the thought that Chapel was going to hurt more people, and that just like with Knives, he’d been too chickenshit to stop it.

“We good?” James whispered.

No, whispered the animal fear in his mind. He tried to override it. No one saw you. You’re safe.

He gets his. You know that.

It doesn’t matter. Chapel might think he’s tough shit, but there’s a lot of people who’d be willing to take his place. Killing him now won’t change anything.

And then, loudest and most urgent: You’ve got two people who need you right now, and they’ll do something stupid really fast if you don’t get moving right now.

That was the thought that made him nod and tilt his chin back up the tunnel. They started crawling. Wolfwood didn’t remember most of it. Just dark, dark, dark, then the light of the moons overhead. James was up first, and held out a hand for Wolfwood to follow. The cold night air felt like daggers in Wolfwood’s lungs, but it was better than the air of that place.

“Are you okay?” James asked.

He sounded genuinely concerned. Probably worried that the whole operation was going to fall apart because of Wolfwood. “Sorry,” Wolfwood said. “Claustrophobic.” Not a lie. Not the truth. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

James didn’t ask any more questions. He just helped Wolfwood to his feet and started back for the bike.

That was one difference between his memories of this place and the present, Wolfwood reminded himself. He could leave any time he wanted to.

Even if leaving meant jumping feet-first into some other bullshit, it was better than what he was leaving behind.

.

There was no sign of Wolfwood on the road to July. Fortunately, Vash had a few ideas of where he might be.

“If he’s not going in the front door, there are a few other ways to get in,” Vash said as he surveyed the city with his binoculars. “Some need equipment he doesn’t have, so that narrows it down.”

“Should I be worried that you know multiple ways to get into July?” Meryl asked.

“More like I’ve thought about how I’d get out if I had to…” Vash winced. “That’s worse, huh?”

“A little bit.”

“Nai hasn’t reached out to me since…did Nico tell you about the town with the aquifer?” Meryl nodded. “That’s the last time I heard from him, honest. It’s just…I don’t know. That whole incident made me rethink some things.” Vash sighed quietly. “I’d say I’m probably being paranoid, but I think I need to stop acting like he’s not capable of hurting me.”

That was a step in the right direction, but Vash sounded so sad that Meryl couldn’t feel good about it. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Is what it is.” Vash straightened up suddenly. “I see him.”

“Really?”

Vash passed her the binoculars. “Coming in from the solar farm. There.”

Her view through the binoculars was tinted green, but she could still make out Wolfwood’s features. He was in the sidecar of a motorcycle being driven by someone who could have been James. “Well,” she said, “that was easy.”

“I think I know where they’re going, too.” Vash took the binoculars back from her and re-mounted his thomas. “I vote we just follow for now. Only jump in if he needs help. If he knows I’m here, he’ll waste time trying to make me leave.” He held out a hand to her. “Sound good to you?”

Meryl took his hand. “Works for me.”

He pulled her up into the saddle, and they were off.

Wolfwood and James had parked their bike exactly where Vash thought they would, near some kind of waste runoff from the city’s sewer system. She and Vash left the thomas a safe distance away before creeping up to eavesdrop. “…and let me do the talking,” Wolfwood was saying. “Even if you didn’t still sound sick, they’d clock you the second you opened your mouth.”

“We have some Plant worshippers in our town,” James said. He was changing into a different outfit, one that looked a lot like what the white-haired assassin had been wearing. “I know how they talk.”

“Not these guys. Trust me.” Wolfwood adjusted the buttons on a nearly identical outfit. It was closer fitting than his usual suit jacket, to the point of looking restrictive. It made him look smaller, thinner, like a lanky teenager stuffed into a formal suit they couldn’t afford to replace yet. He tossed James a gas mask. “You’ll want to get this on now. It smells as bad as it looks in there.”

Meryl felt a chill run down her spine as both men put on the masks. She’d seen people dressed like that when Conrad had been leading her and Roberto around. They’d been creepy then, and seeing Wolfwood forcing himself into the mold of one was…

You already know he works for them. What makes this different?

She didn’t know. She just knew it felt wrong.

Wolfwood and James climbed up a nearby ladder. Vash waited until they were in the pipes above before darting out from cover. He went for Wolfwood’s clothes first, snatching up his sunglasses and pocketing them. “Extra disguise,” he whispered. “Stay close.”

He didn’t have to tell Meryl twice. The coat he was wearing was dark grey, and he was swallowed up by the shadows of the tunnels almost instantly. She probably would have lost him if she hadn’t held onto his sleeve so tightly.

The tunnels (which did, in fact, smell awful) gave way to some much smaller but at least less smelly maintenance corridors. Vash kept them back so far that Wolfwood was often out of sight, but never seemed to lose him entirely. His hearing must have been better than Meryl’s, or else this was one of his potential escape routes and he was trusting that Wolfwood would follow the same path. The further they went, the louder the noises of the city above became, until they opened a door leading into an alleyway. Meryl could see bright lights at the other end, crowds of people enjoying what night time entertainment there was, and the sight of Wolfwood and James walking down the street. “I’ve never tailed anyone before,” Meryl admitted.

“Just follow what I do and you’ll be fine.” Vash slipped on Wolfwood’s sunglasses before offering Meryl his. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”

Meryl couldn’t help feeling some doubt, because right now they looked like two people wearing sunglasses at night while skulking around a city with their faces obscured. But she put the glasses on anyway and followed him into the crowds. Despite her concerns, no one seemed to give them a second glance.

She hoped Wolfwood and James didn’t notice them, either.

.

“Quit gawking.”

“I’m not – “

“You are. Side by side, remember?” Wolfwood slowed down enough to match James’ pace. Much as he wanted to get this over with, he couldn’t start dragging the guy. “I know, it’s shiny and all…”

“It’s disgusting.” The condemnation came in a harsh whisper, one Wolfwood could barely hear over the mask. “We’re out there dying while everyone in here lives like…this.”

Wolfwood knew what he meant. July was a city of immense wealth, a place where people by and large lived comfortably, even extravagantly. The fact that it was a slap in the face to people from the outside was just the surface layer of rot.

He’d always hated coming back here. He hated it even more now, crammed as he was in a deacon’s uniform and about to wander into a new lion’s den. But he shoved that all down and kept walking. “Just don’t pick any fights, all right? We’re gonna get your piece of the pie soon.”

People gave them a wide berth as they moved through the nightlife crowds, even the MPs. It made making their way towards the center of the city easier. They wouldn’t be heading for the tower, thank God. Instead, they walked towards a much smaller building near it. It had the same boxy structure a lot of the buildings did, but with red-tinted windows and a stream of men and women in the Eye’s uniforms entering. “Remember, it’s not gonna be pretty in there,” Wolfwood whispered. “Stay cool. Follow my head.”

James nodded.

A feeling of eyes on him suddenly weighed down Wolfwood, hard enough that he did a quick scan of the area. No sign of red or white jackets, but for a second, he noticed someone at an outdoor noodle place turn around, as if he had been staring. Broad shoulders. Sensible jacket. Didn’t look like much, but…

Do I know him?

No time to worry about that. He couldn’t slow down. Stay focused. Get what you came for.

If that guy was trouble, they’d handle it later.

.

“Should we follow him in?” Vash whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Meryl replied. “Everyone’s in those weird uniforms. We’d just stand out.”

Vash didn’t look thrilled, but he nodded. “So, we just…watch the building, if there’s gunshots or something we…” He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “…we go in then.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve had a headache ever since we set foot in here. Nothing Nai-related, just…” He shuddered. “This place feels miserable.”

The dying Plants in the tower probably had something to do with that. Meryl felt horrible not telling him the truth, but it was better if he didn’t know. There was nothing he could do about it, anyway. “We never did have dinner,” Meryl pointed out. “Do you want noodles? Maybe that will help.”

“Sure. It’s worth a shot.”

The good news was, there were a few people at the noodle place in much more obnoxious outfits; as long as they sat near the night crowd, they blended in a bit. There was also someone in a waiter’s uniform for a different place, a few MP officers, and…

Meryl felt her heart stop beating.

Someone set a bowl of noodles in front of her. The night party group kept chatting and laughing. Vash started eating. All of that turned into a background drone. Everything, even Vash, even her worries about Wolfwood, suddenly didn’t matter.

She knew that man. He may have been younger, with shorter hair and a more well-kept beard, but she’d spent too long on the road with Roberto de Niro not to recognize him.

.

He’d warned James that the décor would be ugly, but there wasn’t any way to drive home how ugly. You had to see it to really understand.

All the lighting and windows were red, making it look like they’d been swallowed by something or forcibly submerged in a tank with a dying Plant. The central altar didn’t help. It was made of a a shattered Plant bulb suspended over a low table, with speakers arranged inside so the upcoming sermon would sound like it was coming from within. There were no chairs, no other furniture, no other décor except the pillars forming a circle around the edge of the room. Wolfwood thought he remembered them being painted some awful, clashing mix of colors that had looked even uglier in the red light, but he had only been in there a few times. Maybe he was misremembering, or maybe that hadn’t been added yet.

Doesn’t matter. Focus.

He led James to a wall near the only other door in the place and knelt down. James knelt next to him, imitating his posture almost perfectly. Just stay kneeling and look contrite. Pretend you’re contemplating the horrors of humanity. We’ll move once everyone else is invested in the sermon. Which meant having to hear Conrad’s voice, but Wolfwood was pretty good at blocking him out by now.

He'd forgotten how loud the speakers were, though.

“They called our kind the Sinners, for we had tried to yield a power that was not ours to yield.”

Yeah, Wolfwood remembered this one. The whole history lesson on how mankind had messed around with science and made the modern Plant, exploited them, blah blah blah, something something, bringing down the judgment of the angel. A lot of the Eye’s teachings were almost funny after all the time Wolfwood had spent with Vash. The little punk barely remembers to feed himself and has the self-preservation of a drugged thomas, and you wanna tell me he’s one of the angels who will bring us paradise?

It stopped being funny pretty fast, though.

He wouldn’t want this. Not that Millions Knives had ever cared about what Vash wanted.

James nudged Wolfwood. Poor guy was probably itching to get out of there. Wolfwood gave a quick scan of the room, making sure everyone was fixed on the altar, before scooting closer to the door and reaching for the keypad. 2107, assuming the code wasn’t different in the past…

Click.

…and it wasn’t. The door slid open, whisper-silent. Wolfwood let James slip in first before following. There was an elevator on the other side; Wolfwood tapped the button for the lowest floor and tried very hard not to look at the security camera in the corner.

“We’re not going to have a problem, right?” James asked carefully.

Wolfwoodshook his head. “Nah, Father William makes last-minute deliveries all the time. As long as we don’t disturb services on the way out, we’ll be fine.”

All true, all the basis of this stupid plan. Being chosen as an errand boy to get more of the stuff for Conrad’s experiments was the whole reason Wolfwood knew it was down there and how to get it. Never thought that would ever come in handy again. Another stupid sign from God that this would work out, if he wanted to be sullen about it.

The elevator stopped. They walked down a short hallway, following the sound of the same lecture being played above. The hallway opened up into a room full of worm corpses suspended in various growing frames, all covered in fuzzy, white-pink stuff that made him nauseous to look at. One scientist looked up from the radio. “Everything all right, deacon?” he asked.

“Just needed some extra supply for Father William,” Wolfwood said. He was glad the mask hid his face so well; he could focus on controlling his tone without worrying about how his face looked. “A few units should do it.”

The scientist made a soft ah noise and walked to one of the growth frames. “Good timing. We had started assembling tomorrow’s harvest. You can take what we have along with the extra.”

“He’ll be grateful for that.” Well, someone would be. Wolfwood glanced at James to make sure he was keeping it together. He was quiet, stoic, still aside from one hand clenching into a fist. Could’ve been nerves. Could’ve been elation. Wolfwood had promised a limited supply, but what the scientist started loading enough was definitely enough to treat the town.

Okay, God, I get it, this was a good idea, Vash was right, just please get me out of here without things going wrong…

“Here you are.” The caretaker passed a carrier bag to Wolfwood. “Be sure to give Father Williams our best wishes.”

Wolfwood let himself remember the sight of Conrad’s brains splattered on the tank glass, just for a second. “Will do,” he said with a genuine smile.

They walked back to the elevator without being stopped. Wolfwood passed the bag to James once they were inside. “Just don’t open it. Humidity control and all. Father William handles that.”

“Got it.” James’s voice was steady, but his hand shook slightly as he took the bag. Out of excitement that it was working or fear that something could go wrong any second, Wolfwood wasn’t sure. Could be either one.

If anything was going to go wrong, it would happen soon. They still had to get out of the city, after all. That was a long enough walk for something to blow up on them,

The lecture was just wrapping up as they exited the elevator, allowing them to merge into a departing crowd. No one gave them a second glance.

Wolfwood started praying it would stay that way.

.

Meryl tried to keep her eyes on her meal, but her gaze kept darting back to Roberto.

He didn’t look much older than her. He was wearing a dark jacket, regular shirt, nothing to indicate what his current job might be. Was he a reporter even now? He hadn’t talked much about his past—and she hadn’t asked much, she realized with a burst of shame. Prying into Roberto’s past hadn’t seemed important when they were chasing down Vash the Stampede.

She wished she’d asked more. She wished she could even begin to guess what he was doing here. He’d never mentioned living in July. Did he live here? If he did, why had he left for November?

Vash touched her arm. “Are you going to finish that?” he asked.

Meryl looked down at her bowl. She’d been eating on autopilot, mostly going for the solid parts of the noodle soup. and had resorted to stirring around the broth and smaller bits. It wasn’t her favorite part; she’d normally drink it anyway, but she wasn’t hungry at all. “You go ahead,” she said, pushing the bowl to him.

Vash didn’t need to be told twice. At least he still had his appetite. He was in the process of eagerly slurping down what was left when people started leaving the strange building. So many of them were in the same outfit that Meryl was worried they’d miss Wolfwood. She shouldn’t have been; two figures broke off from the main group pretty quickly and headed back in the direction they’d come from. Before Vash even had time to lower his bowl, though, Roberto got up and started walking after Wolfwood and James.

The hell…?

It could have been her imagination, a coincidence. But Meryl still grabbed Vash’s arm as they got up. “Keep an eye on that man there,” she whispered.

“Trouble?” Vash whispered back.

“I…don’t know. Could be nothing, but…”

Vash nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Wolfwood took a more circuitous route back, using more alleys and side streets. The new route did confirm that Roberto was following him. The few times he seemed to vanish, he’d re-appear later out of a random side street and resume the chase. It became hard to tell if they were following Wolfwood or Roberto. “Do you know him?” Vash asked at one point.

He is my boss. Was my boss. Will be my boss. Meryl felt sick. I don’t know what to do.

Wolfwood and James made a sudden turn. Roberto followed. Meryl saw him reach for his gun as he went. From the sound of Vash’s sharp inhale, so did he.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

.

At first, he took the long way out as a precaution. It didn’t take him long to realize how smart a call that was.

“Still there?” he asked James.

“Think so.” There were at least three that they’d noticed: a guy who kept pinging Wolfwood as familiar despite never getting a clear look at him, and two others who he’d also only caught glimpses of, but one too many glimpses for it to be coincidence. He had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t interested in finding out.

Can I get out of this without killing someone? Vash doesn’t need to know if I do, right? Son of a bitch should be grateful I’m here at all…

“What do we do?” James continued nervously.

Screw it. Least I can do is figure out if this guy is with the Eye or what. Wolfwood steered James into a side street. “I’ll deal with it,” he said. “Be ready to run if it gets bad…”

“Hey!” called a voice behind them. “You gentlemen have a – “

The voice, one that immediately struck Wolfwood as familiar, was cut off with a solid omph and the sound of bodies colliding. Wolfwood turned around, tense and ready to start swinging, but instead…

Oh, fuck me.

He may have been dressed in a long black coat and wearing Wolfwood’s glasses, but even with all that and a hood up, there was no mistaking Vash. Meryl stood at the alley’s entrance, wearing a hooded poncho that went a long way in obscuring her features when combined with Vash’s sunglasses. Those glasses didn’t hide the stricken look in her eyes.

A look not directed at Wolfwood.

He looked at the person Vash had pinned, and realized he did know him.

“Military police!” growled Roberto de Niro. “I’m military police!”

Hell. That was him all right. His voice may have been unmarred by drinking and his face was less lined, but it was definitely Roberto.

He was a cop?! July City MP?! This was a lot. No wonder Meryl looked like that.

“What does military police want with us?” Wolfwood asked. He was immediately glad for the gas mask and how it obscured his voice. He didn’t want to think about the ramifications of Roberto recognizing him in the future.

“I had some questions…” Roberto tried to look up at Vash, but the kid had him pinned down pretty good. “…but I’m starting to think you’re not really with those guys.”

Hell. Those sharp bursts of perceptiveness had always been around, it seemed. Vash glanced up at Wolfwood, eyes somehow still just visible behind Wolfwood’s glasses. What do we do? that look asked. Wolfwood was sure the no killing bit was implied, but Vash didn’t need to worry about that this time. The only person from their future Wolfwood was gonna kill in the past was Knives. Maybe Chapel if he got a clear shot, but definitely not Roberto.

New problem. Wolfwood didn’t know what to do.

“And if we’re not? What’s military police going to do about that?” Wolfwood tried.

“Depends on what’s in that bag.”

“Life saving medical treatment that your people don’t feel like sharing,” James snapped. Wolfwood would’ve told him to shut up, but the guy had a point, and he was curious to see how Roberto would react. “We only took what we needed. Is that going to be a problem, or do you really want to stop us from helping little kids?”

Roberto grimaced immediately. His expression was guilty, just for a second, before he went back to being all business. “Is this about the dustlung outbreaks I’ve been hearing about? What’re the Plant worshippers doing with the treatment?”

“We didn’t stick around to ask,” Wolfwood said. “You’re telling me you’re nosing around the Eye of Michael?”

“Why? You know something about them?”

Wolfwood knew plenty, enough to know that whatever Roberto was up to, it was going to put a target on his head. Obviously, it wouldn’t be enough to kill him, but they could find plenty of ways to ruin his life before the end.

“…you guys keep moving, okay?” Wolfwood said. “I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” James asked.

“I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it.”

Vash kept his mouth shut, but he also grabbed Roberto’s pistol, unloaded it, and tossed it in Wolfwood’s direction before letting Roberto up. It was the same Derringer Meryl had on her person somewhere, just newer. Absolutely unreal. “No need for that,” Roberto said irately.

“Would you let me up with a weapon?” Wolfwood pointed out. Roberto grunted in annoyance, but couldn’t argue the point.

Wolfwood waited until the others had left—James was the only one to go without giving Wolfwood a second look—before speaking again: “What’s the endgame here?”

“How much do you know about the Eye of Michael?”

“Enough to tell you this is not a path you want to go down.”

“Are you a member?”

“I was.” Still am. Will be one day. He banished the thought to avoid the headache that would come with it. “I’m just here for the fungus. I don’t make a habit of poking around them anymore and neither should you.”

“There’s lives on the line. Look…” Roberto reached for his pocket, moving slowly when he saw Wolfwood tense. All he pulled out was a piece of paper. “Did you see this kid when you were in there?”

He was holding a photo. Wolfwood glanced at it long enough to catch a few details—light hair, dark eyes, gap in the teeth—before forcing his gaze away. “No,” he said.

Roberto kept pushing: “They help bring families into the city, call it charity work, but sometimes they take the kids. His mother reached out to me…”

“Stop.”

“…said they won’t tell her what happened to her son, won’t let her talk to him…”

“I mean it, stop.”

“He’s only twelve. His name is – “

“I don’t care what his name is, and if you’re smart, you’ll forget you ever heard it,” Wolfwood snapped.

Roberto froze. The look on his face wasn’t judgmental; instead, his eyes were full of dread, as if Wolfwood had confirmed something he’d suspected all along. “Do your bosses know you’re doing this?” Wolfwood asked. “Or did they try to stop you from looking? You ever stop to ask yourself why?”

“…the thought’s come up,” Roberto admitted. His jaw was tight; the dread in his eyes was giving way to frustrated fury. “Just answer me this…what are the chances he’s still alive?”

He was asking the wrong question. It would’ve been better to ask what the chances were the kid was still human.

“If he’s lucky, he’s long dead,” Wolfwood said quietly. “Best if you and his mom act like he is. Trust me.”

Roberto stared down at the picture. His hand started to shake. More and more he looked like a man at the end of his rope. Maybe Wolfwood had been there for his final straw, or had put it there himself. He wasn’t sure. Least he could do while he was here was try and keep things from continuing.

“Stop looking,” Wolfwood repeated. He leaned over, picked up the Derringer, and stepped closer to hold it out to Roberto. “You won’t find any justice in this place.”

Roberto took the pistol with his free hand. “…I don’t care what you took,” he said finally. His voice was dark, furious in a way Wolfwood didn’t know the old man was capable of. “Just…get away from the city before someone else notices.”

He didn’t have to tell Wolfwood twice. He slipped past Roberto and out into the streets. Roberto stayed in place, still staring down at the photo.

He’d be seeing that face in his nightmares for a long time. Wolfwood knew from experience.

.

“We should get out of here.” James hadn’t stopped pacing since they left the sewers. “If the military police are involved…”

“You can go if you want. I’m not leaving without Nico.” Vash kept both eyes fixed on the tunnel exit. His hand hovered near his pistol, as if he were waiting for trouble. The intensity in his eyes was almost unsettling. Not unsettling enough to keep Meryl out of her head, though.

Roberto had been military police once. He’d used the same Derringer back then that he’d given to her (would give to her one day) on the elevator. He had a whole life he’d never told her about. Here and now, he was alive.

But one day he’d be dead, and she’d be partly to blame for it.

The sound of a pistol being drawn finally got her attention. A figure emerged from the sewers, climbed down the ladder to the desert floor, and pulled off a mask to reveal Wolfwood. He took a few deep breaths of the night air, seemingly not caring about the residual sewer smell. “It’s sorted,” he said as he approached. “And no, I didn’t shoot him, before you ask – “

Wolfwood was cut off by Vash hugging him tightly. Wolfwood froze in place, eyes wide, expression almost totally unguarded. He looked just as ready to fall apart as Meryl felt.

Which of his own demons had he faced back there?

“…we’ve, uhm…” Wolfwood carefully pushed Vash away from him. His face was back to neutral by the time Vash could see it. “We’ve got to get moving before anyone else notices us.”

“Agreed.” James jumped on the bike and started up the motor impatiently. “My group didn’t go far. I can drop you off on the road and keep going.” As Wolfwood tossed his things into the sidecar, James added, with genuine earnestness, “Thank you.”

Wolfwood didn’t reply.

Meryl and Vash rode behind them on the thomas. For a while, the only sounds were the bike engine and the thomas’s footsteps. Vash the silence first: “He’s probably mad at me, isn’t he?”

“Uh…oh, no, I don’t think…” Meryl struggled to think of something reassuring to say, but her mind was still trapped in memories of the elevator. “If he’s angry at anyone, it’s probably me. I was supposed to stop you.”

Vash hummed, a sound Meryl felt more than heard as she clung to him. “Did you know that man?” Vash asked suddenly.

Meryl was extremely glad Vash couldn’t see her face just then. “I…” How do I even begin to explain this? “It’s…complicated.”

“Because of the portals?”

“Yeah. Because of that.”

Vash hummed again. Fortunately, he didn’t ask any more questions, but Meryl could tell they were coming. Just not now.

She’d have to think of an explanation. Maybe she’d have a chance to run something past Wolfwood before Vash brought it up again. He was more detached from the situation; maybe he could be objective about it.

Catching a glimpse of the blank look on his face made her reconsider that.

James, as promised, stopped to drop Wolfwood off on the road with the town in sight before thanking them again and driving off. Wolfwood stared after him. He was still in the uniform; it looked even more uncomfortable up close. “Take it you missed the part of the note where you two weren’t supposed to follow me,” Wolfwood said finally.

“No, I read it,” Vash said. “I just figured if it were me, you’d follow.”

“Yeah, because you’re an idiot who’d probably get himself shot.”

“That guy literally had a gun pointed at you.”

“Fuck off. I had that.” Wolfwood suddenly started stripping the gloves off. “Why the hell do they dress like this, shit…”

He was definitely agitated. Vash noticed it, too, which was probably why he kept his mouth shut as Wolfwood yanked off the gloves, the suit jacket, the shirt underneath. He was thinner than Meryl had expected—still muscular, he’d have to be from carrying that weapon around, but in a trimmed-down way that men who did hard labor without enough food were. No wonder he ate like he was starving. Was it the chemicals that did that? “You owe me,” Wolfwood said as he grabbed his own shirt and threw it back on. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Vash said quietly. “I got you more clothes. This is…” He shrugged the black jacket off and held it out. In contrast to Wolfwood, he was much more muscular than you’d expect once he took off the bulky layers. Broad shoulders, well-fed, healthy. It was easy to tell, even with a turtleneck covering most of his body. “…this is for you, actually.”

