#also my asks are open for anything 7k related

[squelchbug]

chillaxin’

[soreiya]

Should we as a fandom collectively decide to step away from Vat7K and push for something completely different? Now don’t run off to grab your torches and pitchforks just yet. This isn’t a hate post. I just think it would be kinda fun to have a big discussion on the subject.

First of all I’d like to ask you a few questions. This will help us get to know one another a bit better.

Questions:

What got you into Vat7K?                

What do you think of the Vat7K concept?

Would your opinion of it be different if it wasn’t created by someone who worked on TtS?

Have you personally noticed any problems with Vat7K and or it’s fandom?                

What would your ideal Varian spinoff be like?                

What would your ideal partner for Varian be like? (Can be either romantic or platonic)

The vague concepts that I like:

Varian leaving Corona on a simple quest that turns into something a lot grander along the way. Let the boy have his own epic adventure. ;D

Varian finding some friends who are around his own age.

The potential to learn more about Varian’s family, (This includes his mother and The Brotherhood.)

Reuniting with Cassandra and finding out what she has been up to.

Varian being given more opportunities to use his knowledge of alchemy and engineering. Doing things like problem solving, helping others, or using it for self defense. (Since this is part of what makes him special.)

Maybe finding out if there is anything special about Varian’s hairstripe? Is it nothing? Is he cursed? Does he have some unknown magic power? Is it some prophecy bullshit? I want to knowww.    

Things I like about 7K:

I like Varian’s teal vest. Out of everything 7K related, it’s probably the only thing I have no real issues with.

Don’t worry, I’m not being completely serious with that comment. 

My Vat7K thoughts and ‘opinions’:

This AU has potential, but some stuff would need to be reworked in order to make more sense.

    Mode of transportation:

-Why wasn’t Varian provided with horses and a nice caravan? He's not only the Royal Alchemist/Engineer of Corona, but the son of a marquess. An uncovered cart wouldn't give him and his supplies adequate protection from hazardous weather conditions/potential enemy attacks.

-Would Princess Nuru's parent/s allow her to leave in some dinky cart?

The trials:

-If Donella and Ulla already completed the trials then what happened to the totems that they used to open the portal?    

-Did someone reset the trials after they had been completed? Even if they reset on their own this leads to a huge issue with the plot. Other people could have already completed the trials. All you would have to do is find someone who did and bypass the trial completely.

-Why does Varian and his group struggle with the trials if they have a cheat sheet journal? The implications here are honestly a little insulting.

-Since Princess Nuru joins the main group much later on, would she be able to take part in the trials out of order? If so, then does taking part in only a portion of the trials disqualify her from entering the Eternal Library, or can anyone enter once it has been opened?   

The Demanitus device:

-Since this is an AU I’m fine with the Demanitus device still being intact. The problem however is that the intended use of that device was weather manipulation. It could alter wind trajectory. This wouldn’t be all that useful for creating a portal.

-Varian is already capable of building interdenominational portals. He also has access to Demanitus’ tomb. Thus it is entirely likely that he could locate the notes and blueprints needed to create the portal without completing the trials. 

The Eternal Library:

-Having the end goal be to reach some treasure trove of knowledge is probably going to be a bad idea. If all knowledge is at your disposal then what’s the point in experimenting? Whatever life and drive that Varian still had left would slowly be drained away by this prospect. He wouldn’t be trying anything new. He would simply be following instructions.    

Characters:

Varian:

- Who let Varian leave the house in that ridiculous boy scout outfit? That’s a bigger crime than any of the ones he committed in TtS.

-All jokes aside, there are real problems with Varian’s portrayal in this AU. By making everyone and their mother a genius, alchemist, and or an engineer, you’re robbing Varian of everything that made him special. He doesn’t feel like the main character of this story. He’s just the guy with the journal. There are no big moments where he has an opportunity to really shine. Even in the final battle he has to be rescued from becoming a meat suit.    

Varian’s family

Ulla:

-Ulla essentially abandoned her entire family in order to find the Eternal Library. There is no other way to put it. This wasn’t some day trip or mini vacation. It could have taken her years to complete the trials. Even if she had returned home, she would have missed out on a lot of Varian’s childhood. Don’t you think this would have a lasting impact on his emotional development?               

 Given this information it’s not a plot twist whatsoever that she turned out to be the final boss. Which bothers me greatly because it is just reaffirming the one thing I hated about Cassandra’s villain arc. That somehow villainy is inherited from one’s parents.            

 Regardless of her being ‘redeemed’ or not, I’m giving her an F on the good mom scale. The quest wasn’t even time sensitive. She could have waited for Varian to become an adult before going on this journey. Heck, she could have taken him along for the ride…    

-Okay, so I’ll admit that I don't actually like the name Ulla. I’d probably like it if it was pronounced Yoolla, but uh-lla and oo-lla is on level with Horace for me.

Ulla’s relatives:

-Does anyone find it creepy that Ulla’s family are almost all Varian clones? Let them be their own characters… This feels lazy.  

 -Also, why would Varian give up on his quest just because he found his family? I get that they are like minded people, but he’s supposedly traveling with like minded people??? This feels OoC. Varian is a very goal oriented character. He doesn’t give up so easily.    

Supporting cast:

Donella:

-What is her goal exactly? She’s the one who returned Ulla’s journal to Quirin in the first place. If she really thought there were secrets inside then she should have come to this conclusion beforehand… 

-There was no reason for her to send Hugo to get the fire totem or to have him infiltrate Varian’s group. Everything could have been resolved with a little honesty. Talk people!!! Seriously, I hate when plots have pointless drama or misunderstandings because someone bottles up their god damn emotions.

-When you give it some real thought the whole plot legit makes no sense. Why wait for Varian to turn 18? If she had been keeping tabs on him then she would have given Hugo more information. Instead she lets him go into some big mission completely blind? Way to go… You left him out here thinking that Varian is some sweet naive summer child who wouldn’t snap him like a twig… You’re lucky that he makes it out of this story alive.            

