#also I thought drawing Lookout Landing was hard

[recalled11]

Directionless Pt. 5

Pt.1/ Pt.2/ Pt.3/ Pt.4/ Pt.5/ next part coming soon!

[keefwho]

April 29 - 2024 Monday

10:59pm

5/10

This morning I shaved my face and clipped my toenails. Also did laundry throughout the day but I think it still needs more drying. My CoStar said to let myself be weird today so I took that prompt and combined it with defusion to be on the lookout for thoughts that others might be judging me today. Breakfast was a jimmy dean sandwich and rice. I tried to start Ducktales again but I wasn't really interested. I started watching a neat little video about a disney animatronic theft DS linked me.

During my stream, 57 got rowdy with me right off the bat and made the mood weird. I also had to restart my PC before I could draw. No one was in stream today, even he had to leave at least partly because of work stuff. I warmed up by copying Spirit screenshots. Then I did my latest YCH for 2 hours. It was mind numbing, I got so bored by the end of it. I also felt bad about my coloring style being lacking as of late. I feel as though I've been trying too hard to play it safe even though the new way I've been coloring allows for greater freedom and experimentation.

After stream I was gonna play War Thunder or something but I saw TK was on VRchat so I joined her. She and NJ were playing chess which SUCKED but I stuck around while I starting preparing commissions for next month. Then I balled myself up in my hoodie and took a nap in my chair until she woke me up. I left to make lunch. Lunch was a really good tuna quesadilla. It was a little bit small for a meal and I did that intentionally since I've been averaging 141+ pounds. I've noticed my weight tends not to vary too wildly so even 1 or 2 pounds queues me to make small eating decisions over the next few days. Not that I care THAT much. Just something I consider.

Afternoon was spent doing today's request and drawing something quick and silly for DS. Then I started fabricating my next idea that I'll start on next week. I worked on PZ's VRchat world for an hour today. I meant to write the project off completely but I figure I'll spend my weekly Monday 1 hour time slot on it, thats not much. When I was done, I had agreed to play Roblox with TK since we didn't get to over the weekend. I introduced her to the basics of the horse game. I felt nervous because I couldn't tell if she was enjoying it or not. I didn't feel good at selling it because I sort of play it for the vibes. I think it's a great game to play if your primary goal is just chatting. I was about to leave to start dinner which is right when DS became free as well.

DS showed me how she fixed her fursuit's lips which was great, I was so sad to hear she didn't end up liking how they had turned out at first. I try to be reassuring but I struggle to be sometimes. Through my days learning how to manage creativity and artistic expectations, I've learned that there is no "failure" in a way and I like to try and convey this. I've learned you can brute for anything with enough attempts. And each slipup teaches you something new if you let it. The important thing is to stare your 'failures' in the face so you can fully recognize what you need to change going forward.

Other than that we watched a video on Marefair which was just disgusting. It looked like an awful time surrounded by awful people. And yet I could probably make a lot of money if I vended there. Not that I would ever.

In bed we did puzzles and read a couple Monster High chapters. The book is getting real juicy right now. We also learned about a 1994 adaptation of Black Beauty I put on our list of movies. In KH2 I completed the second part of the Pride Lands.

[forgedqzs]

(updated) maya bailey bio

[ ZOEY DEUTCH ] – have you heard about [ MAYA BAILEY ]? [ SHE/HER ] lives at the qz. i think they’ve lived there for [ SIX YEARS ]. they’re [ TWENTY-FOUR ] yrs old and seem very [ INNOVATIVE ] i’ve also heard they can be very [ TIMID ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ BARTENDER ]. they often daydream about [ FILLED NOTEBOOKS AND WORN OUT SNEAKERS ]. i’m curious to know more.

at a glance

name: maya simone bailey

faceclaim: zoey deutch

hometown: albany, new york

age: twenty-four

qz job: bartender

astrological sign: sagittarius - december 13th

family: mother & father (deceased), older brother (missing), older sister (missing)

sexual orientation: bisexual and biromantic

time in qz: six years

positive traits: helpful, humorous, proactive

negative traits: unpredictable, spoiled, nosy, 

quick facts

you can always find her at the bar! She always finds herself working as she feels whenever she’s not, her thoughts will consume her  

she has an older brother and older sister, making her the baby of the family. However, she has been without them for the last few years. She checks with the lookout staff every day to see if they have seen anything while they’re on post

her siblings and herself lost their parents early on in the apocalypse, it being just the three of them for the longest time. Maya got separated from them five years ago and stumbled upon the QZ. She always said if she hadn’t found this place, she wouldn’t have made it

her siblings ages: Brother (30+), Sister (27ish)

she may have some daddy issues but its fine its FINE we don't’ discuss (UNTIL WE DO)

She’s incredibly sweet and helpful! She loves getting to know new people and would do anything if it meant it took something off someone else’s plate 

slightly gullible, she assumes the good in people so it’s easy to pull the wool over her eyes (and your character SHOULD do it)

doesn’t lose her temper or cool often until it has to do with someone she loves then she’s losing it HARD

She loves to draw/doodle/sketch (all of the above). She had a few notebooks/pens/pencils when her and her siblings set out together a few years go, but her stash is starting to run out and she’s slightly freaking out about it. LOVES to draw scenery and people (sooo if your character wants to sit and let her draw them they would be VERY appreciative) 

She overthinks CONSTANTLY, she’ll think about something someone said to her for weeks on in and tones that were used for even longer. She tries to not let it affect her, and tries to throw it under the bridge but it’s hard

She gets attached to people quickly whether it’s romantic or platonic, she just loves them deeply and would immediately die for them without hesitation, we are WORKING on it

Can get overly excited sometimes but truly that’s just who she is at her core

When things are serious, she always listens and always tries to do what’s right 

wanted connections

family connections

[ MAYA BAILEY ], our [ ZOEY DEUTCH ] wants a [ SIBLING -SISTER ] they should be [27-30] years old and look like [OPEN TO ANY]. they [ DO NOT] need to message the mun beforehand. 

[ MAYA BAILEY ], our [ ZOEY DEUTCH ] wants a [ SIBLING -BROTHER ] they should be [30-35+] years old and look like [OPEN TO ANY]. they [ DO NOT] need to message the mun beforehand. 

The Bailey siblings have been on their own for about ten years. Their parents died years ago towards the beginning of the apocalypse. It’s been just the three of them for years and years. Maya was separated from them about five years ago, landing into the QZ. Where they’ve been the last few years could be up to you! (If you want them to have been the QZ, that totally could be the case as well! We can figure either out!)

other connections 

she’s always wanted a little sister (or a sister in general) someone she could take care of and love on herself - doesn’t need to be younger than her, it’s more about the relationship 

best friends

platonic soulmates 

hookups/flings  (she’s bi sexual so anything and anyone is fine)

unrequited love (on HER part, someone she’s got a huge crush on, but they don’t a) give her the time of day or b) completely oblivious)

friends with benefits 

forbidden romance

exes 

Unrequited love (on YOUR character’s part)

someone to corrupt her (she’s been pretty sheltered from a lot of terrible and awful things, so looking for someone to reverse that for her)

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

READ NEXT PART

Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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[thebaddestofbatches]

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

[eggtoasties]

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Rating: G for extreme fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary:  When Kita comes to practice with lipgloss on his mouth, chaos ensues.

Suna beat Kita to the locker room. It was twenty minutes before practice—odd considering his captain was always the first to arrive no matter how early he got there. Figuring Kita was held back for a few minutes by a teacher, probably to praise his work on a test or project where he’d internally wonder why his efforts elicited extra praise outside the form of his near perfect grades, Suna rolled his eyes and shrugged.

As the minutes ticked by, more of his teammates trickled into the locker room, each noting their captain’s absence. Texts and calls went unanswered as Atsumu frantically wondered if he got kidnapped on the way to the gym to which Osamu responded by calling his counterpart an idiot.

Momentarily distracted by a Miya brawl, Suna just barely missed Kita ambling into the locker room, seven minutes before practice. Inspecting him from head to toe while he aimed his camera at the twins, Suna’s eyes zeroed into the corner of Kita’s mouth.

Pink. Pink and sparkly.

For the first time in a long time—hell, maybe the first time ever. Suna found one potential avenue of flustering Kita. One unaccounted and surprising variable that hinted at a sliver of disorder in Kita’s life.

Processing this new information in seconds without shifting his facial expression, Suna whipped his phone towards Kita, making everyone pause.

Stepping towards his captain who was currently double knotting his court shoes, Suna zoomed in on Kita’s face.

“Why’re ya’ late?” Suna questioned, ignoring Aran’s sigh.

“Yeah! Though ya’ were kidnapped or somethin’,” chimed Atsumu, jumping to Suna’s side.

Slowly getting up from the floor where he was previously pinned down by his brother, Osamu brushed off his pants and said, “’S not like ya’. Yer always here ages early.”

Now fully dressed and ready for practice, Kita shrugged.

“Sorry. There was a slight change in schedule—didn’t think this deviation would throw ya’ all into a panic though,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Eyes sharp with the opening, seeing it clearer than when he’s up against a three man block, Suna grinned.

“And who’s the lucky deviation, Kita-san?” Suna grilled, using two fingers to zoom into his captain’s face. “Didn’t know ya’ were into lipgloss—the color’s pretty, but I think ya’ missed your mouth.”

Kita froze for a millisecond before swiping a thumb across his mouth.

“Wrong side,” Suna snickered.

Inspecting the evidence on his thumb, Kita watched the iridescent sparkles wink at him under the locker room lights. Remnants of a temporary farewell and a preview of tomorrow. Around him, Atsumu was yelling, Osamu had his mouth open in quiet surprise, and the rest of the team stared unbelievingly at the pink streak he smeared across his face.

Calmly getting a tissue and wetting it with water, Kita stared directly into Suna’s camera, making him internally wince at the intensity.

“My girlfriend.”

At those two simple words, the rest of the team seemed to snap out of their stupor and joined Atsumu in his screaming. Aran jumped up and down, eyes mysteriously misty. Akagi shook Kita’s shoulders and screamed incomprehensibly, face red with the effort. Inarizaki’s Boys’ Volleyball Club had lost their minds.

Internally counting to three and drawing in a grounding breath, Kita closed his eyes for a beat and opened them. Staring intently at each of his team members, each froze and immediately composed himself while Suna sat on the changing bench, recording everything.

“Stop screamin’ you’ll get us in trouble,” Kita said evenly, looking specifically at Atsumu who blanched and threw him a shaky salute. “And is it so hard ta’ believe I’ve got a girlfriend?” Looking at the clock and frowning, he motioned for them to get going before quickly leaving the locker room.

If Suna wasn’t on the lookout for any slips of composure he would have missed Kita’s slight pout at his teammates’ surprise and the pink tinge of his ears as he walked out. Thankfully, Suna thought to himself, he’d be able to endlessly relive the memory on his phone—and so could the rest of the team.

.

He hadn’t meant to be so late. Kita liked schedules—thrived off of them. Having a daily routine gave him order and security. Small acts of daily diligence compounded to steadfast reliability and Kita thought he knew what the upper limits of his mind and body were capable of.

They were capable of landing a serve wherever he wanted on the court. Even if he didn’t have a particularly powerful serve, accuracy finds a way to slip through weak defenses. They were also capable of staying actively engaged and alert throughout games whether or not he was on the sidelines. But, for the first time, a lifetime of routine wasn’t able to prepare him.

He was wholly unprepared for the intense warmth in his chest when she took his hand in hers and rubbed a thumb across his skin. His mental and physical reliability failed him when his knees went weak when he saw her out of her school uniform when he picked her up on their first date and his mind went blank when she stood on her tiptoes and held his cheek as she pulled him into a kiss.

Although his relationship with her had progressed to the point where all those firsts were now integrated into part of his routine, he found that those everyday actions still had the ability to make his mouth dry and cause his heartbeat to quicken.

It was illogical really. At a random whiff of her shampoo, his arms would break out in goosebumps. When the long line of her neck would be exposed as she tied her hair back, his shoulders softened in adoration. No matter how much time they spent together, no matter how many times he catches the multitudes of unexceptional actions, he found himself entranced.

Maybe his Baasan was right and the Gods were always watching. Perhaps they drew her into his plans to see how he’d react to an unknown variable, to see if he’d falter every step of the way in unknown territory. Maybe a lifetime wouldn’t be enough for him to be able to anticipate the different obstacles the Gods could write into his destiny, but he figured he didn’t mind. He’s a quick learner and he’s found out he quite likes the taste of strawberry lip gloss.  

[f0rever15elf]

Twin Souls

Summary: Soulmates. Twin souls. They’re the stuff of legends, right? They aren’t real...Or are they? And if they are...can they really span universes? 

Pairing: Pero/Whiskey/Oberyn/Din/Max/Maxwell/Dave/Catfish/Marcus/Ezra x fem!Reader  (yes, ALL of those Pedro boys are in this fic at some point. I’m overly indulgent)  Rating: M  Warning: Harsh language, sexual innuendo, death mentions, violence, injured reader, a little bit of angst (for the spice), way too many pedro characters in one fic, no beta reading. Soulmates!AU Word count: 9,649 (lord help me) 

a/n: This was inspired by a post that literally just mentioned our favorite soulmate trope that through any universe, two souls will find one another and I just think that’s really beautiful and NEEDED TO GET IT OUT OF MY BRAIN. So I hope you enjoy this! 

Masterlist |  Ao3

Twin Souls. Mirror souls. Soulmates. Twin flames. Almost every culture has their own rendition of this idea that each of us has another half that we are created with and separated from before we come into this life. Someone we are destined to find as surely as the river finds the sea. Some legends claim it was that we all originate with four arms, four legs, two heads, and one soul that shone brighter than the brightest of stars in the sky, and this drew jealousy from the gods who then wrent us in two. For others, it is destiny calling two individuals together, the universe declaring that two must become one. And even simpler still, some believe that it is no more than a chemical attraction. Something purely physical, biological, and nothing more. A perfect mate.

But what if? 

What if it was more than that. So much more. What if two souls were always destined to find one another? Across time and space and universes? What if...

Lightning cracks the sky, momentarily illuminating the face of the man on horseback. His scowl, as always, is firmly in place, his brow creased in a mix of irritation and exasperation. The rain has his dark, curled hair slicked down against his skull and his tunic under his armor is soaked through, drawing the warmth rapidly from his skin. He had told William they should make camp, that the smell of rain on the wind meant for foul weather, and soon, but William had ignored the grumpy Spaniard, electing to press on. Not twenty minutes later, the heavens opened, drenching the small caravan as they continued on. William rode silently in front of Pero, and he could feel the glare from his companion boring holes into the back of his head. If looks could kill, he would be dead several times over. 

"I see lights ahead!" Calls the lookout from up ahead, and a satisfied chatter rolls through the group of sellswords. Pero lifts his chin only slightly to look ahead, jaw clenched, eyes alert. He had seen enough in his days selling his sword to know what to look for, and a small village in the middle of nowhere was always a gamble. 

As the small group rides up to the edge of the village, a few of the village's men wait to greet them, lanterns out to welcome them to the town. The group of sellswords dismount as William goes to speak with the man Pero can only assume is the village leader. After a few words, William turns with a smile, moving through the group to tell them they would be making camp here tonight, bunking with members of the small community. The welcoming committee leads each man off to a different house, and had it not been for the rain still steadily downpouring, a dull chatter would have filled the air as the guests were welcomed with more hospitality than many of them were used to. 

"And you, my friend, will be staying with us!" The village leader approaches Pero with a smile. "Come, my daughter will help to get you dry. This cold will seep to your bones and you will fall ill. Come. Come." The friendly elder makes his way to a small, comfortable hut, a warm fire blazing in the center. The crackling of the logs is a welcome sound to Pero's ears, and the smell of something savory fills his nostrils. The men had been living on rations for days, and Pero Tovar was sick of the hardtack and salt pork he carried with him. The elder introduces him to his family; a wife, a young son, and you, his only daughter. As soon as his eyes land on you, Pero feels a warm sensation spread through his stomach, one he had never felt before, and he finds it difficult to tear his eyes from yours as the man of the house begins speaking again, telling him that their house is his for the night. He manages to utter out a word of gratitude before you approach him, taking his hand to lead him to get cleaned up. 

"It is not often our village has visitors," you murmur softly as you help him to doff his armor. "Most pass us by without so much as a second glance." Your smile causes that heat in his stomach to spread upwards through his chest, and up his neck. Such a foreign feeling... "Perhaps it is fate that brought you here, to us. I must thank fate, if that is the case, for bringing such a handsome man to my home." You laugh softly and it is a sweeter sound than any music the Spaniard has ever heard, light and gentle as the bluebird's song on the spring breeze. Pero's heart throbs in his chest at the sound. 

"Sí, señorita. A thanks to fate for bringing me here." His eyes never leave your face and the tips of your ears turn red from the attention. His gaze was steady, with a hard edge of a man who had seen too much. After finishing doffing his armor, you help to ease him out of his wet tunic, and your heart stutters in your chest. Your gaze drifts from his torso back to his face, and your hand moves as if with a mind of its own, lifting to rest on his face. The soft pads of your fingers gently trace the scar over his eye. There was...something so familiar about him, but you had no idea what it was.  Like you had seen this man before, someone who was him...yet not him. The thought confused you and you shook it from your head. That was impossible. 

---

Your eyes snap open from the strange dream and you sit up in bed, rubbing your face. A man who looked so much like your Jack had been haunting your dreams for days now, and you had absolutely no idea what it could mean. Jack stirs beside you, letting out a soft groan as he stretches. 

"Darlin'? You alright? It's awful early for you to be up." He glances over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:30 am, early was an understatement. His hand finds the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles against the skin there. You hum and nod your head. 

"Just...weird dreams Jack. That's all." You turn your head and smile down at him and he makes a concerned sound at the back of his throat. 

"Wanna talk about it, sweetheart?" Your heart melted at the concern, and you ease yourself back down, laying in his arms. 

"It doesn't make much sense, really. You'll probably think I'm crazy." His arm holds you a little closer to him and he chuckles. 

"Try me." A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you take a deep breath. 

"Well...if you say so. I've been dreaming of a person. It's...this guy. He looks so much like you, and he has a scar right here." You delicately trace the line of the scar from the mystery man in your dreams. "And his face is weathered and serious. He's always scowling. I have no idea but it's like it's you but it isn't you. But it's more like... a faded memory than a dream. It's crazy, I know." Jack is quiet as he listens to you, his fingers still tracing delicate patterns on your skin. 

"I...don't think you're crazy, sweetheart." You blink, honestly shocked as you look up at him. He's staring up at the ceiling, a contemplative look on his face. "I've had dreams like that too. Ones of you. Or, well, a girl who looks almost exactly like you." Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look down at him, that handsome, lopsided smile on his face.

"You're not pulling my leg to appease me, are you?" 

"Now darlin', when have I ever done that to you?" He had a point. His silver tongue worked magic in many ways, but spinning lies to appease you was not one of those ways. Your brow creases as you lose yourself in your thoughts of what this could mean until a whip-calloused finger smooths the lines between your brows. "You ever heard 'a soulmates, sweetness?" The question strikes you as rather odd, something out of a fairy tale, but you nod. "I'm thinkin' that may be our answer." His arm wraps around you and he pulls you back against him. "Lovers truly meant to be." Gentle lips press light kisses to your forehead, his moustache tickling the skin and drawing a giggle from you. 

"Do you really think that, Jack? That we've met before?" 

"Well it would explain how we fell in with one another quicker than a jackrabbit with a fox on its tail. Now, I know my charm is absolutely irresistible, but I don't think I can take all the credit here." He grins and you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat, smacking his chest lightly. You had to admit...it made sense. In some weird, metaphysical sense that you weren't quite sure you completely believed. But Jack believed it, and that was enough for you. It also meant you could stop feeling guilty about these dreams of this mysterious Spaniard. 

"So this dream girl. What's she like?" You ask, snuggling into Jack's embrace. He shakes his head and laughs. 

"What, you jealous of yourself, gorgeous? C'mon now, you get to ride this cowboy any time you like, ain't no need to be jealous of a dream of you." You gasp and smack his chest, cheeks flushing red as you hide against his chest. He chuckles and lavishes a few gentle kisses to the top of your head, snuggling down in bed with you. 

"Jack?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, doll. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and get some sleep." 

And you did just that, slowly drifting off to dreamland. 

--- 

"Hellloooooo!" Cara snapped her fingers in front of your face and you jumped, coming back to reality. "You know, you really freak me out when you do that." She leans back in her chair, a cup of spotchka in one hand, her lopsided smirk on her face. You cough, and scratch at the back of your neck. 

"Yeah...sorry about that." She just shakes her head.

"Where do you go when you zone out like that? Takes me forever to bring you back around."  You just shrug, staring down at your bowl of soup. 

"Day dreams, I guess. I can't really describe them. I see faces though. Well, a couple of faces anyways. Two men who look shockingly similar and-" Cara cuts you off with a wave of her hand. 

"Sweets, I don't need to hear about your depraved day dreams." Her coy grin in your direction causes your face to flush a bright red at the insinuation and you make a move to reply when she goes rigid in her chair, setting her cup down with a little more force than necessary. Your brow creases in confusion, even more so when she stands and grabs your hand, quickly and quietly leading you out back. "Stay here," she hisses, moving slowly around front, leaving you confused and alone. And hungry. You had been so busy day dreaming you didn't even get the chance to finish your soup. A frown pulls at the corners of your lips as you hop up on a box out back, kicking your legs as you wait for your friend. 

The sounds of fighting reach your ears a few minutes later and you jump up, running towards the sound, skidding to a halt when you round the corner to see Cara fighting with a person decked out in some of the shiniest armor you had ever seen. You open your mouth to say something when a small green creature walks out of the cantina, a bowl of soup in his tiny hands. He looks up at you and tilts his head before turning to walk a little closer to your skirmishing friend. You follow as both the armored figure and Cara end up on the ground, a blaster pointed at Cara's head. You're about to run forward to try and yank the blaster away when the sound of slurping distracts you. Looking down, you see the little green thing slurping up his soup, watching with a borderline uninterested look. The helmeted figure and Cara turn to look at you both before looking back at each other. 

"...Want some soup?" The helmeted man says through what was clearly a modulator. 

That was your first encounter with Din Dajrin, and you had no clue that that one day would lead to you aboard the Razor Crest, babysitting the little green creature he had taken in, and fixing things around the ship as they broke. You had never seen his face, nor much of his skin save for when you were patching him up from a particularly rough hunt, but that was okay. Life on the Crest was comfortable, and even in the silence that Din preferred to keep, you felt at home. His presence was enough to calm you on your more anxious days. The two of you grew close quickly. Quicker than you or he had expected, and it wasn't long before he was gracing you with idle affections. Light caresses as he passes you, his hand lingering on yours for longer than necessary, gently tucking stray hairs back behind your ear as you talk to him. Each little thing never failed to bring heat to your cheeks. 

It was at the anniversary of your first cycle together that Din asked you to marry him. He had taken the three of you to a peaceful, lush planet to ask you. Some place safe and reclusive, a place where neither of you had to worry about anything. He wanted you as a part of his little clan, and your heart nearly burst with affection as you rapidly shook your head, wiping away the tears. The tradition was simple, a marriage a sacred vow between the Mandolorian and their spouse. It was a promise to bind the two as one. A few simple words was all it took, and he was yours. He brought your hands to his helmet to let you lift it off, the moment unable to be any more perfect than this. 

And that's when the blaster sounded. You freeze as your eyes go wide, slowly looking down to your chest where bright crimson starts to bleed through the material of your tunic. You look back up at him with glassy eyes and stumble forward into his grasp, only vaguely aware of more blaster fire, then total silence. Din lays you down on the soft grass, yanking his helmet off, and oh how you wish you could see his face clearly. You make out dark curls atop tan skin, dark eyes looking at you with such concern and fear, desperation...a look you couldn’t bring your eyes to focus enough to make out. Everything is fading so quickly. You can't hear his voice, only ringing. You were so sure he had a beautiful voice, it's a shame you wouldn't get to hear it free of modulation. Lifting your hand, you place it weakly against his cheek, sputtering out "I love you...find me in the next..." With that, the last of your strength leaves you, your hand dropping from his face as your head lolls to the side, eyes staring blankly off into the distance. 