Wolfwood stared at the jacket, then at Vash, eyes completely baffled without the sunglasses to mask them. “…fucking hell, make me feel like an asshole, why don’t you?” he said incredulously.

Vash started laughing. It had the same air of frantic relief to it as it had before. This time, Wolfwood was the one to step forward and hug him. “I didn’t mean it, Vash, I’m just…”

“But you did do it for me,” Vash said, his voice muffled against Wolfwood’s shoulder.

“I…” Wolfwood met Meryl’s eyes, just for a second, before looking away. “…promised I’d think about what you said…guess I thought about it.”

He didn’t look happy about it. If Meryl had to guess, he’d been clawing and biting and kicking against his better judgment the whole walk to July. But he’d done it anyway. Because he knew it’s what Vash would want.

Wolfwood had still betrayed them, and was still a complete enigma to Meryl in a lot of ways. But looking at him there, knowing that he’d put himself in danger to help Vash in a way…

He looked different than the man she’d hit with the trailer.

“He got me new clothes too, if it makes you feel better,” Meryl said. “You’re not that special.”

Wolfwood snorted. “That does help, actually.” He pulled away from the embrace and snatched his sunglasses off of Vash’s face. “We gonna get back into town before they notice we’re gone?”

“Shoot, yeah, we probably should…” Vash grabbed the thomas’s reins. “C’mon. This way.”

They kept moving as if nothing had happened. That didn’t stop the moment from sticking in Meryl’s mind.

At least it was a more pleasant memory than the one she’d been trapped in.

.

He waited until the others had gone to sleep before trying the clothes on.

It shouldn’t have been nerve-wracking. It was just sturdy work pants, a shirt, the jacket, nothing fancy, all secondhand if the lingering smell of cologne was anything to go by. But it was what Vash thought he would like, what Vash thought he’d actually wear. It was an outfit that Vash thought Nico would wear.

Wolfwood didn’t know what to expect from that.

Everything fit, more or less. The work pants had been black once but had faded into a dark gray. The shirt—long-sleeved, no collar, one of those shirts with only three buttons down the front—was a lighter color, closer-fitting than his usual button-up but still loose enough to be comfortable. Vash had included socks, which almost felt like a passive-aggressive judgment on his usual outfit, but ones Wolfwood planned to wear anyway just to keep his ankle wound clean. He unbuttoned the top button on the shirt before turning to look at his reflection in the bathroom’s full-length mirror.

He wasn’t sure who he was seeing at first. He looked…normal. Like he could be any guy who’d wandered into Hopeland looking for work. He could’ve sworn he looked older, too, though he wasn’t sure how that was possible. Wolfwood tried putting the coat on—long, black, collared—but it didn’t do much to make him look more threatening. The person in the mirror didn’t have blood on his hands or a thousand wounds that should’ve left scars. He was just…

Just…

“Damn it, Vash,” Wolfwood breathed.

He got out of the outfit as quickly as possible, but folded it up slowly and carefully. He crawled back into his cot afterwards, though he knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep. Not with his thoughts rattling around his skull like loose pebbles. If he wasn’t thinking about the Eye or Roberto or how Meryl was holding up after seeing her boss again, he was thinking about the weight of Vash’s embrace, the way his voice shook when he talked.

But you did do it for me.

It felt like a weird thing to say, like there was more to his reaction than the fact that James’ people would get the help they needed. He just couldn’t figure out what.

I mean, I know I said he’d better be grateful for this, but…

The sound of someone moving in the room made him shut his eyes, his body relaxing instinctively into fake sleep. From the lightness of the footsteps, he guessed it was Meryl who slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. Whatever she was up to in there was none of his business, but he found himself keeping an ear out anyway. He could only imagine what kind of shock to the system seeing Roberto again must’ve been for her.

He regretted the move almost instantly, because overhearing the first muffled sob made him feel like absolute shit.

Wolfwood thought about getting up and knocking, but what could he possibly say to her? He’d taken cigarettes off the man’s corpse. Nothing he could say about that mess would comfort her.

But leaving her to cry alone in a hotel bathroom didn’t feel right, either.

As Wolfwood lay there in the dark, frozen with indecision, Meryl made the call for him. He heard the door slip open, the sound of her footsteps, the creaking of the cot as she went back to bed. He didn’t know if she actually slept.

He sure didn’t, though.

.

A new portal didn’t appear for several days

Meryl understood why. Even now that the crisis of fungus distribution was resolved, Vash had a lot on his plate helping out. Bare minimum, he needed someone to tell him when to take a break—or, as Wolfwood’s strategy was on the first day, to wave a sandwich around in front of Vash but refuse to give it to him until he walked away from work to actually eat in peace. “I’ll force-feed you if I have to,” he threatened.

Vash hadn’t fought him. The excitement of the previous night had clearly wiped him out. He’d ended up falling asleep on the floor in their room at dinner, curled up right next to Meryl. “Too bad you don’t have your camera,” Wolfwood said as he moved Vash into his bed. “We could’ve used the photographic evidence next time he wants to complain about resting.”

Despite herself, Meryl smiled. She was worn out, too, though it was more from the still-lingering memories of the future than it was from the actual work. Keeping herself busy had kept a lot of those memories at bay, but she was worried they would hunt her down when she tried to sleep.

She didn’t fall asleep right away, but she wasn’t plagued by nightmares, so she took the win and went back to work.

Things were slightly less hectic the next day. Several people were discharged from treatment, which seemed to life Vash’s spirits. The town wasn’t out of the woods yet, but everyone seemed to think they were headed in a positive direction.

That was also the day Wolfwood taught several kids in the treatment ward what a chaser was by making them shot glassed of chopped up fruit cocktail to down after they took their medicine. Meryl wasn’t sure if that improved or worsened their opinion of him.

“They took their medicine, didn’t they?” Wolfwood pointed out over dinner. He had polished off his serving and was examining the stitches on his ankle wound. “It’s not like I was encouraging them to drink. Just showing them how to make something less gross.”

“A tactic originally invented for drinking,” Meryl retorted.

“Yeah, and cars can be used for transport and as a blunt force weapon. What’s your point?”

“You are never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope.” Wolfwood reached into his pockets and produced a pocket knife. “Listen, one of them has a bartender for a dad. He probably already knows how to make a mixed drink – “

Vash reached over and caught Wolfwood’s wrist. “Don’t just rip those out,” he said, worried.

“What do you think the knife is for?”

“I have scissors, let me…” Vash stood up to get his first aid kit. “You don’t want to get an infection.”

Wolfwood, just for a second, looked like he wanted to make a retort, but bit it back quickly. He did re-pocket the knife, though. “Do you want something for the pain?” Vash asked.

“It’s just stiches. Don’t waste painkillers on me.”

It was a shame Wolfwood had lost the last of his vials; the things may have made Meryl’s skin crawl, but she was sure taking one would be preferable to walking around on a damaged ankle. It didn’t look as bad as she’d expected it to, based off what Wolfwood had told her about it. Maybe he could heal on his own like the white-haired man, just slower.

I wonder if there’s a good way to ask Wolfwood about all of that. She knew a lot more about him now. It wasn’t like he could keep it all a secret forever…

“Are you guys from the future?” Vash asked suddenly.

Meryl froze. Her gaze met Wolfwood’s; he looked just as taken aback as Meryl did. “Uh…” He cleared his throat. “What makes you think that?”

“You knew that man back there, both of you. When I was a kid, Meryl said something about c-cents way before we had currency, and she knew my name. You talk about stuff that doesn’t seem possible from being on a SEEDS ship or being on Earth, and none of you seem really surprised by stuff going on…” He cut free another stitch before looking between the two of them. “So, did the portals bring you from the future?”

Again, Meryl looked to Wolfwood. He looked resigned more than anything. “Better guess than your angel theory,” he grumbled.

“Is that a yes?”

Screw it. He was going to find out the truth one way or another. “We are,” she sighed. Vash’s grin was so bright and triumphant that she couldn’t help smiling back. “What year is it?”

“PE 80.”

“My birthday is…” Meryl froze. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I’m going to be born next year.” Of course, she’d known there was a good chance the portals would bring her to her own lifetime, but now it felt real. “My mom might be pregnant right now.”

Wolfwood barked in laughter. “Hey, maybe we could try finding you next year. See what you looked like as a baby.”

“No. No, we’re not doing that. Ugh, it’s bad enough we…”

Again, Meryl froze, but this time it was from a sense of dread and shame. The mirth fell out of Wolfwood’s eyes as he realized what she was thinking of. Vash quickly caught onto the mood. “That man, was he…family?” he guessed.

Meryl shook her head. “He’s my boss. Will be my boss, in a couple decades. I’m not a police officer in the future, though. I’m a reporter. I don’t know what made him switch careers…he never talked about it.” She set her dinner aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I didn’t really know a lot about him, to be honest. He didn’t like talking about himself.”

Wolfwood’s teeth clicked as he flexed his jaw thoughtfully. “He was nosing around powerful people,” he said finally. “If I had to guess, either he got sick of being stonewalled and left, or he got forced out for causing problems. Explains why he didn’t have a high opinion of military police.”

That made sense. Maybe he became a reporter because he thought it would be a different way to get the truth…only to have that not work out for him, if the way he talked about his job was any indication. So many things about him made sense in light of Wolfwood’s theory.

Coward’s a word for the privileged. She understood what he meant now.

“That’s why you said you were with communications,” Vash said suddenly. “Because you’re a reporter. That’s really cool, actually.” He went back to removing Wolfwood’s stitches. “What’s it like in a few decades? Any different?”

“Honestly…not much. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“July’s a little more developed,” Wolfwood said, “but not much has changed since we got all the major towns built. Only so much you can innovate in a place like this, I reckon.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. It’s a miracle we all made it to stable. Expecting too much change in so short a time…” Vash laughed quietly. “It’s funny. Twenty-three seemed so old when I was a kid, but now…”

Meryl glared at him. “You’d better not start treating me like an underclassman or something,” she said.

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise. It’s just funny.” The last of Wolfwood’s stitches was carefully removed, and Vash started cleaning the injuries. “So, do we…know each other? You don’t have to give me any details, just…yes or no.”

Damn it. Meryl had a feeling he already knew the answer, especially when Wolfwood had told him the portals were Plant-related. It was just a matter of how many details he wanted…how many details were safe to give. “Yes,” she said carefully.

Vash nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll act surprised in a few decades, I promise. Don’t want to ruin a good thing.” He looked between the two of them again and smiled. “Guess that explains why you keep finding me.”

“You’re taking this really well.”

“Like I said, a good thing. I mean, it is for me…” Vash stared morosely at Wolfwood’s ankle. “…I know, this is probably confusing for you. I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Which was arguably not true, but Meryl wasn’t going to hold what happened against Vash. She wasn’t even sure he’d known what he was doing. “I’m happy to help. You’re my friend.”

“And you’d probably be dead without us.” Wolfwood tousled Vash’s hair hard enough to make it stick up. “This isn’t even the worst thing to happen to me, so quit looking at me like you killed my dog.”

Vash’s smile came back as he smoothed down his hair. “I’d do the same for you guys, for whatever it’s worth,” he said. “Though you’re probably involved in less nonsense than I am.”

“I was. I don’t know about him,” Meryl said. The sudden, serious look on Wolfwood’s face made her uncomfortable. She pushed on: “I mean, unless you wanted to help me with my advanced classes.”

“I am known to read a math book for fun sometimes.” Wolfwood made a disbelieving noise. “What? Math can be fun. It’s like a puzzle.”

“I say again,” Wolfwood said, “I am the only normal person in this group.”

That was probably the least true thing he could’ve said, but Meryl decided to let him have this one.

.

Sad thing was, this wasn’t even the first time he’d dreamed about someone trying to kill him.

Suffocation was a new one, he’d give his brain that. But it wasn’t the hands around his throat that made him feel chilled and anxious when he woke up. It was the memory of what was suffocating him. Two sets of hands, one holding him down, one wrapped around his throat, feathers that glinted like steel, a pair of eyes that stared down bright and burning, like looking directly into the sun. He tried to grasp more details as he lay in bed, breathing slowly to calm himself, but those eyes drowned out everything else.

Is this about the fungus? he thought blearily. Because I don’t think I should be punished for that. It was stealing for a good cause, honest…

He rolled over in bed, and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Shit - !”

Vash yelped quietly and fell back onto his ass. Both of them froze immediately, staring at Meryl’s bed. She rolled over, mumbled something in her sleep, and stilled again. She wasn’t the deepest sleeper he’d ever met, but she must’ve learned to sleep through the odd noise while they were on the road.

Which was good, because Wolfwood had questions.

“Were you watching me sleep?!” Wolfwood hissed.

Vash’s mouth opened, then shut again as he looked away. Wolfwood could see how embarrassed he was. “…only for a few seconds,” he admitted.

“…is this…a recurring thing with you, or…?”

“I had a nightmare.”

So did I. And rolling over to see Vash’s eyes staring at him had been the shock of his life when those sunlight eyes were still so bright and searing in his mind. Vash’s weren’t so harsh, though; more like the glow of a full moon. Freaky as shit that they glowed at all, but Vash’s quiet tone of voice was more important in the moment. “I haven’t died on you,” Wolfwood grumbled, “if that’s what you’re worried about. C’mere.”

Vash got up carefully and sat down on the edge of the cot. Wolfwood pulled himself up into a seated position and wrapped a blanket around the both of them. Vash leaned against him immediately. He’d removed his prosthetic arm, which left him looking more vulnerable. Small. “Do you want to talk about it?” Wolfwood asked.

“Not really.” Vash’s eyes half-closed. He sounded tired, looked tired. “I was…thinking about my brother again. Guess it bled over.”

“Have you tried not doing that?”

“I can’t help it.” Vash glanced down at his intact hand. “Don’t know why I bother trying to understand him. He hasn’t exactly been reciprocating lately.”

The bitter tone in his voice brought a lot of mixed emotions. It was good he was seeing sense, but it obviously hurt him. “He hasn’t tried to talk to you again, has he?” Wolfwood asked.

“No, not since he killed all those people. Sometimes I think…I think I can feel him watching me when I’m helping a Plant. Or when I’m dreaming. But he hasn’t tried to talk to me. I wonder if…” Vash scoffed quietly. “…if that’s him trying to punish me. I’ll be pissed if it is, because…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Wolfwood could guess the ending: It’s working. He might not be able to comprehend how Vash could still love Knives after everything he’d done, but he could get how being frozen out of knowing what he was up to would feel. It’d be nice if they could somehow get someone else to put the guy under 24/7 surveillance. That way they’d know for sure if he was up to something or just playing the piano somewhere like a dramatic jackass.

“I almost wish he’d just hunt me down and get it over wi – “

Before Wolfwood could make a very valid protest, something flew across the room and hit Vash in the face. “Do not talk like that,” Meryl said.

Ah, shit. Guess she was awake enough to eavesdrop. Not that Wolfwood minded this time; she’d said everything he’d wanted to say, and with a hat to the face to cap it all off (pun intended). Vash frowned at it before putting it on. “This is my hat now, if you’re going to be like that,” he said.

“Don’t dodge my point,” Meryl grumbled. She crawled out of bed with her blanket wrapped around her and sat down next to Vash. Funny thing; her bedhead, barely open eyes, and blanket cloak making her look smaller did not make her look less fearsome. If anything, she looked cranky and uninhibited enough to bite, if she had to. “There’s got to be something you can think about that isn’t Nai. You can’t let him win by living rent-free up there.”

“She’s got a point,” Wolfwood said. “And not the sick people, either. You’re gonna drive yourself crazy if that’s all you can think about.”

Vash nodded. It was quiet for a moment, but then he straightened up. “Do you guys drink?” he asked.

“Yes,” Wolfwood said. “I have no idea where you’re going with this, but I’m in.”

Meryl sighed. “Honestly, I think we all deserve one at this point,” she said. “I’m in, too…” She yawned. “As long as it’s tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Vash said, and his smile seemed genuine. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

.

More people were getting better. Things were still going smoothly. It was enough to put Meryl in a good mood as they walked to the one open bar in town…until they actually stepped inside.

She’d expected the place to be either packed to the gills or abandoned. It was the latter, and she had a feeling the display board behind the bar had something to do with it. It seemed like the people in charge had decided to prevent drunken mishaps during a pandemic by putting multiple restrictions on alcohol consumption. Only healthy non-doctors could drink, and not enough to get anything worse than mildly buzzed. She didn’t disagree with the rules in theory, and she hadn’t intended to have too much herself, but the duo of police officers watching the room like overzealous hall monitors did put a damper on the atmosphere.

“Well, this is sad,” Wolfwood said flatly.

“They’re the only place in town that’s still selling alcohol,” Vash said apologetically. “They make their own whiskey, though. It’s pretty good.”

“I’ll try that, then. Meryl?”

 She shrugged. “The same.” It all tasted the same to her, really. Might as well just go along with popular consensus.

“I don’t know how the ice machine is doing, so it’ll have to be neat. You guys grab a table, I’ll be right back.” Vash jogged to the bar. The person behind the bar, who had so little to do he was reading a book, did seem to be welcoming, so that was a good sign. Meryl picked a table nearby, with Wolfwood following close behind her.

“I did my first interview with him in a bar,” she said quietly.

“No shit? How’d that go?”

“He told me that his evil twin who looks exactly like him was the one actually stealing Plants and that he was completely innocent…so you can imagine how I felt at the time.”

Wolfwood snorted as he sat down. “It does sound like bullshit until you’re actually living it.”

“That wasn’t even the wildest part. The entire town tried to take him in for the reward money before I could finish the interview, right after he’d saved them from the place being scatter-bombed. And the Nebraskas showed up in the middle of all that. Then E.G. the Mine, then Knives…then you three days later…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did you know him at all?”

Wolfwood tensed for a second before glancing Vash’s way. He was still at the bar, chatting with the bartender and looking more relaxed than she’d seen him all day. “Who, Hamilton? I heard other people bitching about him, but that’s it. I had shit going on, didn’t really pay much attention.” His eyes met hers, hard and defensive. “And don’t ask, because it’ll put me in a bad mood and I think Vash needs us normal right now.”

He was right about Vash, but it was still annoying. Meryl mentally filed that away for later and looked back Vash’s way.  He was walking back over with a tray holding three glasses of a light brown drink and a basket with some kind of fritters. “Here we are,” he said as he set down the tray and took the last chair. “Careful, those are hot. What are you guys talking about?”

“Dive bars we have known and loved,” Wolfwood said as he picked up one of the glasses. “Or ones that weren’t worth the trouble.”

“Because they were expensive or because you ended up getting shot at?”

“Mostly the second one.” Wolfwood distributed the rest of the glasses before holding his up. “Cheers.”

Vash lifted his with a smile. “To all of us being here, and to conflict resolution.”

“Here, here,” Meryl agreed as she lifted hers. The clink of their glasses tapping together still managed to sound cheerful, even with how empty the bar was. The first sip of the whiskey was about what she’d expected based off the sip she’d taken from Roberto’s flask: harsh, filling her mouth with a stinging sensation, but weirdly with a taste that reminded her of a wood campfire. Wolfwood looked taken aback. “Oh,” he said, “that’s not paint thinner. Damn.” He took another sip. “I get it now.”

Vash beamed as he took another sip. “I told you. What was the first drink you ever had? Mine was wine. Luida let me try a little when they managed to make some back home. I didn’t really get the appeal back then.”

“It was beer for me,” Meryl said. “Well…part of one. My dad let me try a glass halfway through high school. He said other kids my age were starting to drink, and that I should at least know what it tastes like and how it makes me feel while I was somewhere safe. I didn’t finish it…or go to any parties after that, but I appreciated the thought.”

Wolfwood shrugged. “Beer for me, too. Couple bottles I got at a general store. Tasted like piss, but it did the trick.” He took another sip. Meryl thought she saw his eyes go distant, just for a second, but he recovered before she could read into it too much. “Shame they’ll probably arrest me if I have more of this. Better than the beer.”

“Maybe I’ll buy a bottle when this blows over and hold onto it for next time. Give us something to look forward to.” Vash’s gaze slid across the room. “Something nice, you know?”

There was a piano in the corner. It looked like it hadn’t been played in a while. Meryl thought back to Vash playing on Ship Three, how happy it seemed to make him. She wondered when he’d played last. Wolfwood must have been wondering the same thing, because he leaned over and whispered, “You thinking about livening the place up?”

Vash hesitated. His fingers drummed against the side of the glass before he took another sip. “It’s been a while,” he admitted. “I might be out of practice.”

“You’re probably still better equipped to play than anyone else here.”

“Or on the whole planet,” Meryl added. About 130 years of even sporadic practice was probably more than most people got. “I’m sure no one will mind.”

Vash took another sip, one that went on until he’d basically drained the glass. “Okay,” he said as he stood. “But if I embarrass myself, I’m blaming you two.”

“That’s the spirit,” Wolfwood said with a grin. He lifted his glass in salute. “Go get ‘em.”

One of the police officers watched the exchange warily, then started giving Vash the stink eye as he sat down and started playing careful strings of notes. “Is he allowed to do that?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anything on the rule board,” Wolfwood shot back. “Or are you just the fun police?”

The bartender waved them off. “Eh, just let him. I don’t know how well that thing plays – “

The next notes to come flying out of Vash’s hands, so suddenly and with such enthusiasm, made everyone shut up immediately. It took Meryl a moment to recognize the tune, but she broke into a grin when she did. It was “Rhapsody in Blue”, though a different version of it than she remembered from before. It sounded more complicated than the one he’d played as a kid. Despite him saying that he was out of practice, he was good. He made fewer mistakes than she remembered, recovered well from the ones he did make, and played with more confidence the longer the song went on. His arm glinted in the light as he played, and Meryl saw a flash of teeth as he smiled.

It was so joyful. Even Wolfwood seemed to feel it; when Meryl glanced his way, he was watching Vash’s hands, looking transfixed by how fluidly they moved. Hands that could kill, Meryl thought, but chose not to. Hands that seemed so much happier and better suited to something like this.

Vash played the last notes of the song. They drifted through the air like a cool breeze on a hot day. Someone started applauding, then a lot of people joined in. Mery looked around the room. Occupancy had more than doubled. People passing by must have heard the music and stopped to listen. Vash looked startled, then bashful. “Uh…hi, everyone,” he said.

“Play another,” someone called. “Please?”

Murmurs of agreement swept over the room. Vash met Meryl and Wolfwood’s eyes. She nodded encouragingly while Wolfwood called, “You heard them! Another!”

Vash’s blush deepened, but he turned back to the keys. “Another one, then,” he said.

Except this time, he didn’t just play. After a brief stretch of notes, Vash started singing, too.

When are you gonna come down? When are you gonna land? I should have stayed on the farm, I should have listened to my old man…

Meryl didn’t know that one. She wondered if it was like Rhapsody in Blue, something so ancient that even its composer’s grandchildren were dead, but kept alive by others and brought into the stars. Vash definitely knew it well, singing each note without hesitation.

I’m not a present for your friends to open, this boy’s too young to be singing the blues…

Maybe this song had been sung the same way once, in a bar with a dusty old piano, as a small shelter against the storm outside. Humans couldn’t be that different than they once were, after all, and while Vash wasn’t actually human, this could be something universal. The real bridge between humans and Plants.

Who didn’t love music?

Oh, I’ve finally decided my future lies beyond the yellow brick road…

The people at the table next to theirs were smiling ear to ear. Wolfwood leaned over to her. “Reckon this is one of the only times people have been happy to have Vash the Stampede in their bar,” he whispered.

It was a good point—sad, yes, but true. Meryl wished more people knew about this Vash, and that money wasn’t such a heavy motivator to turn on him.

Before she could reply, Meryl noticed a change in the music. Instead of stopping, Vash flowed into a new song with ease.

Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Did she know this one? She felt like she did, but she couldn’t place where she’d heard it before. Meryl leaned over the table and listened closely.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes, smiles await you when you rise…

She’d definitely heard this one. Somewhere on the road, but not on the radio. And she didn’t think it was from Vash, either. That left Roberto and…

Wolfwood had a distant look in his eyes, but not a painful one. When Vash glanced over his shoulder and smiled at them, Wolfwood smiled back almost thankfully.