Princess Nuru:

-Her character is severely underdeveloped. Much like Yong she feels like an afterthought. Like she was created to fill a void rather than to be an actual character.

-Sure, let’s force the sole female character into the role of the ‘mom friend’. That won’t be stereotypical at all. 

-Why does Nuru not know anything about Varian? She’s a princess. Such people soak up loads of political gossip through osmosis. Even after Varian’s reformation he would still be a hot topic of discussion. I’m hella sus, girl…

-I get that her kingdom was in a state of crisis, but would she really be allowed to just leave with a group of strangers? Why wasn't she provided with some sort of guard at the very least?

Yong:

-There is nothing particularly interesting about his character. He’s just the baby of the group.    

Hugo: 

-If Hugo is supposed to be some stealthy street smart thief, then why does his personality completely contradict this? You can try to say that it’s just an act, but he’s always portrayed as an obnoxious player, like some pompous flirt. Stuff like that would make him notorious and easily recognizable. Believe me when I say that this behavior isn’t ideal for someone who’s entire job is to go on undercover missions.  Donella would not be pleased. She didn’t raise a cheap half assed Flynn Rider 2.0 knockoff did she?

-I hate to be the one to point this out, but the fandom might have inadvertently turned Hugo into a full on Gary Stu.  Let me explain. Often times I see people saying that Hugo is ‘smarter’ and ‘more capable’ than Varian. Did this man bring a kingdom down to it’s knees twice over? Why isn’t he using his skills in alchemy and engineering to make a fortune? He’s supposed to be greedy. That’s his whole gimmick isn’t it? Then why is he letting those smarts go to waste? He wouldn’t need to be a lapdog to a manipulative old woman if this was the case. It doesn’t matter if he feels indebted to her. A smart and resourceful person would be using their intellect wisely.

Animal companions:

Prometheus:

-Is this just Varian in donkey form? Why do they look so much alike?

-Am I the only one who finds it a little humiliating for Varian to leave on a big adventure with a derpy looking donkey? I get that this is probably the point, but I think it's a little sad.

Ruddiger:

-Ruddiger is awesome. I just think that people forget that he exists sometimes.

Olivia:

-My only issue here is that people are taking information about Hugo from his D&D counterpart. They should be treated like completely separate characters. Otherwise I have no problems with the little mouse companion. I think it's a cute idea.

Thoughts on relationships:

-There should be other potential suitors for Varian in Vat7K. 

-Varian is a Flynnigan Rider fanboy. Suffice to say that his vision of romance is likely to be incredibly idealized.

-I know that this fandom loves it’s angst fodder, but let’s think for a moment on the lasting consequences of betrayal. Varian already has trust issues. That paranoia is gonna linger in the back of his mind forever regardless of how many healthy connections he makes throughout the years. If he is betrayed by a love interest, those feelings are only going to be amplified tenfold. You don’t just kiss and make up after something like that. He likely would want to close himself off completely from being in romantic relationships as a self defense mechanism.

Varigo:

-The first thing I saw from this relationship was an adorable confession scene animatic. That was hella cute shit. I was like “Hell yes! Nerds in love!”. Was that what I got? No, but that disappointment set in much later.    

My issues with Varian’s portrayal in the relationship.

-If you have to change a character’s whole personality in order to fit your ship preferences, then at this point they are no longer the same character. They might as well be an OC.

-Why does the fandom push toxic stereotyping? (Basically the seme/uke nonsense that you see in BL manga.) Varian usually gets dumbed down so that Hugo can swoop in. Varian has to be short, weak, and naive... Why is this so heavily enforced? Why can’t people portray things     differently without the fandom losing their collective shit?     

-Why is Varian portrayed as not being street smart? He lived on his own for months while being harassed by guards. He went to prison… He worked with terrorists… He is friends with former criminals. He is acquainted with pub thugs. ???? Sorry, but he’s not gonna be impressed with Hugo’s whole shtick… It’s not something new to him.    

-Also… Varian may be skinny, but he’s still relatively athletic. He has the endurance to run round trip through a magical blizzard. He can parkour like a pro (When he’s feeling confident.). He can build huge boilers and giant automatons. So he’s probably used to some level of manual labor. He can leap down great distances. Somehow he can scoot Xavier across the ground with no issues. o__O; What part of this sounds weak to you all?

-His height as an adult is debatable. He may remain short forever. He could grow tall. Maybe he even has a late growth spurt.

-Regardless of his height Varian shouldn’t always be portrayed as some uwu submissive fragile little flower. Let there be some equality in the relationship.

-For reference on Varian being assertive and flirty I would recommend rewatching Great Expotations.              

My issues with Hugo:

-Hugo triggers my anxiety because he gives off the vibes of a sexual predator. Unlike Eugene, Hugo doesn’t fall in love right away. Any interest he has in Varian is for self gratification and that makes me hella uncomfortable. If you combine this Varian being treated as naive and innocent. Then you can understand why I want to chase Hugo ass away with a flip flop. 

-The way Hugo speaks to Varian is gross. Constantly calling him “sweetcheeks” and other objectifying terms… It just solidifies my view that he’s not capable of keeping his mind out of the gutter for a second…

A note to the fandom:

Oh boy, I went a bit overboard… Please don’t think of me as an enemy because of this post. We can still be friends. I’m fine with you all sticking with 7K. I just wanted to raise awareness of some of the things that I have noticed about the plot and characters. Whether it has any influence on your views or not is up in the air. If anything this can be used to help troubleshoot and improve upon the AU.

At this point it’s unlikely that Disney has interest in creating a Varian spinoff series/comic/novel/etc. It would be awesome if they did, but I won’t get my hopes up.

So in the meantime, does anyone want to band together and brainstorm ideas? I feel like we could have a great time coming up with scenarios for something new. 

Advice/suggestions/additional misc notes: 

-Don’t stalk or harass the creators of this AU.