Din lets out a cry of anguish as he pulls your lifeless form against him, sobbing into your hair. How could fate be so cruel? 

--

Ezra shoots up ramrod straight in bed, gasping for air like a man drowning. A cold sweat clings to his skin, an afterthought of the nightmare that disturbed his sleep once more. He rubs his face, taking a deep breath before looking over at his time keeper. Two standard hours before his alarm... The sigh that leaves his lips is deep and heavy as he swings his legs over the side of his cot. Might as well get an early start on the day. There was no going back after that awful dream, and he could use the couple extra hours anyways. Mining with only one hand, everything took twice as long and was done half as well, so the extra time would give him a little leg-up on the day. Heavens above, he could use another set of hands around here. With Cee off at school, he was all on his own, and it was getting damn lonely. Working his way into his suit with a little bit of difficulty, he made the resolution to put out an ad for help the next time he went to the Depot to drop off a shipment. 

And so he spent the day, mining and singing and talking to himself. Anyone else who saw him would surely think this one-armed man was crazy, but little did they know that talking to himself is exactly what kept him sane. He could move up the Depot visit. Yeah, that's what he would do. He'd need to go in the next week anyways, so why not just do it now? He resolved to head on the next day to the Depot, and he'd put out that add for some help. 

The next day's trek was blessedly uneventful. The cash-in post scoffed at what little aurelac he had accrued so far, and the tips of his ears turned pink in embarrassment. He mutters a thank you for the credits exchange, and makes his way to the bulletin board to put in his ad. A single figure is standing in front of the board, a pack slung over their shoulder, miner's tools hanging off their belt. 

"Pardon me," he says softly, scooting by them without looking at their face to pin up his ad. He turns to head back to his buggy to return to work, hopeful he would hear something over his coms soon. 

"Sir?" A gentle voice calls from behind him and he freezes in place, his heartbeat suddenly incredibly loud in his ears. He knew that voice. That was the voice that had been in his nightmares over and over again. Find me in the next... He slowly turns to look at who had called him to see you standing there, looking exactly as you did in his dreams. But alive...so much more alive.  You smile up at him, gentle and warm, with a light of concern in your eyes, and he has to resist the urge to run to you and pull you into his arms. "I say...you look like you've seen a ghost! Are you alright?" Ezra's mouth opens and closes a few times, not unlike a fish before he's able to find his words again. 

"Y..Yes, I'm alright. Not to worry, gem, it's just been a rather arduous day is all, and I'm beginning to feel the effects taking hold. Pardon my rudeness." A gentlemanly smile graces his lips as he extends his hand to you. "The name is Ezra. How might you be doing this fine day?" You chuckle and take his hand, shaking it firmly. What an odd fellow this was. 

"It's a pleasure, Ezra. And the answer to this next question will set my mood for the day, I'm sure. You're in need of a helper at your dig site?" He nods enthusiastically. 

"I most certainly am! What a matter of fortune that I happen to stumble upon someone ready and willing to assist me the very day I come to place my ad!" 

"Ready and willing is right! I just arrived on the surface. Took a gamble someone would be needing my help, and it appears I've come out on top!" Your smile is infectious, and Ezra returns it, just as brilliantly. It lights up his eyes, you notice. Warm, chocolate brown eyes that glimmer with a playfulness that excites you. 

"Perhaps you can impart some of that luck on to me as we begin this partnership." He leads you back to his buggy to take you back to camp, loading up on some extra supplies as well with his meager earnings that would be needed with an extra mouth to feed. "Might you be the lucky star that this poor man has been waiting for!" You can't help but chuckle at the eccentric miner. His manner of speaking was so strikingly different from anyone you had met before. Words rolled off his lips sweet as nectar, and the sound of his voice bordered on intoxicating. 

"Make a wish, and we'll see." You laugh, flashing him a wink. The two of you spend the rest of the ride talking, swapping stories of your previous adventures. Ezra's charm has you instantly at ease. It felt comfortable and familiar to be near him, and you couldn't quite explain it. 

As you return to his camp and make your way inside, helping to unload, you do your best to help ease some of Ezra's burden. It was clear he was trying to show that his lack of an arm was no deterrent for him, but you worried he would hurt himself in the process. 

"Here, I've got it," You say softly, taking an oxygen tank from him as he stumbled a bit, nearly dropping the canister. He looks up at you with those soulful brown eyes and your heart stutters in your chest. He nods and lets you take it inside as he grabs the last few small things from the buggy, following you in. His helmet hisses as he takes it off, slowly peeling himself out of his suit, and you do the same, folding yours up in the corner before standing awkwardly in the center of the hab until he's done. Dropping the offending article in the middle of the tent, he sighs and plops down on his cot, patting next to him for you to join. Happily, you do so, crossing your legs under you. 

"Forgive me, lucky star, for my lacking capabilities. I am not the man I once was..." He gestures to the stump of his right arm, a pained look in his eyes. You place your hand on his thigh and flash a reassuring smile. 

"Ezra, there is nothing to forgive. I'm here to help in whatever way you may need me to. We're partners, and partners help each other." He glances at you sideways, a smile gracing his lips at the pain fades in his eyes. 

"Lucky star, I feel you may be imparting some of your luck on to me already. What plans the universe may have for us is an adventure I'm eager to embark on." You laugh and nod, squeezing his thigh once before getting up to start making your side of the hab. 

And so the days go on. Long days spent mining as much aurelac as possible while the light provided, before getting cleaned up for the night. Evenings were usually spent listening to one of Ezra's fantastic tales, or listening to him read a book from his small collection. More and more you found yourself leaning against him, your eyelids heavy with sleep as his honey rich voice drawled on. It reverberated in his chest in a way that soothed you more than anything else had in the galaxy. But the good days were over too soon as mining season came to a close on the Green, and you found yourself facing Ezra in the Depot, the two of you ready to depart for your next jobs. The ache in your heart was unlike anything you had ever felt, having grown so fond of the loquacious miner. 

You opened your mouth to say goodbye, to just rip the band-aid off, when he spoke over you. 

"Come with me." The sentence was near a plea as he reached out to take your hand. Your eyes opened wide at his words, your mouth falling slightly open.

"W..what?" 

"Come with my, my lucky little star... I can't imagine a life without you at this point, the comfort you bring me is beyond anything even the most luxurious of lifestyles could bring me." He squeezes your hand again. "Come with me...please..." You knew you couldn't, you knew you needed to head to your next journey, but the thought of doing so felt so wrong, as though your heart might explode if you tried...so you nod, and Ezra's eyes light up with a joy the likes of which you had never seen. He tugs your hand and pulls you to him, embracing you as best he can with his one arm, and nuzzles into your hair. You wrap your own arms around him to return the hug, sinking into the embrace that could only be described as feeling...right. You almost missed it as he whispered against your hair, "I found you..." You lean back, confusion in your eyes as you look up at him. 

"...Found me?" You whisper and he smiles, dropping the embrace to take your hand and lead you toward his shuttle. 

"If you would indulge me in some time to tell you a story, I can explain everything, lucky little star." 

---

Your bare feet hit the pavement with loud slaps, legs propelling you forwards as fast as you could. Your lungs burned in your chest as you panted for air, not daring to look back over your shoulder for who you knew was following you. How had you managed to be so stupid, so careless? How could you have managed to get yourself involved in this? 

"Get back here!" He yelled, his deep voice causing another shot of adrenaline to course through your bloodstream. He was going to kill you. Oh God, he was going to kill you! Tears stream down your face as you run, ducking into every alleyway you could, trying to elude him, but he had been doing this too long. He was good at covering his tracks, and you were a loose end he couldn't afford. You being alive jeopardized his life with his family. 

You turn down another alley and your heart plummets when you are met with a stone wall, skidding to a halt in front of it. You hear his heavy footfalls behind you and you turn, falling to your knees. Maybe...maybe if you beg, he'll spare you? 

Dave rounds the corner, and you hear the soft click of the safety of his silenced handgun. He stalks forward like a lion stalks an antelope and you have never in your life felt so small. 

"You're a fast little she-devil, I'll give you that. It was a good chase." He stands in front of you as you begin to beg, pleading for your life. You'd move away, you'd forget everything. You'd change your name and cut contact with everyone, please just don't pull the trigger. "No can do, sweetheart. Can't risk it." He brings the gun up level with your forehead as you look up into his eyes, begging still, trembling with terror. For a moment, you see a light of recognition in his eyes, a light that looks so familiar it makes your heart ache. Visions of a space suit, an angry scar, a metal suit, and a cowboy hat all flash through your mind in rapid succession as the light registered somewhere deep in your subconscious. 

Then, with the sound of a gunshot, everything vanishes. 

--- 

"NO PLEASE STOP!" You shriek in your sleep, thrashing around in your shared bed, waking the man beside you. He startles, sitting up and pulling you upright, shaking you gently to try and wake you from your night terror. You had been having them more  and more recently, and he was starting to get really concerned. Terrified eyes snap open, tears starting to streak down your face as you caught his eyes and immediately begin trying to get away from him, your body still full of adrenaline. "Let me go!" You screamed, fighting to get away from those eyes. Those damn eyes were exactly the same. 

"Shhh shhh, cariña, calm down it was just a night terror, you're safe." That voice...that voice wasn't the same. That voice was so much kinder and softer than the one in your dream and you grow still in his arms, nervously looking back at the one holding you. Your terrified stare was met with the warmest chocolate eyes you had ever seen, full of nothing but love and concern for you as he held you. 

"F-Frankie...?" you ask, barely above a whisper, and he nods. You tremble in his hold as you choke out a sob, falling into his embrace. "I-I'm s-s-sorry Frank-kie! I-It was s-so b-bad this t-time," you managed to choke out between sobs. Frankie’s gentle fingers run through your hair in an attempt to soothe you as he coos gently to you, swaying back and forth with you. His sleep shirt was clutched in your fists as you sobbed against him. 

"It's alright cariña, I'm here, I've got you and you're safe. Nothing is going to get you, I promise." His voice is deep and rich, sleep still painting the edges of it as he holds you and whispers soothing words to you. How lucky could you be to have a man like Francisco Morales to call your own? He was so patient with you, even when these night terrors plagued you seemingly non-stop. 

As your sobs turn to sniffles, he carefully looks down at you. "Was it the same dream, amor?" he asks softly, nervous to startle you, and you nod weakly. 

"Being chased and cornered by a man with a gun...who looked like a sleazy businessman version of you... But his eyes were hard and angry and his voice was so cold." You look up at him with still watery eyes and he delicately wipes your cheek of any errant tears. "I hate this." 

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sorry, I would do anything to help those dreams stop." His hold tightens around you. He was angry. Angry he couldn't protect you from this. Angry that for some reason your mind was using his face to torture you. Angry that you could get no respite from these horrible visions in your mind. With closed eyes, he nuzzles into your hair, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes slip closed as you slowly relax into Frankie's hold, your heart rate slowing to a more normal rate as the flood of adrenaline clears your bloodstream, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Frankie coaxes you to bed again, holding you as close to him as he can, hoping his presence will somehow help to deter the nightmares. 

In the morning, you wake to the smell of bacon and the feeling of an empty bed. You sit up and stretch before rubbing your eyes and yawning. Damn, your head and eyes hurt from the crying last night. Stupid nightmare... With a shake of your head, you move to get up to go get some medicine when you notice two Tylenol and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, knowing Frankie had left them out for you, and you take them, deciding to stay in bed a few more minutes and wait for Frankie. Your decision pays off when the door opens and Frankie walks in, a bed tray with pancakes, bacon, and a tall glass of chocolate milk in his hands. 

"Morning amor. How are you feeling? I made your favorite blueberry pancakes." The smile that graces your lips he returns as he sets the tray across your lap before tucking a loose strand of hair back in place behind your ear, joining you on the bed. 

"I'm alright as I can be. Tired of these stupid night terrors...I feel like I haven't slept in days." Leaning over, you press a quick kiss to his cheek before picking up a fork, digging in. The moan that leaves your lips borders on sinful as you taste the pancakes. Frankie's cooking always did amaze you. He chuckles as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. 

"I'm glad you like the food." You nod with a smile and continue eating, content with the silence for now. That is, until a burning question bubbles to the forefront of your thoughts. "Frankie...have...have you ever had a dream...about a girl who looked like me?" The question comes softly from your lips, as if you are nervous to even ask it. It seemed so silly hearing it out loud. 

"No, I can't say I have...but the day I met you, I could have sworn I had met you before. But there was no possible way that could have been." His voice is contemplative, and when you turn to look at him He's looking off to nowhere, lost in thought. 

"What do you mean you could have sworn you've met me before?" He blinks a few times and looks back at you, shrugging. 

"Everything about you was familiar. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile. Hell, even the way you stood, one hip cocked and your hand resting on it...It was all just so familiar, like I had met you a long time ago. Weird, I know." 

"I'm the one having dreams about a guy who looks like a douche bag version of you trying to kill me, and you think familiarity is weird?" A pink tint creeps up his cheeks as he sputters out a reply. 

"W-well when you put it that way..." You chuckle and shake your head, chasing a blueberry around your plate with your fork. 

"Maybe...we have met before...just not...here." If he didn't think you were crazy before, he certainly would now. 

"What, like a soulmate? A past life?" You nod, not looking up. You didn't want to see him looking at you like you were crazy. "Now that's an idea...it would explain a lot, wouldn't it?" Another nod, and his hand reaches around to lift your chin, turning your face to him. A gentle smile graces his beautiful face and you can't help but return it. "If that's the case, then I'm glad I found you again, soulmate." The giggle that escapes your lips only helps to widen his smile before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 

==

You had heard great things of the Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper, Oberyn Martell. He was as fearsome as he was gentle. Ruthless as he was loving. His skills with poisons and fighting spears were unmatched, as was his sexual appetite. Or so you had heard. King's Landing was always full of whispers and rumors, so much so that it was hard to know just what was fact, and what was fiction. Not that it mattered, the rumors never affected you. You kept your head down, and did as you were told, assisting the Lanisters whenever need be. It was the best way to stay out of trouble, and to ensure your head stayed rightfully upon your shoulders. 

But why all of the hubbub about Prince Oberyn all of a sudden? Have you missed an announcement? Cersei would have your head on a pike before the candles melted through if you embarrassed her by forgetting to outfit a chamber. A cold sweat breaks out over your skin and your heart races in your chest at the thought, your feet carrying you swiftly down the halls in search of Tyrion. He would know what was going on. 

You find the man talking with his guard, and clear your throat softly as you approach, hands folded respectfully in front of you. Their conversation drops as Tyrion looks to you with a smile. 

"Forgive my interruption, but I have heard many more whispers today than usual of The Red Viper of Dorne... Have...Have I missed a notice to prepare an extra chamber...?" Tyrion shakes his head and comes over to place a hand over your folded ones. 

"Fear not, you've missed nothing. The chambers were already prepared for his visit." The tension melts from your shoulders and you nod, bowing your head before standing upright again. 

"Thank you for informing me. I shall return to my duties then. Good day." You turn quickly as Tyrion bids you farewell, resuming your duties as needed.

The fight was the only thing anyone in the halls discussed. Oberyn was to champion for Tyrion in trial by combat with The Mountain. The whole of King's Landing was to attend to spectate, including the workers through the castle. It had been a long time since the walls buzzed with such energy, and you followed along quietly to the viewing stand reserved for the chambermaids. Perhaps you would now see if the words of the great Red Viper of Dorne were true. You watch with baited breath as he strides into the arena, his armor light, a fighting spear in his grip that he twirls with such grace it takes your breath away. His smile is confident, bordering on cocky, and you feel a twinge of fear for him. He was so small...The Mountain would crush him.

The fight was certainly something to behold, and for a moment, it seemed as though Oberyn's dexterity would win him the match. Till the tables turned... It was a gruesome sight, The Mountain was known well for his utter brutality. The cries of pain from the prince under his grip tore at your heart, and when his skull finally gave, painting the arena red, something inside you broke. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your hand covering your gaping mouth as your heart ached in your chest. 

You had never met this man, and yet at the witnessing of his death, it felt as if you had lost a part of yourself.

--

"An intern? A FUCKING intern? What the fuck do I need with an intern?!" Maxwell stood from his desk, pacing behind it, a hand in his pocket while the other rubbed at his face. "I’m so close, SO CLOSE, to having the world in the palm of my hand, and you want me to take on AN INTERN?!" He snapped at the poor secretary who stood in the center of the room, trembling in her high heels. 

"M-Mr. Lord...A-appearances are everything, sir, and I believe taking on an intern would brighten your appearance in the public eye even more so. She would be none the wiser, and you could use her to take care of your less important operations, sir." The secretary quivered under Maxwell's gaze as he stopped to stare at her, eyes hard as flint. Slowly, so slowly, a predatory smile works its way across his face, and he stalks forward, lifting the secretary's chin. 

"You are an absolute genius, where would I be without you?" He shoves her head away and she stumbles back a step before catching herself. "Bring her on. Get her set up on payroll, benefits, whatever she needs, then send her here to talk with me." The secretary nods, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper before looking back up to her boss who has taken to looking out the window of his high rise office. "Well don't just stand there, chop chop!" She shoos her from the room and she leaves in a rush, heels clicking down the hall as she goes to find you.

The lobby of the Lord building was absolutely massive, and appropriately ornate for what you knew of Maxwell's image. Nervous fingers played across your pencil skirt, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in the material as you waited for the secretary you had met to return with her answer. The sound of heels clicking down the hallway draws your attention and a cordial smile graces your lips as the secretary returns. 

"Good news!" she claims in an overly excited tone. "Welcome to the company! Mr. Lord has agreed to take you on as his intern. I'll take your information and get you set up with payroll while you come to meet the man behind it all." You nod, fishing a manila envelope of all of your information out of your shoulder bag, handing it over. "Excellent. Now, follow me. A few pointers," she says matter of factly. "Speak only when spoken to and NEVER interrupt. Mr. Lord hates being interrupted. You'll refer to him as Mr. Lord or Sir unless instructed otherwise. Keep your answer short and to the point. Are we clear?" You swallow thickly, suddenly astronomically more nervous than you were just a moment ago. 

"Crystal." 

"Excellent." She takes you to a large set of double wooden doors, knocking with three quick raps before opening the door. "Mr. Lord, here she is." The secretary ushers you in, placing you in the center where she stood trembling only minutes before, stepping off to the side as Maxwell strides up to you, circling around you as he sizes you up. 

"Not bad," he muses. "Not bad at all." His gaze was searing, causing your blood to race in your veins. You were pretty, he had to admit, and that would definitely be a bonus if you were going to be around him every damn day. Something familiar tugged at the back of his mind. Your eyes or your jawline, maybe, but he quickly chased that thought away. "So, you're going to be my new intern!" He claps his hands together. "Your work starts now. Follow me." He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you to what you assumed was where you were going to be sitting for the rest of this internship.

--

You blink and stumble for a moment, a firm yet chilling grip catching you to right you. 

"Careful there doll. Can't have you ruining that pretty face of yours cause you tried to kiss the carpet." Max laughed that ultra-fake, condescending laugh he had, letting you go as you righted yourself. Adjusting your pencil skirt, you nod and take a deep breath. This was all way too familiar. The outfit, the internship, the guide through the office to a desk by your boss'. It was hands down the worst case of deja vu you have EVER had. 

"Mr. Phillips-"

"Call me Max, doll. You're my new intern, and I'd like to think of you and I more as friends than as boss and employee." He grins at you and you shiver at the sight of his fangs. 

"...Max. Uhm...does...does any of this seem a little too familiar to you? Like you've been here before?" His look back at you with a look that makes you wish you could just melt into the carpet and disappear. 

"I'm here every day, what are you talking about?" 

"N-no I mean like, do you ever get deja vu? Because I'm having it bad right now." That trademark grin spreads across Max's face again as he seats you at your desk, perching himself up on the front of it so he's looking down at you. 

"My whole unlife is deja vu, dollface. It's round two for me." That damn smile never leaves his lips as he watches you put your papers in the drawers of your desk. "Any other silly little questions, or should I just let you get started on your first day?" The tips of your ears were on fire and you shook your head. 

"Nothing else, Max. Thank you, I'll get to work." He claps and nods, hopping off your desk. 

"Alright, doll. You'll have a set of reports for editing in your inbox. Have them formatted, printed, and on my desk before you head out today." You nod, starting up your desktop as he makes his way from your now shared office. This...was going to be a long internship. 

Max makes his way down the hall, that fake, used car salesman smile falling from his lips as soon as he is out of eye-shot. He stalks down the hall to his own personal bathroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. 

"Fuck!" The acoustics of the tiled room cause his voice to reverberate, sharp in his ears. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He white knuckles the edge of the sink, the porcelain cracking under his hands. It was her. It was FUCKING her! Of all the people who could come to intern at this company, it had to be his soulmate. Because of course it did! Why would the universe decide anything else?! The frustrated vampire closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She didn't know, everything was going to be fine. Can't have a soulmate when you don't have a soul. Checkmate, universe. Yeah, that was what he would do, he’d ignore it. Problems always went away when you ignored them, right? 

Wrong.

--

"I need to stop watching vamp movies before bed," Javier Peña groans, sitting up from his bed. "Fucking dreaming about them now.." He continues to grumble to himself as he gets ready for the day. It was going to be a long one. The DEA had caught a lead on Escobar, and were running a raid this afternoon. He needed to be on his game today, this could be the chance they needed to finally get that bastard. He slips his gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabs his leather jacket, and heads to work. 

Hostages. Of course they had fucking hostages. 

"This complicates things," Steve whispers from behind him. 

"No shit," the exasperated DEA agent snaps back, eyes scanning the entrance to the building. They had no idea how many Escobar's men had in there, and they needed to get them all out. Javier was tired of seeing innocents die, caught up in something because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. "I'm going around back," Javi hisses, ducking around Steve to find the back entrance. "You stay here with the team. First gunshot, you move. Be smart, clear every room, move fast." Steve nods, taking Javi’s place as Javi slinks along the back perimeter. 

He was right, there was a back entrance. He presses his ear to the door, trying to make out any sound and was met with only silence. Gun ready in one hand, he slowly opens the door, thanking whatever god existed that most of Escobar's men were idiots. They had forgotten to arm the back door. He moves along the wall to the hallway, noting two doors on the left, one on the right on the way to the main lobby. His heart pounds in his ears as he moves as quickly and quietly as possible, choosing the one door on the right first, seeing it open. He ducks in, gun sweeping over the room, but all he sees is you there, bound and gagged with duct tape. Your face was a mess, one eye blackened and dried blood from your nose crusted on the tape. Weary, broken eyes meet Javi's and his heart stutters. He had to get you out of here, and he was going to. 

As you look at him, your eyes widened at the shadow moving down the hall. Noticing, Javi presses himself just to the side of the doorway, waiting for the man to make his way into the room before firing off two quick shots to his head. The man slumped to the ground, lifeless as the house descended into chaos. Javi grabs you, dragging you gracelessly to the corner where he can better protect you. The action draws a soft whimper from you, fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Gunfire, screaming in both Spanish and English, crashing and banging...it was all too much for you and you began sobbing, quaking in absolute terror. Javier held you to him gently, his large hand holding your head against his chest. 

"Calma, calma. Estás segura. Soy aquí," he whispers softly against your hair, eyes trained on the door still. 

"Peña! It's clear! We got them all, where are you?" Steve. Thank god. 

"First room on your left. Bring me the first aid kit!" You look up at agent Peña with glassy eyes, bloodshot from crying and he starts to peel the duct tape away from your mouth as gently as he can. "It's alright, you're safe now." His voice is gruff, but he speaks so gently to you.  You can't stop the trembling in your limbs, the adrenaline running its course. 