Wolfwood. She’d heard Wolfwood hum it before. What came next in the song confirmed it.

Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time…

She’d definitely heard Wolfwood hum that. Her clearest memory of it was on the ship, after the sand steamer. Wolfwood had been leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, picking at his cuticles and humming to himself in almost the same self-soothing way Vash did.

Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight…

“Carry that weight a long time.”

Meryl’s eyes widened. He was singing along, but not in the off-key, noisy way she remembered from the future. His voice was a bit rough, sure, nothing like Vash’s crystal-clear and pitch perfect performance, but in a way the roughness covered for other flaws. There was something oddly comforting about it, even if it wasn’t traditionally “good.” She understood why Vash liked it.

Wolfwood met her eyes. For a second, she was worried he’d stop, but he just smiled a bit sheepishly and kept singing.

“You’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time…”

Meryl smiled back.

Just when she thought the song was about to wind down, Vash’s playing suddenly shifted, becoming more upbeat.

Oh yeah, all right, are you gonna be in my dreams tonight?

Wolfwood straightened up. “What?” Meryl asked.

It’s…I forgot how this part went. Been trying to remember for…” He shook his head. “Shit.”

I love you, love you, love you, love you…

It was another moment of raw openness from Wolfwood—one hand pressed over his mouth but unable to hide a smile, disbelief and happiness in his dark eyes. She didn’t know the details that would lead to him looking that way over a song, but…

Did it really matter?

No, Meryl decided as she had the last of her whiskey. No, she could let this one stay a mystery for now.

And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.

.

It was especially cold that night, but that didn’t stop Wolfwood from sitting on inn’s front porch.

He didn’t think about his parents all that often. His way of dealing, he guessed. They were dead and buried and he’d never gotten the chance to really know them. Tragic, but a lot of people could say the same. No sense in crying about it.

But hearing that part of the song had unearthed some vague half-memory buried by the sands of time and the heaps of bullshit he’d lived through with his uncle. It was grainy, faded like an old photograph, but…they’d danced to that song together, he was sure of it. Him held in Mom or Dad’s arms, one or both of them singing it aloud.

I love you.

He’d been held once. Loved once. Logically, he knew that, but the gap he felt between that ancient memory and himself felt as wide as the gap between his current self and the boy he’d been the day he was taken away. Maybe even wider. Someone like him—Nicholas the Punisher—couldn’t have ever been that innocent. He couldn’t have been…

The door creaked open behind him. “You could’ve at least brought your jacket if you’re going to brood,” Meryl said.

Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder. She and Vash were standing in the doorway. “Physical discomfort makes the whole thing broodier,” he responded. “Or something like that.”

“If I said that, you’d tell me I was being stupid,” Vash pointed out.

“Don’t use logic on me.” Whatever bite Wolfwood was able to put in those words wasn’t enough to scare the two of them off. Meryl draped Wolfwood’s coat over his shoulders; Vash supplemented it with a blanket over both their shoulders as he sat down next to him. “What, we all gonna freeze now?”

“No, silly. That’s what the blanket is for.” Vash grinned at him and held up the other side of the blanket to let Meryl in. “No more brooding. We’re stargazing now.”

Wolfwood didn’t bother protesting. There wasn’t going to be any talking Vash out of this and he knew it. He was a little surprised Meryl had gotten involved, but it may have just been to make Vash happy.

That or she had picked up on something at the bar and was hoping for answers. But if that was her end goal, she could keep dreaming. He wasn’t going to give up anything any time soon.

They huddled together under the stars, not saying anything, shielded from the cold by Vash’s blanket and shared body heat. Wolfwood tried not to relax too much, but the drowsiness of a long few days and the warmth started to get to him. He leaned against Vash and let his eyes drift half-shut.

It wasn’t enough to make him forget what he was—a monster who didn’t deserve this softness—but it was the closest to forgetting that he’d come in a long time.

.

The sound of someone knocking on the door dragged her out of sleep, but the quiet yelp and very loud sound of something hitting the floor was what really woke her.

Meryl sat up straight. Wolfwood was upright too, scrambling for his rifle. Vash was sprawled on the floor, shirtless and down an arm. Someone knocked again. “Mr. Vash, sir?” called a voice. “Are you up?”

“Is…that one of the nurses?” Meryl asked hesitantly. It sounded like one of them, but sleep was still clouding her mind. For all she knew, she was still dreaming.

“Yeah, that’s…Nico, put the gun down…that’s Sally.” Vash rolled onto his back and jumped to his feet. “Hold on!” He put a shirt on before opening the door and stepping outside. “What’s up?”

He shut the door as Sally replied, plunging the room back into silence and darkness. Wolfwood put his rifle back down with an irate grumble and pulled the blankets over his head. Meryl thought about laying down, too, but her curiosity won out over how tired she was. She carefully slipped out of bed and walked to the door. If she lay down with her ear near the gap, she could just hear the conversation on the other side.

“…should be able to supply enough for a round trip. I know it’s a bit out of the way, but it will get everything to us faster.”

“I can do it,” Vash replied. “I’ll check with the others, but they should be okay to help, too.”

“Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”

“I said I wanted to help, right? If this helps, it’s not a lot at all.” Meryl could picture the look on Vash’s face: calm, gentle eyes, a small smile, the same look he’d worn in Jeneora Rock when he told the Nebraskas there was no reason not to help. “It can wait a bit longer, right? I don’t think I’ll be able to get Nico out of bed just yet.”

“That’s fine. We still have to finish gathering the supplies anyway/ Thank you, Vash.”

“You’re welcome.” The sound of footsteps was her clue to get out of the way of the door. Vash looked surprised to see her standing there, then sheepish. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay. What was that about? What did they need?”

“Another town has supplies they’re willing to share, but they can’t send them out right away. They wanted to know if the three of us would go get them instead. Is that okay?”

“I’m game.” Meryl yawned. “Especially if they’re letting me sleep a bit more.”

“Yeah, go back to sleep. I’ll let you know if they come back before you’re up.”

“Are you going to sleep?”

“I got enough last night, promise. I’m going to finish these exercises.” He smiled and shrugged. “I didn’t get so good at surviving without work.”

That made sense. He’d nurtured his physical strength and his aim the same way he’d nursed his piano playing: consistently over one hundred years. Maybe that was part of the reason he could do the things he did, if not the whole reason. Millions Knives had been able to do horrible things, hold his own in a fight against Vash, but he used his Plant powers—those awful knives of his a lot more—more than Vash did. If it came down to just strength…

Vash would win, Meryl decided as she crawled back into bed. She might not know for sure, and she was definitely biased, but she was pretty sure Vash would win.

Meryl dozed off another few hours. She woke up to the smell of sugar and the sound of Wolfwood’s whining. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago,” Vash replied.

“I’m being singled out. Go bully Meryl.”

“Meryl wakes up on her own.” Something thudded against the floor. “C’mon, I have doughnuts!”

Meryl finally opened her eyes at the mention of food. Vash was waving one of said doughnuts in front of the blanket lump where, presumably, Wolfwood’s head was. Whenever Wolfwood reached out to take it, Vash pulled it just out of reach. “No you don’t. You’ll get crumbs in the sheets.”

Wolfwood flipped him off. Meryl rolled her eyes. “I’ll take it,” she said as she got out of bed. She thought she heard Wolfwood mumble the words bullying me, but chose to ignore it. “Did you tell him?”

“If he’d stop being so lazy, I would.”

“Tell me about what?” Wolfwood’s face poked out from the blankets. “What’s happening now?”

“They want me to go pick up some supplies from another town. They’re going to provide enough supplies for the three of us if you guys want to go, too. You can stay and wait for me to come back, but  - “

“You think I’m letting you out of my sight? With your track record?” Wolfwood finally sat up. “Until we get another…” He glanced towards the door before he looked at Vash again and held out his hand. “…I’m gonna just assume there’s bullshit around every corner.”

Vash chuckled and passed Wolfwood a fresh doughnut. “I guess that’s fair.”

By the time she and Wolfwood had eaten breakfast and gotten properly dressed, Sally had come back with news that the supplies were ready and packed up in a thomas cart. Even with the weight of a few doughnuts and a pretty good cup of tea in her stomach, Meryl wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever the trip ahead would bring.

She didn’t have to worry about it for too long, though. They found a new portal not too long after clearing the town.

“So much for bullshit around every corner,” Vash said. He looked disappointed again, though a little less so than last time. “At least I’ll have plenty of time to think of an excuse for where you guys went.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Meryl asked. She didn’t know what the long-term ramifications of delaying re-entry were, if any, but she didn’t like the idea of leaving Vash alone in the middle of an errand.

“I’ll be okay. I figure this means I need you more in the future.” He looked between them with a sad smile. “I’ll miss you both, though.”

“Sap,” Wolfwood muttered, though he reached over to tousle Vash’s hair as he said it.

They only took enough from their share of the supplies to top off what they already had, leaving the rest for Vash to take back to town. Hugs were given, and Wolfwood’s lighter changed hands again. “Don’t use us not being here as an excuse to be stupid,” Wolfwood said. “If I step outta that thing and it’s only a few days from now, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Vash gave them both one last fond look. “I’ll see you later.”

How much later and in how much trouble was the question. Meryl hoped they were ready for whatever it was.

And, she thought as she stepped through, I hope I don’t have any ghosts follow me this time.

.

sources cited: songs quoted in this chapter are "goodbye yellow brick road" by elton john and "golden slumbers/carry that weight/the end" by the beatles. this post (and i feel like there was another one but i can't find it) was also influential on the chapter.

[ragnarachael]

kinktober — day twenty-one; dirty talk with loki

paring: loki x reader

warnings: a modern au i guess??? not really good dirty talk bc when i wrote this i was SO OVER writing smut so i’m apologizing for that

notes: today is the day my friend LITERALLY gets hitched. it’s only poetic i make it themed about weddings. anyway, a crazy day ahead for me!! love u all!!!

kinktober tag list: @theaudacitytowrite @thinkingth0ts @minssmutblog @abasiclokiwhore @user8292 @itsz-justea @lanablakee @marvelmysterywoman @geeky-politics-46 @stardust-galaxies @milly-louise @agustdowney @aenother @dtrl2003 @writewithmarites @pennywiseass @ssstilesreid @thehuntresswolf​ @iwannafeelallthatloveandemotion​ @remuslupinsmoon @lalaooopsie

kinktober masterlist | feedback | kinktober taglist is here! fill this out to be apart of it! | ALSO! day 31 i’ve deemed as FOLLOWER’S CHOICE! click here to be taken to the follower’s choice poll and cast your vote!! (VOTING CLOSES OCTOBER 26TH!)

Loki’s been torturing you all day between the events of the day. You were one of the bridesmaids for this wedding, and he was a groomsman. It seemed only perfect that the universe would match you up with your one night stand from months ago, didn't it?

“You look gorgeous in the dress,” he’d start during the rehearsal, the two of you walking arm in arm down the aisle in the empty ballroom your friend picked as her venue with you months ago. “Can’t wait to see what it looks like on the floor of my hotel room.”

“Shut up,” you’d hiss back, discreetly nudging his ribs before you parted to your respective sides of the platform you were to be standing on.

There were other comments you really ignored, trying to get this wedding done and over with so you can go home to your cat and recharge your social battery. But during the actual ceremony, it seemed to get worse.

“What if I were to bend you over one of these tables,” he muses once you’re alone at your assigned tables at the reception. “Reckon they’d be mad?”

“Probably,” you reply, crossing a leg over the other under the skirt of your dress as you sip at your vodka soda. “With how my luck has been running, the table would break though.”

“Mm,” Loki hums.

It’s silent between you two for a moment, before he speaks again. 

“You know, we could just...leave.”

You turn to look at Loki, in shock and kind of confused as to why he would even offer such a thing. “The reception hasn’t really started yet. She would kill me—”

“Who said we wouldn’t come back? I haven’t told you my plans for the garden.”

Tilting your head, you adjust your sitting position, raising a neatly sculpted brow that has somehow maintained its shape.

“The garden?”

“Yes.” Loki’s smiling evilly now. “The garden. You would leave here first, and I would follow before dragging you to this one little bench that’s secluded but not too far from here—”

“How long have you been thinking about this? Christ,” you huff dramatically, taking a gulp of your drink once more. “You’ve planned too much of this.”

Loki gives you a pointed look, clearing his throat.

“Anyway. Find the bench and have you lay back so I can fuck you until you’re begging to be dripping with my cum for the rest of this shit show. What do you think?”

You blink slowly at him, trying to really process what he’s saying here to you. To be honest, you’re all for it. It sounds like a whole treat you’ll love to experience. And to be fair, he did show you a great time during your night together months ago.

Finally, you take a deep breath and place your glass down. Loki’s face is looking more hopeful than anything, and you try to keep your excitement down as you come to terms with your choice.

“Alright.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 82: Rum and Episkey

"Ouch," Harry gasped. "Ouch, ouch, ouch! Draco fucking stop!"

Draco ignored him (and the way Harry's pain made his gut twist uncomfortably) "I know," he said, glancing up at his auror partner from the large gash on his thigh. "I know it hurts," he repeated.

"Just cast a bloody episkey," Harry hissed at him as Draco tied off the fabric around his thigh.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I can't. You know I can't," he added. "We're in a warehouse that is full of things that are highly sensitive to magic. We can't use magic, hence the knife wound in the first place."

"Then let's get out of here," Harry said.

"We cant." he repeated. "Harry, pain is making you stupid." Then he amended, "Well even more stupid than usual."

"Oh good, let's add insult to injury," Harry grumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes, "You're fine. Or at least you will be."

"It's just a flesh wound," Harry grumbled in that particular tone that indicated that he was quoting something from muggle culture that Draco wouldn't understand. Harry sighed, "Still bloody hurts."

He looked around them, eyes lighting on the cases until he found one that would serve his purpose. Pulling it down off the shelf he opened the case and pulled out a bottle of rum. "Here," he said.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "what do you normally do with rum? You should drink it, you nitwit."

(Read more below the cut)

Harry grumbled under his breath but opened the bottle and swallowed some down. "Errg," he groaned with a shudder, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"It can't be that bad," he laughed.

Harry held it out, "you try it, then."

He shook his head, "one of us needs to stay sober for when the next group comes through. We need to capture a member of the ring so we can take them down."

With a grimace he took another sip but he winced a little less afterward. "I suppose there isn't much to do except wait."

"Just relax," Draco said, giving in to the impulse to brush one of Harry's wayward curls back off his face.

His eyes drifted shut at the touch and for just a moment, Draco let himself imagine that the other man might feel the same.

----------

No one showed up for a few more hours, during which time Harry drank and Draco watched him, changing out the bandage once when he started bleeding through it. The more he drank the chattier he got and Draco found himself laughing with Harry as he told ridiculous stories about his godchildren, about trouble he'd gotten up to before he and Draco were partners, and everything else under the sun.

Somehow, Harry had collapsed over so his head was in Draco's lap and coaxed Draco's fingers into his curls while they waited.

"Draco?" he slurred.

"Yes?"

Harry rolled a bit so he was looking up at him, blinking up at him like he was the sun. "You," he started with a sigh, "You are really something."

He laughed, "What does that mean?"

"Just," he huffed, scrunching up his nose, "you-" he started before there was a crash a short way away and Draco was jumping to his feet, Harry narrowly catching himself in time to avoid cracking his head on the concrete floor.

"Hold that thought," Draco murmured, slipping away from Harry and making his way toward the sounds, hoping that there was only one of them.

He held the potion vial in his hands preparing to open the cork and knock out the person they were there to capture. Just as he was getting ready to do so, a set of arms grabbed him from behind, attempting to choke him.

Draco started to struggle, but there was a loud thunk and the grip around his neck slackened as the man fell to the floor.

"Open the vial," Harry shouted as the second man barreled toward him.

He pulled the cork and the man dropped like a stone.

Harry sank to the floor, taking the weight off his leg, "Do you have the portkey?" he asked.

Draco nodded, "Grab that one and I'll hold onto this one."

Harry grasped the man's arm and then reached out to hold the metal platter they'd been given, Draco did the same and then initiated the portkey.

He dropped the man on the floor as soon as they landed and pulled his wand, "Episkey," he breathed, healing Harry's wound.

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning at him.

"What were you going to say?" he asked, searching Harry's eyes.

"Potter, Malfoy!" Robbards called, distracting them once more, "Good work. Report," he said and Draco cast a quick sobriety charm at Harry.

He supposed that the rest of the talk would just have to wait. Again.

---------

As they made their way out, after interrogations and reports, Harry slowed down at the door.

"Did you forget something?" Draco asked.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, "My bravery, mostly."

"What?"

Harry looked down, watching as his toe scuffed across the pavement, "It seems like I can always be brave except when it comes to you."

"Why would you need to be brave when it comes to me?" he asked, heart thudding against his rib cage.

"Because you are," he shook his head, "Godric Draco, you're everything. You're brilliant, and gorgeous, and funny, and you've got a heart the size of Hogwarts. I feel like you're the sun and I'm just this little planet being dragged in your wake."

"I'm the sun?" Draco spluttered. "Harry you suck up all the air in every room! I can't take my eyes off of you-"

Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Draco's, right there on the sidewalk outside of the Ministry, like he wasn't even remotely ashamed of being seen with Draco.

"Sorry," Harry murmured when he pulled back, "I just couldn't resist."

Draco grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him in once more, kissing him again until someone pointedly cleared their throat on the way out of the door.

They snapped away from each other to see Ron standing there with his hands on his hips. "Really?" he asked.

Both Harry and Draco opened their mouths to reply but Ron continued over them.

"You couldn't have done it on a case?" he asked. "That's what I had down in the poll. I think Seamus is gonna win now," he complained. "This just doesn't seem like the most romantic or appropriate place for it-"

Harry laughed and clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Sorry. If you'd told me maybe we could have helped you."

Ron shook his head, "Well, congratulations anyway." He grinned at the two of them, "Took you long enough. Let me take you out for a celebratory pint," he offered.

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "I don't think so." He slipped his fingers through Draco's, "I think we're going to be a bit busy."

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

Day 81: I Missed You | Day 83: Arcade

[duesternis]

movie date, or pls don’t kill me @marblekuchen

here you go @marblekuchen please don’t hurt me or my plants (this will probably be added to a planned collection after i finish posting suburbia)

Hashirama is indescribably giddy. They’re skipping last period! Madara and he! Skipping school! He’s aware that this is a slippery slope, and now that they’ve done it once, they will surely do it again and his father will be more than unimpressed and Tobirama will be disappointed. But right now it’s one of the first truly warm spring days and Madara is rambling about the latest Shounen Jump and they’re on their way to the movies.

Hashirama laughs, just because he can, and because Madara’s indignation at the newest stupid result of some stupid character poll that didn’t have his favourite in the top ten is frankly hilarious. So he laughs, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Madara kicks him in the back of the thigh and with a yelp Hashirama stumbles, still laughing. “Asshole! Fuck you! Let’s see how you’ll mope when they cancel the next Sailor Moon rerun!” “Aaawwww, Maddy! They’d never! It’s a classic, beloved by all!” “Unlike you,” Madara mutters, cheeks flushing. Hashirama squawks and flings his arm over Madara’s bony shoulders. Rubs their cheeks together and whines and whines and whines, like a particularly sad puppy. Madara sighs, forces a hand between their cheeks and pushes him off. “Okay, okay, whatever. I’ll pay for the tickets, you pay for the food?” “Sure! Sounds great!” Hashirama turns his face a bit and licks a strip over Madara’s palm, tasting sweat and that faint metallic taste of a hand unwashed. Now Madara does the squawking and wipes his hand clean in Hashirama’s hair. An older woman gives them a stern look, unimpressed with their conduct. Hashirama levels his full smile at her, wattage turned up as high as it goes and she looks away again. Madara calls it his “deranged smile” whatever that’s supposed to mean. It’s a very kind expression, his brothers always tell him so. “Lick me again and we’ve been friends the longest time, mushroom boy.” “Hey, come on, it’s barely a bowlcut anymore!” With a smirk Madara looks at Hashirama over his shoulder and then sticks his tongue out at him. It makes Hashirama’s heart flutter, somersaulting in his chest. It’s his favourite feeling in the world, especially when it also comes with a swooping stomach and Madara’s hand on him somewhere. Two out of three isn’t bad though. And with the movie Madara picked for them, Hashirama will have to hold on to his hand through the whole thing.

The movie theater is almost empty, afternoon showings always an unpopular time. But there is no way either of them will be allowed to go to the night showing. They part ways just behind the doors and Madara gets the tickets, Hashirama getting more food than either of them can conceivably eat during the movie. Madara helps him carry the haul to their seats and then they get comfortable. Chatting and munching through the ads and trailers, only focusing on the screen when the movie starts. Their hands curl around each other, like kittens, on the armrest, inches away from their drinks, snacks forgotten in their laps. Some time into the movie Madara hisses, nails digging into Hashirama’s skin and Hashirama shudders. The physical effects on the screen, the tension holding the whole theater in its iron grip, he wouldn’t be able to stand it without Madara’s steady hold. He sneaks a glance at his friend, heart in his throat and mouth dry. The huge screen washes Madara’s face in shadows and pale blue light, hard angles and the hint of man already showing through. Hashirama knows – like he knows that the sun rises in the morning and that he loves to rise with it – that Madara will grow up to be devastatingly handsome. He has a face like a model in a magazine, and the haughty brow to go with it, from time to time. A loud musical sting pulls Hashirama from his staring and he catapults popcorn everywhere when his legs spasm. There’s a monster front and center on the screen and fuck. That’s a lot of teeth. Madara bites back a laugh, gives Hashirama’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Fuck, that really scared me,” Hashirama whispers, mortified. Embarrassed. Happy beyond belief. “No, really?”, quips Madara, sarcasm dripping off his voice like syrup. Bad metaphor, Hashirama is sure, but everything Madara does is good and sweet and perfect. Hashirama’s heart skips a beat when Madara leans over the armrest and he remembers all the high school romance movies he’s ever seen in his life and all the movie theater kisses therein. For some reason. Madara grins, a private little thing, and plucks popcorn out of Hashirama’s hair, biting down on it with a crunch. The darkness is a blessing, as Hashirama feels his cheeks superheat, blood rushing to his head in one fell swoop.

He remembers nothing of the rest of the movie.

But he will forever remember that expression on Madara’s face, his lips shiny with sugar in the glow of the movie screen.

[justauthoring]

To Be Loved (1/?)

Prompt: Perhaps, you understand Harry Potter better then anyone else. Perhaps, it’s why, when your eyes meet his for the first time, you feel an instant connection. Perhaps, it’s why, you love him.

Based off of: The Harry Potter Series Pairing: Harry Potter x Black/Tonks!Reader, slight Fred Weasley x Black/Tonks!Reader A/N: So here it is!! The very first part!! I really hope you guys enjoy the series because I am so incredibly stoked for her -- specifically movies POA, GOF, and OOTP!! I have so much planned, lol.

Also, Fred won the voting poll -- meaning, Y/N will have a small bit of romance with him, before she eventually ends up with Harry.

Chapters will also be longer after this one, but I felt an introduction was needed, so it’s a tad bit on the short side.

“Lupin, I... we...--”

There’s an echo of silence. Andromeda finds herself unsure of what to say, or rather, how to say it. Her mind was fuzzy with great confusion, her chest tight with fear. She could hardly believe it -- how could it... it couldn’t possibly be true.

Her husband seems to understand her meaning though, understanding the thoughts that race through her mind. With a brief glance her way, taking in the lost expression in her eyes, Ted swallows thickly before glancing over to the young man sat in front of him. He looked tired, terribly so. He looked misplaced, as if he didn’t belong where he was sat; uncomfortable too. His eyes were dull, no light in them, no spark of joy.

Ted didn’t blame him. This man had lost four friends in one night. This man had lost his happiness completely. The dull look in his eyes was an understatement of what he’d endured, witness and gone through.

“It’s true then?” Ted asks quietly, not really sure how else to phrase the question. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, not wanting to set off either of those sat around him, but desperate to know the truth. “He... really did do it?”

He doesn’t have to say a name for Lupin to know who he’s talking about.

“It would seem that way,” Lupin whispers, voice gone, faint, cracked. Ted regards him carefully, with a watchful eye, but also, pity. Understanding of something he didn’t truly understand. He had no idea the severity of how the young man must be feeling, and in all truth, he didn’t want to. Ted had been friends with him too, but not like Lupin. “He’s being sent to Azkaban.”

“What about the boy?”