-Do not pass HC’s off as canon facts. This includes pushing 7K onto others as a canonical continuation of Tangled the Series.

-You should never threaten or bully people who do not share your opinions or HC’s. Try channeling those negative emotions into doing something positive instead.

-Do not bully or try to ‘socially cancel’ people who ship other pairings. Don’t like a ship? Scroll past it and move on with your life.

-Tag fics appropriately. Express content in detail. Don’t bait and switch. Don’t rant and rave or be malicious in any way.

-For some reason there are people who enjoy making ‘white boy’ jokes about Hugo. These same people often exaggerate Varian’s skin tone in order to put more emphasis on this. I find it pretty distasteful. Would you tolerate this behavior aimed at any of the other characters? If the answer is “No.” then stop.

-There are people who use the trans tag when all they really want to do is gender swap the character to fit their smut preferences. Objectification is not representation. (To be clear, I'm not saying all trans smut is like this. The type of storytelling I'm talking about is obvious to spot. You'll know it if/when you see it. Though hopefully you won't have to see it.)

If you want to HC Varian or any other character as trans because it makes you feel closer to the character, then by all means do so. You’re valid and this is perfectly reasonable.

I may face slack for not sharing the trans Varian HC personally, but I’m in the mindset that we need more characters who were born male that do not conform to society's norms. It’s incredibly important for boys/men to see that they can sew, cook, and clean without these activities being treated as if they are somehow emasculating. Getting rid of toxic gender stereotypes is the first step to a future where people can be accepted as equals.

[fangirlovestuff]

littera scripta manet - steve rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! first of all, this is based on a moodboard by the amazing @cloudystevie​, which inspired this whole fic, thank you!! the picture above is how i imagined steve in this one, but you can imagine him however you want:) also, there’s a list of meanings of the flowers i mention at the end because i’m a sucker for the language of flowers (the flowers are in bold in the fic). i love the dark academia aesthetic and i hope i did it justice:) enjoy!!<3

title means ‘the written letter remains’

summary: unlike you, steve doesn’t have a problem admitting to himself he has feelings for his best friend. that’s what makes it so painful when it seems like you don’t.

word count: 7k (oops?)

warnings / tags: friends to lovers, Pining™ , angst with a happy ending, as slow burn as a one shot can be, an obnoxious amount of clichés but i’m not sorry, no plot just vibes (i mean there’s like,,, some plot i guess), the songs/quotes i used in this aren’t mine!!!

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You watched as the morning mist slowly faded, the sun showing it away. You watched as the curtains fluttered against the touch of a delicate wind. You watched as the sparks of dawn came to life under the sky's watchful eye. You watched the tree beneath your window in the glory of its blossom.

You turned your body in the other direction, the one facing not the east window but the bed. And there, beside you, you watched as he stirred hazily, his body still clad in yesterday's clothes, huffing out a quiet breath before his eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the pair of familiar blue eyes.

You watched, and his eyes told you the most amazing story – his look was disoriented, then bewildered, and then, well, the most gorgeous smile stretched onto his features, and it told the rest – love, and hope, and home.

That story is the one I will tell you today.

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The first day of school was always a straining one. All the way from elementary school to high school, it was a constant in your life.

There was, however, one more constant. Your best friend.

Steve Rogers was truly the most wonderful of boys.

You two met when you were very young, your mothers getting along well, so you had no choice but to do so as well. And you did get along, splendidly. You became fast friends, not stopping even when his other friends were telling him about 'girl germs' or when your other friends were constantly asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend, or if he was. What you and Steve had transcended it, in a way.

You grew together, and you watched as Steve Rogers became the most wonderful of men. He was your best friend, and you loved him with your whole heart. Platonically, of course.

You smiled at him fondly as the both of you stepped into your new college, in through the big iron gates. As far as you looked there was grass, trees, flowers. The big cobblestone building stood tall in the distance, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the chatter of students above the sound of the wind that was gently ruffling your uniform skirt.  

"Excited?" Steve asked, smiling back at you.

"Nervous," you let out a quiet laugh.

"You shouldn't be," he answered, "look at this place!" he gestured around, "you fit right in here with all the-" he cut himself off, closing his mouth before continuing, "you fit right in!"

"Yeah, maybe. This place is just… dreamy," you smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from being nervous."

"Well, you have no reason to be," he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

You hoped he was right. You never liked being far away from home, but this school was truly the school of your dreams, and well, with Steve by your side… you could never be that far away from home.

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Adjusting was… an experience, certainly. This school was like nothing you've known before, the uniform seemed a bit excessive, the school halls were so incredibly long, and the grounds so vast you could barely see the outside. And yet, it felt like something about this place was magical. Like it accepted you right in, it wanted you to be there. The library was huge, and you've already spent countless hours digging away for course related materials and, well, less course related materials. The vast grounds meant you could walk out every day in a different direction, if you wanted to, and find a new hidden treasure.

You shared your thoughts with Steve when you discovered one of these treasures together. It was fairly early evening, you two had just gotten out of class and were walking off the long day you've had, and you suddenly came across some high rose bushes. Steve tried to see what was on the other side of them, but it was too tall even for him, so you circled around and found a small, rusty gate. You went through it to discover a small fountain, with a marble statue of a mermaid in the center.

You gasped in delight, unable to contain yourself from running to kneel on the grass next to it, looking into the water curiously. Dipping your hand in tentatively, you shivered at the touch of the chilly water, and immediately took out your hand, massaging it in your other one to warm it up.

Steve laughed as he finally caught up with you, not running but walking calmly. He dipped his hand in the water as well, before raising his brow mischievously. Before you could ask him what's going on, he took his hand out of the water and sprayed the cold droplets of water right on your face.

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you said, shocked, "You did not just do that," you glared at him.

"You know what, you're right," he began shuffling away, "I didn't," he stood up with a cheeky smile as you continued to glare at him, "It was a happy accident."