"I got the ki- holy shit what did they do to her?!" Steve joins Javi by your side, helping to undo the tape binding your arms and legs.

"Beat the shit out of her it looks like," Javi pulls an alcohol swab from the kit, tearing it open to wipe off a nasty looking cut along your brow and you hiss, pulling back at the sting. "Easy, chica. I know it hurts, I'm sorry." The whimper that leaves your lips has Javi nearly seeing red. Those bastards...

"Let's get her out of here. We need to get her to a hospital." Steve is already standing up, pulling out his phone. 

"No! No, please no hospitals!" The words come out as a rasp, your throat feeling like sandpaper. 

"Lady, you're beat to hell, we need to get you some medical attention." He argues, but the look in your eyes is desperate as you turn your gaze back to the DEA agent who saved you. 

"Please, please no hospitals...I can't do it." 

"Peña..." Javier cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

"I'll take her back to my place and take care of her. She can stay there for now. Her place probably isn't safe right now anyways if they managed to get her." No hospitals...they weren't going to take you to the hospital. Relief washes over you and your limbs suddenly felt so heavy. 

"Thank you..." You barely make out before your body gives out and you slump against Javi. His arms wrap around you after checking for a pulse, and he stands, scooping you up bridal style in his arm. He carries you out to his car, sitting you in the front seat and strapping you in, Steve arguing the whole way. 

"Look, she said no hospitals, so we aren't going to the hospital. If things get worse, I'll take her, but for now, I'm taking her back to mine. You stay here and get the paperwork done. I'll call if anything changes." Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Javi was already in the truck, taking you to his little apartment on the quiet side of town. 

It was surely a strange sight, the DEA agent carrying in your battered body to his apartment, and it raises the eyebrow of Old Woman Angela who gracefully still decides to mind her own business. Safe within the confines of his home, Javi carries you to his bed, laying you down gently before ridding you of your shoes in an attempt to grant you at least a little comfort. 

"Let's get you cleaned up, querida." His words are soft and gentle, more so than he's used with anyone in a long time. Delicately, he wipes your face with a clean, damp cloth to rid you of the grime and blood that had built up, using caution around your deeply blackened eye. The sight of you so battered made his heart ache. He was used to violence, he was used to death. It followed him everywhere in this line of work. So why, then, was this hitting him so much harder than any of the others. Why did he feel this overwhelming need to protect you, to keep you safe from all the world's atrocities? He shakes his head and mutters to himself in Spanish as he moves to sanitizing and dressing your wounds. Once you were as cared for as he could make you, he sits, watching your sleeping form. The subtle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep gives him at least a little comfort. His hand moves as if of its own will, taking yours gently. They're so soft, and they fit so perfectly in his, almost like your hands were made to be held in his. It felt so right, so natural. And that was something Javier Peña had never felt before, not like this. In your sleep, so gently he almost thinks he imagined it, you squeeze his hand tighter.

Javier Peña didn't even know your name, but in his heart he knew one thing. 

You were home.

--

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you call from your place on the couch, head dangling off, your feet where your head should be. 

"Absolutely," came the gentle voice from the kitchen. 

"And what about soulmates?" 

"Those too. Why do you ask?" Marcus peeks his head out and chuckles when he sees you once again refusing to use furniture correctly. 

"I dunno, just a thought I've been having recently. Like, how do people know when they've found their soulmate? It's not like we have a countdown timer that tells us." 

"Well," your boyfriend comes to join you on the couch and you immediately right yourself to lay with your head in his lap, his fingers moving to play with your hair. "It's one of those things you just know. Like, they walk into the room and all you can see is them. Their voice and laugh makes you feel like you're floating, and every time you see them a warmth spreads through you from the tip of your head all the way to your toes. And the feel of their skin is the most right thing in the world, like anywhere you go, so long as you're with them, you're home." His gentle smile down at you does just that, filling you with that warmth it always does. "Some people even say they have dreams of past lives where they've met their soulmates before." 

"Have you?" 

"I have." His voice is so assured, it takes you by surprise, and you must have worn that look on your face because Marcus laughs before tapping your nose. 

"...Tell me about her. Or him, I guess." Curiosity was eating you alive. Who was Marcus' soulmate? Were you keeping him from them? Your heart sank at the thought that maybe...maybe he belonged to someone else through some greater proclaimed destiny.

"She's been so many things and been on so many adventures, love. She's flown through the expanses of space so many times, fought monsters and mined for rare jewels. She's aided weary warriors who were passing through her tiny village. She's survived terrifying experiences with drug lords and she's worked as a top agent in intelligence organizations. She's wept for a lover she never knew, and she's been mourned by more than she will ever know." You watch his face with a child-like wonder, and when he finishes he looks at you, that glimmer you love so much still present in his eyes. "Have you ever had similar dreams?" 

The question catches you by surprise and you find yourself contemplating. You had never really remembered dreams, but a few did stick out to you. "I remember...space. And the man I was with was cold and metal, but his voice was gentle. And I remember...I remember working in offices with men in suits I could never afford, but who bought me nice things to say the words they could never get to come out. And...a scar. I remember a scar." Wandering fingers reach up to trace over Marcus' eye. "I remember my first thought when I saw you was 'Didn't he have a scar?' But the thought was so out of place, I had no idea what to do with it. I had never met you before! So I...forgot it." All through your talking, Marcus' smile has just grown wider, as if he's waiting for you to catch one of his jokes. 

When it all clicks into place, you sit up, your mouth slightly open as memories flood your mind's eyes. A wet and weary warrior, a charming cowboy, a fearsome hunter covered in metal, a talkative gentleman whose every sentence was poetry, a ruthless killer, a soft pilot with a heat of gold, a grand prince gone too soon, a pompous billionaire, a sarcastic frat boy, and a gentle DEA agent all flashing through your mind in rapid succession. Your eyes tear up with the memories that are yours but at the same time aren't, and you reach up to cup his face. Words die on the tip of your tongue as you struggle to force them out. 

Marcus takes the burden from you, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It's heavy, full of so many memories, so many moments, so many lifetimes. It's so magnificent it sucks the air from your lungs and you break away to gasp for breath as Marcus presses his forehead to yours. 

"Y...You're my...soulmate..." The words are barely a breath, but he hears them all the same and nods, pecking your lips once more as he gathers you into his arms. You melt into the grasp, more comfortable here than anywhere else on earth. 

"Yes, my love. And no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, no matter the struggle...The forces that be will always bring me to you. Always wait for me." 

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

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None the Wiser 5

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Bio-dad Bruce -meeting there Justice League

Marinette and Bruce walked around for a bit but they ended up at a different park. During the walk they kept the conversation very light. He made a phone call when they sat down to have food delivered after checking her preferences. She didn't even know that places would deliver to a park but she still was under the impression based on everything she knew about him that money wasn't a concern for him. He did seem to put her comfort as to priority, including eating outdoors where she wouldn't feel trapped by the location or too near her house where they might be seen and people wanting an explanation.

"From what I gather, Damian made an attempt to see you earlier and hopefully apologized." Bruce said.

"He came by my lycée as I was heading to lunch. He's a real sweet heart."

"Damian? Never thought I'd hear him described like that."

"Yeah. Like those candies for Valentine's day. You get really excited that you got candy but when you bite into it you realize it's chalk."

Bruce probably shouldn't have chosen that moment to be taking a drink. As she finished her statement he let out a laugh when he was attempting to swallow and it took a moment for him to regain his composure and stop coughing. He spoke once he was able to.

"Damian came to me 7 years ago. He was raised much differently than many. He was not taught to consider the feelings of others unless it presented him with an advantage."

"He told me he was there to apologize."

"That's great!"

"That was his apology. He didn't have anything else to add."

"Okay, less great." Bruce said. "Perhaps we should focus on something else. You looked very excited earlier. Did you get news? Can you tell me?"

Marinette's eyes lit up when she spoke, "I did. I entered a competition a few weeks ago. I just heard back that I'm a finalist."

That's amazing. Was it a fashion competition?"

"Yeah. Put on by some of the fashion schools in the city and open to lycée students in Paris and the surrounding areas. They are having a fashion show as part of the competition."

"Is it open to the public? I would like to be there."

Her pause before she answered hung in the air. But after considering she gave him the information about the fashion show. He told her he wasn't planning on connecting her to him unless that was something she was ready for. But even then, he very hesitantly asked if he could take a picture with her before they headed in their separate ways. They got together close as he took a selfie of them that he promised wouldn't go beyond his immediate family.

---

Marinette was floating in a cloud when she headed into school. She had kept her results secret but told Alya she had news. She arrived very early for class but Alya was already there waiting. Marinette was actually surprised by how many people were there more than 20 minutes before classes started, maybe that is why she always seemed to be behind in the gossip. She usually only showed up soon enough to get to her locker and say hi to a couple people as she headed to class.

As Marinette was rushing over to the group she did a quick twirl to show how elated she was. Luckily she didn't fall over after but the delay made Alya impatient to know her big news, even if she suspected the topic. Marinette held up her envelope but it wasn't immediately recognizable as from the fashion competition because it was a much fancier envelope.

"What is it? Are those your results? Lila's didn't look like that. She showed me hers yesterday. I didn't even know she entered."

"This is it." Marinette said. "I'm a finalist. It says there were over 500 submissions and they chose 50 finalists that have a chance at the summer program."

"That is great. Lila's said she was chosen but they might have to do it remotely for her since she is traveling over the summer. I hope you are chosen for it too."

"They didn't mention that in my letter. They showed the category breakdown for the presentations. Do you know what time she is presenting hers on the runway?"

"It didn't list a time. I kinda thought that the fashion show was for the people who didn't get into the program."

"It says in my letter they will announce at the end of the show. It makes it sound like it should be the 12 who were accepted being announced at midnight."

They walked on to class but Marinette wondered how Lila was going to fake the rest of the winning entry. She probably didn't even enter or got in the lowest group. Marinette had long since given up questioning anything Lila said. She still thought Adrien was wrong about the approach that he was taught to use with the press but being in a larger school with a larger variety of students took the pressure off and Marinette was able to deal with her easier or less often anyway.

---

Ladybug and Chat Not met at the Eiffel Tower, but this wasn't a typical meeting. They had heard from the Justice League again and they wanted to make adjustments to their previous arrangement. Their first contact had been after they had been using their miraculi for a few months. They were given a way to get ahold of one of the members in Paris but they were staying out of it unless requested since they were using the same variety of magic.

They traveled together across the rooftops so they would arrive together as partners. This meeting was not with a low level go between like they met before. They brought in Batman and Wonder Woman. Whatever they had said before about trusting Ladybug and Chat Noir to handle the situation had changed drastically. They split up as they arrived and did a sweep of the rooftops. Ladybug waved to the lookout across from her who gave a little wave back. Chat Noir blew a kiss to another but the recipient was not amused.

They landed on the ground near to an exit by foot and way to get to a roof top easily. They did not expect the Justice League to be a danger to them but being prepared and having a plan was their only safe play. The Justice League group had 4 teens introduced and Ladybug and Chat Noir introduced themselves.

Wonder Woman took charge of the meeting explaining that while they had initially planned to leave them as they were, news had reached them that their mentor, the Guardian, was no longer around and many of their allies had been publicly revealed.

They talked for a time recommending that the 4 younger members, Kid Flash, Robin, Wonder Girl and Superboy, join them to assist for the time being and that they would reassess later. The Miraculous users were grateful for the help, Ladybug especially had felt overwhelmed by the addition of the guardianship. They did draw the line at revealing themselves as requested.

"I believe you when you say you are here to help, but secrecy has been out to priority aside from recovering the misused miraculi." Ladybug said.

"We think there could be many benefits to knowing more about each other than the mask you wear." Batman said.

"I'm gonna have to follow her lead on this one. I would love to know who she is but you guys are all new and we know nothing about you." Chat Noir weighed in.

"You do not even know who your partner is?" asked Wonder Girl.

"That seems excessively unwise," Robin said.

"I have considered changing that since taking on the guardianship. I think many things could have been done differently." Ladybug said.

"You question your mentor?" Wonder Woman said.

"It's hard to determine whether changes would have been an improvement. But for now we will consider revealing ourselves once we know you better. The magic is too powerful to take such a risk with a new friendship."

That answer seemed to appease everyone. It was agreed that they would take turns working with other members on different nights so they would have an idea how they worked and thought before there was the idea of a battle. The Parisians also guided then to the best apps for alerts and places for additional information they might want.

**I have no plans to go super anti-Lila or lie reveal but mentions of her behavior send to fit. Actually I have very little plan for the characters/active that aren't directly related to the next few prompts. I'm just making it up as I go and hoping it works

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Sorry Wrong Number!

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Chapter 2:  Hawkmoth has really bad designs and perhaps even worse timing

Since it was her off night from patrol, Ladybug was the last one onto the scene. She landed down on a building next to Viperion, who was observing the akuma’s skillset as Kuro Neko played distraction down below them.

The villain of tonight's look was... interesting to put it nicely. They were a boy around the same age as the heroes that seemed to be wearing a slightly oversized purple and blue three piece suit with a not-so-subtle lightning pattern running up the arms. His hair was shock white and seemed to be defying gravity while his eyes were protected by bright blue goggles-possibly where the akuma was residing. More importantly, he seemed to be covered in electricity, which was gonna make it difficult to get any hits in. He also had a laptop with him- another contender for the akuma’s hiding place but most likely just a weapon.

Not Hawkmoth’s worst design, but it definitely wasn't his finest work either. Though to be fair she had run around in spotted spandex for two years before she found out she could change her costume, so those in glass houses she supposed.

Viperion, noticing the team leader's arrival began to fill her in on what they knew so far.

“They're calling themselves ‘Elect-Trick’, keeps sending out shockwaves to try and knock us back which is frustrating but our suits seem to take the brunt of it which helps but Neko’s staff is a no go at the moment since there's no way to know if it’ll conduct the electricity.”

It likely would, something they had found out the hard way during the last weather akuma they had to face. While magical it was still metallic in nature sadly, which meant she needed to also be careful with her yoyo. She still isn't really sure what it’s made of besides magic, but this was not the way she wanted to find out.

“Alright, in that case we’ll continue to keep him away from the Eiffel Tower, it’s likely the akuma’s going to try and use it as a large conductor. I’m gonna head down, stay up here and be ready to use your second chance at the signal.” She instructed

Viperion nodded and went back to watching the fight just as Ladybug swooped down to join in. She was just in time as the akuma had begun to corner Neko, who had no choice but to rely on playing defense while her staff was out of the mix. The two heroes nodded their heads in greeting as Ladybug yoyo-d her cat themed friend over putting the duo back on even ground with the villain, who seemed to be ranting about school elections of all things.

Which would be a probable explanation for the first half of his name.

The two continued to fight back against the akuma, neither side quite able to grab the upper hand. Ladybugs yoyo-as it turned out, did not conduct electricity afterall. And, seeing as it's practically indestructible she was able to land hits on the akuma without getting shocked. But the akuma had realized the issue with Neko’s staff and was using that to their advantage, aiming a decent chunk of their attacks at the cat hero which forced them to go back on the defense.

As the fight had been going for over an hour at this point, the spotted heroine decided to bring out the big guns. After doing a silent signal letting Viperion know to start his timer, she got in position to call on her lucky charm.

But she didn't get a chance to. Just as she went to throw her yoyo in the air, Viperion called out a warning that sent a feeling of dread through her.

“LB watch out, There's an amok headed straight for the computer!”  

Sure enough, there was an all too familiar purple feather floating through the air on track for the laptop that she quickly caught and purified it before it could land. Thank the Kwami for the power of second chance, nobody wanted to deal with a sentimonster on top of everything else tonight.

Keeping Kuro Neko on the lookout for anymore feathers, She finally activated her lucky charm. Throwing her yoyo up she manifests… a slingshot! She could work with that, just needed to find ammo. Looking around her eyes land firmly on the window of a small toyshop.

Bingo!

Having Viperion keeping an eye out in case he was needed temporarily as backup, she sneaks over and breaks the window with her yoyo. Typically, the heroine would feel bad about causing this much property damage but tonight she’s tired and wants to get this over with so she can make a plan of action for the whole ‘Mayura seems to be back’ thing with her team and maybe get at least a couple hours of sleep. Anyways her miraculous cure would fix the window and return the bouncy balls she was actively stealing so no harm done? After finishing committing what was technically a misdemeanor, she made her way over to the roof Viperion was on and handed off the slingshot supplies before making her way back down.

Luckily Neko had managed to keep Elect-Trick distracted enough for the team to catch him off guard. On Ladybugs call Viperion began to pelt the Akuma with rubber balls, drawing his sight away for long enough to tie him up and take his glasses. One cataclysm later, the teen had been successfully deakumatized and she was able to cast her cure, fixing the decent chunk of property damage caused that night. After making sure the teen was okay to get home safe and getting his address for the interview she would have to conduct later, she turned to her team.

“Good work today guys, let's meet back at base in 30.” Her eyes communicated the urgency of the meeting despite the neutral tone of voice she tried to maintain.

From there the teens all departed in separate directions to recharge their powers and head to the team's secret base.

----------

Okay so secret base was a bit of an overstatement. It is a secret place that the team uses as a base of operations but it was less of a Batcave and more of a repurposed hotel room in Le Grand Paris.

Chloe had brought up the idea after one too many close calls with Marinette's parents while the girls were investigating Hawkmoth. They needed a place to discuss hero work safely without having to talk in code but the question was where. Obtaining an apartment would be difficult as all of them but Luka were still underage, not to mention the issue of trying to pay rent without any parental suspicion. Luckily for Chloe, it's surprisingly easy to just claim a hotel room without being questioned when your Father owns the hotel.

And while it was no Batcave, it wasn't anything to scoff at either. The four teens had been able to pool together enough money in the beginning for the basics, which meant that now any small snuck away chunks of commission money, music gig payments, competition winnings, and allowances were all able to go to improving things bit by bit.

The room was already quite nice, having a separate bedroom that they used as a gym and a kitchenette that was kept well stocked with kwami snacks. Then there was the  main area, which had been split down the middle. The first side was dedicated to the investigation and housing Marinette's Guardian materials, While the second half was a hangout zone where they could chat or decompress after any particularly rough fights.

The base was also secure, Marinette had put so many spells and protections on the room with the help of the kwami that it might as well be a pocket dimension of sorts. The magical security system of sorts was extremely complicated, being tied to the teams auras in a way so that the only way to even find it without being one of them was to be taken there by Ladybug herself. It had taken weeks to pull off but was well worth it to give her team a place that was safe from the outside world.

Ladybug was the first to arrive this time, having flopped down into a chair at their meeting table as her two friends entered the room and joined her. They all sat there for a moment, processing the fact of Mayura’s return. Of course this would happen when they were down a member, it wasn't a complete surprise that the peacock miraculous would come back into play at some point but it was really bad timing.

“So what exactly is the plan?” Viperion asked, finally breaking the silence.

Ladybug sighed, knowing that their workload was going to increase once again. At least it was close to summer vacation.

“First we need to increase patrols- especially around the typical hot spots, Neko do you think we’ll be able to finish those jars by this time next week?”

The cat hero nodded “They're almost done, we’ll need to test them somehow though.”

The two of them had recently been working on a variation of an object enchantment technique mentioned in the grimoire. The original object was dubious in nature, having been used as a cage of sorts that kwami wouldn't be able to phase through. Marinette was disgusted by the thought, further feeding into some suspicions she had about the old order. As she was ranting about it to Kagami about it, her fencer friend got an idea for a way to repurpose the spell to trap akuma when Ladybug couldn't easily get to a fight. It would also allow them a new way to prevent possessions when Ladybug wasn't actively on patrol.

“That's good. Lastly I need Bee’s new number, I was going to ask you for it tomorrow but I need to give her a heads up to start on a new case file. We also might want to move up our plans to contact the heroes there.”

Kuro Neko quickly jotted down the number on a nearby notecard and handed it to Ladybug. After hammering out a few last details about their new patrol schedules the heroes were all free to head home for the night.

The trip home was uneventful, and she arrived home to see that it was just past midnight. She also noticed that her bath bomb had been fixed! It was sometimes a gamble on if something like that would count as akuma damage so it was a nice victory after the day she’s had.

Marinette quickly put in Chloe's number, eager to get to bed. She sent her blonde friend a summary on what happened and let her know to be on the lookout for an email tomorrow with the information to assemble a case file. And with that, Marinette drifted off to sleep.

She had made a small mistake though. In her tired state the young designer’s finger slipped, putting a 5 where there was meant to be a 4.

Meaning Chloe Bourgeois was not the recipient of her intended message.

Good thing she wrote the message in code?

----------

Across the ocean, Damian Wayne received a strange text message.

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

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Quite The Sting

Bit of a time skip. Some bonding with Holger involved. Not to mention Crow's first mission...that may turn out to be his last.

Phase 1: Part 6

Word Count: (About) 2,666

1//2//3//4//5//6//7//8//9

Months of hard training, and many infirmary visits later, Crow still can't get much headway with beating Holger. It's not due to lack of trying though, no, Holger is just making sure he keeps Crow on his toes. By this point they have a system: they fight, Holger explains to Crow what he's doing wrong and how to fix it, Crow listens to about half of that, and is forced to visit the infirmary yet again. Both are growing. In not only strength, but in friendship.

After being cleared by the nurse, for the 8th time this week, Crow heads back to his room. His mind swimming with the thought of how to perfect the new maneuver Holger taught him this time. It really hurt, and he wants to weaponize it himself.

"Maybe if I....move faster, then I could hit him harder? Yeah, that sounds right..."

Entering his room, he's greeted by the familiar emptiness he's grown accustomed to at this time of the day. Holger usually has a meeting with Guile to give updates about him and his unit after their daily combat training. Usually giving Crow some time to himself for a while. Not that he enjoys it though. He's grown somewhat close to his cold superior, and almost misses talking to him sometimes.

Suddenly, he hears the door open. Holger's back earlier than usual, must of been a short meeting. He seems to be carrying something.

"Back early I see, I hope it went well."

"We discussed some things, nothing too important, like always. Charlie and him had some duties to attend to though, so we had to cut it short. I did, however...convince him to let you join me and my unit on our next mission."

"WHAT?!? NO WAY! How did ya manage that? He seemed pretty stern on waiting till I got more practice in."

"I just told him what I've been observing with you. You've been improving and actually listening to my orders, for the most part. I told him that I thought you were ready, and I just hope that you're willing to prove me right."

"I...yeah, thanks Holger. I appreciate it."

"Here, you'll be needing this if you're going to be representing one of my men."

Holger holds out the item he carried in with him, presenting it honorably towards Crow. A black army vest. It's similar to the one Holger and his men wear, complete with the red scorpion insignia on the back. Crow takes it gently, in utter awe of it and what it represents.

"Holger...I-"

"Don't think much of it. You still need to prove to me that you are capable out on the field. Our enemies won't just be sending you to the infirmary if they get a hold of you. I'd...rather not have to drag you back in a body bag..."

"I understand. I just...thank you. For more than just the mission thing. You gave me a second chance, most people would of given up on someone like me. You pushed through though, I...won't forget that."

"...I wouldn't of taken a chance if I didn't think you could do it. Just...don't let me down."

"I'll give it my all...sir."

The weeks leading up to to the next mission were...tense. Crow, not wanting to let this chance go to waste, gave it his all in everything that his superior threw at him. All culminating to the mission briefing and preparation meeting. Crow watches patiently as Holger goes over everything. Trying his best to stay as focused as his fellow unit members, but his nerves are starting to get to him. Shaking his right leg in an attempt to help ease his mind.

"This is strictly a covert mission. No drawing attention to ourselves. No getting caught. We will be leaving at nightfall to have extra coverage. We're to go in, get the info, and get out. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"The before mentioned info is located in secretary's safe in the middle of the base. We have to pass 3 rooms to reach it. Each door is heavily guarded by 4-6 men in each room. They change guard every 6 hours, which takes around 5 minutes each. They change one after the other, which gives us a small window to sneak through each room. If we miss any of those windows, we'll have to wait till the next change, wasting precious time. We will not be missing these windows. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Very well, grab your gear and we'll join at the helicopter waiting outside. Dismissed."