It’s the first coherent and full sentence Andromeda has managed to find herself able to speak. It’s the first time she’s felt she’s been able to find her voice again. Her eyes flicker to Lupin’s and hold his own scared and sad ones firmly, worry in her gaze for that young baby. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who no longer had parents of his own. The boy who was alone in this world.

“Dumbledore says he’ll be staying with the next of kin,” Lupin explains, voice numb. “Lily’s...--” And he chokes at the mention of her name. “Lily’s, uh, sister and her husband. The have a child Harry’s age.”

Ted nods, makes the most sense. Of course, he didn’t know what Lily’s sister really was like.

Lupin did though.

Andromeda’s head turns, glancing up at the stairs of her house, to where you lay, peacefully asleep. She’d put you asleep herself not an hour ago, held you in her arms when the world had seemed alright. She’d told you that your father would be back soon, that daddy was coming to see you. At the time, it’d been true. Now, Andromeda felt like nothing but a filthy liar.

Turning back to Lupin, her mind set; “we’re keeping Y/N.”

“D-Dromeda--” Ted stutters, appalled by her words. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to give you up either. Not with everything that’s happened. Not after your father...-- But, he didn’t know if it was their place to be making any demands. He didn’t know if they’d be allowed to keep you. 

Andromeda’s fierce and determined eyes fall on her husband. “She belongs with us.” She says, voice firm and raising slightly with distress and plea. “We’re her next of kin. We’ve already taken care of her this much. She needs to be with us, she needs a sense of familiarity. I won’t just pass her off like some trophy for the winning and I certainly won’t let my family have her.” Then, she turns to Lupin. “We’d take great care of her. We already have. We’d raised her loved. Adopt her so she’s really part of the family, last name and all.”

“Dromeda,” Ted hisses lightly, placing his hand over her own, squeezing it tightly. “Lupin’s her Godfather.” He turns to Lupin, whose yet to say anything. Or really even react. “Y/N belongs with him just as much as us.”

There’s an air of silence. Both Ted and Andromeda turn to Lupin, waiting, expecting.

Shifting in his seat, Lupin leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table. A small, almost thoughtful smile curls onto his lips as he keeps his gaze lowered. “Sirius named me her Godfather,” there’s a pause at the sound of his name. “It’s true. And I love Y/N like my own daughter. But, you,” and his eyes set on Andromeda specifically. “Will raise her better then I ever could.”

Andromeda eases, and a small smile curls onto her lips. Ted seems a bit more reluctant.

“Are you sure, Lupin--”

Lupin nods. “I have one request however.”

“Anything.”

“I’d still like to... visit her.” Lupin whispers, body tensing as his vulnerability shines through. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to see Harry because Dumbledore would like him to grow up away from magic. But... I couldn’t bare to...” And he doesn’t finish, not sure how to.

Andromeda reaches across the table, taking Lupin’s hand in her own, which elicits a soft gasp of surprise from him, before she squeezes it firmly. When Lupin meets her gaze, her eyes are warm and inviting, and despite everything she’s found the strength to smile. “Of course,” she whispers with certainty, “you can visit Y/N anytime. Our home is yours.”

Lupin nods, smiling his thanks.

They finish the night off with a promise from Andromeda that she assures Lupin that Ted and her will take great care of Y/N. Lupin has no doubt that they will. Sirius had left you with them in the first place, as protection from everything. And even now, after everything, Lupin is assured he’d never cause harm to you. Never you.

Ted and Andromeda Tonks home was the best home for you. 

He makes his way up the steps, wanting to say farewell one last time because it might be a bit before he can see you again. He creeps into your room, making sure to be extra quiet when he sneaks past the Tonks daughter Nymphadora’s room, slipping into your own. A sense of ease floods him at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping away. Your tiny little thumb was in your mouth and your H/C hair came out in wisps around your head.

But Lupin knew, if you’d open your eyes, he’d see Sirius staring back at him.

Lupin finds himself then, glad that you’re asleep.

Leaning over the edge of your crib, the tips of Lupin’s fingers ghost across your skin softly, touch gentle, eyes adoring as he smiles faintly down at you. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but, he does find himself at peace with you. An innocent baby who had no idea what your own father just done.

“Your father wasn’t always like this,” Lupin whispers, wistfully. “There was a time he...he--” And he can’t finish. It’s too painful. Memories of his friendship with your father, with James and Peter too... it hurts too much that words can’t even properly explain it.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N. That’s a promise.”

When he’s making his way out the door, bidding farewell to both Andromeda and Tonks. he finds himself making one last request. “Don’t tell her about Sirius. No one really knows he even has a daughter.” And at the confused and baffled expressions he receives, he adds. “At least, don’t tell her the truth. She doesn’t deserve to have that weight placed on her.”

Sirius Black’s daughter; just as crazed and evil as he is.

Sirius Black’s daughter; a murderer for a father.

Sirius Black’s daughter; hated by everyone because he killed James and Lily Potter.

You don’t deserve that.

And Andromeda and Ted have no reason to argue. Because he’s right.

-

11 YEARS LATER

-

You wake with a start. 

Today’s the day.

Jumping up to your feet, you hastily start to get ready. Your feet bounce with each step you take and you can hardly contain yourself as you start rushing about your room, trying to brush your hair and teeth at the same time. Trying to pull on your shirt while washing your face.

You can hear the distant sounds of pots and pans downstairs and know that breakfast is being made. But even as your stomach rumbles in hunger, you find you don’t really much care about whatever’s being made for breakfast that morning. Because, today’s the day.

You come bounding into the kitchen, a knowing smile on Andromeda’s face as she hears your racing footsteps come barreling down the stairs. Ted smirks behind his coffee cup as you come running into the kitchen, breathless, your hair a knotted mess upon your head, the sleeve of your sweater hanging off your shoulder.

“Good morning, darling,” Andromeda greets with a light laugh, quirking a brow over at you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. She places the prepared plate of food before you, before turning to do the same with Ted, who presses a grateful kiss against her cheek in response, before moving off to grab a plate for herself, not saying anything else.

Your eyes watch her carefully, anxious.

“My God, Y/N,” begins Ted, setting down the paper he’d been reading to glance over at you, feigned shock plastered on his face. “You can barely keep still in your own seat. Is there something on your mind?”

You huff at him, shaking your head. How typical of him to forget. “Today’s the day!”

Teasingly, Ted glances back at Andromeda, who, like him, feigns understanding.

“What’s today?”

You only shake your head again, choosing not to answer -- they should know -- and exasperated with them as you take a big bite out of your toast, As you quickly sip some orange juice, you turn your attention back on them. “Has the post come yet?”

“Oh!” Andromeda calls, setting down her plate before walking back over to kitchen counter to grab a handful of letters. “Thank you for reminding me, darling. I’m expecting a letter.”

Me too. You watch carefully, food forgotten, as she stifles through the handful of letters, leg pouncing with anticipation. 

It has to be in there. It has to be in there.

But it isn’t. Andromeda goes through all four letters in her hand and not one of them is for you.

Your heart falls with devastation, plummeting to the pit of your stomach as your shoulders slack and you glance down at your lap. You almost want to cry you’re so disappointed. But today was supposed to be... It should’ve come today...

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Ted questions, taking another sip of his coffee. “Were you expecting a letter?”

With a moan, you nod, poking at your food.

“Perhaps a letter from... Hogwarts?”

You raise your head, eyes flickering upwards as a bright, big smile curls onto your lips when you see the letter levitating before your eyes. A glance back at Ted and Andromeda and you can tell, if it hadn’t been obvious before, that they’d been teasing you purposely and with a roll of your eyes, you quickly snatch the letter, practically ripping the envelope open.

You open it with with eager eyes, barely able to contain your happiness as you begin reading aloud:

Dear Miss Tonks, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall. Deputy Headmistress.

Your excited eyes fall on your adoptive parents. “It’s true then?” You question, voice pitching, hopeful. “I’m going to Hogwarts? Really?”

Laughing, Andromeda nods. “Yes, it’s true, dear.”

A squeal of joy leaves your lips and you practically hug the letter tight to your chest, eyes clenching shut in joy. You’ve only ever heard about Hogwarts from your parents and your sister, Nymphadora, who had graduated not that long ago. They were all in separate houses, and every story they told you, you held on tightly to, absorbing it with great fascination and interest for the day you finally got to go yourself.

And it was really happening!

“I wonder what house i’ll be in,” you wonder aloud, voice soft with curiosity, nervous eyes peeking over at your parents. “I wonder who my friends’ll be.”

“I do believe the Weasley’s youngest son starts his first year this year too,” Ted offers, nodding to himself as he smiles over you. “I’m sure you and Ron will be able to help each other out.”

You smile, nodding. “And the twins too! They’ll be in their...” You pause in thought for a moment, before grinning. “Third year!”

“Yes,” Ted laughs, nodding. “The twins too. They’re quite fond of you.”

A small blush comes to your cheeks.

“And,” Andromeda moves to add, meeting your gaze firmly. “We’ll support you no matter what house you end up in. I was in Slytherin, Ted, Ravenclaw and Nymphadora in Hufflepuff.” She pauses, before a thought occurs to her. “And then, Lupin was in--”

“Gryffindor!” You answer for her, smiling big. “Ooh! I’ll have to send him a letter, tell him i’m going to Hogwarts. He’ll be so happy. Do you think he’ll be proud?”

“Of course he will.” Andromeda smiles, “maybe he can take you shopping for your school supplies.”

Biting your lip, you set down your letter. “Do you think he will?”

Ted shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

“I’m sure Uncle Lupin would love too.” Andromeda assures you, before her eyes fall on your plate. “Now, eat, darling. You’ve got a busy few days ahead of yourself, what with starting Hogwarts and all.”

Your stomach rumbles as Andromeda finishes, and you comply without complaint, moving to finish your breakfast eagerly. But still, even as you eat and the two of them chatter off absentmindedly, all you can seem to focus on is Hogwarts. On what you have to expect. All the wonderful new things you’ll learn...

You hope you’re Gryffindor like Uncle Lupin. He also told you that your father had been Gryffindor, and even if your father would never be able to tell you, you’d do anything to make him proud. Plus, almost all of the Weasleys are Gryffindor’s too. You’d love to be in the same house as Fred and George.

Slytherin would be cool too. Especially since your mom was apart of it. So would Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

But Gryffindor... to be closer to your dad...

That’d be nice.

-

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[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Back Against the Wall - TEASER

Recent poll winner for the prompt: - Kara forgets to button the last button at CatCo event, gets swarmed by omegas.

Includes the following items in every box: * Cat Grant returns * Nia is flustered by Cat Grant * Andrea is thirsty * Lena is slightly devious * Kara doesn't "get" Earth taboos

https://www.patreon.com/posts/54179252

=====

"Well, well, well...aren't you all grown up, Kiera?"

Kara spins so fast that it has Nia coughing in a way that sounds suspiciously like 'secret identity'.

"Cat," she mumbles.

Elegant as ever, her old boss lifts her flute of champagne to her lips, her trademark platinum bracelet twinkling in the low lighting. Behind Cat is a strawberry blonde omega clad in a shimmering drape of green silk seemingly modeled after the chitons so popular on statues of Greek goddesses. It bares her legs to mid-thigh and the silver-plated clasps leave tantalizing glimpses of milky flesh between hips and ribs. The collar is turtleneck-high and crushed velvet, leading to a gold chain. The outline is tempting without being glued to her bust and her butt, and so like something at the National City University sculpture garden that no one would dare call it racy. Perhaps it's an in-joke between them about her very classical figure: all curves and heft in tribute to the ancient feminine from ages before anyone heard of 'thigh gap'. The omega's scent screams admiration and her hand never leaves the small of Cat's back. Kara spots a tiny scar on Cat's braceleted wrist. It's a better place for a businesswoman to have a bite, Kara supposes. Easier to conceal. Never let them know what the rules are, Cat once told her.

"Right," Kara finally manages. "Good point."

"Naturally," Cat retorts. "I made it. This is Vania."

Rao's mercy. The Amazon? Aella and Melanippe's daughter?

"Lovely to meet you, sister," Vania drawls. "For you it's Van, or just V."

"You haven't introduced me to your date, Kiera."

"This is Nia. Ah...a friend."

"My..." Nia pauses. "...partner is having a rough patch. We're trying to keep it low key for him. So when I go out, it's with Kara."

"Nia Nal."

"I'm Cat Grant. Obviously."

The handshake is brief and jerky and meant to show a burst of strength but also respect. Nia is making Kara's alpha feel foolish and inadequate tonight.

"The pieces on fashion, expression, and gender," Cat recalls, tapping a long finger against her wine glass. "And the op-ed on status-body divergence. I'm guessing those were yours?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ma'am," Cat huffs. "Ma'am is my mother. An association you do not want me to make. Those articles were tolerable. I thought you seemed familiar."

Nia shivers. Cat turns her all-seeing gaze back on Kara. Pale blue, almost green. Knife-sharp and intense enough to spear Kara to the spot, bracing for a verbal beat-down.

"I recommended to Ms. Luthor that she assign Nia to you, Kara."

"You did? You personally?" Nia all but squeals.

"Mmm. But I wanted you to teach her how to show some spine, Kara. Not donate yours," she teases.

Van slides her arm in Cat's and gestures towards the banquet table.

"Let Kara be, my heart."

She turns her ocean-blue eyes on Nia and waves a hand idly at the food.

"Come, little oracle. I do love a good story of Cat's handpicked proteges," she purrs.

As the trio passes by, Kara feels blunt nails scrape across her abs.

"Missed a button," one of her tormentors hisses.

=====

The 'crisis' turns out to be Lena and Andrea next door in the omega's ladies, still dressed to the nines, with the alpha waiter that they'd hijacked held between them. Andrea's long fingers are curled around the waiter's cock. Each pump is slow. Deliberate. Controlling. Lena's tongue traces the poor woman's ear--pink, puffy, and perfect--dragging strangled sounds from deep in her ribs. Andrea's bending over more than she needs to, making sure Kara has a good view of her golden skin. Up and down she strokes, up and down goes the mind-melting glimpse of her cleavage.

"Nice of you to join us," Lena purrs. "I knew I could count on Supergirl."

There's something about the waiter, too. Something familiar.

"You're the vigilante that I had to save six months ago."

The woman was good, and obviously had excellent training. Batman-level moves but no Batsuit. Bruce won't admit it, but the fifty million dollars of bulletproof armor matters.

"Answer her, love."

=====

Kara's too hasty in setting them down on Lena's balcony, making Andrea tumble out of her grip into a heap. Thankfully, she landed on one of Lena's chairs for sunbathing.

"Whatcha think?" Kara whispers to Stephanie, nodding at the tangle of golden skin, ruined designer silk and embarrassed slash horny scent. One of Andrea's Givenchy heels is dangling on snapped straps and the other probably went over the edge of the balcony. A quick glance with X-Ray vision finds it embedded in a planter. Since the falling stiletto didn't smash anyone's brains, she decides it's not Supergirl's problem.

"I think you should fuck her."

Kara nearly jumps back into the sky at the sound of Lena's voice.

Lena toes off her own shoes and walks over to the deck chair. She gathers Andrea's silky mane into a fist and yanks.

"Lee," Andrea moans. "Please."

"Please what, Andrea? Please, Lena! Protect me from a pair of alphas? Please, Lena! Let you pay me back for the way I betrayed you by letting them fuck me sore? Please, Lena! Let me earn your trust by taking their knots?"

"All of it," Andrea mumbles. "Except the first bit."

=====

Lena claps appreciatively and disappears inside, soon returning with baby wipes, paper towels and an energy drink for Andrea. Someone's phone goes off and the three of them--Andrea is working hard just to keep track of a straw--hunt through the pile of clothes until they find it.

"Fuck," Stephanie hisses. "I have to go."

Lena glances over her shoulder.

"He does not call it the Bat-ification. Does he?"

"I tried to trick him into calling the alerts 'bush', for Bat-push, but Batwoman caught me."

Andrea wheeze-laughs.

"Kate Kane knows her way around a bush, I'll give her that."

=====

Kara is not a fan of capitalism in general.

But having Lena's fridge restocked to abundance in tidy rows by some white-gloved person every day makes a case for some aspects of it.

Lena on tiptoes in a loosely tied kimono of queenly purple, straining her pretty little fingers for the switch for the stove's exhaust fan? That can excuse any injustice.

"Little help?" her best friend whines, using her scent in a way Kara doesn't remember Nia ever using to make Kara reach something in the supply closet at work. Nia's probably just not as crafty. Who is, really?

Kara walks around the breakfast counter and curls her fingers around the omega's hips, thumbs pushing in just a bit so she can stroke the delicate arch that frames Lena's pelvis.

"You could just reach up and do it," Lena reminds her, but she's short of breath.

"Gotta teach billionaires to be self-sufficient," Kara teases before she lifts her up.

"Fuck," Lena pants, bracing her hand against the exhaust hood and scrambling madly for a switch with fingers shaking so hard she can barely work it.

[darriness]

Klaine Advent 2020 - Day 6

Title: Farm

Author: darriness

Rating: M

Word Count: 782

Summary: A Christmas tradition

Author’s Note: I sort of challenged myself to start each summary with 'A Christmas...'. Not sure I love how this descriptions ends but I kinda love the fic so it balances out lol 

Also thanks to @caramelcoffeeaddict, @slayediest, @na-page, and @tchrgleek for voting in my informal poll yesterday! I tried to satisfy all of your votes. Hope I succeeded! @lucy8675309 - Also thank you for voting! I will try and fulfill your request at some point!

AO3 Link

Kurt comes awake to Blaine kissing his neck. In the brief moment between being asleep and being awake, Kurt relishes the pops of sensation each kiss brings. When he’s fully awake, he still relishes the feeling but his brain finally catches up and he groans.

“We have to be up early.” Kurt whispers into the quiet.

Blaine doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, “I need you again.” He all but whines.

Sex had happened before bed. It usually did. But then they’d drifted off to sleep in their post-orgasmic haze and Kurt had assumed he wouldn’t be up again until the alarm went off.

Kurt closes his eyes around a hum as Blaine’s hand trails down his stomach and begins to palm him through his pyjama pants. Kurt relaxes into the feeling, letting his hips thrust slightly a few times, before he smacks his lips together and tries again, “Farm. Kids. Tomorrow. Early.”

They’re taking the kids to the Christmas tree farm in the morning to look at animals and choose their Christmas tree for the season. They’d promised them earlier in the week. They need to be asleep because a regular Saturday with their two kids is exhausting enough but a day on a farm?

Blaine’s wet lips drag upward to rest against Kurt’s ear as he lightly squeezes the cloth covered hardening flesh in his hand, “I’m still wet and open.” He pants.

Kurt curls towards Blaine with a desperate groan, hooking an arm under Blaine’s and clutching his shoulder, “Don’t say stuff like that.” 

“Why?” Blaine asks, “It’s the truth. I’m open, wet, and I need you again.” He says, “I need you to turn me over, flatten me onto the mattress and use this,” He lightly squeezes Kurt’s now fully erect cock again, “to make. Me. Scream.” He punctuates each of his last words with a firm stroke of Kurt’s erection.

Kurt bites his lip and buries his face into his pillow. He knows Blaine won’t actually scream. They’ve been perfecting the art of quiet sex since Lizzy was born eight years ago but just the words and the imagery are REALLY doing it for Kurt. And making him forget why he was protesting this in the first place.

“Please.” Blaine begs into Kurt’s ear and that’s it. Kurt is lost.

He pushes at Blaine’s shoulder until the younger man rolls away. He pushes his pyjama pants down as Blaine groans, triumphantly, and wiggles out of his boxers.

Kurt climbs up onto his knees and pulls Blaine’s hips back to meet his. He hisses at the contact, his cock sliding between Blaine’s spread thighs and rubbing along Blaine’s equal hardness, and thinks maybe he could just come from this.

“More.” Blaine pants and oh. Right. Blaine wants him inside.

He fumbles for the lube on the bedside table and dribbles it over Blaine’s still wet hole and his own erection. He might as well make this good for both of them.

-- -- --

“Daddy! Papa!” 

Two hours, and not enough sleep, later Kurt and Blaine are awoken by screaming voices and pounding feet. Lizzy and Matty charge into their room without knocking and scramble onto the bed. 

Lizzy straddles Blaine’s back and Matty straddles Kurt’s stomach. The four-year-old bounces slightly, causing Kurt to laugh and groan at the same time as he stills Matty with his hands on his hips. 

Kurt opens his eyes to see his smiling son above him and then turns to his right to see Blaine’s eyes squeezed shut. Kurt laughs at the pained expression.

“This is all your fault.” Kurt reminds.

Blaine’s eyes come open to glare.

“What’s Daddy’s fault?” Lizzy asks, “Are we still going to the farm? You promised!”

Kurt smiles at Blaine before looking up at Lizzy still straddling Blaine’s back, “We are definitely still going to the farm.” He says, avoiding the other question, “But Daddy and Papa can’t shower if you’re on us.” He says, tickling an already giggling Matty who falls over onto the mattress.

Lizzy giggles as well and moves from her spot to allow Blaine to get up. Blaine does with a massive groan and Kurt smirks as the other man limps toward the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Matty asks, concerned.

Blaine stops at the door to their ensuite and turns to his son with a smile and tired eyes, “I’m fine, buddy. Papa and I were just...playing a game last night and I hurt my back.”

“What game?” Matty asks as his eyes light up and he looks to Kurt, “Can I play?”

Kurt laughs, “When you’re older.”

Blaine’s laugh comes through the closed door as the sounds of the shower fill the room.

[monstersandmaw]

Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour.  “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

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[drabbles-of-writing]

Your Turn

This is part of my Uncursed AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lilith, as of recently, had been training Amity far more often. She wasn’t sure when it started happening, but it always made her feel better when she knew Amity was out of that forlorn mansion.

Which worked out wonderfully for her, since Amity loved training. She was always one to be on time, and rarely did she ever miss a lesson.

So, needless to say, Lilith was rather concerned when, one day, Amity was over ten minutes late.

,

They trained in many spots across Bonesborough, so to be prepared for any kind of terrain. Today, she decided to be a little easier and train in a clearing in the woods, opposite of the Owl House.

She would rather not run into Hooty, if she could avoid it.

Lilith tapped her foot impatiently, each minute feeling like an hour. The witch was about to pull out her scroll to call the young witch when a sound from the foliage caught her attention.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Amity called, rushing into the clearing and nearly tripping over herself.

“Amity! There you are.” Lilith said, hurrying over to the young witch. “Are you alright? Normally you would inform me if there’s to be a delay.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Amity apologized, ears pressed back. “I, uh...slept in…” She mumbled refusing to meet the coven leader's eyes.

“Slept in?” Lilith repeated. “It’s...late afternoon?”

Amity lightly kicked at the ground beneath her and held her hands behind her back, refusing to meet the witches eyes.

“Amity,” Lilith said, crouching down so as to be eye-level with the girl. “Did something happen?” She asked, concerned.

Call her a worrywart, but a million bad ideas ran through her head. Amity being late and sleeping in was very unlike her. Did something keep her up? Was there an issue at the mansion? Was it stress? Was she being too hard on her?

Amity sighed and her shoulders sagged.

“You remember the human, Luz?” Amity asked.

“Of course,” Lilith blinked, surprised at this. “Why?”

“So, I was in the library to, erm, grab something I left,” Amity stuttered, fiddling with her hands. “And it was the night of the Wailing Star, so I knew Ed and Em were going to be there. But turns out they also...brought Luz…” She trailed off.

Lilith tilted her head, slowly processing the words Amity had said.

“Oh, I see.” Lilith chuckled. “Let me guess, she pulled you into some far too chaotic adventure last night?”

“Yeah,” Amity sighed, looking relieved. “It was crazy! We had to fight the character Otabin, and Luz actually didn’t have that bad of an idea, and we almost got sewn into a book, and turns out Luz is, like, a huge nerd.” Amity rambled on.

Lilith only smiled and listened. She shouldn’t have been all that surprised. The residents of the Owl House had always been a troublesome bunch, it was to be expected Luz would be the same.

And Lilith knew from a lot of experience that once you’ve met the people of the Owl House, you're never completely free of them.

“I take it you're a bit too tired for training today, then?” Lilith inquired.

“Oh, no, no, I can train!” Amity insisted. “I’ll be totally fine.”

“Amity, I can see the bags under your eyes,” Lilith pointed out. “You’d do best to spend more time on your concealer.”

Amity poked at the makeup under her eyes and grumbled under her breath, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, we can do something else today.” Lilith said, standing up again. “I heard that new merchants came to the marketplace today. We could go browse. If you’d like.” She added the last part quickly.

“Are you sure?” Amity asked, looking up at Lilith with such a shy hopeful look that she had to mentally reign herself back in.