"Oh I'll show you happy accident!" you couldn't contain your laughter anymore as you dipped your hand in the water again, getting up to chase him around the little garden. He managed to evade you for a bit, and then you finally caught up to him, placing your cold hand right on the back of his neck. He turned around, making him lose his balance and fall down onto the grass, which in turn made you topple over him, stopping your fall with your hands just when you were about to fall onto his chest.

"Alright, I surrender!" he lifted his hands up.

"Good," you smirked.

There was a moment where you just stared into each other's eyes, each sparkling with a smile. It was broken when Steve asked, "Well, can I, uh, get up now?"

You noticed you ended up straddling his hips, which you then fumbled to undo, standing back up hastily. You dusted your skirt a little awkwardly, avoiding Steve's eyes as he got up too. You didn't even know why you were feeling so awkward. You've had plenty of play fights with Steve, there was no reason for this one to be different.

But Steve just extended his arm to you, like he did on the first day you were here. You took it, and just like that, you were fine again.

"Do you know, Stevie, I think there's something magical about this school," you told him as you were walking.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, the library's huge a-"

Steve burst into laughter, and once it died down a little, he said, "I'm sorry, it's just so… like you to say a big room full of books is magical. It's true, don't get me wrong," he said before you could get annoyed, "but I feel like no one but you would have vocalized that truth."

"Well then, lucky I'm here," you smiled.

"Yeah," he said softly, "very lucky."

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About a month later it turned out the school holds a ball twice a year, at the start of winter and at the end of spring, right before the school year ends. At first you were a little shocked, but you quickly warmed up to the idea, given that it was very much on brand with everything else in the school.

You did obviously make more friends than just Steve, so you and your friends went to get dresses together. Roaming between the big expansive stores was fun, but after a while you all realized it wasn't very affordable, and not really your style. You wandered into a small, secluded second hand shop, where you found the perfect dress – fancy but not overly glamorous, a color that suited you beautifully, and not too bad of a price. It made you feel like a princess, the long skirts shuffling gently behind you as you stepped out of the fitting room to show it to your friends, who were just in love with it as you were and told you to buy it right away.

That night you went home with a dress in your hand and a smile in your heart.

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As the school year progressed, you started picking up and drying different flowers you found on the grounds, keeping them between pages of your notebooks. A bit of a messy hobby at times, but it made you happy.

You were just writing a letter to your family, trying to figure out if and which flower you should attach to it, when you heard a knock on your dorm door.

"Just a second!" you called out before shutting the ink box, putting down the dip pen before getting up and opening your door. There, you found a flustered Steve, smiling at you with a few honeysuckle flowers in his hand.

"I, uh, brought these for you," he said timidly, "I know you collect flowers and I don't think you have some of these yet."

"I don't!" you smiled and took them from Steve's hand, "thank you!"

You ushered him in before putting the honeysuckles on your desk. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. He saw the letter and pen on your desk. "Oh, am I interrupting you? I'm sorry, I could come back later if y-"

"It's alright Stevie," you chuckled, "I was just writing home. Anything you'd want me to tell my family for you?"

"Ummm… hi?" he smiled bashfully and you both laughed.

"Well, that's just too long! I don't have any more place on the page for such eloquent greetings!" you teased.

"Alright, then no, I don't have anything to say to them. I wrote my family a few days ago already, so if you wanted to say anything to them, you'll just have to wait till next time."

"Anyways," you smiled, "did you need anything?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I just, well, I don't really have a person to go with to, you know, the ball thing, so i-"

"So you want me to set you up?" you giggled. "Is it Ella? Or is it Kathrine?"

"No, let me finish," he half heartedly grumbled. "I was thinking, I wanted to ask you to come with me," he smiled timidly, averting his gaze. After you didn't say anything, he continued, "I mean, I didn't think you had anyone to go with either, and since we've been friends since forever, I thought-"

"No, yeah, that's a great idea!" you spoke up quickly, "Sorry, I just spaced for a moment, I think that'd be great, since no one really asked me and stuff," you shrugged and smiled.

"Great!" he smiled.

"Great," you nodded. You both chuckled, not really knowing what to say.

"I should leave you to get back to your letter," Steve said after a moment. "I'll, um, see you around."

You told him goodbye before shutting the door behind him and sitting back down at your desk. But you found you didn't have it in you to pick up your pen. No, your train of thought was lost, and was now racing a hundred miles per hour, because –

Because why would he ask you. Because he could've asked any other girl and they would've probably said yes, yet the thought of him going with another girl made your stomach drop in a peculiar way. The obvious answer was that it was just about his comfort zone, which you knew Steve was prone to staying in.

Yeah, that's it. It's just comfortable. Familiar.

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The night before the ball, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. At around 2 am, you officially gave up and traded in your pajamas for some more presentable clothes in case someone is also awake, and made your way to the library.

Over the few months you've been here, the library has become somewhat of an escape for you. Sure, it was where you did a large amount of your schoolwork, but it was also the place that allowed you to 'travel' to several magnificent worlds.

You made your way as quietly as you could, picking up one of your favorite classics. It was an old, worn in version of Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo", a book which you vaguely remembered reading in your childhood and, when you stumbled upon it here, fell in love with all over again.

The place was dark, and you wanted to keep it like that, giving you less of a chance to be disturbed by others. You sat down and lit a candle, getting immersed in your book. So immersed, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.

"I figured I'd find you here," Steve smiled, sitting down on the wooden chair next to yours.

"How come?" you smiled back and closed the book, not before putting a bookmark in it.

"I went up to your room to see if you were still awake because I wanted to show you something. When you didn't answer my knock, I guessed you were either in extremely deep sleep or you were here. And would you look at that, I was right," he smirked.

You chuckled. "What did you want to show me?"

"Come on," he stood up and extended his hand to you, "I can show you right now."

You smiled and followed him as he led you outside, into the chilly night. You shivered slightly as the cold air hit your face. "Steve," you complained, "I wasn't really planning on going outside. I don't have my jacket."