Crow's excited, yeah, but he's also worried about the consequences if he screws up. If they miss those windows, it'll be a huge setback, and no doubt disappoint Holger. Not to mention what would happen if they get caught... Trying to get a hold of his nerves, he grabs his gear and puts on the vest he was gifted. Making his way to the helicopter he sees Holger breaking up the ten man unit into groups of two, and assigning them positions.

"...Smith and Johnson, you're on lookout. Jones and Davis, you're to make sure our getaway here is protected and ready when we need it. Crow, you're with me."

He was stunned by the implications that Holger and himself are going to be going in there head first. Crow didn't have time to fully comprehend it as he was shuffled into the helicopter with the others. Taking his seat, he held his head in his hands, clearly worried. Holger took notice of this and took a seat next to him.

"Keep your cool, private. This is a simple mission, nothing too complicated. If you follow my orders, we'll be fine. We have enough back up in case things do get out of hand, but I doubt, with all the training and prep we've done, we'll need it. So, get it together, we'll be alright. After all, I've got your back."

"I'm that obvious...huh? I just wish I could stop shaking, I...I don't want to let you...the unit down...or have something even worse happen."

"...Even if this doesn't go exactly as planned...I won't be upset, as long as we get the job done, that's all that matters. I have confidence that you'll do just fine."

"...Thanks Holger, that...that helps."

The helicopter lands in it's designated area, behind a hill that's a few yards away form the enemy base, perfectly out of sight. Everyone starts moving into their designated positions. The six men that are going in start to head up the hill to get a good look of where the best point of entry is. Taylor, a younger looking man with short brown hair and glasses is the first to speak up. After looking through his binoculars, mentions that there's a door on the East side that is left unguarded at the moment and there appears to be no security cameras. Holger decides to give it a brief look over. When things look clear he gives the group the okay to head down.

Using the shadows as coverage, all of them get in without causing alarm. Once in, they all take cover. Three on one side of the hall, and three on the other. Holger peaks around the corner and informs the rest of the group, via hand motions, that this room has the minimum amount of 4 guards. According to the time, they should be changing in about 2.5 minutes. Giving the team advantage of the full 5 minute window when it comes.

All of a sudden, one of the team members notices that there are two cameras pointed at the door. They'll need to take care of those before they make their move towards the door. They aren't able to do that in the 2 minutes they have left without being seen, so they'll have use part of that precious 5 minute window instead.

Waiting for them to change seemed to take ages, the suspense was eating away at Crow. He tried to keep all that worry to himself, but it showed on his face clear as day. Holger noticed, but figured the best thing to do was to continue on with the plan. The guards were finally starting to leave and once there backs were turned, Holger and another man on the unit quickly disposed of the cameras via garrote wires. One yank from them and they were gone. A few moments after the guards were fully out of view, the group rushed into the next room.

This room was much smaller than the last, meaning less places to hide. Five guards by the door this time. The group broke off into their smaller assigned groups of two, and took cover behind crates that were strewn about the area. They cleared the first room ahead of schedule, so they had some extra time to scan this room. Two cameras positioned in a similar fashion as the last ones. Holger motioned to the group closest to them to take them out when the coast was clear. As Crow was scanning the place he noticed a major roadblock. The door they needed to go through this time had a key card scanner. Crow motioned to it to notify Holger.

Looking around, Holger noticed there was a ventilation system that lead into the next room. They would still have to wait for the guards to change otherwise they would all be spotted. They still needed to take care of the cameras as well. Meaning that the two men who had to take care of the cameras wouldn't have enough time to get to the vents. Leaving the group going forward slightly handicapped. If the two men timed it right, they could still head back the way they came and meet them back at the helicopter.

After Holger informed the others about what's to be done, it was time for the guards to change. It went pretty on beat as the first one did, take out the cameras and go, only this time with a vent detour. The vent path lead to an opening in the next room, giving what was left of the group a good view of this room.

Six men, four cameras, little to no places to hide. The only place someone could potentially hide was behind a set of chairs, but that'd only work for two men, and they still had a team four left. They had it all planned it out, but it wasn't the most ideal. The other team of two would go down when the guards change and take cover behind the chairs, taking out the cameras as soon as it was clear. Holger and Crow would then make it though the door, again leaving the other men to head back.

The time comes, and it goes as planned, almost. As Crow jumped down from the vents he lands wrong, spraining his ankle. He managed to keep up with Holger's pace and makes it through the door. He's visibly limping, and Holger grabs onto him to help him stabilize. This last room seems empty at least, but they still try to stay quiet.

"*Are you alright? Can you keep going?*"

"*I'm fine, just a little slow. Lets get this over with.*"

Scanning the room once again, they notice the closed safe with the documents they need behind a desk. There's also three cameras. Two pointed at the safe and one at the door. They don't really have a time crunch now, but it's best to get this done quickly. Holger wastes no time taking out the cameras as Crow makes his way to the safe. They both notice it's locked with a 4 digit combination.

"*How are we going to open this? We can't just take the whole safe with us. It's too heavy."

"*That's were this comes in.*"

Holger reaches into one of his vests pockets and pulls out a bundle of C-4. Carefully placing it near the locking mechanism on the safe. Motioning Crow to back up a bit.

"*Wait, won't that be too loud?*"

"*We got in here fast, the guards in the last room haven't fully changed over yet. No one is here to be alerted. We'll be fine.*"

Not a second later, and without warning, Holger detonates the C-4 blasting the safe wide open. Inside they see a folder filled to the brim with the documents they came in here for. Holger quickly grabs them and fingers though it, making sure it's all there. Unbeknownst to them at first, the safe was rigged with an alarm which set off a loud siren in the entire base as soon as the folder was moved. Fortunately, the other men in the unit were safely awaiting their captain at the helicopter. Unfortunately, said captain and his private were still deep inside the base.

"Damn it! We need to get to the vents! Now!"

Crow attempts to stand up and run, but is quickly brought back down to the ground. The pain that shot through his leg was to much for him to fight off any longer. Holger immediately lifts Crow and carries him to the vents. He has to help him in, giving the guards in the base plenty of time to get to the room. As Holger finally gets a chance to enter the vents himself, they hear the door swing open. Followed shortly by the sound of footsteps running in. No one seemed to notice the two hiding in the vents, but they could tell it wouldn't be long before they did if they didn't start moving.

"*Holger, I can't...move that fast....my leg it's too...swollen, and I'd just slow you down. Go in front of me and get out of here.*"

"*No, absolutely not. Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they caught you? We''ll get out of here together, or not at all.*"

Slowly shuffling through the vents they make it back to the third room, and then the second. The vents stop there, meaning they'll have to sneak through the the rest on foot. As Holger carefully helps Crow down out of the vent, they are interrupted by the sound of an intercom echoing throughout the base.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 3 MINUTES."

Looking at each other with shock, Holger's grip on Crow tightens. No one is in this room, and the door is clear. Crow tries his best to shuffle to the door with his bum leg with Holger's help. Once they get to the metal door, it won't budge. It's far too sturdy to use C-4 on as well. Looking desperately for another exit, the two see a pile of wood planks leaned up against a wall. Removing the planks, they discover an area that was under renovation. They take no time rushing in, hoping that it leads to a way out.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 2 MINUTES."

It's cold and dark. They can barely see what they ran into, but their hearts both sink once they realize they've encountered a dead end. Holger reaches for another C-4 and applies it to the wall, moving himself and Crow out of the blast zone, and detonates it. It's a desperate move, but they are all out of choices at this point.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 1 MINUTE."

As the smoke clears they realize that did...nothing. The wall was too solid to be destroyed. They don't have enough time to make it back and check the door again, not that it would be unlocked anyways. Both of their hearts have sunken deep into their chests by now. Holger's grip on has loosened as he moves into a hug, holding Crow tight, and whispering something Crow can't quite make out.

"8"

"7"

"Holger, I'm sorry..."

"5"

"4"

"We were so close..."

"2"

"1"

"Hold on!"

Continued in Phase 1: Part 7

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 40

XD

It’s been a while since I wrote one of these and I feel like I forget everything I said last time. Oh well. Rosy and friends are actually in Radio Point for this scene, and it’s a bit of a long one. They may be here for a reason, but I still had to throw in some Rosy sightseeing to keep the traveling theme going. I hope everyone has as much fun in Radio Point as Rosy in...

    “Oh my, I hadn’t expected you to get into Radio Point, before I arrived.”

    It was hard to tell with Blister’s deliberate and sleepy sounding way of speaking that she was actually surprised, but she did seem energetic enough for it to be believable. Rosy however, with her waging tail and nigh inability to stand still was far easier to read. “Well, we just had to!”

    “Though they got mad at us for running up the cables,” Draw made sure to dampen Rosy’s enthusiasm with a reminder of the trouble she caused. She puffed her cheeks up at him, but it was Sonic who spoke next in the airship port at the top of one of Radio Point’s many towers.

    “I’m not too fond of waiting, and as she says,” Sonic explained as he pointed a thumb back at Rosy, “we had a reason to come up here quickly.”

    “I bet you were disappointed when you found out the trains are entirely for the maintenance crews then,” Blister the Mouse allowed herself a chuckle at the group’s expense.

    “It’s a good thing you have an airship,” Sonic agreed, though Rosy got mad at him.

    “Hey, we may have had to wait, but even you can’t argue there was plenty to do while we did!”

    ~Radio Point was a really unique town. Asides from the trains, which Blister already pointed out weren’t for tourists or civilians, there was movement all through the air as airships came from far and wide to reach the city. Of course, the locals used them too so they could get around between towers.

    ~Outside of the internal steam works, which I bet Tails was able to visit, there were spectacular views no matter where you went in Radio Point. From the airship docks to as close to the treads as the villages went down towards, there was either a view of the crystals jutting up out of the lava belching grasslands or a view of the pit itself where an even more enormous number of crystals erupted out of the earth. It looked kind of like the pit was full of rows and rows of scary giant teeth. Hee-hee! It’s a good thing it’s not a big mouth.

    ~The ground wasn’t the only pretty thing to look at either. Thanks to all the airship traffic, the skies above the pit were an array of shimmering confetti. At least from the lower levels. Up here in the airship dock it was clear to see all the ships that carried advertising banners as well as those that offered in flight services, like dining and cleaning. There were even hotel airships that were designed to stay in the air for weeks. It was the most airship friendly city I had seen since wandering around in the lands under Yolk.

    ~As advanced as the city was though, there were still plants growing nearly everywhere. Most of the moving equipment that I saw was relatively clean, but the steam pipes and buildings all throughout town were still covered in a wide array of plants. It’s just so weird to me how even on these big moving towers of metal, plants found a way to grow. I wonder if there is a reason for it.

    ~That’s a mystery I’ll have to wait another day for. Today, the opportunity to find my best friend has appeared before us and I can’t wait to meet the man who Tails helped out. Hopefully, he’ll be friendlier than the last member of the Engineers I talked with.

    ~Oh, I hadn’t mentioned that, had I? Oops!

    ~Well, from Blister’s airship, which was like a cut in half avocado in shape with the main balloon comprising the body of most of the vessel, it was easy to see the Engineers’ banner flying. The white and blue flag with the gear and wrench on it was almost everywhere. The pirate flag that Blister flew almost matched it, except hers was a blue flag with her gear, two wrenches, and a human skull set on a white stripe that ran from top to bottom. It really makes me feel uncomfortable flying on a pirate vessel and I’d really like her to give it up. But… well, she’s helping today even though she was supposed to be looking for her friend who is supposedly a Ring expert. And the Engineers are still mad at me, I think, so having her introduce me to Tails’ friend is probably for the best.~

    The Dish that hung above the pit, supported by the giant radio towers and spikes that anchored it, had a similar tower of its own in the center of it. But it was the underside of the dish where the next dock awaited Rosy and her friends. Here, the facilities that monitored almost every radio signal under Yoluku were situated. The utilitarian design stripped the facilities of any comforts, but it was natural considering the location of them above the pit.

    “I wonder how they account for Ring Shifts,” Rosy mused while poking her cheek as they were led into the facility’s inner workings. As she had a clear view of the pit below the metal grating that made up the catwalk floor they walked along, it was little wonder that she would be curious to how they managed not to fall in.

-|-

    “Sure enough,” a rough looking sapient grizzly bear remarked as Rosy and the others were led into his cage like office. Even his desk was little more than a plank of wood laid across pipes and conduit. “You really are from the picture. But what about the other two?”

    “Draw and Blister here are friends,” Sonic introduced the koala and mouse, respectively. “One’s a troublemaker and the other’s a pirate. I’ll let you guess which is more trouble.”

    “Sonic!” Rosy chastised her blue companion and he smiled at her playfully.

    “And that would make you Rosy then,” the grizzly concluded at Sonic’s unplanned introduction. Standing up, he revealed he inherited the tremendous size of his non-sapient cousins and offered his own name. “I’m Over, chief communications technician here at Radio Point. It may not look like it from here, but I’m pretty respected among the Engineers. Pretty high ranking too. I carry enough weight in actuality that even those troublesome Preservers acknowledge me.”

    Rosy stared intently at the grizzly bear’s round form and quietly agreed with him that he carried a lot of weight. His massive arms assured her though that it was likely all muscle. As much as her attention was on his girth however, his was on her.

    “A pink hedgehog…”

    “Eep!” Rosy squeaked and earned a curious look from Sonic. It was Blister though who provided the next words of their budding conversation.

    “I’ve heard she was supposed to be doing a seven-day Ring gathering job for the Engineers when she up and disappeared. I wonder if you can really help her…”

    “Blister, please!” Rosy pleaded with the pirate and their playful smile.

    Draw held no fear or wisdom that he perhaps should and addressed Over bluntly. “It was a boring job anyway, and we ended up saving a bunch of fairies from some autogolems after we left.”

    “You what?” Over questioned in surprise looking at Draw. “If the autogolems weren’t powered by Rings… Those would have been Preserver autogolems. And near a lookout and Ring gathering sight no less. Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”

    “Just this little weirdo.”

    Opening his fur coat, Draw allowed the yellow fairy he had a Ring Bond with, Mote, to peak out from within. The look of disbelief on Over’s face worried Rosy a fair bit.

    ~And then he laughed. I hadn’t been expecting that. It didn’t clear up the suspicions that the Engineers have of me, but it was enough to convince Over that we could see the Ring Radio that they used. And it was amazing. Amazingly big that is.

    ~Unlike the ones in the wrist devices that Sonic and I wear, this one was a massive room full of machinery, and a ceiling of shifting, glowing geometric lined blocks like in a Ring Gate Beacon. It’s obviously much more primitive technology than what I’m used to using, but due to the nature of our world that doesn’t tell me a thing about how old it is. But…~

    “Wow! Tails really made this work!”

    “That he did,” Over stated, proudly putting his hands on his hips. “He also taught me how to maintain it while he was here. Since then, I’ve been growing more and more familiar with it. It’s kind of become like an old friend.”

    “So, it’s been sometime since Tails was here?” Sonic asked as he folded his arms, recognizing the telltale speech that marked a passage of time beyond what could be properly observed under Yoluku.

    “It has been,” Over nodded seeing Sonic’s impatience. “Long enough that I probably would have forgotten him if not for the picture and notebook we filled out together while working on this wonder. He’s as much a part of my life as anything now. Unlikely I’ll forget him as long as I live.”

    “That’s wonderful!” Rosy chirped up, adding some good cheer to counter Sonic’s souring mood. “It’s great to hear Tails made a friend! He’s normally so bad with people!”

    “Yeah, but him having already passed through, and some time back, means we’ve missed him, kid,” Sonic ignored Rosy’s positivity to get his complaint out.

    “Well, we can still try to contact him,” Over suggested surprising everyone in the group.

    “How’s that?” Draw won the question race and followed up with more than he should have. “These two have really good Ring Radios that are a lot smaller than this one and they can’t reach anyone but each other.”

    “Tails had the same problem,” Over managed to dismiss Rosy’s fast growing concern by revealing that he already knew about her and Sonic’s. “It’s part of why he left. He spent a good while here trying to boost the signal using the crystals.”

    “The crystals?” Blister poked her nose into the conversation. “I thought they must have been rather valueless considering no one seems interested in gathering them.”

    “On their own they are,” Over agreed with the mouse’s presumption. “But gathered together like they are here, and according to Tails likely amplified by the pit, they are able to drastically improve radio signals and their distances. It’s why Radio Point persists here. If not for this pit radio communication would be far less reliable than it is.”

    “Not like Tails to give up on tech,” Sonic remarked wondering what was going through the fox’s mind.

    “He didn’t actually. He left with the goal of finding another pit, or perhaps meeting up with the Queen of the Sky and brainstorming with her about a solution. I’ve no idea if he’s achieved either goal though. The pit is pretty unique, and the Queen of the Sky is a she-devil who even the clouds part for when she races.”

    “It sounds like Zooey’s been having fun,” Rosy laughed nervously. “But if you can get in touch with Tails…”

    “Don’t worry,” Over reassured Rosy of his intentions, “we’ll be trying to now.”

    Per his word, Over began working countless buttons and knobs around the room. From a console with a handheld mouthpiece and a speaker, a horrible static sound came across and filled the room.

    “Static? Sonic verbalized his curiosity. “Ring Radios work across dimensions. What could be causing the interference.”

    “Maybe that thing in the sky,” Over hinted at Yoluku, but offered nothing more as he worked some more dials.

    A high-pitched sound came across the speaker and cut the static for a moment, but the static soon settled back in. However, a green light lit up on the console and Over smiled. “We’ve got him!”

    “Really!” Rosy jumped up with her question and stared at Over with urgent pleading.

    “Go ahead and see if he can’t here you.”

    With Over’s permission, Rosy dashed to the console. After only a moment of studying it, she picked up the hand piece and depressed the button in its side. From there it was a moment longer as she fought to contain her excitement and actually managed to speak. “TAI~LS~!!!!!”

    -…o…sy- -I… …at y…?-

    “Ah, ah, ah… TAI~LS~!!!!!”

    ~It was really him. It was really Tails! I was so happy I could cry finally hearing Tails’ voice again after so long. But… Well, unfortunately the signal wasn’t good. We could hear each other, but it was impossible to hold a conversation. I just couldn’t make out what Tails was saying through all the static. Sonic checked to see if our Ring Radios could connect to Tails’, but they didn’t even pick him up like the one connected to the big dish.

    ~Ooh! It’s so frustrating. I finally had a lead on Tails, but he was out of reach and I had no idea what to do. Over tried to improve the signal, but in the end, we lost it and any chance to find where Tails was. Still… Still, we actually talked to him. He was alright.

    ~The last time I saw Tails he was fighting those mean old pirates who want revenge against him. But he wasn’t there when I found Sonic and helped him beat them. And even though pirates like Blister are inspired by them, as far as I can tell, Tails hasn’t gotten involved with any more pirates. And while that’s good, it means we have no leads again.

    ~But you know, I was able to talk to him and that means Tails is okay. As long as Tails is okay, Sonic and I can find him. And we will! Sonic promised after all. He was going to get all of us home!

    ~…Though, I’m actually enjoying this little adventure and don’t feel the need to go home yet.~

Scene 40 · CLEARED Radio Link, End

-----

How’s that for a little treat! Tails has finally appeared for the first time since the Prison Prairie chapters. Well, at least over a really shaky radio connection XD I also introduced an OC I expect to be a one off, but I’ll see if he gets any positive attention and demand to see more of him. For now though, this scene wraps up the last of my survey based scenes. The next one is going to be purely off the top of my head. So that means adventure, mystery, and maybe some plot progression. Please look forward to it!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Lumacie Archipelago: Mystic Woodland – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue Fantasy Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Courtesy Extended to Unexpected Guests

The sun set. It crowned the horizon like a dying fire while heavy clouds encroached, and darkness crept up on the world of Charlie Walker.

The sands of time had started eating away at the old house he lived in. Just like his fence, which storms and sun had weathered over the years. He took pride in maintaining the place that his father and his father’s father had occupied for generations. But living all alone in a big place like this was bound to chip away at its once sterling white coating of paint.

Despite the dying light, Charlie continued to strip and sand down the peeling coat of paint from just one of those fences just outside the big old farmhouse, a building too big for a man of his advanced age to live alone in now. The last of their three kids had moved away, Genevieve passed away a few years ago, and his only company left was the Miniature Schnauzer Ol’ Willie, a sturdy dog who had seen enough years to be getting close to death’s door. A mirror of Charlie’s self.

Winter came early this year. A single stalk of stubborn grain growing on the fields lazily swayed in the breeze. The toil of shipping grain still filled Charlie’s days, and the straggler there reminded him of the work that awaited him tomorrow.

Ol’ Willie sat on the porch and watched Charlie work on the fence. The farmer squinted at the spot on the fence he persistently rubbed away at with sandpaper wrapped around a handy block of wood. The farmer wanted to get as much done for the day as he could before it rained again.

The dog raised his head and his ears perked up, followed by a frightened whine. Charlie paused from scrubbing down the old wood with his sandpaper block. He focused.

He had heard it too.

Something on the wind.

A sound he had never heard before.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

Waiting happened to be something Charlie was rather good at. Over a warm meal at a table, he would tell you he was an impatient man. And although he used to be quite active and rebellious in his younger days, having marched in peaceful protest to demand the end of a war, time and family and military service had taught him wisdom and disciplined him in patience.

So, he listened, standing still. That stalk of grain continued to sway. More violently this time, in a strong gust of wind.

The sound returned, punctuated by Ol’ Willie’s ears twitching in response.

It sounded like the hum of electricity, blending with a sweet musical tone. All so subtle that you had to pay attention.

And it came from the roof of his own house. Charlie squinted again to see if he could spot anything unusual up there, but nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Charlie set his jaw and approached Willie on the porch.

“There’s a saying in England,” he started saying to the dog in his best attempt at a Sean Connery impression. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

He smiled at the dog and idly chucked the sandpaper block onto the veranda table where it landed amidst other small tools.

Willie looked around—and more importantly—looked tense. Charlie clapped his hands together and wiped them against each other, causing the wood and paint to explode away in a tiny cloud of dust.

“S'all good, Willie. I’ll go check,” Charlie said.

He hunched over and groaned from the movement and patted and scratched his dog behind the ears.

Willie did not calm down but had gotten old enough that he remained seated on the porch like a watchdog keeping his place as loyal lookout.

The floorboards thumped with a jilted rhythm as Charlie limped his way through his home, hauling himself up the stairs and gripping the railing tight enough to make his knuckles go white.

That strange sound hummed in the air. Stronger than before.

Closer.

On the second story, he approached one of the windows and opened it up.

The humming stopped.

Charlie blinked and poked his head outside to see the other side of his roof.

Something sat on the edge there. Or someone. The clouds had fully overtaken the sky, the sun vanished beyond the horizon. Charlie squinted again, trying to determine more than vague shapes and a silhouette.

Looked like a small woman, or a little girl. Legs dangling off the side of the roof.

Clearing his throat in an abrasive and phlegmy fashion did not draw her attention.

“Excuse me? Ma'am? Could you please not sit on my roof? I'mma willin’ to overlook your trespassin’ if you just come on in inside and get down from there. You might get yourself hurt if you take a fall and I wouldn’t wanna have to deal with that,” Charlie said.

No response. The dangling legs barely moved. What looked like a long, disheveled mop of hair framed a head so densely that Charlie could see no face from this angle. She did not extend him courtesy of showing him her face, just staring out into the distance and ignoring him and igniting a deep-rooted anger that Charlie had learned to control over the years.

He groaned and looked in front of him, seeing if he had enough foothold to securely get onto his roof without taking a potentially lethal tumble himself.