“Yes, of course I am.” Lilith said with a smile. “So long you can keep yourself upright, that is.”

“Obviously, I’m a Blight.” Amity said, standing up straighter. “I can handle a few hours of walking.”

“If you insist.”

,

Lilith pulled up the hood of her cloak, obscuring her face from anyone passing by. Obviously, if they looked closer they could see who she really was, but it was better than walking out in the open.

“As much as I admire the attention,” Lilith said to Amity. “I doubt you want us to be swarmed today.”

“Definitely not,” Amity agreed, almost shyly. “Where did you say the merchants should be?”

“Somewhere near the middle of the marketplace,” Lilith said, unconsciously side-eyeing any stand they passed that was selling junk. “Come along.”

The two had a more of a vague wander towards the middle, as Amity, and sometimes Lilith, would get distracted by the odd objects being sold. Ranging from baked goods to knick-knacks that looked like they’d been scrounged up from someone's basement.

There were a few moments she had to stop herself from impulse-buying raven sculptures. What was she, Eda? The lady who bases her entire theme around one type of bird?

A sudden crash tore her out of her line of thought.

,

She and Amity looked towards the noise, and a part of Lilith wanted to be surprised at the sight...but she really wasn’t.

A worm the width of a human and triple the length had its head stuck underneath the rubble of a broken stand. It was thrashing about and knocking into other stands, causing what was, to the people of Bonesborough, no more than an annoyance.

King, of course, was clutching onto the worm's tail with his claws and mouth, trying to tug it back. Luz herself was pulling on the relentless demon.

“King! Te lo ruego, let go!” Luz demanded, digging her heels into the dirt.

King mumbled something back, but it was inaudible from the fact he was still biting the worm.

Lilith and Amity glanced at each other. Lilith’s face reflected that of someone who had seen this many times before, and was tired. Amity’s showing pure unease and confusion as to what to do.

Luz yanked on King, hard. The worm finally popped free of the rubble and spun around, revealing wide, circle jaws filled to the brim with spinning razor sharp teeth.

Yeah, that was more of a problem.

Luz yelped and scooped up King, stepping back as the worm lunged at them with a hiss.

Lilith had barely summoned her staff to help the two before Amity threw a handful of magenta fire at the beasts face.

The beast snarled and whirled towards them, opening its jaws wide.

“Amity?” Luz blinked, now noticing the two.

The worm shot at them, arching itself and whirring its teeth around.

Lilith raised her staff and the beast froze, enveloped in blue magic. Lilith drew a circle in the air and the monster shrunk back to the size this species was supposed to be at; barely bigger than a finger.

The worm fell to the ground, now as small as it once was. Upon realizing this, it dug back into the ground and vanished.

The surrounding shopkeepers breathed a sigh of relief and began fixing up their stands again.

“Are you two alright?” Lilith asked, walking over to the two.

“Yeah, we’re fine--” Luz’s relieved face turned to that of pleasant surprise when she looked up at the woman. “Oh! Hey, Lilith!”

“Lilith!” King exclaimed at the same time, happily bounding up onto a wooden poll that had been cut in half by the chaos.

“How in the world did you get a razorworm that big?” Amity wondered, hovering behind the coven leader.

“Oh man, long story.” Luz said, taking Lilith’s offered hand and brushing herself off. “See, first I was just helping Eda around the house, and then King wandered off to go dig, you know? And then--”

Lilith tuned Luz out as she rambled on her explanation to Amity, who was looking a little overwhelmed, but not like she needed immediate help.

“How’s you?” Lilith asked King.

“Great! Well, almost great. Then that razorworm got away.” King grumbled. “Oh, oh! I got Eda’s message! And I say hi back!” King said happily, tail wagging.

“That’s good to hear,” Lilith smiled, scratching the demon's chin. “It seems you’ve infected another one with whatever bad luck you’ve got.” She said, glancing over at Luz, who was still babbling on and gesturing wildly.

Amity looked less overwhelmed, and now was just politely confused, but still listening. Luz seemed calmer and happier at explaining now, whereas originally she had seemed nervous, like Amity was going to tell her to shut up.

Lilith didn’t realize she had been watching a bit too long until she felt King grab her hand and hug it, getting her attention.

“Do you still make those green cookie things?” King asked. “Those were the best!”

“Mm, not as much anymore.” Lilith shook her head. “But I can send a few to the Owl House if you miss them.”

“Yes!” King pumped a fist in the air. “Luz is gonna love those!”

“I have a feeling that if Eda is hesitant to eat something, Luz won’t be much better.” Lilith said, sounding uncertain. “Where is Eda, anyway?”

“Back at her shop,” King said casually. “She made Luz help me with the worm while she cleaned up the mess we made of her stand.”

“Of course,” Lilith chuckled.

“And then the worm broke some stand selling pottery, and then you showed up!” Luz finished at last.

“...you’re not used to having normal days here, are you?” Amity said after a moment, the corners of her mouth slightly raised.

“Nope!” Luz shook her head, still giddy off of excitement and adrenaline. “I’m still all wound up from last night, so Eda said I should spend all my energy now so I can crash later.”

“You haven’t slept?” Amity gasped.

“I think I had a thirty-minute nap when I got home?” Luz squinted her eyes in thought. “But other than that? Not really.”

“You really are Eda’s apprentice,” Lilith sighed with a shake of her head, causing both girls to look towards her. “Let’s get you back to her, then.” She said, her staff vanishing in a small flash of blue.

“Best not to cause more trouble than you already have.”

“That’s fair,” King shrugged, hopping off the pole and onto the ground.

“Oh, no, we don’t want to cause--er, inconvenience you further.” Luz quickly corrected. “Aren’t you here to buy something?”

“Just browse,” Amity shrugged, crossing her arms. “We decided not to train today, so it’s no big deal.” She said politely.

“You’re still training?” Luz blinked.

“Always are,” Lilith said. “Though you’re recent... adventure, lets say, put a bit of a halt on today's lesson.”

“Oh,” Luz winced. “Sorry, Amity.”

“It's...fine,” Amity said after a moment. “Let’s just find wherever that witch’s stand is.”

“Agreed,” Lilith nodded, gesturing down the marketplace road and looking down at King. “Demons first.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

,

“There you two are!” Eda exclaimed, looking up from her stand. “How’d the worm go?”

“Almost got eaten by it,” Luz said casually. “Oh, but we met Lilith and Amity!” She added, gesturing to the two behind her.

“...wonderful,” Eda grumbled, pushing aside whatever gadgets she had gathered. “Whadda want?”

“We just wanted to make sure Luz made it back safely.” Lilith said calmly, occasionally glancing over at Amity, who was being shown human relics by a gleeful Luz. “I don’t even want to know how you made a worm that large.”

“Long story, Luz could probably recite it to you.” Eda waved her hand. “Sure you don’t want to buy anything?” She inquired, pulling her best con-artist look.

“Positive.” Lilith said firmly. “I take it you already heard the disaster Luz got my protégé into last night?” She said. “Do you often let your human do that?”

“Luz is her own person and can make her own near-death experiences,” Eda huffed, crossing her arms, though she seemed far from offended. “And yes, I did hear about it. Luz talked about it non-stop when I woke up.” She muttered.

“It was sweet, but she kept going on and on about ‘befriending ones rivals’ or something like that.”

“She wishes to befriend Amity?” Lilith blinked, turning her head to where the girls were now.

Luz was showing off a strange colorful cube to Amity while King, much to both of their dismay, kept trying to eat it.

“My kid likes yours, for some reason.” Eda shrugged. “Hope that won’t get in the way of your perfect image.” She taunted.

“Amity can make her own image, thank you very much.” Lilith huffed. “And if that image means becoming friends with a human…” She glanced at the girls again.

Amity smiled and tried to smother a laugh as Luz got her fingers stuck in a strange paper contraption.

“Then so be it.” Lilith said simply.

“Couldn’t agree more, Sis.” Eda grinned. “And if I’m lucky, she might start feeling generous if she befriends Luz.” She added thoughtfully.

“You are not going to scam a child, Edalyn.” Lilith said strictly.

“Of course not! I have standards, Lilith.” Eda snorted. “I’m just saying that if it ever comes up, or she has an offer, it’d be rude of me to say no.” She said simply. “Kids rich, you expect me to ignore that?”

“I shouldn’t have expected more from you.” Lilith sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You really shouldn’t have.”

“Uh, Eda?”

The two sisters turned, seeing that Luz, Amity and King had been cornered by some strange gray almost dog-like creature with a ringed tail. Luz had a stick in front of her to poke at the creature before it hissed and recoiled.

King was standing behind Luz, as was Amity. Although Amity looked ready to chuck a ball of fire at the animal.

“A raccoon snuck in with your stash!” Luz called, poking at the beast again before it suddenly bit down on the stick and began thrashing about.

Luz screamed and dropped the stick, jumping back. She tripped over King and fell over, crushing him beneath her as she scuttled back. At the same time, Amity threw a handful of magenta fire at the animal. It missed and instead set fire to the torn-up carpet it was perched on.

The sisters glanced at each other with a tired look as the three began yelling and shouting at each other, trying to herd the gray demon-thing as it ran about.

“Don’t look at me. I just dealt with the worm.” Lilith said, crossing her arms. “It’s your turn now.”

“Ugh, fine.” Eda sighed, summoning her staff and stepping out from around the table. “Nice to know you’re still the same, even with disasters.”

“Likewise,”

[perspective-series]

A Third Persepctive (23)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: fear, slight anger, cage mention, being trapped

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters!)

A Third Perspective won the poll! So here we go! Just one more chapter after this!

 Patton whimpered as he heard Roman, sounding angrier than ever. He shook, still in Virgil’s hold, burying himself in his friend's hoodie. Virgil ran a hand through his hair. Normally he wasn’t this touchy feely-in fact, this was probably the most hugs he’s had in one day-but given their situation and the fact he thought he was never going to see Patton again, he was making an exception.

 “Pat, it’s...okay.” Patton shook his head.

 “No, it’s not, Roman is angry and he’s gonna-gonna…” Patton trailed off, not actually knowing what Roman would do, but it couldn’t be good. He remembered Roman saying that he would never hurt him, but how could he believe him when he sounded so angry.

 Virgil sighed, not knowing how to comfort Patton in this instance. Because even he wasn’t sure. He wanted to say that Roman would calm down and everything would be fine, but...he couldn’t. Up until now, Roman had been understanding and relatively calm. But his anger was reminding him of Logan.

 Virgil shuddered as the memories once again resurfaced. Everything would be so much easier if they could just get away. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows and suddenly looked up, searching the bag. Looking for any give, a small hole, just anything they could use to escape. Unfortunately, no such luck with those, but maybe…

 “Pat, quickly, give me a boost.”

 “What is wrong with you?” Logan hissed, closing the door behind them.

 “I- I don’t know!” Roman tugged at his hair in frustration.

 “Did you really think Virgil would just stay in your apartment?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Or Patton, for that matter?”

 “I didn’t treat them like some experiments or whatever heartless thing you did.” Roman gave Logan a slight shove.

 “It doesn’t matter.” Logan knew better than to retaliate against Roman’s push. “You didn’t listen to Patton; that’s why he still trusts me over you.”

 “But I’m trying!” Roman insisted for what felt like the millionth time. “And I’m sure that, with time, he’ll come around… right?”

 “What time?” Logan crossed his arms. “You’re even a bigger fool than I thought if you think you can win them over in one day.”

 “Well not one day, obviously,” Roman admitted.

 “So how are you planning on keeping them, then?” Logan asked. “Because certainly whatever method you choose it’ll only lower Patton’s opinion of you.”

 “I won’t keep them at all!” Roman said smugly. “They’ll choose to be with me.”

 “Patton won’t,” Logan observed. “And likely Virgil won’t, either. He’s already left once. All he really cares about is being with Patton. You don’t factor into their choices at all.” Roman’s face fell.

 “You’re...you’re lying.” Roman took a step back.

 “Why would I lie?” Logan gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “The facts are obvious. Left to their own devices, Patton and Virgil would leave us both. If you tried to keep them overnight uncontained they’d be gone by morning.”

 Roman paused, looking at a spot on the floor. Despite what everyone thought, he wasn’t an idiot. Roman knew his overall borrower approval rating was lacking. But despite that, Roman had really thought he was getting somewhere with Virgil. That perhaps after the two of them bonded, Virgil could help Roman win Patton back and they could all be... friends. However, even after Roman did everything he thought was right, Virgil still chose to leave.

 After all, who would ever choose to stay with him? Roman clenched his fists at his sides, but he felt his anger dissipating into sadness as a few tears collected in his eyes.

 “Hey, guys.” Both humans turned to see a panting Thomas, who looked like he had just sprinted up five flights of stairs. “Sorry I’m late, I just… Roman, are you okay?”

 “I’m fine.” Roman wiped at his face, trying to look decent. “Come on in.” Before Logan could stop him, Roman opened the door. Logan glared at him over Thomas’ head. Meanwhile Thomas, completely oblivious to the tension between them, all but skipped into the room. Logan begrudgingly followed.

 Virgil grunted as he tried to push the top part of the bag open, but it was no use. He was too weak to flip it open. It was then he heard voices coming back into the room, three to be exact and Virgil quickly tapped on Patton’s head. Letting him know to help him down. Patton did and both subconsciously backed into the corner as the voices came closer.

 “Alright, what do you know so far?” Roman asked, crossing his arms. He knew he sounded as dead inside as he felt.

 “Well, ah…” Thomas thought back, not really expecting himself to be doing the talking. “I know about Patton and Virgil. And they’re borrowers, although I’m not actually sure what that means. I know they’re small though. You did something about not letting them go,-” Thomas pointed to Roman, then to Logan, “-and you just...put them in a cage. When they trusted you.”

 “Patton trusted me, not Virgil.” Logan corrected, putting a hand up. “And you can spare me the theatrics, I have been thoroughly shamed already.”

 “Although he could do with a little more shaming, of course,” Roman smirked.

 “They’re also supposed to be a secret, right?” Thomas asked. “And there’s rules and stuff?”

 “Yes, there are rules.” Logan nodded. “Which means that we would appreciate your cooperation in keeping this top secret.” Though it was phrased as a request, Logan’s tone made it clear it was not.

 “Oh, don’t worry, my lips are sealed!” Thomas assured them.

 “At least Thomas won’t tell anyone?” Patton said, after hearing all that. Virgil simply sighed. Honestly, what did that matter anymore? It was likely they were never escaping these humans. And, not to mention, Virgil was more than a little upset that they ignored him and didn’t even try to cover it all up. Though he really shouldn’t have expected anything else.

 “Thomas seems...nice?” Patton filled the silence once more and Virgil sighed again. He knew Patton was just trying to find some sort of hope in all of this. Any human could seem nice to other humans. But when faced with a borrower, everything changed.

 “Just be prepared, Pat.” Virgil finally said, causing Patton to given him a confused look.

 “For what?” Patton asked, tilting his head.

 “For anything,” Virgil said, before tuning in back to the humans.

 “You know, I didn’t actually know you two were friends,” Thomas said after a moment, looking between them.

 “Acquaintances.”

 “We’re not friends.”

 Logan and Roman responded simultaneously, giving each other a slight glare across the room.

 “O..Oh.” Thomas felt a bit uncomfortable standing in the middle of the room between them.

 “So, where are Patton and Virgil?” Thomas asked, eyeing the bag on the couch. Roman sidestepped in front to block it from Thomas’ view.

 “It would be in everyone’s best interest if you didn’t know,” Logan answered, personally thinking that Roman’s action only served to solidify Thomas’ belief.

 “Uh, okay.” Thomas was a bit confused by that response. “But can I... meet them?”

 Please say no, please say no. Virgil pleaded within his mind. If anything, could Logan and Roman at least do this much?

 “They’re not exactly fond of humans.” Roman glanced to the side.

 “No, I know!” Thomas was quick to backpedal from the idea, his curiosity at war with his good intentions. “I just...wanted to make sure they’re okay. And, well, have some faces to put to the voices.”

 “They are perfectly fine, I’d assume.” Logan answered. “They’re capable of taking care of themselves. But to answer your question, no, you cannot meet them as we are not in control of that.”

 Roman blinked. “We’re...not?”

 “No, we’re not.” Logan gave Roman a look as if to say don’t you dare blow this. “Both borrowers are gone.”

 Virgil almost wanted to laugh. Both in disbelief because he didn’t think they would actually try to get Thomas not to meet them...but also because Virgil knew Logan didn’t believe the things he said. He didn’t truly believe they could take care of themselves or were in control. And as if they would ever allow the borrowers to leave.

 “Logan’s helping us!” Patton smiled in excitement. Glad to hear Logan doing his best. Virgil honestly didn’t have the heart to tell him about Logan’s lies. It might be selfish, but he hadn’t seen Patton smile in a while and he missed seeing it. So Virgil just hummed in response.

 “Gone?” Thomas repeated.

 “Yes, gone.” Logan nodded. “I haven’t the slightest clue about where they might be now.”

 “And please, don’t go looking for them!” Roman jumped in, catching on. “I know it might be tempting, but… they deserve to have some space. Don’t try and disturb them, okay? Just leave them alone.”

 “Right.” Thomas did his best not to appear crestfallen. He should have known better than to get his hopes up. But then again, maybe this is for the best. It would just hurt to meet a borrower if you knew they were just going to be scared of you the whole time.

 Virgil couldn’t believe it was actually working, maybe they really could get through this without meeting Thomas. And even better, he would think they were long gone.

 Patton did feel a little sad at the sound in Thomas’ voice, but knew not to speak up. It was better this way. Dealing with two humans was more than enough.

 “Well, I...guess I’ll be seeing you guys around then.” Thomas turned, only to see Logan was already holding the door open.

 “Bye, Thomas.” Roman gave him a wave. After a moment, Logan did as well.

 “By the way, If you, um, happen to see them again,” Thomas paused, still inside the room, “Could you please say hi from me?” Thomas’ eyes widened. “Oh, but not if you think it’ll freak them out. I don’t want to scare them.”

 “If we happen to one day cross paths we will be sure to pass your message along.” Logan assured him.

 “Okay.” Thomas waved again, looking around the room one last time before heading down the stairs to his own apartment. Once he was gone, Logan closed the door and both humans breathed a sigh of relief.

 Both borrowers also breathed a sigh of relief. They were still stuck in the same position they had been in, dealing with two humans and all, but at least it hadn’t been made worse by adding another human in. Virgil especially, just hoped Thomas was truthful when he said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

 But now came the moment of truth. What were Logan and Roman going to do with them?

[breeeliss]

[Miraculous Ladybug]: It’s All Hype!

lol i’ve stopped being anxious about these prompts being late, they’ll happen eventually

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[Day 4: Common Interests]

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

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Title: It’s All Hype! Pairings: Ladynoir (Ladybug x Chat Noir), Adrienette (Adrien x Marinette) Summary: Alya accidentally gets the Internet in a frenzy after announcing that Ladybug and Chat Noir are dating, but the two heroes are adamant about correcting the error and making sure the world knows that they’re just friends. So Alya proposes a staged public break up to set everything right.

In hindsight, she really underestimated how utterly freaking difficult that would be.

Day 5: Right-Hook

Chat Noir used the twenty euros that Ladybug had reluctantly handed over to buy himself a plate of crepes and waffles, and after that the Egg Discourse™ had thankfully ended. They finished their brunch together while Alya started checking all of the likes and hits racking up on the video that she had posted of the two of them arguing rather vehemently about food of all things. Figures that they couldn’t dare to argue with each other about something serious but the moment you brought up irrelevant discourse about breakfast foods, they were both at each other’s necks and attracting the attention of an entire restaurant with their antics. Alya thought about telling them that they acted exactly like an old married couple who loved to bicker about the little things and didn’t sweat the big ones, but she figured it would sound odd considering they were trying to convince the world of the exact opposite.

The three of them ended up on top of an apartment building near the café with Alya leaning against the chimney and moderating all the comments that were steadily pouring onto the end of the video. She must have been at it for longer than she realized because at some point Ladybug and Chat Noir discarded their weapons next to her and started killing time in that way they usually did whenever people randomly caught footage of them on their patrols at night. They’d switched from a crunching competition to doing handstands on the edge of the roof to some light hand-to-hand practice by the time Alya was sure she’d gotten all of the inappropriate comments off.

“Sorry about this,” Alya told them as Chat Noir knocked Ladybug onto her back and declared himself the winner of their second round. “My friend Nino usually helps mod this stuff for me when I’m busy but he’s got a family thing right now and I don’t want to let the comments get too cluttered.”

“Take your time, we don’t have much to do today anyway,” Ladybug said, sounding slightly out of breath. She nodded at Chat Noir. “Again.”

“Don’t stay so flat footed by the way,” Chat Noir told her. “Stay bouncing on your toes and you can move quicker. When you’re ready.”

Ladybug lunged at him first while Chat Noir quickly blocked her punch, and Alya cleared her throat as she pulled up a few comments. “Alright. So the results of that little show during brunch are turning out to be interesting.”

“I can’t believe you actually uploaded all of that,” Chat Noir called over, ducking underneath Ladybug’s kick and coming up behind her.

“It was the closest thing to a fight I was going to get out of you two, of course I posted it. We’ve been at this for like two days, I’ve gotta take what I can get.”

Ladybug landed a kick in Chat Noir’s abdomen but he stepped back with the momentum of the blow and stayed steady on his feet. “Well, is the video helping?”

Alya sighed. “So a few things are happening. Good news is that there are actually a few people who are theorizing that your non-existent relationship is looking a little rocky.”

“Oh sweet!” Chat Noir grinned. “That’s good!”

“Alright. So. LadynoirXOXO229 said ‘if they’re fighting about something as silly as eggs I can only imagine what their really bad fights must look like. I’m worried.’ Frowny face, frowny face, sobbing emoji.”

Ladybug snorted. “Our really bad fights involve akumas flinging us halfway across the city.” She hissed when her arm collided with Chat’s steel-toed boots as she blocked one of his kicks. “If you can deal with that, you can deal with anything.”

“Uh, ChatNoirIsMySon said, ‘jesus I never expected them to get so uppity about something as simple as eggs. Are they okay?’”

Chat Noir paused for a moment and sighed forlornly. “No, unfortunately. I feel horribly betrayed.”

“Oh get over it,” Ladybug said with an eyeroll. “If you feel so betrayed why don’t you try knocking me over again?”

“So demanding! ”

“And then ItsCalledChatBug — um yeah, sure buddy, like I didn’t totally coin Ladynoir from like day one — they said ‘Ladybug looked about two seconds from punching Chat Noir in the face.’ You’ve got a few more comments that all read something like that so I’d say that the seed is planted.”

“Well that’s a good sign I g —!!” His sentence was cut off as Ladybug took advantage of his distraction and swiped his feet out from under him with her leg and left him sprawling on his back. He grunted when Ladybug playfully planted her foot in the middle of his chest and waved sweetly at him. Chat scowled at her and held his hand out so that she could help him up. “Stop looking so self-satisfied,” he muttered. “I’m still winning.”

“For now.”

“Now for the bad news,” Alya continued, ignoring their back and forth. “Which is what I was admittedly afraid of when I posted the thing. It kind of just encouraged people. Like a lot of people. Like they think you guys are such a cute and adorable couple and that this is proof of how close the two of you are.”

“Well I guess they’re not wrong ,” Ladybug reasoned. “At least not completely.”

“So HawkmothGetBent said , ‘this is literally how me and my boyfriend are all the time this is the single most adorable thing I’ve ever seen the two of them do.’ LBBeauty said ‘this is the greatest thing to ever happen to the Internet hands down everyone else go home.’ OhMyWhiskers said ‘I’d pay money to see the two of them do stuff like this on a daily basis. Relationship goals tbh.’ So essentially we took two steps forward and then took two steps backwards. Meaning we didn’t go anywhere. Although, I will say you two got me a ridiculous amount of followers this weekend so thank you very much for that.”

“Dude, who is OhMyWhiskers I want that username,” Chat Noir laughed.

Ladybug stopped for a moment, gently smacked his arm, and pointed to her eyes. “Focus before I accidentally punch you somewhere important.”

“Sorry, sorry. Come at me, I’m ready.”

Alya started laughing. “Oh man, okay, get this. Because I’m a little asshole, I pinned a poll at the top of the blog asking people what they thought about eggs. So far it’s 60% yay and 40% nay.”

“Ha!” Ladybug cheered as they kept on fighting. “What did I tell you?”

“You are not changing my mind, they’re still gross, and we are not reopening this discussion.”