"Oh, right," he said, stopping in his tracks, "sorry. But you could just take mine," he said, while already shrugging it off.

"No, Steve, then you'll get-"

"Come on!" he smiled, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, "let's go!"

You giggled at his excitement, adjusting his jacket a little before following him further away. He took you somewhere you had shockingly never been before, a small, secluded field of hydrangeas, peaceful in the moonlight. You looked around in awe.

"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "And look," he gestured upwards, "it's far enough from the building so we can really see the stars."

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was right. The stars never seemed so many or so bright to you than in the moment.

"See right there? That's Ursa Major, and that-"

You looked to him, and his words faded away in your mind, becoming a low stream of sounds. Everything seemed to become softer, distant, while he flooded your mind.

In that instant, it looked like Steve had the moon in him. Soft, and bright, and beautiful. His pale skin glistened under the moonlight, but when his eyes turned to meet yours, you thought you may have been wrong.

Because in them, you found the stars.

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And there it was, the big night, the night of the ball. You were nearly ready to put on your dress when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve there, smiling.

"I just came to check in on you," he said, handing you a few hibiscus flowers. You smiled, taking them from him, your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I'm doing quite well," you said, and wordlessly invited him in. He followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look great," he said.

"I'm not even wearing my dress yet," you giggled. Squinting, you tried to figure out what about him seemed off to you. Then, when you realized it, you stepped up to him and brought up your hand to fix his shirt collar, which was partly stuffed under his tie. You then rested your hand next to his collarbone, above his heart.

"You look great too," you said softly, smiling a small smile up at him.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Alright, I better get ready," you chuckled, stepping away from him. "I'll see you there."

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Steve didn't think of himself as a very sophisticated guy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he was no match to you, for example. He wasn't that big on words or analogies.

And yet, when he saw you step down the stairs into the ballroom, his first thought was that you looked like the sun, ethereal and radiant in your beauty, almost blindingly so; your hair was styled in a simple manner, your face stretched in a soft smile as your wonderous eyes roamed around the room. Your dress created an angelic sort of look, and as you gently walked down each step, your hand delicately gliding on the banister, he nearly couldn't believe you were real, that you were making your way to him.

The moment your eyes met his, your smile became bigger, your steps quickened, much like his heartbeat. When you arrived, he extended his arm to you, like he has a habit of doing, and greeted you a soft hello over the sounds of the dainty music.

The night went great, it really did. You two danced together, ate some of the fancy food, laughed. It was… magical. There was one point, when you were swaying together to a slow song, when he thought –

Well, it didn't matter what he thought, didn't it? Because at the end of the night, you didn't wait on him. No, you sneaked out with some guy in the year above you.

Steve wanted to be angry. He couldn't, not at you anyways.

Ever since a year ago, when you found out you were going to the same college, he knew. The relief that washed over him when he heard the news, the gratitude of being able to be by your side – he didn’t understand how he didn't see it sooner.

He assumed, sooner or later, you'd see in him what he sees in you. The sun. Happiness; bright, celestial, divine.

But maybe you can't see what's simply not there.

Steve went to his dorm. He went to sleep, but his nightmares awakened him again and again. Nightmares of losing you. So, without any other choice, at around 5 am he decided to give up and get up, maybe take a shower.

At the moment, it felt like real life wasn't any better than his nightmares. He hoped at some point, that would change.

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"Damien!" you laughed breathlessly as he pulled you through the endless corridors.  

"What?" he chuckled, stopping and turning back towards you, pulling you a little closer to him by your joint hands. You panted a little in an attempt to catch your breath before you spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, wherever you want to! Just away from that stuffy ballroom," he grinned.

"It wasn't stuffy, I thought it was very pretty!" you defended it with a smile.

"Not as pretty as you," he softly said, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. He's been complimenting you like that since you two met an hour ago at the ball, and well, you were a simple girl; you really wanted him to kiss you right now.

He took a step closer and his hand traveled to your chin, holding it and gently tilting your face up. Just as his lips touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to succumb to his embrace, your lips moving against his. You broke apart for air, and you opened your eyes when you remembered.

"Damien," you said, "I just remembered, I was with my friend at the ball and I didn't tell him I was going… can we go back for a second?"

He examined your face for a second before smiling and saying, "Sure. Just for a bit though," he winked.

You made your way back in silence, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the carpets below you. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you found him looking ahead with a smile. Bashfully, you smiled too, slightly biting your lower lip. Soon enough, you arrived.

Staying close to the ballroom doors, Damien asked you, "Can you see him?"

"I don't think so," you said with a frown, scanning the dancing crowd with your eyes. Steve was tall, usually you were able to easily pick out his frame from any crowd, but you couldn't see him anywhere nearby.

"Well," you said after a couple more moments passed, "he probably realized it and went already," you shrugged.

"In that case," Damien gestured at the exit, "After you, madam."

You giggled and bowed a small bow before exiting, Damien on your heels. You spent the night walking the grounds, talking to each other over the sound of the wind. When it was getting late, he escorted you to your room and gave you a good night's kiss, a perfect gentleman, just like you read about in books.

That night you slept peacefully, no dreams, good or bad, plaguing your consciousness. The next morning you woke up refreshed, ready to take on the day.

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You and Steve were still friends, but something changed. You didn't really see it, too occupied with school and Damien to notice, but there was a shift, a distance that wasn't there before. You still talked, you still hung out from time to time, it just… wasn't the same.

One day, when you were in the library together, one cold February night, Steve asked you a peculiar question.

"What do you think is the best way to tell someone you love them?"

"Why, any Valentine's day plans?" you joked.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged.

"Well, I think the best way to tell someone you love them is with words. Just… say it, or write it, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that's nice," he smiled, returning to his book.