A few seconds, a sharp intake of breath, and a surprisingly adroit motion later; he had hoisted himself onto the rooftop and clutched the edge of the roofing above the window he had climbed out of. In his mind’s eye, he pictured himself falling, but refused to believe that.

“Ma'am,” he said, not asking anymore but automatically falling into the tone he would use to address his kids when they did something bad, or to reprimand subordinates—or to show a woman her place.

But she was gone. Some small and unrecognizable object sat on the edge of the rooftop where she had been sitting mere seconds before.

Charlie’s face contorted in confusion and he looked left. Then he looked right. He risked a glance off the rooftop’s edge and towards the ground.

Nobody.

“What in tarnation?” he muttered.

Whatever she had left on the rooftop, he could not just leave it lying out there. Worst case, it was something that might draw lightning or cause a fire. He would be having none of that. Not after all these years of keeping this place up and running.

Charlie carefully balanced along the roof, making his way to where the mystery woman used to be. Ol’ Willie emitted a short whine from the porch, but Charlie had neither the time nor the nerves to look down, owed to his dizzying fear of heights.

Once he reached the spot, he squinted so hard that his entire face transformed into a roadmap of wrinkles.

“What in tarnation?” he muttered again, this time more labored and forced than before, as it escaped his lips while he carefully hunched down to pick up the object—whatever it was.

Strange sensations tickled his touch before his eyes could catch up. Cold to the touch, abrasive and bristly, sopping wet and spongy. When he pinched it between thumb and index finger to lift it, water dripped down from the clump. First in a thin stream that reminded him of someone urinating, then in desolate little drops.

He was holding what looked like a tangle of copper wire, long black human hair—like hers, not like Genevieve's—and coarse clothing fabric. It vaguely reminded Charlie of hairballs that the old farm cats used to vomit out, but far too big and heavy. Also, mostly because this indecipherable mass was disgusting.

Worse, though, it reminded him of the first war he had served in, the one in which he had turned from a choir boy into a cold-blooded killer. He lacked an explanation as to why it reminded him of that, but it caused a lot of memories and festering trauma to well back up in his gut.

He chucked the clump off the side of the roof, sending it to plummet down to the ground outside the house. A squelching sound indicated its landing. The sound reminded him of something, but he could not figure out what, exactly.

Charlie turned and took care to balance his way back to the window he had emerged from. He kept his eyes on the roofing underneath his shaky shoes, careful not to gaze over the edge of the shingles and behold the drop down.

Only by the time he was climbing back inside through the window did he register how fast and hard his heart had been pounding. Over the last couple of years, his sons had helped clean and maintenance the roof, leaving him to wonder if his sense of vertigo had gotten worse.

On the way down through his home, he flicked the nearest light switch. The corresponding light bulb did not respond. He flicked the switch up and down a few more times but no light went on.

Frustration over yet another thing to do mounted in his chest and exploded out of Charlie in a string of profanities that would have made the young and naive Reverend Huxley blush.

The world inside his house consisted only of vague dark shapes and silhouettes, but Charlie was familiar enough with it to navigate it in pitch-black darkness—he had lived here for most of his life.

The rhythm of his heart began to race again when his sense of touch betrayed that walls and doorways did not line up entirely the way they should. His old man and he had restructured and renovated some parts of the upper floor, subtly changing the layout of the place, but Charlie’s splayed fingers now touched a wall where there should be none and a doorway that had not been there before.

Chalking it up to his fear of heights still making his head spin, locked-up thoughts trying to escape that dark prison in the back of his mind, and not having navigated his own home in the dark for a long time, he pressed on.

Eventually found the stairs.

“Willie?” he called out.

Charlie took one step down at a time, his trembling hand finding purchase on the bannister and gripping it tightly as he descended.

Some part of him could hear Willie’s paws clicking and tapping against the floorboards and the heavy breathing of the old dog, but that was all only memory and imagination.

Empty silence permeated the home, orchestrated by Charlie’s heavy breathing.

At the bottom of the stairs, his fingers caressed another light switch, and he tried that one as well, only to find it was not working, either. He swallowed another outburst of cuss words and made his way to where dim light was emanating—the open front door, for even with the clouds, the darkness outside remained brighter than the tomb-like, lightless indoors of the house.

“Willie,” he repeated, not asking anymore. Demanding. “Where in tarnation are ya?”

Pausing on the porch outside, met by a cool breeze that carried the smell of rain, Charlie squinted again, looking around for Willie.

Instead, he found a pile of—

A puddle of—

It reeked of—

Charlie almost choked.

Where he had last seen Willie sitting on guard, only an indescribable mass remained. Something revolting, like a glob of stew piled up in chunks and viscous, oozing matter. Like his loyal friend had been liquefied. The first smell to hit his nose was musty, then he registered how the pile stank of vomit and feces.

The stench made Charlie recoil, stumbling back a few steps and hitting the back of his head on the doorframe hard enough to see an explosion of stars behind his eyes for a split second, but not hard enough for him to check for bleeding.

In a flash, lights went on inside the house. Every light switch he had flipped only responded now with absurd delay. It shed light upon the horrid mass where Willie used to be.

Charlie refused to believe that was his beloved dog, but the sheer amount of whatever it was resembled the size and dimensions of Willie. A reddish-brown steam rose from the remains.

Covering his mouth and nose, Charlie felt something he had not felt in a long, long time.

His eyes burned and his vision blurred as tears welled up in them, doing nothing to quench that fire and leaving everything to remind him of the hurt. That mass was not just Willie. It was everybody. Everybody he had lost, or forsaken, or betrayed, all in one.

Charlie fled. Not running, but stumbling, bracing himself against walls, fighting the need of his old aching knees to buckle and give out under his own weight. Escaping both from the putrid pile of molten Willie, and away from the memories that threatened to return.

This escape came to an abrupt stop in the brightly lit kitchen, where a figure stood. A woman dressed in one of Genevieve’s dresses that Charlie never had the courage to get rid of. But with long, black hair framing the back of her head, drenched and wet, and reminding her of the tiny woman he slept with in that green hell.

Every fiber of responsibility and curiosity inside of Charlie screamed at him and he imagined grabbing this woman by the shoulder to yank at her and spin her around and look at her face.

But he felt sick to the stomach and his cowardice took overhand. This was worse than being shot at. A growing warm spot in his crotch reminded him of the many times he wet his pants in response to getting shot at. He could practically hear the gunfire deceptively thundering through the air like series of firecrackers, the whizz of deadly projectiles passing him by and ripping other grown men to pieces.

And that figure just stood there, shivering ever so slightly like someone who was freezing from being drenched, awaiting his warm touch.

Even more violently than he recoiled from seeing liquefied Willie and suddenly thinking that he needed to bury him but had no time because he needed to get back to the chopper, Charlie slammed backwards into the cold hard surface of his refrigerator.

Instead of stopping, he stumbled right back out of the kitchen and fled.

Small feet squelched in waterlogged little shoes that slapped against the floorboards as the haunting figure in Genevieve’s dress gave chase. He knew better than to look back, but the front door slammed shut in front of him, long before he could reach it, as if a violent gust of wind did not want him to escape.

Just as abruptly as he stopped, the person behind him followed suit. Without turning, he felt her presence behind him. Both burning with malice and as cold as a fresh grave turning muddy in the rain.

Charlie turned and his stomach churned. He saw not a face, but many faces. The skin sagged and roiled and melted and reshaped itself over and over again, like looking into a thick creamy soup getting stirred. He saw Genevieve, but also the girl he had cheated on her with, and many other faces of death.

The front of her dress was drenched in blood in all the wrong places, adding to his nausea.

The faces said nothing, the mouths opened and closed and flowed into each other, but only gurgling and raspy sounds ever came from them.

Charlie could take this sight no more. He ran to the front door and made it rattle as he desperately twisted and shook it and then pounded his fist against it in futile desperation, knowing fully well that this hell would not let him go anymore, that nobody was here to help him, and that he now had to face all his demons.

Little feet squelched in the shoes behind him again. Slap, squish. Slap, squish. Slap, squish.

Knowing he could only flee upstairs but dreading the thought of jumping out a window or—God forbid—from the roof, he slowly turned, knowing he had a date with destiny.

Only now did he smell sugar; in the same way he did whenever Genevieve made tea and it hit his nostrils when he hovered over a cup of the steaming brown liquid.

He tasted salt, like those velvety soft lips of the black-haired girl with her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes.

And those two noses gave the face definition, becoming one, atop a mouth agape, flopping open and shut, like a fish out of water, or like a person trying to say something but failing continuously.

The eyes were the worst. Eyes of all the dead and even those whom he believed he might outlive. Every last bit of guilt got to him.

He backed up against the door and softly bumped into it and the figure followed, getting close enough that wet, cold hands could reach out and start exploring the shirt on his chest. Start unbuttoning it from the top, paralyzing him with fear.

Charlie had no fight or flight left in him. He felt like this was the end. Like this was a courtesy to his visitor that he was supposed to extend.

A small hand with fine fingers gently grazed his bared chest, never fully pressing down until nails gingerly scraped above where his heart thumped and pounded away, homing in on the powerful pulse.

They entered, painlessly, but cold. Like a cold that spread from there, like Charlie had plunged himself into ice cold water, like he had to hide from napalm fire and a hail of bullets and certain death that could have taken him like it took so many of his compatriots.

Then she pushed. They pushed. All faces in one, all staring at him with accusations flying from those eyes like knives, piercing his flesh and stinging and sinking in slowly and twisting.

The door behind him gave away, just opened, accompanied by no sound. The world spun around him and Charlie could have tried to grab hold of the door frame, but his old weary fingers just let it happen.

A ledge nearby invited itself to be grabbed but grabbing reminded him of so many of his mistakes and misdeeds. Grabbing hands, grabbing hair, skin, grabbing a weapon. He forgot who he was and remembered everything he had done.

And the world flew past him, slowly, but surely.

He fell from that rooftop as the clouds turned the sky dark and bathed the world around him in twilight. Ol’ Willie whined somewhere, close enough for him to hear it but a million miles away. Charlie fell and fell and fell.

He died soon after he landed on the ground outside his house.

Killed by the weight of his memories, slain by the sins he perceived in his decisions, but mostly dead due to falling two stories and landing in a very unfortunate way. The banality of it all now washed over him.

It surprised him how little else he felt as the life escaped him and he coughed up something warm and thick and runny, trickling from the corners of his mouth. Willie neared with the panting sounds you would expect from such an old dog, but not as quickly as the world faded away around Charlie.

The sounds of little feet squelching in waterlogged shoes arrived first.

Charlie stared into the many faces of death as she stood by his side, looming over him like an inescapable tower.

She extended a slender arm and hand, as if in greeting, or as if expecting him to give her something.

His body could not comply, so his soul pulled loose from his arm, meeting her hand there and taking it.

Why now?

He asked, but not with his mouth. Not with his flesh.

A chorus of voices replied, “I am always unexpected, even when you know your time has come.”

She grabbed his hand and yanked.

Took him away, pulling him into a world of mist and darkness. It all happened so quickly.

Death dragged him through the door where the Cruel Ones awaited.

—Submitted by Wratts

[cpd5021]

Reckoning - Part 9

Part 9....we’re going to take a little turn with this one. (Also, TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault.)

       As Hailey and Jay arrived on scene they distended into pure chaos. Patrol informed them that three masked men entered the home, immediately shooting the husband fatally in the chest, the wife had taken a brutal beating and was being sent to Med unconscious, and there was a missing eight year old girl, the daughter of the wealthy couple. Hailey and Jay broke apart, going to find out where the team needed help. Hailey met up with Kim in the little girls bedroom, both women silent as they took in the scene. The bedroom, which was decorated with everything pink and unicorns to match, was an absolute disaster. Things had been knocked off shelves, a small table had been flipped over and clothes had been thrown out of the closet. 

“It’s like they were looking for something.” Kim stated, continuing to survey the room. The rest of the house had been trashed too but this room was certainly the worst of it. Hailey bent down to pick up a small teddy bear that had been ripped apart. 

“Hailey...” Kim’s voiced was lower this time, causing Hailey to glance up at the younger officer.

     Hailey stood and followed Kim’s line of sight to see what she was looking at. Both women fell silent as they noticed a blood stain on the girls mattress, a pair of little girls panties laying next to it. 

“You don’t think...” Kim couldn’t finish the question, swallowing hard at the thought. 

“Let’s hope not.” Hailey took one last look around the room before walking back out, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling she had. 

                                                        ***********

     After working the scene as much as they could, everyone except Kevin and Vanessa, who had been sent to the hospital in hopes the mother would wake up, reconvened at the office. They sat around the bulletin board as Adam presented the facts of the case. Neighbor had called 911 stating there had been gunshots and screaming from inside the home, when they looked out their window they saw the girl being carried into a blue suburban before it sped off, no plates and they hadn’t seen any faces. 

     Kim was working on pulling up traffic cameras in hopes they could identify the vehicle. Jay was running background information on the family, looking for any reason they might have been targeted. Hailey was processing some of the pictures the evidence tech had sent over. Suddenly Kim stood from her desk, grabbing her coat as they all looked up at her. 

“Got it! Registered to a Hugo Swarez, priors for home invasion and sexual assault and battery. Patrol spotted it outside a warehouse just a minute ago.” Kim bolted down the stairs with Adam in tow, Jay and Hailey quickly followed. 

     Pulling up outside the ware house, they spotted the suburban still parked on the side street. They all got out of their vehicles, guns already drawn, as they searched for an entrance to the large building. Finally finding a door, they quickly made entry and filed into the empty room. They noted two doors and a stair well to the left. Adam motioned towards one door, Jay nodded towards the other, leaving the girls to take the stairs. Kim went first, easing her way up the metal steps with Hailey close behind. At the top of the landing, they paused and noted the hall went two separate directions. Kim pointed that she would go left so Hailey started down to the right. The ware house was massive and despite the bottom half being open, the upper level proved to be a maze of doors and hallways. Hailey checked a few of the rooms and found them to be empty. As she entered her fourth room, strong arms suddenly gripped her from behind, a hand clamping over her mouth. She barely processed the cloth being pressed to her face before the room went dark, having inhaled whatever chemical the offender had doused the rag with. 

     The rest of the team, none the wiser to Hailey’s attack, cleared the rest of the warehouse. Kim heard the metal steps clang and returned to the landing, assuming it was Hailey. Instead she was met with Jay, a worried look on his face. 

“Where is Hailey?” He instantly began opening doors, not giving Kim a chance to answer. 

“I..she went this way. We had to separate...”  Kim struggled to explain and she began to worry over Hailey’s whereabouts. 

“Back door!!” They heard Kevin yell from below. Both immediately turned and ran down the stairs, rounding the corner they saw Adam running out the door behind Kevin. As the men disappeared into the outside, gunshots filled the air. 

   Jay and Kim made their way to the door impossibly fast, weapons up and ready to shoot back. Tires squealed in the distance. Jay noted Adam laying on the ground, holding his shoulder and yelling at Kevin to follow the vehicle. Jay followed close behind Kevin as Kim bent down to check on Adam. Jay barely processed the words as he heard Kevin yelling into his radio with a vehicle description and stating that the offenders had taken an officer. Neither of them stood a chance at catching the car on foot, so they quickly made their way back to Kim and Adam. An ambulance was already en route, though Adam only had a grazed shoulder from the bullet. Jay paced angrily, looking for someone to blame. How had Kim let Hailey go off on her own? How had Kevin and Adam not caught them before they got her out the door and into the vehicle? How had he not been there to save her? His anger and worry boiled over as Voight came up to them asking what happened. Kevin had to explain as Jay was still to upset. 

“We shouldn’t be standing here!” He yelled suddenly. “We need to get out there and find her!” 

     Voight came and gripped Jay on the shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “Jay, we’ll get her back. Every officer out there is on the lookout for that vehicle, they won’t get far.”

“They shouldn’t have even had the chance to get away.” Jay’s voice was finally lower as worry overtook his anger. 

“But they did. These are professionals, but so are we.” Voight’s gravely voiced helped to calm Jay enough that they could regroup and figure out what to do next. 

                                                     *********

     Hailey came to in a dark room. She was disoriented and her head was pounding. 

“Wakey wakey.” A mans voice in the darkness caused her to jump.

“Who are you?” She asked, voice feeling scratchy and dry.

“Like I’m gonna tell you.” The man scoffed at her. 

     Hailey noted that she was handcuffed to a pipe and based on the lack of windows, she assumed she was in a basement somewhere. The irony of being restrained with her own handcuffs only added to the fact that she was once again stuck in a basement, waiting for her team to rescue her. Her head rested back against the pipe as the room continued to spin. The small amount of light from a phone screen illuminated the room slightly and she was able to take in her surroundings quickly. To her horror, her eyes fell upon a tiny body, lying curled up in the corner not to far from her, the pink nightgown drenched in blood. 

“Is she alive?” Hailey asked, straining against the pipe, trying to reach the girl. 

“For now.” The man chuckled. “She’s a fighter.”

     Please let him be right, Hailey thought to herself. Try as she might, she couldn’t get any closer to the girl. She silently prayed that her team would find them quickly, if the girl was still alive she wouldn’t be for long. Hailey’s throat burned so she decided to try a different tactic.

“Could I have some water?” She asked with a cough.

“What do I look like, a waiter?” The man spit in her direction.

“Please?” She begged, hoping he would leave the room. With another spit sent her way, this time landing on her face, the man stood and left the room leaving them in pitch blackness. Once she heard the door shut, Hailey strained against the pipe again, trying to stretch her legs out. Pulling hard against her wrists she was able to get her foot close enough to nudge the girl, eliciting a small whimper. Hailey let out a relieved sigh, at least she was alive. 

     The man returned moments later with a bottle of water. Hailey gasped as his hand came to grip her throat tightly before he poured water onto her face, eventually allowing her a small drink. Hailey wreathed her head and his grip tightened. 

“Now now, play nice.” The man whispered close to her ear. His hot breath hit her face and she wreathed again, trying to connect her foot with his body.

“I said,” The man yelled this time, shaking her neck violently. “ Play nice.”

“That’s enough.” Another man’s voice entered the room. 

    The grip on Hailey’s neck was released and she was able to breath properly again. The first man stood and left the room. The second man had brought a small lantern, illuminating the room. Hailey’s first glance was to the mans face, immediately recognizing him as Hugo. Her second glance went to the girl, who looked even worse in the light but, from what Hailey could see, was still breathing. Hugo knelt close to Hailey, his face right in hers. She squirmed as his fingers traced from her temple to her jaw line, before his thumb brushed over her lips. 

“I haven’t had a beautiful woman like you in my presence in far to long.” His voice was sickly sweet and Hailey fought the urge to gag. 

“Why are you keeping us here. She needs medical attention, let her go and I promise I can get the charges dropped.” Hailey tried to reason with the man to no avail. 

“Charges?” He laughed in her face. “If I leave this house alive, I’ll be in prison until my body rots away. So I don’t plan on leaving alive.” He finished with a chuckle. 

     Hailey squirmed as his hands were on her again, this time pressing into her thighs. She fought to keep her legs together but her overpowered her greatly. 

“Another fighter.” Hugo laughed again as he ripped her legs apart, drawing a yell from her lips. “Oh and a loud one.”

“Let go!” Hailey shouted at him, fighting with all she could to get him away from her. 

“Or what?” He yelled angrily inches away from her face. 

    Hailey had no response because she simply didn’t have an ‘or what’. She had nothing. No weapon, no way to free herself, no team to back her up. She was screwed. That realization must have crossed her face because Hugo was next to her again, this time reaching down to her ankles and forcefully pulling her to lay on her back, arms straining against the handcuffs chained to the pipe. Her legs thrashed as she attempted to at least slow his attack, but this only egged him on more. His hands pressed firmly into her thighs, effectively stopping her movements. Hailey felt tears fill her eyes and she furiously tried to blink them away. One tear fell, trickling slowly down the side of her face. To her disgust, Hugo’s rough finger wiped it away. He shushed her in a mocking way, as if she was a baby needing settling. Hailey fought the mental images playing through her mind, the memories of her attack with Booth flashing before her eyes, fearing this was about to be deja vu...only worse. She silently begged for her team to hurry up and find them, for Jay to find her. 

[nuggets-and-french-fries]

Taking Chances: Chapter Seven.

WARNING: Do not read this if you are easily triggered by the mention of alcohol assumption, smoking of any kind and/ or parental harshness such as shouting and abuse.

I also want to note that I do not know Taron personally and this chapter is purely fiction to the best of my knowledge. 

Do NOT leave any nasty comments as they will be ignored and deleted. I have warned you and I stand by this warning.

Note: I know this took so long to put up but I had been sick and needed time to heal. I tried to make this longer and I hope that you like this.

Enjoy!

===

A week later, things at home were getting tougher and tougher as Mikey and Kate’s birthdays drew closer.

“Mikey, what would you like for your birthday?” Tina asked as Mikey finished his sip of pre cooled tea.

Mikey looked at his father who looked away from him.

Tina caught that little move her son made toward her grandson and felt bad for Mikey. Of course she knew that it was tough for Taron around this time but now that Mikey was getting older, her heart went out to the little boy.

“Daddy said I could have a party.” Mikey said excitedly.

“Can we come?” Mari asked with a wide smile.

“Can they?” Mikey asked as he looked at his father with hope in his eyes.

Taron painted on a smile and nodded.

“Why don’t we have the party here.” Taron suggested and Tina nodded happily.

“That sounds perfect. Mikey can even invite his friends if he wants to so that it’s not all family.” Tina replied.

Taron looked at his mother and offered her a small smile.

“Sounds good. If you’re sure that is.” He replied.

Everyone that sat at the dining table, kept throwing ideas out on how to make this a special birthday. Mikey was super excited.

=

“What do you want to watch Michael?” Taron called from the bottom of the stairs with slight annoyance to his tone.

It wasn’t that Mikey was doing anything to upset his father, he was simply getting his cuddle blanket and a toy so that he could cuddle them while watching a movie.

Mikey held the banister as he hurried down the stairs before Taron got cross with him.

“Michael.” Taron snapped, not realizing that his son was almost in front of him.

The little boy stopped and looked at his father with wide eyes.

“I’m right here.” The little boy said carefully.

“What do you want to watch?” Taron asked, picking his son up and kissing his cheek.

“Can we watch mama?” Mikey asked, wanting to see Taron and Kate’s wedding video.

“No buddy, not tonight. What about a cartoon instead.” Taron suggested.

“Ok.” Mikey said sadly.

He really wanted to see his mum and hear her voice. Even though he was a baby when Kate died, Mikey really missed the vibrations that her voice would give when she held him close. He missed the feel of her heart beating. So yes he was little, but a little boy such as Mikey doesn’t forget a connection like that.

“Tell you what, why don’t we watch one of mama’s favorites.” Taron suggested, softening his tone at the sight of his son’s disappointment.

“Sorry I made you mad.” Mikey said, leaning into his father more.

“I’m not mad. I’m the one that should be sorry for making you feel bad. I’m just tired.” Taron apologized.

“It’s ok daddy.” Mikey whispered as he tried to wrap his full arms around his father’s neck in a hug.

=

A few days later, things got harder for Taron especially since Mikey had upped his game in asking to hear stories about his mum and see old videos of her. Taron was almost at the end of his rope with everything and was debating about dropping his son off with his grandmother for a while.

“I’m gonna be late.” Mikey called as he bounced nervously by the front door, with his shoes evidently on the wrong feet.

“First of all, no you’re not and second of all, we need to switch your shoes around kiddo.” Taron said with an amused smile on his face.

Mikey looked at his feet and giggled when he realized that he put them on wrong.

Taron quickly helped the boy and before long, Taron was standing outside of Mikey’s classroom saying goodbye.

As Mikey ran toward the sandbox, Taron’s eyes landed on a woman that looked alot like the woman from the shops that day.He knew he had to make a break for it if he didn’t want to talk to her. Not that she knew it was him from how focused she was on little Jasmine and then there was the fact that he was wearing his twenty-two cap and sunglasses. Then again, he was wearing the same thing when he met her.