Alya stuffed her phone in her jacket and pillowed her arms behind her head as she laid down flat on the roof. Out of the corner of her eyes she could still see that they were sparring but she decided to think out loud anyway. “I think we need to just screw it and do something dramatic. Like we’ve been doing things by the books this entire time. I think we just need something super crazy and out there you know? Just sucker punch everyone with the news.”

They were caught in a really intense moment of rapid blows and blocks, but when they briefly pushed away from each other to catch their breaths Ladybug answered, “How crazy are we talking?”

Alya shrugged and started fiddling with the ends of her jacket sleeves. “What if you both faked your deaths?”

Chat Noir wiped his forehead. “Then Paris would be doomed because Hawkmoth would have a field day.”

“Oh right, I forgot about that part,” Alya mumbled. “What if only Ladybug faked her death?”

“Then there would be no one to purify akumas and Chat would have to fight by himself.”

“Okay, so we kill Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir frowned. “I think we’ll run into a similar problem.”

“Fine!” she said, throwing up her arms. “Then I’ll fake my death.”

Ladybug snorted. “I don’t see how that’ll help us. Or you for that matter.”

“Well I don’t know what else to come up with,” Alya complained. “I’m totally out of ideas. I honestly didn’t mean to make you both uncomfortable. And I know how I can get with the fan theories and stuff and I need to remember that you guys are real people and I have to be careful about all that stuff. I get it. Trust me. So I thought I could like make up for it by helping you and fixing my mistake, but I’m hitting a block. And it doesn’t help that you two are literally impossible to work with! Always gotta make things complicated!”

Chat Noir laughed and walked over to gently pat her on the head. “I can’t tell if you’re mad at us or mad at yourself, but don’t worry about it. We know you weren’t trying to be mean about it. And you realized your mistakes. We’re not mad, we promise.”

“Not even about these rumors running around?”

Ladybug shrugged. “I mean, I won’t lie, I’d prefer if they weren’t out there. Like I said, it’s just….weird to have everyone wishing for you to get together with another guy when you’ve got a boyfriend you love very much. But we’re not going to hate you if it turns out we can’t squash them. We’ll just have to deal.”

Alya bit her lip. “I can still take those pictures down, you know. It’s a little late in the game, but at least it’ll help. Or at least delete the shippy caption. It’ll only take a second.”

“There’s still hope of this blowing over eventually though, right?” Ladybug asked.

Alya and Chat Noir laughed simultaneously. “Not likely, my Lady,” Chat Noir said regretfully. “Like I said. Our fans are really intense.”

Alya chewed on the nail of her thumb and kept her gaze up at the overcast sky. “Hey, I know we’re not like…. super close friends or anything. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but totally off the record: did this shipping stuff bother you before you started dating your partners? I know you kinda said it didn’t, but why?”

Chat Noir hummed and sat cross legged next to Alya’s head. “I mean, to be honest, we didn’t realize that we had an official fandom until recently. I mean, we’ve been following your blog for ages, but now it’s like the center for everything having to do with us. At first when we found out about it, we were kind of too surprised to really have an opinion. It wasn’t something we ever expected to happen to us.”

“Everyone loves you two,” Alya explained. “No one would bother with being this extra if they didn’t really care about you and what you do for us.”

Ladybug leaned against the chimney and stared down at Alya and Chat. “We know,” she smiled. “It’s just this whole superhero thing got sprung on us really unexpectedly. All we knew was that we had these powers and there were people who needed us. We do this because it’s necessary, because we’re the only people who can do what we do. We sort of didn’t think about everything else. Like the fanfare and the publicity and standing up for something bigger. So it took us a while to react.”

“And when you finally did?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know we sort of just ignored it. People sometimes got really crazy with it when they asked personal questions or were inappropriate or something like that. Most of the time, though, it was just stuff on the Internet and gossip and it’s easy to just not take that stuff seriously. But it’s different when you have someone you really care about — someone that makes you happy and someone that knows you so well — and you’re hearing everyone just talk about how much they say you’re the perfect match for a completely different girl.”

“We care about each other so much,” Ladybug said. “Honestly. I can’t imagine not having Chat Noir around. We act the way we do because we’re important to each other, and he’s one of my closest friends. But it’s just not like that, you know? We’re both in relationships that make us so happy, so it’s just not gonna happen with the two of us. It’s weird having the Internet think otherwise.”

“I see what you’re saying, but I also understand why people think the way they do,” Alya said. “ I thought that until you told me you weren’t together. You just have this chemistry with each other. It’s not something you see all the time, you know? So it’s easy for people to assume it’s something romantic.”

Ladybug reached down and fiddled with the ends of Chat Noir’s hair. “We kind of have to have that chemistry.”

Alya frowned. “What do you mean?

“When you do what we do and have a partner doing it along with you, have to learn how to put your whole trust into that person,” Ladybug replied. “I wouldn’t be able to defeat akumas if I didn’t have total faith in Chat to keep me safe or distract an enemy or agree to a really last minute plan. We have to be close. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be able to work as well as we do. And doing our job would be impossible.”

“So you guys got close really quickly because you had to?”

“Eh, yes and no,” Chat Noir decided. “Don’t get me wrong, we had to really get used to each other and spend a lot of time together at first once we realized this was our job now. But it also happened kind of naturally. Even in our first battle when we were strangers, we worked really well together. We don’t clash on the important stuff and that lets us work together without much tension. It’s almost too good to be true sometimes, but I’ve learned not to question it.”

Ladybug laughed when Chat Noir smiled happily and nuzzled against her hand. “The two of us lucked out. I couldn’t possibly ask for anyone better. And I guess maybe from the outside looking in it does come off a certain way to some people.”

“Plus it also helps that we are both very good looking. Especially me.”

Ladybug frowned and reached over to punch him in the shoulder, but he rolled to the side and hopped up on his feet before she could touch him. He winked and stuck his tongue out. “Ah, you gotta be quicker than that.”

“Oh square up, you loser. You’re just waiting for me to get a good hit in aren’t you?”

“It wouldn’t be a full day otherwise.”

“God,” Alya laughed. “If you’re this nauseating with each other I can only imagine you two with the people you’re dating. Chat’s girlfriend must get sick of you very quickly.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Oh man, I can only imagine.”

“Excuse the both of you, I am a gentleman,” Chat said, sounding affronted. “I regale her with my love, affection, and quality puns on a daily basis just like every self respecting man ought to do. And I make her laugh. That’s important in a relationship.”

“You sure she’s not laughing out of pity?”

“You know what? Just for that? I’m not going to feel bad when I punch you. Let’s go.”

“Don’t test me. I’ll deck you in the face and then your girlfriend is gonna wonder why a little girl beat you up.”

“First of all rude. Second of all, everyone knows you’re a certified badass so stop acting humble and kick my ass already.”

Alya cupped her hands around her mouth. “You’re killing me with all of this banter, go get a room!” she laughed.

They both made silly faces at her and continued on with their sparring, and Alya was comfortable to enjoy the weather, watch the sky, and occasionally look over at the two of them taking advantage of each other’s company without the dramatics of an akuma getting involved. As exhausting as dealing with both of them was, Alya was in a way grateful for what little time she got to spend with them. Sure she’d snagged interviews with them before, but those had always been business first. This was just Ladybug and Chat Noir acting their age, being dorks, and taking advantage of an opportunity to have some fun. It was a charming look into their relationship that Alya only ever got to see literal snapshots of, and, all this dating-not dating drama aside, it made her realize how precious it seemed. These weren’t jobs they asked for, but they made do and gained each other out of the deal. It wasn’t until then that she felt bad for trying to publicly smear their relationship, even if it was fake and only for the sake of diffusing rumors that she started.

It wasn’t just that she was out of ideas. It was also that it wasn’t fair to make the world think that Ladybug and Chat Noir were anything other than what they were right now — two people who meant the world to each other even through the worst of times. Two people who shared something special.

She let out a huge sigh. Looks like she was back to square one — doing this the hard way. Buzz about their supposed relationship was going to be ridiculously difficult to kill and it was going to take forever . But editing her original post and killing the rumor on her blog was probably a good place to start with. After that, it was just squashing all of the dissents to the correction in the comments sections. Maybe she could get help. Alya would cover the Ladyblog, Nino would cover Facebook, Marinette would deal with Instagram, and Adrien would snoop around on Tumblr. Hell, maybe she could bribe Chloe to yell at people on Twitter. She was no doubt pissed to hear that Ladybug was dating Chat Noir instead of her and would probably enjoy dashing everyone’s hopes. There were no guarantees that any of it would actually help put a dent in things, but at least it was something.

God this was going to suck. Lesson learned. Marinette was going to be reminding her about this slip up for months.

Although, even as she was thinking this, her reporter instincts were bringing up one last question to niggle in the back of her mind as she kept watching the heroes. She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to speak with them this candidly again in the future and — off the record of course — there was just something she had to know for herself.

“Can I ask one more question?” she said.

“Sure,” Ladybug struggled out in between ducks and blows. “What’s up?”

“Did you have any feelings for each other before you both started seeing other people?”

Chat Noir froze and snapped his head towards Alya. “Wait, what??”

But he picked the wrong moment to get distracted because right when Chat Noir stopped, it was already too late for Ladybug to stop the right-hook she had aimed straight for his face. Instead of dodging, he felt the full force of her fist to his cheek and went sprawling back a couple of feet before landing on his butt and howling at the searing pain that was spreading all over the left side of his face.

“Oh my God!!!” Ladybug screamed. “I’m so sorry!! Oh no, oh no, I didn’t expect you to just stop, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, Jesus,” Chat Noir said, working his sore jaw. “When you said you wanted to deck me in the face I thought you were kidding.”

Ladybug gently cupped his injured cheek and turned his head. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Chat Noir laughed. “Nah, you’re good. Might just bruise a bit, that’s all. I deserved it for not paying attention.”

Ladybug bit her lip and pressed a quick apology kiss to his cheek. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s fine, honest. Crap you hit hard though!”

Alya came over and winced at his cheek. “Dude, you’re gonna wanna ice that. She really clocked you good.”

“Yeah, my bad, I was, uh….trying to hear your question and I got distracted. What was it again?”

Alya bit her lip, opened her mouth, but decided against it. “Never mind. It’s honestly nothing, don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve gotta get going anyways.” She pulled out her cell phone and checked the time. “My little sisters are going to be back from their sleepover soon and I need to look after them until Maman comes home.”

“Need help getting down?” Ladybug asked. “I could give you a lift back home if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I biked all the way here just to try some eggs, I can bike home.”

Ladybug let Alya hang onto her yoyo while she gently lowered her down to the sidewalk. Chat Noir crawled over, huffing and whining in pain while holding his cheek, and called down to her while she unchained her bike. “What are we going to do about this whole dating rumors thing?”

Alya shrugged. “Eh, I’m all out of ideas at the moment. I’m gonna sleep on it and probably do some damage control on social media in the meantime so at least it feels like I’m doing something. You know where to find me if you’ve got a way to make this blow over quicker. I’ll do some thinking too.”

“We trust you,” Ladybug smiled. “And thanks for everything. Even though it really didn’t go the way we planned.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” she chuckled. Alya straddled her bike and saluted the two heroes. “Welp. It’s been a blast, you crazy kids. And pay better attention so pretty girls don’t beat the crap out of you, Chat. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes and gave her a thumbs up, still holding his face. “Yeah. Sure. Will do.”

Ladybug pouted. “You want some ice, kitty? I’ll run to the bakery across the street.”

Chat sniffled and nodded. “Yes please.”

Alya shook her head in amusement and pushed off from her bike waving over her shoulder as she dipped into the street and headed home. Yup. These two were definitely special, alright.

[queen-of-the-merry-men]

Surprise, Surprise

So this past week was the two-year anniversary of What Would They Say and I did a twitter poll to see what flashforward I should write in celebration. The choices were pregnancy reveal, graduation, proposal and Cora’s death. In a massive landslide pregnancy reveal won! So here’s a flashforward of when Regina finds out she’s pregnant, with another surprised tacked on ;) Hope you enjoy it!

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Regina would never forget the day she found out she was pregnant for the second time.

It’d been a slow day at the studio and she’d decided to go out for lunch. Mulan and Tink sat across from her as they ate together out on the Drunken Monk patio. She was glad she’d invited them out. It’d been a long time since the three of them had spent time together. They’d only been half way through their meal when Tink popped the question.

“Do you have a tampon?”

Regina looks up from her plate, a little surprised. The voice behind the question comes from Tink, who’s staring at her expectantly from across the table.

“I thought I had more in my bag but I’m out,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Regina nodded her head. “Sure I’ve got one.”

She reached into her purse and passed a tampon over the Tink, who ran off to the bathroom not long after. As it slipped from her hand into Tink’s, a thought flickered into her head. She had tampons in her purse. How long had they been there? Why hadn’t she used them yet?

It’s a been a while, she thought to herself, but how long?

As Mulan continued to talk about one of her arrests at work Regina slipped her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her calendar. She’d had to have had her period recently, or, at the very least it should be coming up in a day or two. Her eyes ran over the dates, and her heartbeat sped up.

She should’ve started a week ago.

She was late. Very late.

Her throat grew tight as she tried to swallow her anxiety. A week ago? Really? Everything started to drift away from her. Everything she saw, everything she heard. It all started to fade as she started doing calculations in her head. If it hadn’t come yet, that means she hasn’t had her period in six weeks. But if it hadn’t come in six weeks, then that meant…

Oh god.

“Hey!”

The sharp sound of Mulan’s voice pulls her back to Earth. She looks up to see her staring from across the table, her brown eyes curious and unwavering.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Feels like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Regina quickly tries to recover by offering her a tight, close-lipped smiled. “I’m fine,” she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

“You don’t look fine,” Muland pressed, narrowing her eyes. “You look a little flushed actually.”

“Oh,” Regina softly breathed, bringing a hand up to her face. She must’ve gone pale with shock.

Mulan continued to stare at her from across the table, tilting her head. Regina tried to ignore her and reached for her glass of wine. As soon as her hand touched the glass she remembered that drinking probably wasn’t the best choice at the moment.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath as she pulled back her hand.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on with you?” asked Mulan.

“Nothing… or something. I’m not sure,” Regina vaguely replied, shaking her head. Mulan continued to stare her down and she reluctantly sighed. “It’s just… when Tink asked for a tampon I realized I haven’t used one for a while now. I haven’t needed to.”

“Oh… oh!” Mulan’s eyes went wide when she realized what Regina meant. She straightened up in her chair, lips parted with surprise. Pausing she tried to figure out how to respond. She settled on another question.

“Well, how long has it been?”

“Six weeks,” Regina answered, without hesitation.

Mulan blinked and nodded her head. “Okay, that’s a while. You can’t write that off.”

Regina let out a sharp breath and let her forehead fall against her palm. “Oh my god,” she hissed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how this happened. I’ve been taking the pill.”

Mulan shook her head. “It’s not one hundred percent effective.”

Regina softly groaned as she leaned back in her seat. How could this happen? How could she be one of the few women to fall in the ten percent mentioned on the warning label?

At that moment, Tink returned from the bathroom, all smiles, and dropped back into her seat. She threw a quick thanks in Regina’s direction before looking between their faces and asking, “So what did I miss?”

Regina’s eyes flickered in her direction but she chose not to respond to her oblivious friend.

“It’s only been a week,” she reasoned, shaking her head in Mulan’s direction. “I might not be.”

Tink tilted her head, confused. “Might not be what?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“Have you ever been this late before?” questioned Mulan, ignoring Tink’s increasingly desperate confusion.

Only once, Regina thought to herself. And his name is Henry.

She shook her head. “No. Never more than a day or two.”

Mulan let out a slow breath and drummed her fingers against the table. She averted her gaze and went silent like she always did when she was coming up with a plan. Ten long seconds passed before she firmly nodded her head and stood from the table.

“Alright, come on,” she ordered, digging her wallet out of her jeans.

Regina and Tink looked up at her, bewildered, as she threw a few dollar bills on the table.

“Let’s go,” she drawled, commandingly, gesturing at them both when she saw they were still sitting. “Now.”

“But we’re not finished yet,” mumbled Tink, still confused, even as she stood from her chair. “What’s happening? Where are we going?”

Mulan leaned in to whisper to her, “We’re going to the nearest drugstore to find out if Regina’s pregnant or not.”

XXXXXXXXXX

They didn’t have to travel far but it didn’t stop Regina from trying to get out of it the whole way there. She could give it a few more days, wait for her period to turn up. Still Mulan refused to let her back out.

“There are certain questions in life that demand immediate answers,” she’d said. “’Am I pregnant?’ is one of them.”

A bell rang over their heads as they passed through the door of the nearest chain drugstore and made a beeline for the family planning section. The entire time Regina felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest and onto the floor.

They all stopped when they reached the pregnancy tests. There were so many brands and types it gave them all pause.

“Fuck, there’s a lot,” Mulan observed, under her breath. She turned to Regina. “Which one do you want to use?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

She’d never actually taken a pregnancy test before. It’d been too dangerous when she’d been pregnant with Henry. Her mother had been watching her like a hawk and she hadn’t wanted to risk her finding it somehow. Instead she’d just realized it over time, only getting absolute confirmation when she’d entered her second trimester and was finally able to go to the doctor.

Her eyes ran over the shelves of pregnancy tests, all the brands and types. Digital and two lines. Midstreams and cups. First Response. E.P.T. Clearblue. How the hell was she supposed to pick?

Tink grabbed a Clearblue test off the shelf and handed it to her.

“Take this one. It’s the best,” she said, confidently.

Regina tilted her head at Tink, skeptical, until the blonde rolled her eyes.

“C’mon, I have four sisters-in-law and nine nieces and nephews. This is not my first rodeo,” she reminded her. “Trust me. They all swear by this brand.”

Regina took a deep breath and nodded her head. “Okay.”

XXXXXX

After checking out with a slightly judgmental cashier, they returned to the street with the pregnancy test and a liter of water in hand. Mulan started heading back to the Drunken Monk when Regina stopped her in her tracks.

“No no no no!” she stammered. “I can’t take it there. There are too many prying eyes.”

Robin was a good friend to nearly all his employees at the Drunken Monk. They all knew who she was and if any of them caught her with a pregnancy test, they’d be sure to let it slip to him. She couldn’t have that. Not yet.

Mulan groaned. “Well then where do you want to do it? Do you want to drive to your house?”

“No, it’s too far,” she said. Her heart was still pounding, and she felt herself growing more and more urgent. She had to take this test and she had to take it now.

“Well, then where do you want to go?” asked Mulan, her tone growing more than a little impatient.

Tink stood on the street corner, looked all around and then pointed at a shop a little ways down the street. “Hey look, there’s a Greek restaurant over there! I bet they have bathroom.”

Regina looked where Tink was pointing and twisted her lips in displeasure. The place looked old and unlikely to be clean. But still, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Fine,” she said, twisting the cap off her water. “Let’s go to the greek restaurant.”

XXXXXXX

The restaurant turned out to be cleaner than she expected. It was an old place like she thought, open nearly thirty years if you believed the sign above the door. The brown tiles clacked under her heels as they walked up to the counter.

The smell of lamb hit her nose, causing her stomach to turn. Just another sign that she definitely needed to take this test.

An old man with bushy black eyebrows and a stained apron greeted them at the register. “Hello,” he said, with a thick greek accent.

“Hi,” said Mulan. “Can our friend use your bathroom? It’s kind of an emergency.”

She gestured toward Regina, who was still chugging water like her life depended on it.

The old man immediately shook his head. “No, no. Bathroom is for customers only.”

Mulan glared at him. “Are you kidding me? It’s an emergency.”

Tink leaned forward past Mulan’s shoulder. “Actually, I’ll take a gyro wrap with onions and extra sauce on it.”

Mulan turned to her and shook her head. “Really? You’re gonna order a whole gyro just to use the bathroom?”

“Well it’s not like I got to finish lunch. I’m hungry,” Tink replied, nonplussed.

Regina swallowed another gulp of water. “Can I please just have the bathroom key? I actually really need it now.”

The old man passed her a key attached to a wooden spoon. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he directed, pointing across the restaurant. She muttered a quick thanks before heading down the hallway, her heart thumping with every step she took.

She reached the bathroom in seconds, her gut still twisting as she turned the lock. She went inside and shut the door behind her, falling against it as she let out a heaving breath. Her chest felt tight and she rubbed her hand against her sternum, trying to relieve some of her anxiety.

It’s alright, she silently told herself. Everything’s going to be okay.

She repeated those words over and over in her head, hoping they’d calm her down. As she did she looked around the bathroom. It was small with island blue walls and a bowl of potpourri stationed on the sink counter. Her gaze fell to the mirror above the faucet and she locked eyes with her own reflection.  

She’d never seen herself look so nervous.

Swallowing hard, she tore her gaze away from the mirror and down to the box in her hands. Looking over the instructions, she nodded her head to herself trying to feign confidence.

Seems simple enough, she thought.

She sat down on the toilet, awkwardly placing the stick between her legs as she finally emptied her bladder. Once she was finished she set the test on the counter and set a timer on her phone. And so started the longest three minutes of her life.

She slowly paced back and forth in the room, sending anxious glances towards the test as if it was a bomb that could go off at any moment. In a way, it was. Oh god, another baby? It could change her entire life and in ways that she wasn’t completely sure she was ready for. She loved Henry but raising him had been such a struggle, especially in the early days. Henry. What would he even think of this? He’d been an only child for his entire life. The closest thing he’d had to a sibling was Roland. Oh god, how were they going to explain this Roland. He’s just a little kid, he couldn’t possibly understand what it all means. What the hell are she and Robin supposed to say to him?

Oh.

Robin.

His face flashes through her mind and she leans against the wall. What would he say about all this? If she was pregnant, how would he feel? Angry, upset, excited? They hadn’t talked about having children. They were nowhere near ready to have that sort of conversation. They’d just barely gotten over everything that happened with her mother. Things were finally in a good place again. She didn’t want to risk that.

She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. How did this even happen? She was on the pill and she took it every day. Didn’t she? She racked her brain trying to think of a moment when she might’ve missed one.

She slapped her palm against her thigh, shaking her head. “Son of a bitch,” she cursed under her breath.

The flu.

Weeks ago she’d had the flu. She’d been practically comatose, confined to bed, her brain had been absolute mush. Three days and she hadn’t taken the pill once. She’d been too busy shoving other medications down her throat. At least Robin had taken care of her… which was exactly how she’d landed in this situation.

She took another deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she could before exhaling.

What the hell was she going to do?

Her phone alarm went off and her heart rang in her ears. She stared at the test sitting on the kitchen sink, her throat tightening with every passing second. Swallowing hard she stepped over to the sink.

It could be negative, she thought to herself. It could be negative and this whole day could turn into a funny story.

Her heart pounded as she took the test in her hands, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It could be negative.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looked down at the test and felt her knees go weak.

PREGNANT

There it was, clear in bold, digital letters. She was pregnant.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. Her hands rushed out to grip the counter as she started to sway. A sudden rush of nausea fell over her and she bowed her head into the sink and threw up what little lunch she’d had, letting the pregnancy test fall out of her hand to clatter on the floor.

Finally her stomach stopped twisting and she lifted her head from the sink. Wiping off her mouth with a paper towel, she slumped against the wall breathless. A trembling hand went to rest on her stomach.

She couldn’t believe it. She was having another baby.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

After taking another moment to recover - and rinse out the sink - she finally left the bathroom. She dropped the key off at the counter and joined Tink and Mulan at a table where they waited for her with matching expectant looks on their faces.

“Well?” asked Mulan. “What’d it say?”

“It was positive,” Regina softly answered, nodding her head. “I’m pregnant.”

Concern in her eyes, Tink tried to keep a smile off her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Shocked,” Regina honestly replied, her voice breaking a little. She shook her head. “I didn’t plan for this… at all.”

“We know,” said Mulan, “but that doesn’t mean that it’s bad, right?”

She looked over to Tink for support and she immediately jumped in. “Right,” she agreed, nodding her head. She reached out to rub Regina’s shoulder. “You might not have planned this but it’s a baby. You’ll still love it, just like you loved Henry.”

Regina shook her head. “I do love Henry but when I was pregnant with him… it was… it was just so damn hard,” she shakily admitted.

Memories of her first pregnancy flashed through her mind. How alone she’d felt being cooped up in her family’s house. How heavy everything had seemed back then. Not to mention everything that happened after he was born. It’d been a nightmare. One that she’d thankfully escaped.

“Thing are different now,” Mulan firmly reminded her. “You are not some 22-year-old girl who’s backed into a corner by her mother. You’re a grown woman now. With a home and a business and so many other good things that you can offer this kid. This incredibly lucky baby that’s going to have you as a mother.”