"So, who's the lucky lady, huh?" you nudged him with your elbow, "is it Kathrine? Because I'm telling you, I really think if you'd ask h-"

"It's not Kathrine, because it's no one," he cut you off with a chuckle. "It was just a general question."

You never bugged him about it again, quite honestly you forgot about the whole ordeal.

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The months of the winter passed, and lo and behold, the spring settled over you. The winds were less harsh, the flowers were blooming again, the sun was shining brightly. With only a few scattered days of still wintery weather, you mostly studied outside on the grass, maybe under a tree. You were making the best of it, inviting your friends of Damien to study with you too. You felt like bursting into song.

One day, when you and Damien were sitting on the grass, studying together, he picked a rhododendron, sticking it behind your ear. The large flower didn't hold on for long, and fell down after a couple of seconds. You laughed, and he chuckled. Picking it up, you tried to put it on once more, but it just wouldn't stay. Then, you took it again and this time, stuck it behind his ear. Somehow, it managed to stay on.

You laughed, "You look very pretty."

"I do?" he asked, fluttering his lashes playfully, "why thank you darling."

After a while, he took it off and pressed in between the pages of his notebook. "Like you always do," he smiled, showing off the closed notebook before putting it back into his bag.

"Be careful," you giggled, "if it falls out the entire bag will be full of petals, and even when you’d think you got them all out, you'd find a couple more a few days later."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he asked cheekily.

"Why of course not! I was born a professional," you stuck your nose up indignantly, making him laugh.

"Of course you were, how could I forget," he offered you his hand and helped you up.

As you walked together back to the school building, you had a feeling you forgot something, or like something was missing. You looked back at the place you were sitting in seconds ago, but there was nothing there.

"Everything alright?" Damien asked.

"Yeah, everything's great," you answered, squeezing his hand that was clutched in yours.

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When the second ball was approaching, Damien had started to send you love letters. Every time you had gotten one, you felt your heart pick up its pace, a smile stretching on your face. Some of them were poems, some quotes, some just sentences, you didn't know which he wrote and which he read and thought of you. You took to the habit of saving them all in a small box in your room, going through them every couple of days.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything ~Virginia Woolf  

Every one of them was simply signed with three x's, signifying kisses. You smiled as you put the most recent one into your pocket, intent on putting it with the rest later.

Some days, you'd get small notes, and some days would be a rather large page. You loved both.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

You resonated with the words, you've always loved poems. Weirdly, you've never talked to Damien about your love of them, but you guessed he just… knew. That's what made him so special.  

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

That one made you stop in your tracks for a moment. It made you think of Steve. He didn't really bring you flowers anymore. Well, maybe he just didn't find any new ones.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.      If this be error and upon me proved,      I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~Shakespeare

You smiled brightly as you read the note. You were getting new ones every other day. Amongst the chaos of exams, it was nice, knowing that's the way he had to keep in touch with you. You were just done reading it when your friend came up behind your back, reading over your shoulder.

"Oh, did Damien bring you this?" she smiled. "You guys are so cute together."

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man’s days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours – And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

That last one you found in the library copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo". You gravitated towards it every time you were anxious, or couldn't sleep, or both. It was a comfort. Finding the note there nearly made you cry; the long day you've had mixed with the love you felt bringing tears to your eyes. You blinked them away with a smile, stuffing the note in your pocket before starting to read the book.

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Steve saw you open the book and get the note. He smiled to himself.

He didn't know if this would work, or if you'd think your boyfriend wrote them. He just wanted to make you smile.

He also wanted to make you know, make you understand what he was feeling. But you weren't exactly emotionally available right now, so Steve did the best he could; he waited.

In the meantime, he went to search for another poetry book. He was surprised you hadn't recognized his handwriting yet. He did write it a bit more neatly than he usually did, with more careful attention.

Maybe she recognized it but didn't want to say anything. Maybe that was a pitying smile, whispered a voice in his head. He shook it off.

He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't give up hope. He could wait some more.

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The spring / end of the year ball was approaching in giant steps. You were done with your exams, and already had a dress, which you adamantly refused to show Damien despite his repeated pleas. Now, you were spending an afternoon outside, enjoying the fresh air picnicking with some of your friends, who were playing a card game you couldn't care to learn the rules of. You were taking photos instead, borrowing one of your friends' camera and taking some pictures of them playing, of the scenery.

"Has Damien asked you to the ball yet?" one of them asked.

"Oh, not yet," you shrugged, "I'm sure he will though. I mean, you've seen the notes he sent me," you giggled, "I don't see another option."

Just then, you saw a figure coming towards you from afar. In the other direction, you saw Damien approaching, and before you had a chance to wonder about the other person, he was there, planting a kiss on your cheek. You put the camera down on the blanket and smiled at him.

"Speaking of the devil," your friend chuckled.

"Only good things, I hope," he sat down next to you.

"Of course," you laughed and leaned away from him to snap his picture, "what else could we have said?"

"Well, that's great, because I was wondering," he took a breath, "do you want to see me do a card trick?"

"Yes, sure," you said, slightly confused but still smiling.

He held up a card. "Could you tell me what card this is?"

"A leaf ace," you said.

"Great," he flipped it around in his hands a couple of times, before pulling off a complicated hand movement you couldn't keep track of, and was now holding a small, card sized mirror. "Now, could you tell me what card this is?"

"It's… a mirror," you said, puzzled.

"Look closer," he encouraged.

"Still a mirror, Dames," you chuckled.

"No, it’s a queen of hearts!" he laughed, "my heart, more specifically," he leaned in closer and smiled. "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"Yes! Of course I will!" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Just then, you heard the shutter of the camera clicking, and broke apart from him, laughing.

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The night of the ball finally arrived. You were in Damien's room, getting ready, when you finally had the mind to say, "Oh, Damien, I don't think I ever thanked you for the notes," you smiled at him from the other corner of the room. He was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie, while you were sitting on the bed, already in your dress, which you finally let him see.