Just before he turned to leave, he saw his son bolt toward Jasmine. Taron stopped and watched the scene before him with a smile. His son was definitely smitten with the girl.

He watched as his son hugged Jasmine and then watched as Mikey hugged that woman. That broke Taron. How dare she think she had a right to touch his son. That wasn’t her place at all, if anything it should be kate hugging his son, not that woman.

Taron took a deep breath and stormed off toward his car.

=

“Pickles.” Taron called as he walked through the front door.

The feline was napping on his little kitty bed that Mikey picked out when he and Taron got him.

Taron smiled to himself and flopped down on the sofa with his head going back to lean on the back of the furniture. He closed his eyes and tried to get the image of Mikey hugging that woman out of his head.

“What’s wrong Taz?” Kate asked softly.

“He was hugging that woman. He should be hugging you, not her.” Taron replied as he opened his eyes and turned to face his wife who sat next to him.

He took in how she looked. Her blonde hair hung just above her shoulders in loose tousled waves the way it did the morning she left to meet up with Richard. Her dark brown eyes sparkled just the way he liked. Her smile was as bright and beautiful as he remembered.

She still wore the striped robe that he knew she’d want to buried in. It was her favorite one and it was the one she wore in the hospital when Mikey made his entrance into the world.

Kate smiled at him.

“Michael’s a very huggy person. He gets that from you.” The woman stated.

Taron looked at her with tears in his eyes.

“I miss you so much Kate. You’d be so proud of our boy.” He said, his voice cracking.

She laid her hand on his cheek and stroked along his cheekbone

“Amore, I don’t need to be here to be proud of both of my boys and besides Pickles is my lookout.” Kate responded.

“I’m really struggling.” The man admitted, finally letting his tears fall.

“I know it’s hard baby but you are doing such a good job with him.” Kate complimented.

“I love you so much, my darling.” Taron replied.

Before Kate could say anything else, there was a knock on the front door. He glanced in it’s direction and when he looked back at where Kate was, she was gone. Taron’s heart shattered all over again.

He got up and answered the door.

“Hi mam.” Taron greeted with as much happiness as he could.

“What’s happened?” She asked, taking in her son’s red and slightly puffy eyes.

“Nothing. Just having a cry I guess.” He shrugged.

“Need a cuddle?” Tina asked, knowing why he was crying.

He nodded and let his mum in before throwing his arms around her and sobbing into her. He really needed a mama cuddle.

They stayed like that for a while before he had to go and get Mikey from school and Tina had to do the same for the girls.

“Did you have a good day my boy?” Taron asked as he picked his son up.

“It was fun. I coloured this for you.” Mikey said as he handed the drawing from a couple weeks ago to his father.

“Is this what you drew when I came to pick you for our boys day?” Taron asked.

Mikey nodded and walked ahead of his father, making sure to step on every crack in concrete.

“Can we watch mam tonight?” Mikey asked as Taron caught up with him.

Taron groaned and rolled his eyes.

“We talked about this, Michael. No.” He said, unaware that he kept breaking his son’s heart by saying no.

Mikey’s eyes stayed on the ground as he tried not to cry. He desperately wanted to see her and hear her voice because he felt like he was forgetting her. It wasn’t fair.

The car ride home was silent and as soon as they got home, Mikey went to find Pickles so that he could hug his best friend. He needed some form of comfort but he didn’t want Taron’s.

“You’re being too harsh Taron.” Richard said through the phone.

“I’m not trying to be. It just hurts and I can’t talk about it. The last thing I want to do is hear her voice.” The man explained. “Hold on Rich.” He said before pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Mikey, I need your lunch box.” Taron called, loud enough for his son to hear.

Mikey put pickles down and wiped his eyes.

“I don’t want Mikey.” Taron started before he spotted his son in the doorway of the kitchen holding his lunch box.

Hearing his father say he didn’t want him hurt him like nothing ever had. He thought his dad loved him but he was obviously wrong. His little heart had just been shattered beyond repair.

“Thanks kiddo.” Taron said as he took the lunch box from the boy's hand.

Again, Taron wasn’t aware that he had broken his son’s heart.

“I’ll make dinner in a minute, why don’t you go and play.” Taron said, too focused on the red box to see the tears falling from Mikey’s eyes.

The little boy hung his head and walked away slowly.

=

Saturday was finally here and it was the day that taron was dreading. Kate and Mikey’s birthday.

“Why are you still in here? You should be making Mikey a special breakfast.” Kate said as she laid next to her husband on her side of the bed.

“It’s too early.” Taron replied sleepily.

“Taron, it’s his birthday. I bet you that he’s already up and waiting for you to go wish him a happy birthday.” Kate said.

“He’ll be fine.” Taron snapped.

Kate rolled her eyes and got up.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he looked at the door where she stood.

“Taron, go be with our son please. He only has one parent left and you’re acting like an ass.” She replied a matter-of-factly.

“No. He’s fine.” Taron argued.

Kate didn’t reply. She just looked at her husband and took in the way his shoulders were slumped, even if he was laying down. She could see that he was hurting. It was time to bring Nicola back in his path.

“Right.” Kate said to herself with determination.

Taron laid in his spot and toyed with his wedding band. Today was definitely going to be hard.

All of a sudden Taron heard a crash from down stairs and bolted down the stairs.

“Pickles can you shut up.” Taron snapped.

“Taron, don’t be mad. It’s just Mikey.” Kate whispered in his ear.

“Michael, why are you up?” Taron said, a little less angry.

“I wanted to make food for you but I broke it.” The little boy said with big sad glossy eyes.

“Broke what?” The father asked.

“Mama's hands and mine.” Mikey said, scared that Taron would yell at him. He was right to be scared.

Taron rushed forward and saw the shattered pottery.

“Michael Kade Egerton, what is wrong with you? Why can’t you keep your hands to yourself!” Taron shouted angrier than he ever had.

Mikey’s bottom lip trembled as he tried not to cry.

“It was a accident.” Mikey tried.

“Everything you do is always an accident.” Taron shouted once again, picking the pieces up off the ground.

It was silent for a couple seconds and Mikey took that as a good thing and tried to hug his father.

Taron shrugged the boy off and slightly moved him away.

“It was a accident.” Mikey said as his voice cracked.

“No it wasn’t.” Taron snapped harshly.

His son jumped and started crying.

“I’ve had enough of you and your lies, go to your room and think about what you’ve done.” The man said, pointing to the stairs.

Mikey didn’t need to be told twice. He ran to his room crying loudly.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Kate said as she sat on the counter.

“He’s always doing things like this.” Taron said angrily.

“No he’s not Taron and you know that.” Kate snapped back.

Taron released a growl and went back to cleaning and muttering under his breath.

“You always act before you think.” Kate stated with disappointment.

Taron ignored her comment.

“I’ve always loved that cup. I remember when you saw it and wanted to buy it for our future children to use.” Kate said when her eyes landed on the Buzz Lightyear cup that Mikey used for his breakfast.

Taron’s eyes wandered up and saw two cups on the stepping stool. He knew then that Mikey was telling the truth and wanted to surprise him.

“It was an accident wasn’t it?” Taron asked, guilt now lacing his tone.

“He was standing in the doorway when you were talking to Richard about having a guy’s night. He heard you say that you ‘didn’t want him’. He took that as an ‘I don’t want him anymore’.” Kate explained.

“He did?” Taron asked, feeling like an utter prick.

“He was trying to make you breakfast to show you that he can be useful. You really hurt him you know.” Kate replied.

“Make him that special Egerton birthday breakfast and apologize.” Kate instructed softly.

Taron nodded and sniffled.

By the time that Taron had finished cleaning and had a sulk, he decided that it was time to go and talk to his son.

The conversation with Mikey only led to more begging from Mikey and an early nap time given out by Taron who didn’t want to hear anymore about his wife.

“Why can’t we watch mama?” Mikey asked for the billionth time.

“Michael that’s enough. I’ve told you why so please shut up about it and go to sleep.” Taron snapped as he put his son down for a nap.

Taron walked away from his son’s room and sauntered to his own room.

“No breakfast, no stories about me? That’s harsh.” Kate said as she walked past Taron.

“Shut up Kate.” He spat through gritted teeth.

“Someone has their period, geeze.” Kate mocked.

Taron sighed with frustration before going to his room and hiding under his covers for a while.

Kate stood in the hallway looking at the pictures that hung on the wall. Her eyes landed on a family picture that was taken just before Kate died. They looked so happy and Mikey was so tiny as he slept in Taron’s arms.

She stood there for a few minutes before she heard her son’s slight whimpers.

The mother walked into his room and sat beside Mikey’s bed and watched as he slept. She would give anything to hold her little boy close, breathe him in and tell him that everything was going to be ok. It broke her that she couldn’t.

“Happy birthday baby. Mummy loves you so much.” Kate whispered as she ran her fingers through his blonde locks and kissed his forehead.

“My beautiful boy.” She said before tucking him in and kissing him one last time.

Mikey smiled. He knew that his mum was with him.

Kate smiled and walked to where her husband, who was having a cry.

“Move over, baby.” Kate said as she laid beside her husband.

Taron moved over and Kate got under the covers with him.

“What’s the matter and why is it so hard for you to let him watch videos of me?” Kate wondered out loud.

“Just leave me alone, please.” Taron said through his tears.

“Take him to the park please, let him run off steam. It will give you a chance to breathe and relax.” The woman said.

She laid her hand over his heart and watched him let out a choked sob. Taron felt her touch and it killed him that it was all in his head and that it wasn’t real.

=

“Please daddy? I asked nicely.” Mikey asked, wanting to hear his mum’s voice.

“You know what, no I’m not doing this again. Go get your shoes on.” Taron barked, finally giving in and taking his son far away from any reminders of his wife for now.

Mikey jumped but ran to get his shoes and jacket.

“Where are we going?” The boy asked with hope in his voice, knowing that his grandma was throwing a small party for him.

“The park.” Taron replied simply.

“Oh.” Mikey replied sadly.

He knew Taron had forgotten about his birthday.

Taron got his son settled in his car seat before getting in the car himself and heading in the direction of the park.

Unfortunately for him, he saw ‘the woman’ sitting at a picnic table keeping an eye on Jasmine.

“Right, go play.” Taron said to Mikey as he took him out of his car seat and set him down on the ground.

Mikey ran off and started playing.

Taron locked the car and took a deep breath.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nicola snapped harshly when she saw who was approaching.

“It’s none of your damn business.” Taron spat back.

“Well if your moody ass is going to be here then yes, it is my business.” Nicola sassed.

Taron scoffed and sat down on the same seat as she and removed his sunglasses.

Nicola glanced at him and really took him in. He wasn’t bad looking, he had nice eyes and a sharp jaw. He was pretty cute.

“Take a fucking picture.” Taron seethed, making Nicola jump.

“Excuse me?” She questioned.

“Stop staring.” Taron said, locking eyes with her.

Nicola swallowed harshly. His eyes had turned an almost black shade and he looked like he was thirsty for blood.

“Staring and trying to figure someone out are two very different things.” Nicola replied with a raised brow.

“And what exactly are you trying to figure out?” He said dangerously low.

“What an asshole like you gets out of hanging around parks like this. I’ll call the police you know.” She said, not realizing that he had come here with Mikey.

“You’re a bitch, you know that.” Taron countered before turning to look at Mikey, who was happily playing with Jasmine.

“Yup, definitely a Taz.” Nicola smirked.

Taron’s heart stopped. No one besides Kate had called him that, not even his mum. Only Kate was allowed to call him that.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man said, slamming his fists on the table.

“Since I met you, all you’ve done is piss me off. You’ve insulted me and I think it’s my turn to insult you. Why is a woman like you in a park like this anyway? Is it because no one wants a self centered, condescending slag like you? You feel better surrounding yourself with others like you? Or is it because no one wants to get between those legs and this is where you come to sulk to yourself about it?” Taron said, eerily calm.

This didn’t phase Nicola in the slightest as all she was focused on were his lips, which is funny because normally she’d slap the shit out of him but there was just something about him that spoke to her.

Before she could think of what she was doing, her hand went to the back of his neck and she pulled him forward, crashing her lips onto Taron’s.

His lips were soft and the kiss was magical but for Taron, he felt awful. How could something feel so right and so wrong at the same time?

Meanwhile from the top of the play fort, Mikey watched as the two adults kissed.

The little boy crouched down so that he was hidden and started crying.

“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked as she finally looked up from her rock collection.

“I hate my dad.” Mikey whimpered.

Jasmine looked toward Taron, covered her mouth and started giggling.

“They’re kissing.” She said through her giggles.

Mikey hid his face, making Jasmin stop giggling.

The little girl attempted to hug her friend but Mikey got up and ran over to his father.

“Mikey stop!” Jasmin called but Mikey wasn’t listening.

Mikey quickly reached his father.

“That’s my daddy!” Mikey shouted as he pushed Nicola away from Taron.

Despite the fact that Taron had massively hurt his son, Mikey wasn’t willing to share Taron just yet.

Nicola looked at the man she’d just kissed and saw the hurt, confusion and sadness in his eyes.

Taron sat frozen in place as Mikey climbed up into his father’s lap.

Absentmindedly, Taron wrapped his right arm around his son and held him protectively.

“Mine.” Mikey said as he wrapped his small arms around Taron’s neck and glared daggers at the woman.

It was evident to Nicola that Mikey was definitely this man’s son and that she had just made a huge mistake.

Her cheeks went bright red and she bit her lower lip in embarrassment.

Taron finally rejoined reality and realized what had just happened.

“Kate.” He whispered as he touched his lips with his left hand, displaying the fact that he was wearing a ring.

Nicola’s eyes landed on the gold band on his ring finger and she sucked in a breath. Of course he was married and she’d just kissed a married man. Fuck!

=

Taron drove home with a very angry Mikey in the back.

“Meanie.” Mikey said, making sure his father could hear him.

Taron couldn’t disagree with him. He felt like a meanie for kissing Nicola and for betraying Kate like that.

“Don’t call me names.” Taron lectured.

Mikey locked eyes with his father in the rear view mirror and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Michael, that’s enough.” The father warned.

“You’re not the boss of me.” The boy challenged. Instead of replying, Taron ignored him.

When taron and Mikey got home, Mikey ran straight to his room and slammed his door shut as loud and as hard as he could.

“Stop slamming your door!” Taron yelled.

“I hate you.” Mikey screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I hate me too, my boy.” Taron said to himself softly, tears falling from his eyes.

The man slumped on the couch and closed his eyes before he heard his son throwing things.

He stood up and hurried upstairs.

“Michael, quit throwing things. You know that you’re not supposed to be doing that.” Taron yelled as he opened the door harshly.

“No.” Mikey cried, throwing toy after toy at the wall.

“Ok child. I’m serious, you have been a pain in my ass the whole day and I’m sick of your stupid attitude. Either you stop on your own or I’ll make you stop.” Taron said, grabbing hold of Mikey’s wrists.

The now 4 year old tried to free himself but Taron wasn’t letting go and the more Mikey fought, the more Taron squeezed his wrists, trying to stop his son from throwing things.

At one point, Taron squeezed harder and Mikey started crying even more.

Recognizing that he was hurting his son, Taron let Mikey go and moved back to the door in a daze.

“I’m sorry.” Taron choked out but Mikey wasn’t having it.

“Go away.” The boy said as he gave his father a swift kick to the shin.

Taron was far too shocked to care that he’d just been kicked.

The father stood unmoving in his spot. He was brought back to earth when a toy hit him square in the face. He looked at Mikey’s Sheriff woody doll laying on the floor. No doubt he’d have a bruise on his cheek.

He backed out of the room, shut the door and fell to the ground in sobs.

Taron never hurt his son and seeing the fear in Mikey’s eyes hurt him deeply. He felt sick with guilt. He knew that once his mother found out, she’d kill him for hurting her grandson.

=

Tina knocked on the front door at 9:00pm hoping that Taron would answer the door. When he didn’t, she took her spare key out and let herself in.The smell of alcohol and cigarettes filling her nose, she became angry. Angrier than she’d probably ever been.

Before she could say anything, Taron stumbled out of the kitchen with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was definitely seeing red.

“I was wondering where you were and now I know.” The mother said, reaching for the alcohol.

Taron moved his body away from her and whimpered.

“Mine.” He said, shielding the paraphernalia he was holding.

“Taron enough! You look and smell like shit. You have a little boy upstairs who is seeing all of this and it’s disgusting.” Tina lectured.

“I know he’s upstairs.” Taron slurred, making Tina roll her eyes.

“Did you forget that today was his birthday and that we had a party planned for him at the house? Or did you simply not care to celebrate the fact that your son was here?” She asked, very quickly losing her calm with her own son.

“All I’ve heard today was that kid moaning and groaning about not getting to see his mother but what about my feelings eh? Don’t my feelings matter, oh no, it’s always whatever the baby wants, whatever the baby likes. It’s always him and never me. When do I matter!” Taron yelled at the top of his lungs.

“That little boy depends on you Taron, you are all he has left. How do you think he feels not having a mother to turn to when you are acting like a prick? He loves you and seeing you like this all the time is not helping him. You are damaging him and I swear to god, I will take him from you if you don’t pull your head out of your ass and realize that he misses Kate just as much as you if not more.” Tina spat back, having had more than enough of her son’s moping.

“Take him then.” Taron said before throwing the bottle of amber liquid at the wall.

Tina’s hand connected harshly with Taron’s already injured cheek.

“Enough! You’re a bloody disgrace Taron. Kate would be disgusted with your behaviour.” Tina hollered.

“I know and I hate myself for it.” Taron said, breaking down and falling to his knees.

“You can fix this and you had better do it now before it’s too late.” Tina replied as she crouched in front of her son and hugged him.

“I hurt him. He needs better.” Taron bawled. The mother held her broken son and let him cry.

Unbeknownst to them, Mikey was holding his woody doll and sat on the steps listening.  

“Please take him for a while. I need to know that he’s safe.” Taron asked once he’d calmed down a little bit.

“Grandma?” Mikey asked as he peeked around the corner.

Tina’s eyes softened and she gave him a sad smile.

“Are you ok, my darling?” She asked.

Mikey shook his head.

“My arms hurt.” The little boy admitted, making Taron start crying again.

“What did you do?” The woman asked cautiously.

“He hurt me.” He responded before putting Woody's arm in his mouth and showed Tina his arms.

“Taron, what the hell did you do? His wrists are bruised.” Tina said with shock.

“He was throwing his toys and I lost it. I grabbed too hard.” Taron sobbed.

“How could you?” Tina said incredulously.

Taron couldn’t say anything, he was already beating himself up over his actions. Actions that were normally not him.

Tina could see that both her boys were hurting and she made the decision to stay with Taron for a few days while he got over this. Her boys needed her.

“Right, this house is far too depressing for my liking. Taron, you are going to go and have a shower while I put your son to bed.” Tina said as she picked Mikey up and helped taron upstairs.

“Right, are you ok to shower or do you need me to help you?” Tina asked as the three of them reached taron’s room.

“I should be ok mam. Thank you though.” Taron said through his sniffles.

“Cheer up. All things can be fixed. I’ll make you some coffee once Mikey’s in bed.” Tina responded.

Taron nodded and stood up carefully.

“Night night daddy, I love you.” Mikey said as he watched his father walk into the bathroom.

Taron turned around and walked back to his mother and son.

“Can I hug you please?” Taron asked Mikey.

Mikey catapulted himself into his father’s arms and hugged him tight.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I honestly didn’t mean to.” Taron said, trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry I threw my toys.” Mikey whispered.

They hugged for a few minutes before Mikey yawned.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise you.” Taron said, kissing the top of his son’s head.

===

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @softeggsy @hitmeonmytspot @holdmeclosertinytaron @aberystwythboy @stronglyobsessed @dogmom2014 @jobanan23 @cilldaracailin @fuseburner @rocknrollmadden @hauntedflamingo @superthiccthighssavelives

[plumoh]

[FE3H] keen ears and sharp eyes

Word count: 9103

Summary: Among the soldiers of their battalions, Sylvain and Felix's relationship becomes a topic of interest. A story of knights gossiping about their lieges. / Sylvix

Note: AO3 link. I love the idea of battalions! There are spoilers for the entirety of the Azure Moon route.

Richard Dumont is an average man, with average skills and average intellect. His blond hair cropped short on his head and his blue eyes aren’t what he considers his best physical traits. He’s not good enough to get into the Royal Guard, but he’s strong-willed and he wields a lance with accuracy, so that should count for something. 

He’s been part of the knights of Gautier for more than ten years, ever since he was a squire in his teens, and he’s been assigned to Lord Sylvain Gautier’s troops for the past five years. He’s older than him, and yet it feels like there is a whole world separating them—even when he discounts the fact he’s the son of a minor noble and Sylvain is his lord. Richard isn’t someone who takes his ambitions too seriously, and he hates doing more than what is necessary, so of course, he thought he wouldn’t be too put upon to obey the orders of the infamous skirt-chasing, good-for-nothing Gautier heir.

“Stop complaining.” His friend Fabrice Bertin, also part of the battalion for the same amount of time as him, levels him with an annoyed look. “We’re all alive and well.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t lose at least twenty years of your lifespan with all the shit he’s pulled,” Richard growls, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Obeying the orders isn’t hard; they’re knights, vassals who do the bidding of their lord. Obeying the orders while knowing full well that’s not going to end prettily calls upon his hardened determination to never waver.

“Next time he’s all yours, I’m not carrying his sorry ass back to camp if he wants to get injured or die so badly.”

Fabrice rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder, clearly not as bothered as Richard is, which is kind of unfair and unrealistic because Lord Gautier has caused them so much grief ever since they’ve actively joined the war after the Millenium Festival of 1185. Richard thought that, as a noble heir with such a mighty weapon as the Lance of Ruin, his lord would value his life a little bit more instead of throwing himself into danger, like he knows someone will save him one way or another. Or, he doesn’t expect anything at all and is just that stupid.

“Please don’t be so rude towards our lord, people are going to think you’ll betray us,” Fabrice sighs.

Well, Richard might actually do that and defect to Adrestia if he starts getting gray hair at only twenty-nine years old.

***

When Richard has nothing to do in-between missions or training exercises, he walks around the monastery. There is always a cat or a dog to pet to kill time, or some people to spy on to obtain juicy gossip and entertain his dull life that only consists of fighting, drinking, and more fighting. He doesn’t have many friends in the army, not for lack of trying but he just doesn’t know how to strike up a conversation and… keep going.

This is about to change though, to his dismay, as the two knights hiding behind a big tree in the gardens are loudly whispering and wildly looking around, pointing to something at the tables. Richard slows his steps, curious and more bored than he thought he’d be.

“I told you he’d accept!”

“When has he not?”

“I clearly remember that one time he locked himself in the training grounds until morning and left Lord Gautier waiting for him.”

Richard nearly trips over his own feet, his head swivelling around so fast that he almost breaks his neck. It draws the attention of the knights, who turn their heads in his direction to stare at him. By doing so Richard has now a clear view of who they are spying on and—he’s not that surprised to see Lord Gautier with Lord Fraldarius, actually.

“Aren’t you guys afraid of Lord Fraldarius hunting you down if he has wind of your spying?” he blurts out without thinking.

The two knights share a look, communicating whatever they can with their eyes. Richard doesn’t give a crap if they get caught, but if his own lord is involved in gossip with Lord Fraldarius, then he needs to know immediately because that would be the most interesting thing he’ll hear all week.

“You… are a Gautier knight,” the girl says, frowning at his collar that sports a small Gautier coat of arms stitched on the fabric.

“And you guys must be Fraldarius soldiers,” Richard deduces by the teal of their clothes.

However, before they can continue the introductions, they hear chairs rattling and an angry shout that can be only Lord Fraldarius’s.

“I’m done. Come find me when you’ve stopped being an idiot.”

Lord Fraldarius turns on his heels and leaves the gardens, as Lord Gautier follows him.