“And you’re not alone this time,” said Tink, grabbing her hand. “You have us. You can’t possibly think we’d let you go through this by yourself.”

“I know,” said Regina, cracking a small smile. “I know I have more than I did then but still… I just don’t feel ready.”

“It’s been less than ten minutes, try giving it another hour,” quipped Mulan with a smirk.

When Regina only rolled her eyes, she sighed resignedly. “Well do you want it?”

Regina’s eyes whipped over to her. “What?”

“The baby. Do you want it?” Mulan repeated forcefully.

“Of course I want it!” Regina replied without thinking. As soon the words hit her ears she pauses, surprised at the certainty behind them. “I mean… yes.”

And for the first time since the thought of being pregnant even entered her mind, she stopped thinking of the situation and started thinking of the baby. Her baby. What would they look like. How they would sound. She wondered if they would have her eyes or Robin’s. If they would be a boy or a girl. She thought of things and felt a spark of love ignite in her heart. The same spark of ferocious love she’d felt when she’d realized she was pregnant with Henry. Unplanned or not, this was her baby. And no matter the circumstances she wanted to have it.

She brought her hand down to rest on her stomach and nodded her head. “Yes, I want this baby.”

A smile appeared on Mulan’s face. “Good,” she said. “Then focus on that, on the baby and how it makes you feel. You can figure out everything else later.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tink. “Just take a moment and let it sink in.” Her green eyes sparkled as a grin lit up her face. “I mean, Regina… you’re having another baby!”

A tear fell down Regina’s cheek as she finally let a smile take over her lips. “Yeah, yeah I am.”

Yes, she was having another baby… and now she had to figure out a way to tell their father.

XXXXXXXX

She called in to work on her way home. Her mind was so muddled with baby thoughts there was no way she’d be able to get through the rest of the day.

She’d left her friends with strict instructions not to say a word to Robin until after she’d had the chance to talk to him. God, she had no idea how to even start that conversation. Her first hour at home had been spent staring at the screen of her cellphone, debating whether or not to call or text him. She hadn’t been able to decide so she gave up. Instead, she chose to curl up on her couch with a throw blanket and an album of Henry’s baby pictures.

Flipping through them she marveled at how tiny he used to be, how easily he could settle in her arms back then. So much had changed since then. His head went past her hip now and she doubted she could even pick him up for very long, not that he’d ever let her try. Still, he’d been a beautiful baby. She’d never forget that.

The album was full of pictures of his first few months. Moments when he’d first smiled, first waved, even one of the two them in the hospital after his birth. Joyous occasions. Still Regina looked at them with a twinge of sadness in her heart. No matter what page she flipped she could always be sure that the pictures would only feature the two of them, with maybe the occasional appearance of her father. During his early days, it’d always been her and Henry.  No friends… or father.

It still broke her heart to know that Henry would never know Daniel like she had. That they’d never share a picture or a memory.

Again her hand settled on her middle. She thought of how different things would be for the baby she was carrying now. They’d have a father. One who would love and cherish them for the rest of his days. If only she could manage to tell him of their existence.

She looked up when she heard the doorbell and the turning of the lock in her front door. “Regina?”

Her heart pounds at the sound of his voice. “Robin?”

He rounds the corner of her living room, still dressed in his Drunken Monk t-shirt, looking relieved when he finds her sitting on the couch. She stares up at him, dumbfounded, as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”

“David said you guys left lunch in a hurry and when I called the studio to see what happened they’d said you called in,” he explained. “I was worried. I wanted to check on you.”

He leaned down to give her a forehead kiss and she felt her cheeks grow hot. “Oh.”

Robin looked down at her, concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

She hesitates, unsure of what to say. Finally she nodded her head. “I’m alright, I’m just...feeling a little under the weather,” she vaguely responded.

“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked.

She shakes her head. “No I’m fine… just… can you just sit with me for a little while?”

“Of course,” he said, settling down next to her. His eyes land on the photo album in her lap. “Taking a stroll down memory lane?”

She chuckles, nervously, and nods her head. “Yeah, it’d just been a while. Thought I’d jog my memory.”

She passes it over to him and he smiles down at the pictures of her and baby Henry. “My god,” he breathed. “I still can’t believe that either of them used to be this small.”

“Or that they’ve gotten so big,” she softly replied.

Robin nodded his head in agreement as he flips to another page. “I haven’t looked at Roland’s baby pictures in ages. It gives me panic attacks seeing how much he’s grown.”

Regina watched him look over the pictures with thoughts of the baby in the back of her mind.

Just do it now, she silently ordered herself. Do it before you can back out.

She reached out to lay her hand on his wrist. “Robin… we need to talk.”

Nervousness flashed over his blue eyes as he looked up at her, put on guard by the solemnity in her tone. “Okay,” he mumbled, setting aside the photo album. “What about?”

She anxiously pressed her lips together as he stared at her expectantly. There were millions of words in the world and somehow not one of them seemed worthy enough to start this conversation. Again she’s reminded that she’d never had to this Daniel. She has no idea how to proceed.

“Regina?” he gently prods.

She lets out a soft breath. Here we go.

“Robin...I…”

She trails off letting the words get stuck in the back of her throat.

For God’s sake, just spit it out!

“Robin, I’m pregnant.”

The words rush from her mouth like a freight train. They fall from her lips and immediately fill the room with their weight. Yet somehow,  even with the almost superhuman force she’d pushed them out with, it still takes ten seconds for them to actually reach him.

He silently stared at her and she watched as the realization of what she’d just said play out on his face. HIs eyes widen in surprise,  his jaw drops and the whole time his eyes never left hers.

He finally manages to speak. “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” she shakily repeats. Swallowing hard she starts to explain, “I took a test today and it was positive. I’m pregnant.”

She waited for him to say something, anything but he didn’t. It seemed as though he left her, retreating into his own mind to have what looks like a very intense conversation with himself.

Unable to stand the silence, she continued to talk. “Look I know that it’s fast, and that we haven’t even talked about kids or anything like th-”

“I want to marry you.”

It’s her turned to be stunned now. His words come so quickly, stopping her own in their tracks, that she can’t even be sure that he’s actually said them. But she sees the conviction in his eyes and feels it in his touch when he takes her hands in his own.

“I mean it,” he said. “Marry me.”

Again her words are stuck in her throat and her heart pounds in her chest. She stares at him, wide-eyed and completely thrown off. God, she loves him. She loves him so much… but this isn’t the way she wants him.

Her eyes drop down to their hands as she shakes her head. “Robin I- we can’t,” she softly stammers.

“Why not?” he asks. “Really why not? I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, gently squeezing his hands. “I really love you but we can’t. Not like this.”

“Not like, what?”

“Robin,” she says, softly shaking her head at him. “I don’t want you to propose to me just because I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he promises.

“Yes, you are,” she argues. “You know there’s no way you’d be asking me to marry you right now if you hadn’t just found out that I’m pregnant.”

Robin sets his jaw as he stares into her brown eyes. “Is that really what you believe?” he asks, in a low voice.

Slowly she nodded her head. “Yes, it is.”

Pressing his lips together, he pulls his hand from hers and reaches down into his pocket. Regina’s eyes widen when she sees him pull out a small, red velvet ring box. He opens it revealing the diamond engagement ring inside.

He stays silent for a moment, taking in her reaction,before asking, “What do you believe now?”

Regina’s hand flies to her mouth at the sight of it. She looks up at him, tears forming in her eyes,  completely stunned. “Robin…”

He smiles at her, his own eyes growing a little watery. “I’ve had this on me for a couple of days now. The boys helped me pick it out. They’re really hoping you like it.”

She nods her head, a smile growing on her face at the thought of their sons helping him pick it out for her. “It’s beautiful,” she manages to say.

Her throat has gone tight,she can barely hold back the tears in her eyes at she looks down at it. It really is a beautiful ring. It’s a halo diamond ring with a criss-cross band. Simply gorgeous.

“I was gonna wait,” he said. “Plan something more romantic, or elaborate. But if I wait any longer now, you’ll always be wondering if I asked because of you or because of the baby and I don’t want you to wonder about that.”

A tear streamed down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away as she listened to him speak.

“Regina, I’m asking you to marry me because I love you. I love you so much, every piece of you. Your past, your flaws…. your son, especially. I love both so much and after everything that we’ve been through I don’t want to risk living a life without either one of you in it ever again. So will you, Regina Mills, marry me?”

“Yes,” she says, fervently nodding her head. “Yes, I will marry you.”

A wide grin breaks out on his face before he leans in to capture her lips in a kiss. She passionately kisses him back, her heart overflowing with joy.

Regina Mills would always remember the day she find out she was pregnant for the second time. It was the happiest day of her entire life.

[adhduck]

Why the Change of Mind (More a Change of Heart) Ch 6

@blyedeeks​ thanks again for being the biggest motivation for this and also like, it’s godmother, tbh. also @muffinblake​ @dr-camerongoodkin​ because u wanted this updated first in the poll thing <3

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3) (Ch 4) (Ch 5) (AO3)

Strangers Starting Out on a Journey

Clair was woken roughly by a large hand on her shoulder and an accompanying voice saying, “Rise and shine, Princess. We need to leave.”

           “Hey, leave her be, it’s barely dawn,” another voice – Lincoln’s – protested.

           “Yes, and that’s the time we needed to be leaving. Any earlier and people will be out and about, which will make it much harder for a group of four people to get out of town without being seen. So come on, get up.” He pushed at her shoulder one more time and she finally relented, opening her eyes blearily.

           It took her a moment to reprocess where she was and what was going on, and when she did she was still not sure it had happened. Was she really doing this? Running away from her clan, tagging along with some strangers to find a long-lost parent that might not even be hers? She’d never been far from home before, and surely Anya would look for them eventually.

           Then she thought of the forest, the images pressing in the back of her head without shape, and she got out of bed.

           Bellamy smirked at her as she patted down her hair awkwardly, realizing it was going to be a tangled mess without a brush or way to pull it back. She gave him a quick glare, forcing her eyes not to linger on his uncomfortably good-looking bedhead – it couldn’t be fair to be that attractive all the time and be a jerk – and made up the bed as best she could. If anyone came looking, the least they could do was make it look like no one had been there for a while.

           Miller gave her a nod of approval as he finished his own bed and grabbed four large backpacks from the back corner, passing one to each traveler. “This should have enough food and supplies to last us for a while, and if that doesn’t work I assume you can hunt?” He inclined his eyes to Lincoln.

           He nodded. “Except I doubt I can bring my bow along for fear of being noticed, which would only leave me with my knives.”

           “Can you still do it, if needed?” Bellamy asked, seeming distracted by whatever he was checking in his own backpack.

           “Yes, and Clair can too if you give her something. She’s better than I am.”

           Clair couldn’t help but lift a little at his remark, and Bellamy side-eyed her. “The Princess can hunt, huh? Then I guess you’ll need one of these.” He held out a large knife, hilt out, and she took it carefully.

There was nowhere good to put it on the clothes Bellamy had given her – they were simple and strategically useless – so she went to the pile of her old clothes, which they would dump once they were further from the town. She uncoiled the small weapons belt to retie it around her, tucking the knife into one of the sheaths.

           She noticed Bellamy eyeing her. “What?”

           He blinked, seeming almost embarrassed. “Sorry, I just noticed the gun holster. I forget your people use those now.” He paused, then reached at his side and pulled out a pistol from his waistband. “Think you’ll need one of these, too?”

           Clair considered for a moment, but realized that appeared to be his only weapon and shook his head. “I’ll only need the knife.”

           He raised an eyebrow. “Good to know the Princess has some confidence in her abilities.”

           “Oh, shut up,” she said, piling the rest of the clothes into her arms. “You said we needed to hurry, right? So let’s hurry.”

           There was a little light when they left, but not much—only enough for Bellamy and Miller, who seemed used to working under cover of darkness, to lead the way. She had a little more trouble adjusting and kept to the middle, Lincoln right on her back.

           “We should be able to avoid any early-risers if we stick to the back alleys,” Miller murmured to Bellamy. “Just as long as we—”

           “Is someone there?” The unfamiliar voice rang out from much too close and Bellamy cursed under his breath, backing them further into the shadows.

           “I know I heard something, so if you’re looking for trouble, just come out now.” There was a distinct edge to the voice, a promise that trouble would be more than some choice words.

           “You three, head that way and out,” Bellamy whispered urgently. “Miller, you know the way. I’ll handle this guy.”

           Clair thought of what Miller had said the night before, about how bad to would be for Bellamy if he got caught. “No, I’ll do it.”

           “What?” the three of them hissed simultaneously; she quieted them urgently.

           “You two will get recognized and dragged away,” she argued, pointing at him and Miller while trying to ignore the sound of a door slamming closed and footsteps. She lowered her voice. “And Lincoln doesn’t look much like Skaikru still, so I’m the only option. I’ll just talk the guy down and find my way out.”

           “Come out now!” cried the voice, louder now. She heard the click of a gun and felt her stomach lurch.

           “Go!” she urged, throwing Lincoln her pack and batting them away with her hands, then turned and stepped away, into the light.

           “Okay, okay, don’t do anything,” she said, arms raised in a show of surrender. “I don’t mean any harm.”

           The figure stepped forward; he was thinly built with narrow eyes and a crooked snarl. He had a pistol in his hands, though at least it was pointed at the ground instead of her. “What are you doing on my property? I own this whole area, you know, not just the house. Being in those alleyways around it is trespassing.”

           “Sorry, sir, I didn’t realize,” Clair said, holding up her hands defensively. “My family’s visiting for a few days and I wanted to catch a sunrise, see if it’s any different here.”

           The man snorted. “There’s no difference in sunrises, you idiot. But at least it explains why you don’t seem to know who I am or where property lines are.”

           Clair swallowed, relieved he was already seeing her as just an ignorant teenager. “You’re...well-known, then?”

           “I’m Commander Shumway, head of the scouts, of course I’m well-known.” He paused, looked her over skeptically; she shifted so the knife sheath wasn’t noticeable. “Be warned that if I see you around again, I’ll send you straight to the juvenile center, visitor or not, Miss....”

           He trailed off, clearly wanting her to fill in the blank, and Clair balked. She didn’t know if her name was passable in Skaikru, and she didn’t want to find out testing it against a irritable scout master with a gun. “It’s...Clarke, Mr. Shumway.”

           “Got a last name with that, Clarke? If I see your parents around either I want to give them a piece of my mind, too.”

           Clair scrambled for a last name she knew and remembered what Miller had called Bellamy when he was yelling at him earlier. “Blake. The name’s Clarke Blake.”

           Shumway froze. “Blake? As in Bellamy Blake?”

           There was something about his tone that made Clair’s hair stand on end. This had to be one of the guys Bellamy had gotten on the bad side of. She went for a confused tone. “Who?”

           “Bellamy Blake,” he repeated, slower, like she was two years old. “The wanted criminal.”

           “Criminal? Well, there are none of those in my family, sir. Just my mom and my dad and me. We live a long way up north, near the mountains, you see, and there isn’t much news up there.”

           Shumway stared at her skeptically for a moment, his fingers twitching on his gun. Clair didn’t even dare to breathe. “Then get out of here,” he grunted at last. “Before I change my mind.”

           Not about to reject his offer, Clair turned and ran the opposite direction, weaving in and out of houses with only minimal care of how loud she was being until, after a few bad turns, she saw the edge of town and the three figures waiting half-hidden in the tree line.

           “What happened? Are you okay?” Lincoln demanded, looking over her anxiously.

           “I’m fine, Lincoln,” she promised, batting his nervous hands away from her face. “Nothing happened; the guy just asked me what I was doing and I told a bunch of lies until he let me go.”

           “Who was the guy, anyway?” Miller asked. “He sounded familiar.”

           Clair tried very hard to not look at Bellamy, but her eyes flitted over to him anyway. “Said his name was Commander Shumway.”

           Sure enough, Bellamy froze, muscles tightening until the veins bulged in his neck. Surprisingly, though, he stayed silent.

           “Shumway? Commander Shumway?” Miller hissed. “You’re sure?” Clair nodded, and he whistled. “Well, then congrats on getting out of that one unscathed. Not everyone who goes his way is that lucky.”

           Bellamy cleared his throat loudly and flexed his hands and if trying to force feeling back into them. He wouldn’t look at her. “If you’re alright, we should head out. Before someone else gets interested in you.”

           The next town was only about an hour’s walk, but it felt like much longer to Clair; winter would be setting in soon, and her clothes weren’t designed for frigid temperatures. She thought of the thick shirt and armor they’d dumped some miles back longingly, but said nothing to the others. Besides the scouting jacket Bellamy wore, none of them had good clothes for these temperatures.

           Scouting jacket.

           Clair nearly stopped dead in her tracks. How had she not noticed before? Bellamy was a scout, or had been at least. He must’ve known Shumway; maybe that was even the link to the past he refused to share. Her veins buzzed with newfound curiosity, and she slowed her step casually to fall in line with Miller.

           “Can I ask you a question?” she asked, low enough for the others to not overhear.

           Miller raised an eyebrow, probably sensing this wasn’t going to be a question he’d enjoy, but nodded.

           “What happened between Bellamy and that Shumway guy?”

           He winced a little, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s my call.”

           “Come on, Miller, I nearly got shot giving you guys time to get out,” she pleaded, though that wasn’t quite true. “I just want to know why he flinched at the mention of that guy’s name like he was about to get shot.”

           “Well....” Miller glanced Bellamy up ahead; he walked stiffly. “It’s really not my place, Clair. Sorry.” She sighed in defeat and went to move forward, but he grabbed her arm. “Don’t ask him about it, okay? If he wants to talk about it, he will, but it’s a sensitive subject for him. You’ve probably pieced together that Bellamy was under Shumway at some point, but that’s the tip of a very painful iceberg.”

           “But—” Clair started, then dropped her head. “Yeah, okay. No questions from me.”

           “Thanks, Clair. Now keep moving.”

           They managed to make it into town before Clair’s hands could freeze, and Miller left them at a small park while he took Bellamy’s mystery backpack into town to do some trading. Not wanting to attract attention, they just sat on a bench and talked about mindless, fake topics—a brother Bellamy didn’t have, Lincoln’s fieldwork, what Clair was learning in school. It was sort of fun, making up another life for herself, but then she realized she was almost doing that already and grew quieter.

           “Hey, Princess, not a one-way conversation here,” Bellamy said, nudging her.

           She blinked at the lack of malice in his tone. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “What were you talking about again? Your girlfriend, or your mom? The descriptions blur together.”

           He snorted. “My uncle, actually. He works in a factory, remember? Said he’d seen crazy things in the mountains? If you paid attention, maybe you’d—” He cut off abruptly, staring at something just past Clair’s shoulder.

           “What is it?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

           His hand went to his side, where Clair knew his gun rested under his jacket, then his eyes widened and he shouted, “Get down!”

           Lincoln rolled off the bench before he even finished speaking, but it was an unnecessary command for Clair because Bellamy pushed her off the bench himself, landing flat on top of her as a bullet whizzed over their heads.

           “A friend of yours?” she managed to say, struggling to form coherent thoughts between the pain of the backpack digging into her spine and the obvious weight of Bellamy on top of her.

           “Get under the bench, Princess, and stay down,” he replied gruffly, pushing her away from him a little before rolling off and scrambling for better cover. She winced as the next gunshot ripped through the air, spurring screams of passerby and a flinch from Bellamy, but he didn’t appear to be hit. He kept going until he reached a wide, thick tree and ducked behind it, gun ready.

           Lincoln, meanwhile, was ducked at the side of the bench; it wasn’t much cover but he didn’t seem willing to leave Clair’s side. Which was, of course, idiotic, and she told him so. “You’re going to get shot!”

           “So are you. I’m your brother, blood or not, and I’m going to protect you.”

           “What, by getting shot beside me? No deal,” Clair muttered, rolling out from under the bench before he could stop her. A shot fired and she dropped instinctively; she felt it go by just inches above her. She kept running, hearing shot after shot ping on trees and structures behind her, comforted only by the fact that the park had emptied and they were following her instead of Lincoln, and rolled almost right into Bellamy, who looked like he wanted to kill her himself.

           “I told you to stay there,” he hissed. “I have the gun; you won’t be any help at long-range.”

           She scowled. “Sorry that I’m not the damsel you want me to be, but I was going to get shot anyway under there. The guy has good aim.” She noticed his arm, the red gathering there, and her stomach lurched. “Better than I thought.”

           He saw her looking and shifted, grunting angrily. “You’re the one who has to stay in one piece; otherwise Ab—Mrs. Griffin gets no daughter and Miller and I walk away empty-handed.”

           “Good to know I’m just a reward to you,” she sniped before she could help it.

           A few more bullets whizzed by, splintering the bark by their heads, and Bellamy stuck his head out from behind the tree to deliver a few shots. When the shooter returned fire and he ducked back, he gave her a distinct look. “Didn’t we begin this partnership on that notion?”

           “Yeah, well, it won’t end well on that,” she grunted, “and this battle isn’t going to end well if you keep just hiding and shooting, either. Do you even know who you’re shooting at?”

           “There’s a figure in the trees; can’t make out a face.” Clair went to see and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back fiercely as yet another shot fired. “Geez, Princess, don’t look.”

           She realized he was holding her with his wounded arm and wriggled out of his grip. “Well, I’m not helpful here and pretty soon they’re going to go after Lincoln if he hasn’t moved yet, so we need a better plan.”

           “Yeah? And what do you suggest, Princess?” he scoffed.

           “Don’t give me that. I went on hunts; I know strategy. We need to draw him out so you can get a better shot.”

           “If you say anything along the lines of you as bait, I’ll just knock you out myself,” he warned. “You barely made it across that firing range without getting hit, and now he knows what to expect. Your movements are predictable.”

           “Well,” she said, forcing herself to shake off the sting of his half-insult, “then I’ll just have to be unpredictable.” And before he could grab her again, she ducked from behind the tree and sprinted for the next one. As she expected, shots followed, and instead of diving for cover like she normally would’ve done, she rolled and kept running in an irregular zigzag pattern closer to the shooter and further from Bellamy. A bullet grazed at her leg and she had to bite back a scream, giving in and rolling for a nearby tree.

           Quickly, she looked at her leg; it was bleeding but not badly. She’d been lucky. Breathing in and out to steady herself, she called out in a clear voice, “Miller! Time’s up! You’ve got to do it now!”

           She waited for a few seconds and heard no shots. Holding her breath, she peeked out from the tree and saw a hooded figure maybe a hundred yards away, pointing his gun to the area around him and looking intently for something in the trees. He was probably looking for another cohort, which should’ve comforted her but just made her more nervous instead—the fact he was looking near himself and not towards her or her companions meant he knew Miller was not one of them.

           Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lincoln barely concealed behind a tree, clearly without weapon or defense but at least out of the open; Bellamy was still behind her, peeking out briefly before hiding again. What was he doing? He had a much better shot now. Was he nervous about missing it?

           Guess I better give him incentive, Clair thought, and jumped out from the tree.

           The shooter caught the movement and shot, but she knew he’d shoot directly at her in his moment of confusion and easily ducked to the side. “Miller!” she screamed, even though it was the other boy she wanted a response from. Still no shot; maybe she was too close. She rolled for the nearest tree, making sure she was at an angle the shooter couldn’t shoot at easily, then popped out again for a moment and let the shooter focus his energy on her.

           Then, right when she thought she had him, the shooter turned his attention away from her.

           Clair threw a glance back and saw Bellamy standing right in the open, gun up. They’re going to kill him, she thought, and her heart stopped. “Bellamy! No!”

               Two shots fired, almost simultaneously, and she screamed.

[jae-bummer]

My Idol: Part Sixteen

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Wednesday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in specific missions to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what three idols will move on to the second date.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22

*DISCLAIMER* All results have been decided through the open My Idol poll and have not been altered in any way. 

Six of the seven men beside you began to fidget. You tried to restrain yourself from glancing curiously up toward their faces, but only found the need to look at them become more intense. Most of them glanced forward, avoiding any sort of eye contact with you or each other. You felt a tremendous amount of guilt wash over you as you looked back down to your clammy palms. You knew they’d be sitting on the stage whether you were here or not, vying for the affections of a different girl if the show hadn’t selected you. It was a strange thought to have in a time like this, but it comforted you as your stomach continually tied itself into knot after knot. 

“Ah, thank you,” the host whispered as another production assistant handed her another red envelope. “Now Y/N, who do you hope to see written on this card?”

You choked as you turned to face her, your eyes the size of dinner plates. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she smiled. “Surely you have a favorite.”