"Oh, from last week's lecture? No problem love," he smiled at you, your eyes meeting through the mirror.

"No," you giggled, "I meant the notes you've been leaving me."

He looked at you, puzzled. "You know, the notes with the– oh come on, don’t play dumb," you scoffed playfully.

"I'm not," he said, "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about." He finished the knot and came to stand in front of you, offering you his hand and helping you up. You stood in front of him, squinting.

"Okay," you said after a few moments. Smiling, you noticed his collar was partly stuffed under his tie, raising your hand to fix it and –

"Oh," you frowned softly.

You knew who wrote the notes. You knew all along. I mean, how couldn't you recognize the handwriting of the person you know the best? Who knows you better than anyone else?

The person you've been neglecting the past few months. And yet, he was sending you love letters. You felt like crying, because you should've known it was him. More than that, you should've realized; you love him too.  

You love him so much it nearly hurts. The man with flowers in his hand and stars in his eyes, the one who took you to every bookstore you ever wanted to visit, who gave you his jacket when you were cold, who knew not only what your favorite book was, but also what copy of it you would take.

As good as Damien was to you, he was never the one for you. He was charming, lovable for sure.

But he wasn't your Steve.

Your Steve who was probably going to the ball alone, or maybe not even going.

"Is everything okay?" Damien asked, a concerned frown on his features.

"No, I- look, Damien," you took a deep breath. "I owe you an explanation, and I swear, I will give it to you, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean can't do this anymore? Do you not want to go to the ball or-"

"No," you closed your eyes forcefully before opening them, "us. I don't think we should be together anymore."

"Where is this coming from? Love, is everything o-"

"It's not okay, Damien!" tears welled up in your eyes, "It's not fair to you, I know. But I just… I have to go," you stepped away from his embrace.

"Go where? You're not making any sense, please, can you just-"

"I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I'll explain everything, just… not right now," you said shakily, fumbling to collect your things before leaving the dorm, and a stunned Damien in your wake.

You weren't sure where you were going, you just knew you had to find him.

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You roamed the corridors in a bit of a daze until you finally realized your legs were carrying you to the library, and shook your head, deciding to go there anyway since there was a decent chance Steve was there.

He wasn't. You knocked on his dorm room door, but he didn't answer it, so he probably wasn't there either. You went to sneak a look at the ball, but you didn't find him there too.

You were just about to give up when you looked out of one of the windows. There, you saw the small glass gazebo that was a little further away from the building. The light was on, and there was someone there. You couldn't tell if it was Steve, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

You went down the stairs and outside. The night was surprisingly crisp, and the dress you were wearing had short sleeves, but you continued anyway. As you got closer, you could see the silhouette clearer; it was indeed Steve.

You stopped a few yards next to it. Now that you found him, you didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough, and –

Your train of thought was cut off by Steve turning around, his eyes locking with yours through the large glass windows. You swallowed heavily.

He went outside, crossing the distance and standing in front of you. Both of you were quiet for a moment before he spoke up.

"Not going to the ball?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I feel like it's obvious I'm not going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

Silence settled between you for a couple of minutes, each one of you absorbed in your own thoughts. Eventually, you were the one to speak up this time.

"I know you wrote them, Steve."

He chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to say?"

"That you meant them," your voice broke with emotion, not knowing how true the words were until your lips uttered them out loud.

"I did. I do. I can't say I'm sorry for that."

"You shouldn't be," you said, "I'm that one that should be sorry. I am sorry," you looked up at him, your eyes sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you sooner. And I don't mean the notes, Steve," you stepped closer to him.

"Then what do you mean?"

You licked your lips hesitantly, bringing your face closer to his. You didn't know which one of you finally broke the distance, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and it's all you could think about. You were kissing Steve Rogers, and it was enchanting. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into his touch as your hands tangled in the soft hair on the nape of his neck. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, and suddenly you were both smiling so hard you broke apart, gasping for air. Your foreheads stayed connected, leaning on each other as you slowly opened your eyes.

"This," you whispered, "I mean this. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve laughed, "so much. I was afraid you will never say that. That I'd never get to hear you say that to me. I love you," he said again, his eyes looking into yours.

Just at that moment, it bizarrely started to rain. "Really?" you looked up at the sky, "it's spring! Hell, it's almost summer!"

"Maybe it's summer rain," Steve suggested with a smile.

"But it ruined our moment," you playfully pouted.

"We always have another one," he smiled, pulling you in for another kiss, not minding the rain that was now wetting your dress, his suit. You felt the raindrops fall on the top of your heads, but the sensation was a thin echo compared to Steve's lips on yours.

A thunder roared, and you broke apart once again.

"Maybe we should get inside," you suggested.

"Maybe we should," he grinned, "last one there is a rotten egg!"

He started running before you could even register what he said. Just like he did when you were kids.

"Wait!" you laughed, running after him, gathering your skirt in your hands, "Not fair! I have a dress!"

He stopped and ran back to you before picking you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to the entrance and putting you down right on the threshold.

"You're a rotten egg, Stevie," you giggled.

He looked down to see that indeed, your legs were technically inside while his weren't.

"Don't worry," you cupped his cheek and tilted it upwards so he'd meet your gaze, "you're my rotten egg."

You both laughed before you went inside. He offered you his arm and you wove yours through it, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Taking your time, you strolled through the corridors in comfortable silence until you reached your room. You came inside and turned on the heating, Steve right on your heels, hugging you from behind.

"I can't believe it's raining," you looked out of the window with a smile.

"I can't believe you're mine," he whispered into your neck.

You tilted your head back to kiss him softly before you involuntarily shivered. Wordlessly, Steve guided you to the bed, tucking you into the blanket. He was about to leave, but you opened your blanket and gestured for him to come cuddle you. He chuckled and climbed in next to you, wrapping his arms around you again.

"Tell me a story," you said as you laid your head on his chest.