“Come on Felix, I already apologized. It’s not like I do it on purpose! I’ll be more careful next time…”

They are too far away for them to hear any more, but Richard has a good idea of what this is about. He glances at the table they’ve left, still full of biscuits, two cups of tea with one empty and the other half-finished. Well, someone will have to clean that up and that’s certainly not Richard.

“They’ve been arguing about the last battle and what they should have done to avoid unnecessary injuries,” the man supplies with a small smile. “Lord Gautier seems to care a lot about Lord Fraldarius.”

“They’re childhood friends,” Richard answers with a shrug. “And here I thought it would be interesting gossip…”

“Oh, but that’s the second time today Lord Gautier tried to talk to our lord,” the girl retorts. “They always seem to be together, don’t you think?”

Richard shrugs again.

***

Sparring with Fabrice becomes increasingly frustrating because the guy has gotten faster and easily dodges every hard swing of Richard’s lance. Someone wielding an axe shouldn’t be allowed to be so light on his feet.

“You’re putting too much weight forward.”

Both Richard and Fabrice abruptly stop what they’re doing, nevermind accidentally stabbing each other when they lower their weapons, to stare at the girl judging their spar. Richard raises an eyebrow.

“You again.”

It’s the girl from the Fraldarius soldiers, from a few days ago. She still has that stern look on her round face that makes her look really older than she probably is. Richard is sure if she stopped frowning so much, people wouldn’t run away so fast from her. She has black hair cut in a bob, just above the shoulders and curling inward. She’s rather small, only arriving at Richard’s shoulders, but he’s learned not to judge on appearances, especially someone who is actively fighting in their army.

“Are you a foot soldier or a cavalryman?” she asks, gesturing to them without a care in the world.

“Cavalryman,” Richard replies. “Most of us Gautier knights are.”

“What’s your name?” Fabrice interrupts with a smile, ever the diplomat.

The girl seems to need only one look at Fabrice to decide she prefers him over Richard because her eyes lose their hard edge and wow, Richard feels so appreciated.

“Violette Moreau. I work for House Fraldarius.” She then turns to Richard. “I was saying you put too much weight forward, keep your legs steady and that should help you land more hits. And before you ask, I also use a lance in combat.”

Richard has met this Violette twice and he already feels annoyed deep in his bones.

“Do you need something or are you just here to lecture me on my skills?”

Violette rolls her eyes while Fabrice elbows him in the side.

“We should keep an eye on each other during battle,” she says. “I know our battalions don’t always fight alongside each other, but when we do, we should make sure our lords don’t do something too reckless.”

Richard doesn’t know if he should feel grateful there’s someone else who shares his opinion.

“They can take care of themselves,” Fabrice points out, putting the hand not holding his axe on his hip. “And we can’t be on the lookout for every one of their moves.”

“Well, that’s why I enlist your help,” Violette says. “I’m getting tired of seeing Lord Fraldarius yell at us in frustration whenever Lord Gautier covers for him.”

There is nothing Fabrice can retort to this, and while Richard still feels conflicted about the whole sharing the same opinion as a girl who probably should still be in school, he jumps at the opportunity.

“Deal. Lord Gautier has the nasty of habit of pretending he’s immortal, so we’re also getting something out of this.”

Violette laughs, loudly.

***

Defending the monastery is easier when they have clear directions, but also when Prince Dimitri is here to be a one-man army decimating his enemies before they know he’s reached them. Richard has seen the horrors of the battlefield enough times to be desensitised, or at least let his brain wander somewhere that is not the macabre sight of bodies littering the ground, but he’s still caught off guard when he sees his prince in action. Five years of hiding and survival, driven by vengeance, would do that, he supposes.

They finish the battle without a hitch; some people sustained non-lethal injuries and are resting wherever they can, and the healers must be quite confused if not relieved by the prospect of not spending two days straight mending cuts or keeping someone alive.

Richard and the rest of the battalion head for the stables, tired but satisfied and at ease, for once. Fabrice nudges his arm.

“I know you were busy reaching those ballistas so you didn’t see, but Lord Gautier behaved today,” he whispers, glancing around probably to make sure nobody is listening in. “You should have seen the way everyone looked at him at the end of the battle, we were all so surprised that he wasn’t bleeding!”

“We shouldn’t even be able to joke about it,” Richard grumbles.

“I know, that’s why I’m a bit hysterical about it.”

Fabrice is someone who is usually level-headed and composed, never straying far from the path of knighthood, but Richard knows that he conceals a lot of mischief underneath all that principled front he displays. Between the two of them, the biggest gossip is undoubtedly Fabrice.

They tend to their horses for a while, reveling in the peaceful atmosphere that always follows post-battle. Then, Lord Gautier saunters in, leading his black mare to her box to take care of her. He insists on doing it himself since he apparently wants to have the most beautiful steed to head into battle, so everybody just lets him do whatever he wishes.

“Excellent job everyone!” he praises enthusiastically, as if they didn’t just witness imperial troops being torn apart by their own prince. “I’m glad you’re all safe.”

“We’re glad you’re safe, Lord Gautier,” Richard mutters, then yelps when Fabrice stomps on his foot.

However, Lord Gautier laughs boisterously, waving a hand around, not at all taking offense to this jab.

“Get some rest after this, you all deserved it. I, for one, am glad I can sleep tonight in a nice bed with charming company.”

The rule within this battalion is to keep quiet whenever Lord Gautier brings up his unsavory habits, at least until he’s walked away. Richard is pretty sure their liege is doing this on purpose to fuel the rumor mill for some goddamn reason, but that’s not his place to call him out on it—Lady Galatea is loud enough for all of them.

***

Two days later, in the dining hall eating fish cooked with too many spices, Richard is rudely interrupted during his meal by Violette slamming her tray on the table next to him, also startling Fabrice mid-bite.

“What do you want?” Richard groans.

“Look,” Violette hisses, jerking her chin towards the back of the room.

He glances at where she’s pointing at, then looks back at her.

“Lord Gautier and Lord Fraldarius are eating together. So what?”

“Am I the only one who’s not blind?” Violette whines almost childishly.

“If you are suggesting what I think you are, please stop,” Fabrice sputters, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. “Not only is it unappropriate, but it’s also not our business.”

“What? What am I missing?”

Richard attempts another peek at the two nobles, but he’s too far away to hear what they’re talking about and he only has view of Lord Gautier’s face. He’s smiling brightly, unable to stop speaking as he seemingly carries a conversation on his own, though he does sometimes pause and nods. Lord Fraldarius hasn’t left the table yet so their squabble from a few weeks ago must have been settled, or he’s about to get up and leave any time soon.

“They’re childhood friends,” Richard repeats a previous argument.

“I’ve worked for House Fraldarius for two years now, and I’ve never seen Lord Fraldarius so comfortable around someone,” Violette tells them in a conspiratorial tone.

“They’re childhood friends, miss Violette.”

“Lord Gautier is friendly with everyone,” Fabrice adds helpfully.

“There’s something we have to protect! Aymon agrees with me!”

Richard guesses Aymon is the black-haired man who was also spying on them the other day.

“How old are you, eleven?”

“I’m twenty, thank you very much!”

Fabrice makes a pained noise, while Richard heavily sighs. He did see this coming.

“You’re still a fucking child.”

Violette growls, stabbing her fish very threateningly, and Richard thinks that maybe he doesn’t deserve to be roped into this mess more than he intended—and that all started because he was bored and wanted to hear gossip.

***

The problem is that now, he can’t unsee it.

Working for House Gautier comes with the privilege of being associated with House Fraldarius. That wasn’t always the case, according to history, but the past years and the war against the Empire have made it clear that Lord Gautier values his friendship with Lord Fraldarius a lot; the five years during which Prince Dimitri was presumed dead, the armies of both territories would go on missions together, after Margrave Gautier and Duke Fraldarius exchanged information. Richard is familiar with House Fraldarius’s fighting style, if not with their lords.

He also knows that Lord Gautier isn’t fond of training (or rather, excessive training), so he can’t hide his surprise when he sees him with a training lance in hand, grinning at Lord Fraldarius who, as usual, looks about to murder someone. Fabrice wants to watch, though, and Richard doesn’t deny he’s a bit curious.

It comes as less of a surprise when Lord Gautier gets his ass handed to him, because Richard has learned early on that people from Fraldarius like being stealthy, quick and sneaky—all soldiers don’t fight this way, but Lord Fraldarius sure follows that trend. Lord Gautier didn’t stand a chance, with his heavy hits and defensive stance that seem to hold no more secrets for the other man.

“Do you think Lord Gautier is losing on purpose?” Fabrice whispers, a hand covering his mouth.

“I don’t think so. I wouldn’t last two seconds against Lord Fraldarius.” Richard shrugs.

It keeps happening; after dinner, Richard sees them heading to the training grounds, even when their men are inviting them to drink in town. Despite all the whining and complaining, Lord Gautier never refuses a spar, as if he enjoys getting beaten or flung around. His pout easily transforms into a blinding smile when he trails after his childhood friend (not that Richard is paying clear attention to his face, not really), and they immediately get to work not to waste precious time improving their technique. Lord Fraldarius looks the happiest when he has a sword in hand, eyes glinting with drive and face bright with anticipation.

If they’re not training together, sometimes they are just sitting in the gardens or near the pond to talk. Lord Gautier does most of the talking, but there is not doubt Lord Fraldarius is sporting a smile of his own, relaxed in a way that he never shows in front of his troops. Even when people are surrounding them, they always seem to be in a world nobody else has access to. Arms casually brushing, sitting close together, leaning their faces close to whisper something. It’s a bit… nice to see, maybe, but mostly it’s embarrassing, because Richard feels he’s intruding on something that he shouldn’t witness, oozing familiarity and serenity born of years of trust, so he always quickly leaves before he starts feeling even weirder.

Richard doesn’t mean to follow them, he just happens to stumble upon their private meetings because apparently the Goddess has decided he will invest his entire time to collecting evidence of the strong bond between Lord Gautier and Lord Fraldarius. That doesn’t mean he believes they are a thing, since he can hardly imagine their fickle skirt-chasing lord settling down with anyone, but the more he looks, the more he realizes that Lord Gautier’s entire posture has rid itself of excessive pressure and that if he spends time with Lord Fraldarius, he has few opportunities left to go around picking up girls. It’s all hypothetical, of course, as Richard doesn’t keep his eyes glued to their every move, but perhaps there is some truth in their assumption.

And, well, at least Lord Fraldarius knows how much trouble Lord Gautier is.

***

Richard is going to lose his mind.

Not only are they boiling and getting cooked by the heat of the Valley of Torment and walking on the ground that is more lava than rubble, he has to listen to Lord Gautier’s complaining about being too hot when everyone is too hot. And they’re saving water in case something bad happens, as if they haven’t made sure their little expedition goes unnoticed.

“Shut up,” Lord Fraldarius growls, probably just as fed up with Lord Gautier’s voice as everyone else. “If you keep thinking it’s too hot, then you’ll feel it even more, idiot.”

“Actual advice from you, Felix? I’m touched.”

Richard wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and immediately regrets it when he remembers he’s wearing gauntlets and they fucking burn, Goddess fucking damn it.

“It’s my last advice to you, before I leave you here to rot.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you’d miss my presence that brings light to your life!”

“If you have enough energy to say nonsense, then you’re fine.”

Why did Richard decide to walk at the front? He isn’t even a high-ranking soldier in the battalion, he could have just stayed in the back rows of the battalion for his own peace of mind. Nobody is faring well enough to give a damn about formation, even Byleth seems to be focused on where her feet are carrying her while Sir Gilbert pretends he isn’t melting on the spot. Fabrice hasn’t said a word since they’ve entered the Valley, and Richard would have thought he got left behind if it weren’t for his hand gripping his arm from time to time for support.

“Are you seriously keeping your jacket? I can see smoke coming off your head, Felix, aren’t you hot?”

“Of course I’m hot, we’re surrounded by fucking lava!”

Richard tries very, very hard to invent telepathy by staring at the back of Lord Gautier’s head to tell him to keep his lips sealed, but unfortunately, he’s only a soldier wielding a lance with barely any affinity with magic.

“Not as hot as me!”

If Lord Gautier dies today at the hands of Lord Fraldarius, he probably deserved it.

The battle, though. Knights are trained to fight in all types of weather, but that doesn’t mean they’re good at it—it takes a huge toll on their body and their mind to so much as stay upright, so swinging around a weapon sounds like a tremendous effort. It’s regretful to see that House Rowe is the one who stands in their way, but at least they’re not better prepared than them in these conditions.

Richard didn’t bring his horse to avoid having another live being to give water to, so now he’s fighting alongside other foot soldiers, including Violette and Aymon, the latter holding a sword. The cavalrymen are trying to clear a path for them to finish off the enemies, which means that Lord Gautier is up there killing his opponents in one fell swoop with the atrocity that is the Lance of Ruin. Richard tries not to think about being impaled by the teeth of the lance and focuses on his own fight.

“You think you can shoot down that damn mage over the lava river?” he asks Aymon, who has a bow strapped to his back.

He nods sharply, and immediately switches weapons. Richard has been trying to dodge the thunderbolts but it’s getting increasingly frustrating to do so with all the swinging and the running around. He also doesn’t want to tempt fate and let the mage unleash a stronger spell to scatter their formation.

Violette is light on her feet, showing that despite her young age she knows what she’s doing and that she’s been training just as seriously as they have all been. Richard is impressed, but he isn’t going to tell her that.

“You take right, I take left?” Richard grins at her, and she huffs but doesn’t protest.

Their movements are sluggish at worst, and clumsy at best, but they still manage to make quick work of their enemies. Aymon has resorted to exclusively shooting arrows while Richard and Violette twirl their lances. The enemy forces are all over the place, probably panicked at seeing their numbers decreasing at rapid pace, so Richard thinks it safe to scan his surroundings to make sure no bad surprise will spring on him.

The surprise does stay away from him, but his eyes widen and his mouth is already forming words, but his warning comes too late.

“Lord Fraldarius, behind you!”

Lord Fraldarius whirls around, a flurry of blue and white, but he’s not fast enough to dodge the arrow that mercilessly gets buried in his stomach. Violette is cursing somewhere on his side and she rushes to her lord, while Richard and Aymon are left dealing with the remaining soldiers that won’t back down, even when they hear the arrival of Duke Fraldarius’s troops.

When Richard strikes down his last opponent, he hears the frantic galloping of a familiar black mare and he catches a glimpse of Lord Gautier cutting his way through people to get to Lord Fraldarius’s side, who stubbornly tries to stay standing despite Violette’s protests. Richard is too far away to know exactly what is going on, but he sees how agitated Lord Gautier is, hovering near his friend and wildly gesturing to his horse, most likely attempting to convince him to get on it. There is a lot of blood for a single injury, so maybe all this fussing is warranted if Lord Fraldarius is hiding further injuries. Richard surveys his surroundings one last time, then when he’s sure everything is fine, he pats Aymon on the back and he joins his liege, just in time to see him hauling Lord Fraldarius on his horse without a care in the world. Unsurprisingly, there is a lot of yelling involved.

“Put me down, Sylvain! The battle isn’t over yet!”

“Lord Rodrigue has arrived, things will be fine. You’re bleeding, do you want me to leave you here and die?”

“I’ve had worse in the past!”

“You’re already on the horse, Felix, stop arguing with me.”

Lord Gautier dumps Lord Fraldarius on his mare, mounts it and rolls his eyes when he sees Richard staring.

“You guys see what I have to put up with every day?” Lord Gautier chuckles, though his usual cheer is absent.

“I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with you in the same way,” Richard informs him flatly.

“Don’t talk like this to your liege,” Violette hisses.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m used to Richard’s encouraging words.” Lord Gautier sounds a little more genuine. “I’ll leave the rest to you while I go look for Mercedes. Duke Fraldarius is taking care of the Gray Lion as we speak, go assist him if everything’s cleared on this side.”

He adjusts Lord Fraldarius in his lap, carefully not jostling him too much, almost cradling him with the way he’s holding onto his waist, while the swordsman seems to struggle not to cling to him for better purchase, all of this under Richard’s, Violette’s and Aymon’s eyes.

“Come on Felix, I’m not letting you fall but get a good grip on me, yeah?”

“Shut up,” Lord Fraldarius grumbles, but he does slump against Lord Gautier and one of his arm finds its way behind Lord Gautier’s back, his fingers curling around his waist.

Lord Gautier then kicks into his horse side and off he goes.

Richard is tired.

“Can I quit,” he says to no one in particular.

Aymon chokes on his snickering. “Can you do it after the war? You’re a good fighter.”

“Well, if these two men that are supposed to be our future leaders don’t kill me first, I hope the war will.”

“Stop saying nonsense and get to work,” Violette sighs.

***

Fabrice howls with laughter.

Richard thinks that he wouldn’t be laughing so much if he were there to witness the whole scene at the Valley of Torment. Some friend he is.

“Come on, don’t tell me you believe what Violette is saying,” Fabrice wheezes. “You seemed to find the idea preposterous.”

“I still do,” Richard grumbles, putting his face in his hands. “But I have to admit they’re driving me crazy. Their behaviors are driving me crazy. Look!”

The dining hall is full of soldiers coming from Fraldarius territory. Duke Fraldarius was seen with Byleth not long ago to discuss some plans or to deliver information, and it’s no secret that he doesn’t get along with his son. Lord Fraldarius has been avoiding communal places so naturally, Lord Gautier played the errand boy for him. Richard, once again, is definitely not eavesdropping, but he overheard his liege saying that Lord Fraldarius will starve if nobody takes care of him. He looked a bit too happy to do it.

Right now, they’re sitting side by side in the far corner of the hall, across Lady Galatea who probably has gone through their banter and their nonsense her whole life. They’re animatedly talking about one thing or another while Lord Fraldarius is shoveling food in his mouth, most likely to get out of here as soon as possible, shrugging off Lord Gautier’s hand that keeps falling on his shoulder to nudge him into the conversation. Richard bets his first born that anyone else would have had their arm chopped off.

Lord Gautier leans close, invading Lord Fraldarius’s space like he has all the rights to do so to whisper something, and that must have been one time too many because Lord Fraldarius puts his palm on his friend’s whole face to push him away, cheeks red and uncaring of the muffled protest tumbling out of Lord Gautier’s mouth. Lady Galatea sighs, and so does Richard.

“See? They’re acting like… like teenagers.”

“I think it’s nice to see them so carefree outside of battle,” Fabrice says, thoughtfully. “The war made us all grow up too fast, so we shouldn’t expect them to be so mature, even if they’re our lieges.”

Richard frowns. He glances back at Lord Gautier, his eternal grin plastered on his face as he dodges Lord Fraldarius’s batting. There is something easy in their interaction, not shackled by expectation or image. Faerghan nobility has always valued appearances and the prestige of their names, but war doesn’t care about these titles—they have to prove themselves and how helpful they can be during this conflict. Gautier and Fraldarius are the last resisting forces against the Empire, and they can’t afford to fail. Maybe everyone is fighting like it’s their last battle, though a lot of knights, the heirs of these Houses included, must fight like it’s the first to many others.

“Relaxing and being ourselves are our only respite,” Fabrice adds with a smile.

Richard relents. “Alright. If they’re still teenagers deep down, then there’s nothing else we can do to put them out of their misery.”

“You’re not that old yourself.”

“I’m a grown adult, thank you very much.”

Fabrice pats him on the back, chuckling to himself as Richard glances one last time at the two heirs, now comfortably pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder.

***

“You… want to know what I’ll do after the war?”

“Yeah, I realized I haven’t been the most communicative with my troops.”

Lord Gautier is grinning from ear to ear, casually leaning against the frame of the wall where Richard is tending to his horse. It’s early in the morning, barely moments after the sun has risen, and Richard doesn’t remember a time his liege has gotten up so readily during those five years following the start of the war.

“I don’t know, we have to win the war first,” he answers slowly.

“Don’t be such a pessimist, just imagine victory is already ours and tell me about your plans!”

It’s a weird question, but a legitimate one. He’s brought up the topic with Fabrice once or twice, only to kill time, without any real intent to act on what they’ve shared.

“I guess I’ll keep being a knight, offer my services for the Crown and help where I’m needed. I don’t have much of an idea, really.”

Lord Gautier hums thoughtfully, looking at the sky and a finger tapping against his chin.

“I guess that’s what most knights will do,” he says. “The continent won’t be at peace right after we defeat the Empire.”

“That would be extremely naive of people who think otherwise,” Richard comments. “Why are you asking me this? Do you have something in mind?”

Lord Gautier shrugs, his smile fading a little but still firmly in place.

“Not a lot of people have told me they’re going to leave everything behind and start a family, or go back to their loved ones. I thought that they’d rejoice at the prospect of quitting and living peacefully.”

Richard has thought about this, of course. He has thought about living in a comfortable house, doing paperwork and going wherever he wanted to fulfill whatever whim of the day he feels. But he’s been raised as a knight, has shaped his entire life around the concept of knighthood, and after spending so much time swinging a lance and riding in terrible Faerghus weather, he doesn’t know how else he can live.

“Maybe those people can’t picture what this kind of life will be,” Richard suggests. “I can’t, for my part. If I had someone to return to or if I had a dream completely different from what I have now, maybe I’d quit to pursue it.”

He thinks about his conversation Fabrice, about expectations and staying true to themselves, and smiles at Lord Gautier.

“Some people want to do their own thing, others like being swept by the flow of life, even if that’s not what they truly want. For now I’m just content continuing what I’m doing.” He pauses, studying Lord Gautier’s face that betrays none of his thoughts. “Does that answer your question?”

Lord Gautier, Richard has learned in the past few months, is someone who thinks a lot. He likes displaying a happy front and the whole battalion pretends they’re sick of his exuberant behavior, but Richard knows they all appreciate it, himself included. Lord Gautier thinks a lot but doesn’t share how his mind works with his soldiers, so this little heart-to-heart is most likely the closest he’s allowing himself to lay bare his thoughts.

“Thanks for your honesty, Richard,” Lord Gautier says warmly, unsticking himself from the wall to clap him on the shoulder. “I hope you’ll keep working for me in the long run.”

“Well, I just said I don’t know what else I’d be doing if I quit being a knight,” Richard snorts.

And Lord Gautier laughs at that, waving with his hand held above his head even as he’s walking away.

***

On their way to Gronder Field, riding miserably in uncertain lands with morale at varying degrees, Violette slides next to him despite the fact her battalion is all the way in the back.

“I don’t like this,” she announces, face scrunched up and unhappy. “Lord Fraldarius is on edge. I think he fought with Duke Fraldarius and His Highness again.”

“That’s not unusual, why are you telling me that?”

“That means as a soldier of his battalion, I’ll have to work harder to watch over him, since he’s going to be more agitated.”

Richard knows he’s mocked her for her age, but to be quite honest, Violette is packed with more maturity and wisdom than most.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Richard sighs, and Violette smiles gratefully at him.

When they set up camp a little after sundown, it’s Fabrice who tugs on his arm to point at Lord Gautier hovering near Lord Fraldarius. They are setting up their own tents, and even though Lord Fraldarius has his back turned to Lord Gautier, it’s evident he’s listening; his movements are brisk but his posture isn’t so stiff he’s rejecting the idea of conversation. They speak quietly, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears. The upcoming battle isn’t a nice one and everyone is a bundle of nerves waiting to explode.

However, Lord Fraldarius is slowly turning his head, facing Lord Gautier without lashing out at him, which shouldn’t feel as extraordinary as it does. Lord Gautier wraps an arm around his shoulders, and still lives. They are still murmuring, tents forgotten.

Richard averts his eyes. He’s seen enough of their familiarity and the intimacy of their exchange to know that it’s not his place to judge. There are some things he’s not aware of, some events he’s not privy to, so he can’t understand the extent of their relationship—and if they’re happy and satisfied with what they have, then he’s glad for them.

***

The Battle at Gronder is a mitigated disaster. The Prince of Faerghus has come back to his senses at the cost of many of their soldiers’ lives, including Duke Fraldarius.