You looked helplessly from her, over to the boys again. The ones who weren’t picking their jaws up from the floor were noticeably annoyed as they shifted in their seats. 

“Don’t you think this is hard enough on them?” you sighed, growing angry as the host’s silence persisted, forcing you into saying something. 

“Oh dear, I believe you’re quite right,” the host nodded. “Y/N, always considerate of the men who have come to adore her.” 

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, but apparently couldn’t straighten the expression that had come across your face. You quickly tried to flatten your furrowed brows as you heard Jay and Top snicker, immediately shooting each other dirty looks as the noises slipped from each of their mouths. 

“Well without any further wait,” the host smiled, sliding her finger beneath the envelope’s edge. “Our second idol to be moving on to the second date is...

...

...LEE JOOHEON.”

The crowd erupted into applause as you looked up to Jooheon. He clapped, looking around to each man on the stage as if he were waiting for one of them to stand. As the crowd began to quiet, a look of shock crossed his face, his eyes wide as he turned to you and the host. 

“I’m sorry, did you say my name?” he asked, glancing back and forth. 

“She said your name,” you nodded, a small smile finding it’s way onto your lips. Jooheon gasped as he launched from his chair and hopped over the couch before him. He rushed over to you, tugging you up by your hands, and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

“Holy shit! I mean, oh my gosh!” he gasped, lifting your feet from the ground and wiggling. 

“Someone’s excited for a second date!” the host gasped, letting an excruciatingly fake laugh escape her. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jooheon whispered, setting your feet gingerly on the ground again. “Sorry, that was a little much, wasn’t it?”

“Not at all,” you sighed, reaching up and placing your hand lightly on Jooheon’s cheek. His dimples were cavernous as he smiled down at you. 

Jooheon nodded, slowly stepping back, but not letting go of your hand until he had to. He bowed shortly to the group of men before finding his place on the couch again. Mingyu patted his shoulder, a wary smile on his lips. 

“I can see the tension building,” the host hummed, flipping through her cards. “Jay, how are you feeling right now?”

Jay lifted a brow and sucked his teeth. “Just fucking peachy.” 

You winced as the words came from his mouth. In theory, there would be enough time lapse for the production crew to censor anything that would come from Jay’s mouth this evening. 

“There is only one second date spot left,” the host continued. “If you could’ve done something different on your first date, what would it have been? Top?”

“Oh please, can I answer this one for him?” Jay cackled, spinning to face his sudden enemy. 

Top took a deep breath before efficiently ignoring Jay. “I don’t think I would change anything.” 

“Oh come on,” Sehun groaned, turning to his elder. “Not to sound rude to my hyung, but I can’t bite my tongue any longer.” 

“Fine,” Top hissed. “I could have handled my words a bit more eloquently in regards to seeing her again.”

“I swear I’m part of a Cirque Du Soleil show right now,” Jay groaned, flopping around on the couch. “With all these damn clowns.”

Jaebum cut a glare at the older man, jutting out his jaw in irritation. 

Jay rolled his eyes as he glanced quickly to your exasperated expression. “Alright, they aren’t all clowns.”

You lifted your brows and tilted your head, silently communicating with the impossible man. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head at you. “At least one of these dudes is a clown. I’m not going to say who because I ain’t petty like that, but I think we all know-”

“Alright,” the host smiled, flipping through her cards with a new sense of urgency. “Mingyu, you had the last date, do you feel as if that helped or hurt you?”

“Oh, uh...” Mingyu trailed. “I’d like to think it helped me. I was the freshest date in the audience’s eyes.”

“You’re also the youngest of the idols on the show,” the host noted. “How do you think that went over?”

“With Y/N or the audience?” Mingyu grinned. “I don’t think Y/N really cares about age. The audience may have been pleasantly surprised by my maturity and ability to handle myself though.”

“Because aquarium dates scream mature,” Sehun chuckled, shooting a wink at the younger boy. 

“Bro, do I have to reiterate? You literally took her to see Lego Batman,” Taehyung gasped, completely exasperated. 

“Taehyung,” the host continued, changing her focus. “You have just begun an acting career, earning a noteworthy role in Hwarang. Do you feel like My Idol has helped this newly found interest?”

“I don’t see why it would,” Taehyung nodded innocently. “None of the time I spent with Y/N was acting...”

“But do you feel like it brought you to a wider audience?” the host persisted. “A chance to get cast in new roles?”

“I’m not really concerned,” he muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not here for that.” 

You sighed and crossed your arms. The longer the host continued to talk, the more flustered and offended the boys became. You knew having all of the men together would be a tense situation, but she definitely wasn’t helping. 

“Well that’s comforting,” the host nodded. “Jaebum, now that you know you’re safe, who do you feel will be written in this third envelope?”

JB began to open his mouth, just as Jay opened his. “Ah, sorry, same name,” Jay chuckled. “But to answer, me.”

“What about you JB?” the host questioned, focusing on the original Jaebum she had been addressing.

“I feel like all of the men here are strong contenders,” JB nodded. “All of their dates seemed to catch Y/N’s interest, so it’s hard to say.”

“Quite the diplomat,” the host smiled. “Well, why don’t we find out who secured the last date, shall we?”

A production assistant ran another red envelope onto the stage. You noticed out of the corner of your eye as the host shuffled around some papers and began to open the envelope. You tried to avoid actually looking at her fingers work, your blood pumping loud in your ears. 

“I’m so rude,” the host exclaimed, stopping her motions. “Y/N, would you like to do the honors?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head quickly. Negative. No way. You were not responsible for this heartbreak. 

The host chuckled, causing a ripple of nerves to make it’s way through the group of idols. You looked at each of those remaining carefully, searching their faces before moving on to the next. Kind and innocent Taehyung, biting his lip as he kept his eyes firmly secured on the floor, his large hand nervously tapping on JB’s knee. Blunt, but charming Jay, his arms crossed as he looked up to the ceiling, trying to hide his nerves behind a facade of confidence. Sarcastic and witty Sehun, biting at a nail as he stared intently at his shoes. Gentlemanly and mature Top, his hands calmly resting in his lap, sure of his position. Lastly, young and sweet Mingyu, casually glancing back and forth from Jooheon to Top, his eyes shaking with anxiety. 

“The third and final idol...to secure a second date,” the host murmured. “Is...

...

...

KIM TAEHYUNG!”

You simultaneously felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest and sent soaring through the clouds at the same time. You weren’t sure if you wanted to jump for joy or vomit. You felt weak in the knees as tears rapidly sprung to your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were expecting or how you should be feeling, but tried to remain calm and remember to breath. Your neck snapped up, looking to Taehyung as he stood, a triumphant smile on his face. He gave a quick handshake to JB before bowing to the rest of the men. He almost skipped as came to stand before you, wrapping his arms carefully around you and ruffling your hair. 

“I made it,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I get to see you again.”

“Me either,” you breathed, glancing over his shoulder and at the remaining men. Sehun nodded, his facial expression remaining unchanged since the decision had been announced. His eyes stared blankly before him as he closed them and reopened them repeatedly. You looked up to Mingyu who nodded as well, a sad smile on his handsome face as he clapped for his friend. Top’s head was tilted as he stared down at you and Taehyung, his expression mixed with mild anger and outright annoyance. Slowly though, that look changed as his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip slid out, portraying a sad pout. Jay sat in front of him, his arms remaining crossed as he stuck his tongue behind his teeth and set his jaw, his eyes glossed over with emotion. 

You swallowed hard as Taehyung pulled away from you and made his way back to his seat. 

“Alright gentleman, I hate to say that four of you are not moving on,” the host nodded grimly. “Sehun, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

His eyes lifted from the floor and made contact with yours. You found your lips forming a smile as his did. “It’s alright,” he nodded. “I’m thankful for the opportunity of being able to meet Y/N and spend some genuine time with her. Thank you to everyone who watched and voted.”

“Jay?” the host asked, wincing as she mentioned his name. 

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, shaking his head and looking into the crowd. “Move on to the next bastard.” 

You had almost forgotten to breath as he spoke, obvious hurt in his tone. The host’s eyes were wide as well, her jaw slightly dropping as Jay had spoke. “I...uh...Mingyu?”

“It was fun,” Mingyu nodded, shooting a sad smile your way as well. You tried to compose your expression as you looked up at him. “I’m glad I got to have such fun with such a nice person. Thank you Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly. 

“Seunghyun?” the host asked. 

“Although I don’t agree with this result, I have to say that I’m not going to pout about it,” Top nodded. 

“Oh shut up,” Jay groaned. “Drop the act. We all think this sucks.” 

“It does suck,” Top whispered. Jay tilted his head as he was agreed with, shock finding a spot on his face. “But I enjoyed our date and conversation. I don’t regret the experience at all.”

The host nodded, smiling grimly at her cards. “Alright, that’s all- oh, what’s this?”

Your stomach dropped as a member of the crew rushed toward the stage, another red envelope in hand. You felt your back begin to break out in a sweat as she handed the card to you instead of the host. “Mission.”

“M-mission?” you choked looking down to the envelope. 

“It looks like Y/N has received a mission card!” the host gasped, your agony causing her apparent joy. “Shall we hear what it says?”

You gulped as you slowly lifted the edge of the envelope and pulled out the familiar parchment that made up the mission cards. 

“Participate in your own destiny! Select a fourth man of your choice to go on a second date.”

Your eyes read over the words before you spoke them out loud. You stuttered them out and proceeded to read it silently a few more times and looked up between the host and the men. The four remaining and unchosen idols all looked curious and hopeful as their eyes searched your face, each of them wanting to make eye contact and convey how badly they wanted a second date. 

You thought your heart would surely sink to your feet at any moment. Your limbs felt as if they had suddenly changed to lead, surprisingly heavy as they hung from your body. You became aware of your heartbeat, your pulse, your breathing, everything down to the blood pumping in your veins. It all felt cold, numb as you came to the realization. It would be your fault after all. Three of these men would not be selected and the blame would suddenly shift from the Korean viewers to you. All the heartbreak would be your fault, including your own. 

You bit your lip as you looked to each of them. Sehun had been the most relaxed upon your departure, noting that even if he didn’t move on, he would still think on you and My Idol positively. Your date had begun awkwardly, but quickly flourished into something you would remember fondly. You had taken the elderly couple’s advice to heart since then and wouldn’t exchange your time with him for anything. 

Mingyu’s date remained as the most fresh in your mind, whisking you off to a world of bright colors and marine life. You had always admired the ocean and all of the creatures that lived within it, but admired Mingyu’s smile much more. He had left you feeling at ease for most of the date, keeping your small aquarium bracelet on your wrist since the moment he had tied it there. 

Then there was Jay. You couldn’t believe he was even a contender in your thoughts considering how your date had begun. He was persistent and at his core intrinsically kind. He cared ferociously and passionately, and wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He trail blazed through My Idol, creating his own rules as he went. 

And lastly there was Seunghyun, the man you had connected with the most. He was easily the most mature and established of the group, his date taking your breath away. Moment after moment had felt surreal. Your head still spun at the thought of everything that happened, but that was really your own inability to handle emotions overshadowing anything he had said. 

Four perfectly wonderful men, all willing to accept the strange situation in which you had all landed in together. 

“So...Y/N,” the host said slowly. “Who will your fourth position go to?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. This was your happiness. This is what you had wanted all along. You wanted to be a part of your own destiny. 

And now that you were, you felt like you would vomit. 

“I choose...” you said slowly, opening your eyes and looking at each man again. “I choose...

...

...

Jay Park.”

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10 - PART 11 - PART 12 - PART 13 - PART 14 - PART 15 - PART 16 - PART 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22

[sakurablossomstorm-blog]

My inbox has been a jerk lately too! 4. "C'mere, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working," 28. "I would've had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn't want to wake you," 58. "I don't know what's wrong, okay? I'm just... really tired," and/or "I think you'll be happy to know that I'm not wearing any underwear." 😊

Here you go!! Sorry it took me forever to write these!! 

4. “C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.”

Based on this great interview.

“One of the main things that I want to come out strong during this campaign is education,” Ben announced to the camera attached to his computer. “I’ve worked hard to establish good schooling around Pawnee and once elected my move will be to spread that to a wider region.”

It was a typical day in the Knope-Wyatt household. The only difference was now that Ben was running for Congress he found himself doing more and more impromptu interviews, most of the times in his home office through a webcam.

Leslie was at work today, and Roz had come by to wrangle their three-year-old monsters while Ben gave his interview. All seemed to be going well so far and he answered all questions that the newscaster gave him with ease, until…

“DADDY!” A voice screamed loudly, and Ben winced. It sounded like Sonia had gotten bored of Roz and her brothers and made a break for it, making her way to Ben’s office.

Ben tried to ignore it and carry on with the interview. But then he heard the door creak open and he turned just in time to see a blonde blur bolt into the room.

“Sorry, it’s my daughter,” Ben said bashfully into the camera as Sonia raced to his side.

“Sonny, Daddy’s working at the moment, can you please go back to Roz?” he asked as kindly as he could. But his heart thumped when he saw Sonia’s tiny bottom lip start to wobble and he knew he was about three seconds away from a screaming tantrum.

“Okay, okay,” Ben quickly said and tucked his arms under Sonia’s armpits. “C’mere. You can sit on my lap until I’m done working. But you have to be quiet.”

He pulled Sonia onto his lap with ease, and she settled down instantly, playing with the pens on Ben’s desk and scribbling on a document.

“Sorry about this,” Ben said again to the interviewer, who quickly waved him off, telling him not to worry and getting back to her questions.

~~

“You’re currently polling in first place,” Leslie said excitedly. “That’s amazing. You jumped from third to first in no time at all.”

“And we have this little lady to thank,” Ben grinned as he rubbed the top of Sonia’s hair, who was once again on his lap and fast asleep against him.

After the interview went out on TV, Ben became a viral hit. People were gushing about how adorable it was that he let Sonia come in and sit on his lap during an interview. One of his problems during the campaign was that he wasn’t seen as a typical family man, and was too cold and callous to be caring. But this interview demolished those thoughts, and people were now putting their trust in Ben.

Leslie put down her Gryzzl tablet and sat down next to Ben, leaning on his shoulder and stroking Sonia’s back.

“Good job, Sonny,” she whispered to her sleeping daughter. “She’d make a great campaign manager one day.”

“She’s got some good tricks up her sleeve, that’s for sure,” Ben agreed.

“28. "I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you,” and 58. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired,”

Set in the A7C universe.

A baby.

They were having a baby.

A tiny human was growing inside of Leslie right now.

Ben still couldn’t believe it. Yesterday seemed like a dream that was too good to be woken up from. All in a day he found out that he was going to be a Father and then had gotten engaged.

It was insane. But a day he would never forget.

Right now he was in pure baby bliss. Leslie was fast asleep on his arm and Ben didn’t want to wake her up. He had planned to get up and cook her breakfast in bed, but that would have to wait. She was pregnant, and most definitely needed her sleep.

Instead, his thoughts travelled backed to the past week, trying to see any signs that would have told him sooner that they were expecting.

He remembered last Thursday, when Leslie came home in a bad mood. She sulked at the kitchen table and kept snapping at Ben, who was just trying to make the situation better for her.

“Right. What’s going on? Why are you so cranky?” Ben had asked, his arms folded.

“I’m not cranky,” Leslie hissed through gritted teeth, and Ben raised an eyebrow, that eyebrow that told her to tell him what was going on or go lie down and come back in an hour after a nap.

Leslie sighed and swiped at her glassy eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just…really tired.”

Ben smiled sympathetically. She had been working so hard on turning that disgusting pit next to the apartment complex into a beautiful park that she had worked herself into the ground. Literally. Her fingernails were caked in dirt. What the hell had she been doing out there?

“Okay, you need a bath and then snuggles in bed,” Ben said, tugging her up from the table and into the bathroom.

He remembered watching her strip in front of him after pouring her a bubble bath, complete with sweet smelling vanilla candles and a glass of wine…he immediately regretted giving her the wine, but he didn’t know at the time. How was anyone to know?

His eyes had scanned her over, like he usually did when she was standing naked in front of him. He couldn’t remember seeing any signs of a bump. But it was far too early to notice anything.  Even last night when he had kissed her belly multiple times it didn’t feel any different.

It didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered, other than his fiancé and beautiful unborn child.

Finally he felt a shifting next to him, and Leslie turned over, staring at him groggily.

“Good morning,” Ben said sweetly. “I would’ve had breakfast ready but you were sleeping on my arm and I didn’t want to wake you. I can get started now if you want?”

Leslie didn’t say anything. Instead, Ben watched as her face turned a bright shade of green, and she covered her mouth frantically as she jumped out of the bed and towards the bathroom.

Ben blinked as he registered what had just happened. Morning sickness. Of course. It wasn’t going to be just cute baby bumps and feeling their baby kick. No, there were the worst parts of it to consider, this being one of them.

But they were happy. And even after Ben followed Leslie into the bathroom to make sure she was ok, she looked up at him with a pained smile on her face, proclaiming that morning sickness meant a healthy baby.

It was going to be a hard journey, but they’d manage.

“I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Ben turned up at Leslie’s front door with a brightly coloured bunch of flower that reminded him of the wildflower mural on the first floor. All for Leslie of course.

Tonight was the night of their first date after publicly coming clean with their relationship. Ben had resigned, and Leslie’s campaign managers had quit. But tonight none of that mattered. Because tonight they could hold hands in front of people. Ben could pull out her chair like a gentleman and they could kiss too. That was the part he was looking forward to the most.

No more secret kisses. He could grab her in front of a crowd on the street and pull her to his lips if he wanted to. He wouldn’t, of course. Be he could quite easily if he wanted to.

Leslie opened the door and her eyes lit up when she spied the bouquet of flowers. “For me?” she asked as she let Ben inside.

“Of course,” Ben smirked as he handed them to her. “Only the finest for my lady.”

Leslie grinned and hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water and then pushing several stacks of magazines off a chest of drawers, giving the flowers pride of place.

She then let Ben pull her into his arms and kiss her all over. His hands raking over her body and tugging at the fabric of the purple dress she was wearing.

“I like this,” Ben said, as his hands grazed across her stomach and chest. “Really sexy.”

Leslie blushed and tucked her hands under the lapels of Ben’s suit jacket, pulling him in for another kiss. “And I must say you are looking pretty handsome too, Mr Wyatt,” she said after they pulled away.

“Why thank you,” Ben grinned, placing one last kiss on her neck before pulling away, earning a whine from Leslie.

“I wish we could stay here all night, but we have dinner reservations to make,” Ben said, handing Leslie her coat and opening the door again.

“Alright,” Leslie said, pulling on her coat and making her way towards the open door. She then paused, and peered back over her shoulder at Ben. “Oh. One more thing. I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Ben’s boner was practically instant.

[monstersandmaw]

Heads up, there's a mega dose of familial prejudice against a non-human partner in this one. It's still got a good old fluffy ending though, because it's me...

I intended it to be much shorter, but the story ran away with me and I cared too much about the characters to keep it to my original 1-2k word plan. It's 4131 words.

I really hope you enjoy this one. It's been a while since I've done one with a female monster and a male reader, so I'm sorry. This one is another Patreon exclusive, but the next one will go up on Tumblr a day later.

When the reader's sister announces her wedding date, and he brings his orcish girlfriend to their small-town wedding, things get heated. Luckily for him, Khara is one chilled out, open-minded, awesome orc.  

---

Chunky Preview

Her hand was on your thigh in a brief, chaste, affectionate squeeze the moment you’d climbed into her car. “How was work?” she asked in her husky, rich voice and you short circuited for a moment just seeing her again.

You’d only been dating for a month or so, but Khara had proven to be quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to you. Admittedly you hadn’t actually told anyone back home that you were dating a six foot four orc, but you figured you’d get round to it at some point.

She’d introduced you to her family within about the first week, and you were already part of the clan it seemed. Her little brother was asking you for CV writing advice and her twin brother had put you through a series of subtle (and not so subtle) tests to see if you really did care for Khara. Apparently you’d passed with flying colours and they’d all laughed when you’d looked like you were about to pass out when you’d been told about it all.

You sighed. “Work sucked, as usual, but it was easier knowing I was going to see you afterwards,” you grinned, and she rolled her eyes and smacked you playfully with the back of her hand and laughed. A moment later she was leaning in to kiss you, her short, thick tusks nudging against your cheeks.

“Come on. Let’s go grab a beer and forget about work.”

You swivelled in your seat and slid your bag onto the back seat, careful to avoid dumping it onto her photography gear which covered one of the back seats of her big 4x4.

Her hand fell back to your thigh as she drove out of the car park where she’d picked you up, and you tipped your head back against the seat and groaned. It wasn’t a particularly sexual gesture, but just the splay of her fingers across the muscle of your thigh was enough to get you to forget about your shitty manager and your stressful day. You laid your own hand down atop hers and squeezed her fingers gently in yours. “Thanks,” you murmured.

A second later, your phone rang and you dug it out of your pocket with a scowl. When you saw the name on the screen, your heart sank. “It’s my mother,” you sighed and she laughed.

“You gonna tell her about me yet?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. The question was not barbed; she knew how your family felt about non-humans. To have their precious eldest child dating one would have horrified them. They’d never even met a non-human in the small, backwater town where you’d grown up, so goodness knows what kinds of stories they’d heard and believed over the years…

You answered Khara’s question with a roll of your eyes and then accepted the call. “Hi, mum,” you said flatly.

She chirped your name, berated you for not calling more often, and then launched into a barrage of very boring family information, dotted with the odd question directed at you. “Oh, and of course, I nearly forgot!” she added after about five minutes of continuous monologuing. “It was the whole reason I called you! Georgia has set a date for the wedding!”

“Oh,” you managed, without enthusiasm. Your sister had been engaged for over a year now with no wedding date set before now.

“You’ll be coming, of course,” your mother breezed. “So, she tells me that Charlotte and Maria will both be alone this year, so I can put you between them at the singles table,” she said.

“That’s a little ambitious of you,” you sneered sarcastically. “Both of them?”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she scoffed, more exasperated than amused. “I’m hoping that perhaps one of them will catch your eye. It’s been such a long time since you brought that lovely Kate home… I do worry for you, you know?”

“Actually,” you began, but then froze. ‘That Lovely Kate’ had in fact turned out to be a deceptive, cheating nightmare, but your mother had never accepted that for some reason.

“What? Don’t tell me you have someone?” she squealed. “Oh darling! I’m thrilled! I can’t wait to meet her! What’s her name?”

You swallowed thickly and shot Khara a glance. Her eyes twinkled and her lips twitched up into a smile that instantly became a shit-eating grin when she saw the look on your face. “This is it, isn’t it?” she mouthed and you nodded. “Go on then.”

You put your hand over your phone and hissed, “She’s not going to be pleasant about you if I tell her you’re an orc…”

“I don’t care,” she said, waving her hand and returning her brown-eyed gaze to the road. “I’m not dating her, I’m dating you…”

In a whisper, you said, “I love you,” and then turned back to your mother. “Well, her name’s Khara,” you said. “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month now.”

“You’ll bring her along, won’t you?” she said immediately. “Oh I’m so excited for you. I thought you were never going to bring another girl home…”

“Mum, please, I’m in my twenties - I’m not some washed up old fart!” you said and got a bark of laughter from Khara beside you.

“I know, I know, but your father and I were married and expecting you by the time we were your age…”

You sighed. Here we go again, you thought. And sure enough came ‘the speech’ about how she’d been so worried that you’d remain a bachelor forever or that - god forbid - you might even be gay… The way she said it like that just pissed you off - so fucking what if you had been dating another guy anyway? - but a squeeze from Khara’s hand on your thigh again centred you and you took a deep breath.

“Mother, stop, please,” you interrupted. “I get it. You think I’m a hopeless loser.”

That earned a deep, almost feline growl from Khara and it was your turn to reach for her and sooth her. In her own way she was gently protective of you, even from yourself.

“You can’t be completely hopeless if you’ve found yourself a girl at last,” she laughed. “Tell me all about her.”

“Well, she’s a photographer,” you began and your mother made an unimpressed sound. Perhaps she’d been hoping for a doctor or something, but what the hell did it matter anyway? “And she’s an orc.”

Deafening silence thundered down the connection for a good five seconds.

“Mum? Still there?”

“I’m here,” she said tersely. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said, making the word pop.

Khara was grinning again, fighting off laughter, and this time there was a feral glint in her eyes that spurred you on and gave you the confidence you needed.

“You’re not going to bring… bring an… an orc to your sister’s wedding, are you?”

“Yes,” you said firmly but quietly. “Yes mother, I am. Khara and I are dating, and you asked if I’d like to be there to support my sister on her wedding day. Khara will be my plus one.”

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