Richard is too exhausted by the fighting and too relieved at seeing his companions alive to truly process what this entails. The journey back to the monastery is silent and oppressive, and it’s only when they’ve reached the gates that people really start talking. Byleth and the generals of their army don’t call for a war council right away, to no one’s surprise. They all spend a day recuperating and trying to put some order in their personal feelings.

“This sucks,” Richard mumbles, rolling a piece of bread between his fingers, sitting on the stairs facing the pond.

“I feel so bad for Lord Fraldarius,” Aymon sniffles. “We should have been faster.”

“The girl was already one step ahead of us,” Violette grumbles, but her voice is wavering. “I wish I knew what I could say.”

“Sometimes, words mean nothing.”

Fabrice is looking at the darkening sky, deep in thought. Richard has always quietly admired his friend’s resolve and strength in times like these, but maybe he only saw what he wanted to, since Fabrice is clearly not holding it together as well as he’s thought.

Nobody in the Gautier battalion comments on the absence of their liege for several consecutive days at meal times or in the stables. The most they see of him is a blur of red and black running from one point to another, giving a tight smile to whoever looking at him or a wave to people he’s closer to. Richard doesn’t have the heart to ask him if he’s alright, because the answer is obvious when Lord Fraldarius still hasn’t left the training grounds. There is no proof either of them is sleeping.

This doesn’t last long, though. A week passes, and Byleth organizes a strategy meeting which Lord Gautier and Lord Fraldarius attend to. While Lord Gautier offers a tired smile to his troops, Lord Fraldarius remains silent. He looks like death has nearly claimed him, eyes heavy with loss, body stiff and guarded. Lord Gautier sticks close to him and guides him towards the meeting room, although Lord Fraldarius draws away from the touch like he’s been burned. They don’t quite look at each other either, there are fleeting glances that everybody seems to notice but doesn’t acknowledge. It’s uncomfortable to watch, and Richard feels bad for being glad he doesn’t need to step into the room with them.

Fabrice taps him on the shoulder and they go wait in the knights’ hall. Violette and Aymon are probably training or having a meeting of their own with the other Fraldarius soldiers; Richard is struck by the thought that he now seeks their company, when all this started with something as trivial as gossip. They were bound to see each other around, given their affiliations with their Houses, but it’s… pleasing to think of them as friends.

“Goddess, let’s hope this war ends soon,” Richard deeply sighs, and Fabrice nods his assent.

When Lord Gautier announces they plan on taking back Fhirdiad, expression a bit softer than the last time they saw him, everyone’s shoulders sag with visible relief, and Richard wants to believe that maybe the end isn’t that far away.

***

Lord Fraldarius doesn’t act any differently—he’s still harsh, all sharp edges and not mincing his words, but the tension in his body has lessened somewhat, or so Violette reports. Richard knows that Lord Gautier isn’t glued to his side anymore, so maybe that’s a factor to take into account, though the most likely reason for this appeased Lord Fraldarius must be Prince Dimitri’s look that’s not haunted anymore.

Richard still keeps a close eye on Lord Gautier, because his tendencies to get injured haven’t decreased one bit and the elation at the prospect of saving their people is a bit too palpable in the air. Richard usually isn’t the one to remain clear-headed, but it’s never too late to start acting responsibly, he supposes.

They rush through the city and storm the castle as fast as possible, not wishing to inflict more pain on these people who have suffered at the hands of Cornelia for so long. Richard’s lance has never felt both so heavy and so light at the same time, driven by adrenaline alone as he follows orders without even thinking, trusting his commander to make the right decision at such a critical time. Fabrice is a constant at his side and watches his back; Lord Gautier is laser-focused, speaking clearly and swinging the Lance of Ruin for deathly blows. The assaults are effective, even when these magical defense mechanisms slow their advance.

They win. The roar of the battle comes to a halt when Prince Dimitri takes Cornelia’s life, and the entire army shouts with joy.

“We took our Kingdom back!”

“We should celebrate!”

And celebrate they do. Richard is sore and can’t feel his legs anymore after riding and fighting for such a prolonged time, but his face is stuck in a grin and he pats the back of everyone he comes across, ruffles Violette’s hair even when she yelps, and puts his elbow on Fabrice’s shoulder as he peers at the food they found in the castle, for a hastily made buffet to the delight of many.

Glasses of alcohol are served and eventually whole bottles are passed around, and Richard is too busy eating and drinking to notice that most of their generals are also enjoying themselves and loosening up. He suspects Violette possesses a sixth sense to spot him in crowds as she pushes her way through to stand next to him and aggressively points towards the balcony.

“They went outside,” she says in what should be a whisper, but comes out very loud.

Richard glances at the double doors giving on the balcony, then shakes his head.

“Leave them be, Violette,” he replies not unkindly. “Today’s a day of celebration. They probably have things to say to each other, or something.”

Violette bristles and she glares at him, folding her arms and not looking as intimidating as she wants to with the flush on her face.

“I’m just hoping they’ll do… something,” she mutters. “I want them to be happy.”

And Richard is reminded yet again of how young Violette is compared to him, but only a couple years younger than the people they’re talking about.

“You care for your liege, huh?” he asks gently.

“Of course I do, I’m supposed to fight and protect House Fraldarius. That’s how I’ve decided to live.”

“Then let them decide what they want for themselves at their own pace.”

They’ve reconquered Fhirdiad and they’ve had a taste of what victory feels like. Their minds are muddled with this euphoria and they’re only thinking about how good it is to have control over something in this war, especially after what happened at Gronder Field. It’s a natural reaction to what they’ve been through—so rushing into happiness and desires isn’t on anyone’s radar, especially not on Lord Gautier’s and Lord Fraldarius’s. There is still a shadow cast on their future and the outcome of this campaign. That’s what Richard thinks, anyway, in this party where it’s easy to indulge in small pleasures.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. They always will have each other.”

Violette frowns, though her features relax and she nods. Richard then shoos her away to get a drink, but she insists on having one herself, so he ends up making sure she doesn’t pass out in the middle of the hall all night, to Fabrice and Aymon’s amusement.

***

They save Claude von Riegan, and they get to enjoy a few days in Derdriu as they prepare for their next march. They don’t get to sightsee but they still enjoy the maritime air and the architecture of the city so different from what they’ve seen in Faerghus and everywhere else.

When they’re about to depart, Lord Gautier laments not being able to stay longer.

“It’d be nice to come back after the war,” he says, and smiles at the army, but he quickly turns his head towards Lord Fraldarius walking next to him.

“That’s assuming we win,” Lord Fraldarius grumbles.

“I feel confident in our victory, actually. We’ve come so far, we have to keep fighting and things will go smoothly. We need to have faith in ourselves, stuff like that, you know how it goes.”

Lord Fraldarius eyes him not with annoyance or skepticism, but like he’s assessing him to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. Lord Gautier keeps smiling, and when the silence stretches for a bit too long, he reaches for Lord Fraldarius’s unprotected shoulder and squeezes, face a bit more open and sincere.

“Besides, Derdriu will make a good vacation spot, don’t you think?”

Richard shouldn’t even be expecting the old reactions, now, because Lord Fraldarius doesn’t snap at Lord Gautier, as he simply shrugs, voice calm and leveled.

“I guess. I’m not surprised you’d think about slacking off.”

“You know me so well, running away from my responsibilities is like a sports to me.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

Lord Gautier snickers, hand still on Lord Fraldarius’s shoulder, and they don’t say another word.

Richard remembers a conversation about pursuing dreams and knowing what to do, about following a pattern or carving your own path. He’s getting too old if he’s pondering on all those philosophical questions when it’s not even about himself.

***

Taking Fort Merceus is brutal.

Penetrating the city of Enbarr is worse, with Hubert von Vestra acting as a master of strategy and showing no mercy.

The battle at the castle of Enbarr is a painful endeavor that will go down in history not only for being the event that marks the dawn of the unification of Fódlan, but also for its gruesomeness leaving behind countless bodies and curtains stained with blood.

Richard can’t quite believe it. He stands with Fabrice in front of the throne room, guarding it with their lives while their future king seizes victory, and when the doors slam open, the two leading figures of their army emerging from behind, it feels like a dream. But it’s real, it’s the present they’re living in and the one they’re building.

“The Empire is no more,” His Highness exclaims. “Emperor Edelgard has been defeated.”

Richard closes his eyes and breathes in, as the roars or joy and celebration reach his ears.

***

There is still much to discuss and many details to take care of in Enbarr, but they all eventually need to go home in Faerghus to establish political plans and other noble affairs Richard isn’t privy to. Lord Gautier addresses his troops the morning of their march back to Gautier territory, bright as ever though Richard now recognizes how strained his smile can be.

“It’s time we go home. I know we just got out of a war, but I suspect we won’t be able to rest for a while. When has Faerghus or other parts of the continent ever been free of unrest?”

Some knights laugh nervously at the reminder of the situation Faerghus has been in ever since the death of King Lambert, and Richard has to admit he doesn’t remember a period of total peace. Living at the border with Sreng means the battles won't stop unless they agree on a treaty that will involve negotiations some higher-ups probably aren't ready for yet.

“However, if you wish to leave this life of struggle and battle behind, I won't stop you. You all deserve a future that's not carved in blood.”

He's giving them a choice even though he perfectly knows that a lot of them doesn't have anything else besides their weapon and his orders.

“Well, you've been informed of your freedom to choose to live in the woods among birds and fish instead of waking up every morning to go through drills that will make you sweat. I for one would love to sleep all day.”

This elicits a more genuine and carefree laugh, and Richard smiles.

The entire army moves back to Faerghus. Those who want to go back to their hometown leave one by one, Ashe Ubert returns to Gaspard, Lady Galatea takes her battalion to her territory, and Prince Dimitri along with Annette Dominic and Mercedes von Martritz, as well as Dedue Molinaro, take the path to Fhirdiad. Richard expects them to go too, but apparently Lord Fraldarius has matters to settle first in his own estate before joining His Highness for the coronation preparations.

However, Richard doesn’t raise questions at all when Lord Gautier doesn't lead them further North.

The Fraldarius Castle is big enough to accommodate them all, and the stables aren't of the quality of the Gautier's but they serve their purpose. Lord Fraldarius tells them they're free to do as they please so long they don't destroy property or do anything stupid, which means they should make themselves scarce.

It’s quiet. Winning a war and discussing the next political moves should have brought more chaos than this airy mood, but Richard isn’t complaining. As knights, they’re not at the heart of these meetings and they have no business knowing what is decided behind closed doors. He’s content just training and basking in the rays of sunshine they have at midday, and enjoying this new routine.

Violette is excited to show them around the castle, despite the fact she probably knows it’s not their first time setting foot here, but Richard lets her have her fun. They’re currently sitting at a table in the gardens, where she insists it’s fine for them to be, sipping tea and admiring the flowers that seem to have been carefully taken care of.

“Duke Fraldarius loved the gardens,” Violette informs them with a nod.

Fabrice makes small talk and Aymon is eager to tell the history of the estate, and Richard looks around, spotting two figures striding towards another part of the castle. Lord Gautier is talking earnestly with grand gestures, while Lord Fraldarius has his head slightly inclined but he’s without a doubt focused on the words he’s hearing. They make such a natural sight—walking side by side, looking at each other and listening to every word like they hold an universal truth in them. Lord Fraldarius turns his head and points to something, and Lord Gautier follows the finger with his eyes before he quickly drops his gaze and shifts his attention to the longer ponytail that’s bouncing with every step Lord Fraldarius makes. He casually brushes the strands of hair with his fingers and his mouth is moving, which must have been an unwanted comment because Lord Fraldarius startles and inches away, but Lord Gautier’s laughter resounds loudly.

Richard squints, as the two of them are drawing further away, but he catches the glimpse of a colorful leather band that he’s sure he never saw during the war. It’s a deep red that matches well with Lord Fraldarius’s dark hair, like it’s the only color he will allow on his person that’s not the customary Faerghus blue. Richard doesn’t believe he understands who Lord Fraldarius really is, nor does he pretend he fully understands his own liege, but at that moment, surrounded by familiar walls and an idyllic landscape, he thinks that it’s not strange at all to see them roaming Castle Fraldarius like they belong there.

***

Some people left for Gautier territory in advance and most likely won’t be present for the coronation ceremony, but it was their choice. Lord Gautier hasn’t expressed the desire to visit his parents despite the current situation, and the days pass until it is time to go back to Fhirdiad. Richard thinks that his liege has made a decision that goes beyond simple pettiness by not going home yet.

“Do you have dreams, Lord Gautier?”

They’re only a handful of Gautier knights left in Fraldarius now, so Richard isn’t too worried about potential eavesdropping and leaking information. The stables are big enough that their conversation won’t carry to other people’s ears, and judging by Lord Gautier’s easy smile, he knows it. There is something like approval in his eyes.

“Everyone has dreams,” he answers. “I remember you said you don’t know what else you’ll do if you weren’t a knight, but surely you look forward to something in life.”

“That’s another way to put things into perspective, I guess.”

Lord Gautier nods, crossing his arms over his chest, and waits. Spending time in Fraldarius without the heavy weight of immediate responsibility abated the guarded look he’s had on his face for months.

“I feel you have something else to say,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

Richard grins. “I’m glad to keep working for you, milord. Your safety on the battlefield has always been my priority and sometimes you really made it difficult to keep you in one piece.”

Lord Gautier laughs at this, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand like he didn’t cause major anxiety for his troops for years, but Richard doesn’t hold it against him anymore.

“I’ve followed your orders and I’ll continue to do so. If you decide that your dreams aren’t in Gautier territory and you need an escort, or someone to keep your secrets… well, let’s say you’ve gained some trustworthy soldiers in this army.”

This. This catches Lord Gautier off guard, painting surprise on his features as his mouth falls slightly open, though he quickly composes himself and puts his hands on his hips.

“What are you saying, exactly?” he asks, almost demands.

“I think you can follow your own dreams, and that you’ve already started.” Richard shakes his head. “I apologize if I’m being too presumptuous. I simply wanted to say that whatever you decide, there will be someone supporting you. As a knight, it’s not my place to tell you what you should be doing, but you are also deserving of happiness, Lord Gautier.” He pauses to take a breath, and smiles. “You’re comfortable here.”

Richard has no desire to push further. Lord Gautier is perfectly capable of choosing a path that will suit him without the meddling of one of his knights. Richard can only try to convey how much he believes in him.

Lord Gautier remains silent for a while, processing everything. He stares at a point past Richard’s head, but it’s not a vacant look like one would expect—it’s full of wonders, considering the meaning behind each word. Then the corner of his lips lifts up as he looks at Richard again.

“Thanks for your support, Richard. The world needs more people like you.”

Richard shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “I’m happy to help, milord.”

***

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is crowned King of Fódlan, acclaimed by his people and counseled by his most trusted friends. Change is slowly brought into the continent, and it will be years before peace truly settles.

Some knights who fought in the war get promoted, others do quit to lead a life free of battle. Richard is one of the former, leading a small force of his own in Gautier territory to chase away bandits and to keep foreign invasions at bay.

Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius is renown for his swordsmanship that makes every warrior in Fódlan tremble with fear, but his sharp tongue is another one of his weapons that nobles in court don’t wish to be subjected to. And Lord Sylvain Jose Gautier, son of Margrave Gautier, appears at his side more often than not, travels from one territory to another and stops by the capital, but never stays long in Gautier. When he does spend time in his estate, accompanied by Duke Fraldarius, it’s to travel even further North, to Sreng, for talks that Margrave Gautier can’t forbid. The negotiations will take even longer than peace to be agreed upon, but Lord Gautier is relentless in this battle that’s his to fight.

Neither Duke Fraldarius nor Lord Gautier married, despite the pressure their councils put on them. When Richard sees Duke Fraldarius in Fhirdiad or at the Gautier estate, hair tied in a ponytail with a red leather band, he smiles to himself and can’t imagine any other ending.

[crimefightingspiderguy]

the moment i knew

Summary: You get the chance to go back in time with the Avengers, you get the chance to see him again.

Inspired by: This piece by @revengingbarnes . I loved the concept of going back and interacting with Loki, but I thought it might be fun to explore the other time we get to see past Loki in Endgame :). Also, the title is totally a Taylor Swift song title, but it has nothing to do with the song. 

Warnings: Maybe spoilers for Endgame and Infinity War, but I’m not sorry because it’s been long enough lol

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word count: 1,728

A/N: If anyone feels this piece is too close to @revengingbarnes ‘, especially if they see this and believe that, please let me know and I will immediately take it down (I tried to just use the prompt as inspo, and keep the rest as different as possible, but using other works as inspo can be a fine line to walk if you’re not careful, and the last thing I’d want to do is to steal anyone’s hard work). If not, I hope everyone enjoys my first piece in a very long time. 

     This was it. The time to finally redo everything. The chance that you all had been searching for 5 years. You all were finally going to be able to go back and collect the infinity stones and undo everything that Thanos did. Well, almost everything. You couldn’t change the fact that Loki was gone, you couldn’t change the fact that you had stood by, while you watched Thanos snap the life out of him. Memories of that moment flash through your head. 

     You and Loki had for some reason been spared by Thanos and his followers, you were safe, you both were. That was until Thanos began asking for the tesseract. Loki denied knowing where it was, but you knew he was lying. You knew that he had taken it last minute from Asgard. That was when Loki created an illusion of himself to pull you away to safety. He told you to stay behind the doorway while all of Thanos’ followers were preoccupied with Thor and Loki. He told you that he loved you, that he needed you to stay here, to stay safe. You couldn’t touch this Loki, but he stayed by your side to make up for not being able to hold your hand. You watched the scene unfold before you. Thor getting tortured, Loki giving in and “pledging” his allegiance to Thanos. Then it happened. Loki pulled out his knife and attempted to kill Thanos. You felt your throat close up, instead of a scream you were silenced and held in place. You saw Loki had his hand behind his back pointing at you, and you knew he was holding you there. The Loki beside you whispered an I love you as he slowly faded out, and your release was brought by a loud crack. You fell to the ground and stared in horror.

     You shake your head as you tune back into Captain America’s speech about teamwork or something. You weren’t really sure what you were even doing here, given that you weren’t an Avenger. They all knew you, but only because you attempted to help them stop Loki in the Battle of New York, you wanted to bring him home though, you could have cared less what happened to these people and their planet. This time heist wasn’t to benefit you necessarily since Loki couldn’t be brought back, but when Thor asked for your help because he couldn’t do this alone (definitely not in his current state), you couldn’t refuse him. 

     You were in the group with Thor and Rocket, and your goal was to retrieve the Ether. You all had synced up when ready, and off you went into the known unknown. You had landed on Asgard in Thor’s palace somewhere in the lower grounds. 

     “Alright, we need to get to wherever Jane is, have lover-boy here distract her, while you keep a lookout and I poke her with this and steal the Ether from her. Got it?” Rocket said to you, making sure the plan was clear to everyone. You just nodded, and the three of you began wandering, trying to figure out where Jane might be right now. 

     “Wait for a second, if we’re where I think we are… and at the right time… he should be…” You had been in this castle a billion times throughout your lifetime, and hiding in the dungeon was your go-to during hiding and seek games with Loki. You stopped dead in your tracks as you looked into the cell holding a man throwing a small object up and down. 

     “We don’t have time for this, let’s go.” Rocket tried pushing you as quietly as possible. 

     “No… leave her, let’s go on. She needs this.” Thor said, understanding. Pulling Rocket behind him.

     You cleared your throat once they had left, “Hello”. Loki slowly turned his head to look at you, but he didn’t say anything, just glared. It then hit you, he was in here partly because of you. You helped bring him down and back to Asgard. Of course, it wasn’t your intention to have him imprisoned, but he was none the wiser. Loki looked up and down at your attire and gave you a puzzled look. He stood up and walked over to the force field containing him, and a slight smile grew on his face. 

     “You’re not from this time” You knew there was no point in trying to hide this from him, given how clever he was, he was bound to put two and two together. 

     “No, I’m not. So the me you currently know, and the you I last knew are two different people. But both of them I loved.” You weren’t going to beat around the bush with him. You knew you didn’t have that much time with him. 

     “You do not love me. You could lock someone you love away to rot?” Loki shook his head at you softly.

     “I know you think I locked you away, but I didn’t want this. I wanted you to come home because I loved you.” Loki takes a pause, pondering his next question.

     “You say loved, in the past tense. I die in your time, I take it?” You nod, answering his question. “Did you try to save me?”

      “You wouldn’t let me. Your last action was sacrificing yourself to save me and your brother.” Loki nods and considers this. 

     “Then I loved you as well?” You nod again. “When?” This question confused you, and he could tell, so he clarified. “When did I tell you I loved you?” 

     You thought about that exact moment,

     You sat side by side with Loki, in absolute silence. His mother had just been murdered, and you came to deliver the news with him. The guard, under the circumstances, allowed you in his cell with him. Loki began throwing things and screaming in anger once the words left your mouth, but you did not flinch. Once he fell to the ground, back to the wall, exhausted, you sat silently next to him and took his hand. At first, you felt him try to pull away, but you gripped tighter, and he relaxed. You stayed like this for at least an hour, unmoving, except for your thumb drawing circles on the back of Loki’s hand. That’s when he said it. The faintest whisper of I love you. The first I love you is the same as the last. 

     You brought yourself back to this Loki, looked up at him with glossed over eyes, “Today”

     “Took me long enough.” He smiled at you.

     “What?” It was your turn to ask the questions. Your Loki had never told you anything about how long he had loved you. He had always told you, that was his secret to keep until he felt it you needed to be reminded just how much he loved you.

     “I’ve been in love with you, for far too long to have kept it to myself much longer.”

     “When did you know?” You had to at least know this before you had to return to your reality without Loki.

     “When we were a bit younger, do you remember the day that we sat in the center tree in the castles’ garden? It was shortly after Odin had told me I was a Frost Giant.” You simply nod, not wanting to interrupt him. “I didn’t know how to tell you, so I made my hand slowly turn blue. If you got scared, I would tell you it was a new trick I had learned. If you didn’t, I would tell you my secret. When it turned blue, you looked at it with amazement, you asked me how I did it, and when I told you… you didn’t even flinch. Your smile grew ten times wider. I was so scared you would run away, but you stayed. You held my hand and stayed. That’s when I knew. Looking into the eyes that held wonder and excitement, not horror and disgust.” You smiled at the memory. That was a good day for you, you remembered spending the day laughing and being carefree with Loki, while your time together dwindled away, unbeknownst you. “Every day since then, I’ve found a new reason to love you. Even while I was away, I thought of you and your memory kept me strong. Even locked away in this cage, I pass the time by thinking about your laugh, or the slight glow of your hair in the sun, it keeps me sane.” 

     “You have no idea how much I needed that, thank you.” You smiled at him, but you had a feeling he did know and that’s why he told you.

     “When did you know?” He asked you. You also never told your Loki when you realized your love for him. You always bargained his story for yours, but he held strong.

     “The first time I made you laugh.” 

     “How do you even remember that?” Loki asked, obviously not remembering the moment you were talking about.

     “It took me 3 years to get you to laugh. That’s why I remember. It was the dumbest thing too. I told you some stupid jokes about the book I was reading that day and you laughed. You finally laughed at something I had said. Obviously, that itself isn’t what made me realize I loved you. It was when I realized that I had kept track of you not laughing at any of my jokes for 3 years. It was when I realized that your laugh had been everything I hoped it would be. It was when I realized that I was going to do everything in my power to hear that laugh again, even if it took me another 3 years.” You smiled at the memory, it filled you with a warmth that no other memory could.

     “I love you,” Loki said, through a laugh. He grinned at you.

     Your suit pulled over your body as you saw Rocket and Thor running towards you chased by guards. They were sinking up with you as soon as they say you, your face filled with panic as you turned to Loki and tried to shout I love you in return, but you were pulled into the void that landed you back at the Avenger’s headquarters. The last goodbye is better than the first. 

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