"Once upon a time," he started, "there was a very beautiful princess. And she chose a normal boy. No one knew why she did it. They asked her, 'why not a prince?' and sh-"

"And she said she didn't like princes, but she loved the boy more than anything else," you smiled.

"Wow, more than big libraries?" he chuckled.

"Yes, even more than big libraries," you giggled. Humming contently, you snuggled even closer to him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

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Which brings us to where we started this story, the next morning.

The story Steve's eyes told you that morning was better than any other story you've ever heard. It was a love story that you would tell your children, and your grandchildren.

And every time Steve heard you telling it, he sat and listened with a smile.

You once asked him why he always listens to that story, it's not like he didn't know it, he lived it.

"I did live it," he answered, "but I still live it, every single day. And it gets better with each day," he leaned down to kiss you.

Steve Rogers was the most wonderful of men, and over the years he grew to be the most wonderful of husbands, of fathers and of grandfathers.

You both grew, but there was one thing that stayed the same – his heart was yours, and your heart was his; forever.

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flower meanings:

Rose – love.

Honeysuckle - pure happiness, sweet love, devoted affection.

Hydrangea - gratitude, grace, beauty, abundance. some colors also symbolize bad luck.

Hibiscus - variously symbolizes health, delicacy, beauty, respect and hospitality.

Rhododendron – beware.  

p.s. - the meanings are based on my limited searches, also there are some flowers with more than one meaning:)

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i’d love it if you’d want to tell me your thoughts!! if you’ve stuck through this entire thing - thank you!!!<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[missyasf]

Game Of Hearts

| 2 |

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 7k

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Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together! 

“So...you beat a 6 of diamonds by yourself on your first try?” 

..what the fuck was your sister doing. No really. What did she think she was doing? She had this...look on her face ever since she had been formally introduced to Chishiya and you didn’t like it one bit. Akari had exchanged glances with you several times as you wanted to wilt in embarrassment while your sister continued to parade with this act.

“It was a game of Blackjack, I wasn’t familiar with the rules but after one round it was easy to pick up.” If anything this was a good stroke on his ego which he had to know was getting on your nerves. 

It was painfully obvious your sister was trying to make an effort to show some sort of attraction to him to get his attention? You weren’t sure, truthfully all you knew was that if you knew it had to be clear to Chishiya as well who as always kept that same stoic expression on his face, not the slightest interest besides potentially making you mad, “Losers were hung and cheaters were shot.” 

You scrunched your face as you watched his eyes flicker to yours briefly, a glimpse of a cheshire smirk on his lips that vanished instantly making your eyes hone into a childish glare. He knew you didn’t like this! He knew it! You just knew that he did! 

“Hey, not to come off strong or anythin’ but…” Akari scrunched her nose, “Is your sister a virgin or something? She seems like she really wants to hop on that guys dick.” 

You didn’t mean to flail at her words but they were just so jarring to hear. Virgin? Dick? Chishiya? No way in hell should those three words ever be in the same sentence. This drew his attention briefly despite not hearing what Akari had said- thank god.

“I don’t fucking know…!” You whispered harshly to her, “And it’s none of my business but…” you rubbed your neck as you sighed, “She probably is.” You relented making Akari howl laughing as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “She’s always had this thing with being insecure and feeling like she’s never enough for guys…personally I always felt the opposite.”

“You’re extremely attractive and no man is worthy of you?” Akari tilted her head as she shrugged, “I can see it.”

“No!” You replied a little flustered, tugging on a strand of hair, “I mean I feel like if she was just confident in herself she’d get laid as much as she wants…” you had decided to not continue your original words with what you had intended. Which was, Nanami always compared herself to you. Nothing made you feel worse than knowing she constantly beat herself up because of you. 

Many considered it pretty privilege. It existed, sure.

Did you experience this? More than your fair share, more than you ever wanted truthfully. To the point of feeling dehumanized in a way. Particularly in your line of work as a prostitute before all this happened. Or maybe it was before then? You can’t remember anymore. 

Regardless, you often found that while people were much nicer to you. They are always extremely insincere. Particularly men. Watching Nanami get a little closer to Chishiya made you immediately stand up as you gave her a menacing smile, “Nanami, can I talk to you for a second, alone?” 

….

“What’s the problem with it!” Nanami had that sour pout she always sported when you call her out on something that wasn’t typically considered- but she also knew- wasn’t a good idea either, “Sure he’s not a prince charming but…” She tugged on a strand of hair as she let a tiny girlish smile tug on her lips, “He’s still pretty cute, and besides we almost just died tonight! I feel like I earned it.”

Shifting away from her, you facepalmed as you sighed, you understood. You did, you all almost died and now what better way to celebrate then getting finally losing your virginity in celebration. No you couldn’t relate to that in particular but you understood. Still...couldn’t she have picked someone a little more… “I just...don’t think it’s a good idea talking to him. That’s all…! I mean seriously, look at him. He’d probably stab us in our sleep if it meant he got an extra charge on his phone.”

“What? So you’re saying I can’t talk to him?” Nanami crossed her arms as she glared at you ungratefully, as you wistfully sighed, looking out to where the other two sat, they were a good distance away where they both sat talking at the fire Akari had built.

You glanced away from her as you puffed a breath, not sure why she was getting such a sour attitude, did she seriously like this guy that much already? Because that wouldn’t do, at all, “Look I’m not saying you can’t talk to him I’m just saying...stop...whatever you’re trying to do! Chishiya is...Nami…!” You cried out in frustration as you grabbed your head, “A guy like that is only going to gaslight the fuck out of you! Take it from me, no amount of skill in bed is good enough for that! He’s trouble Nanami.” 

“Then why did you ask him to come with us?” Nanami accused you as she glared at you even more sour than before as you groaned. To be fair he did decline at first. Initially you had asked Chishiya about the beach just as a start to figure out what the guy Ryu was talking about but all of sudden Chishiya said he changed his mind and he wanted to stay with you all. Probably out of curiosity of what the Beach was. You couldn’t blame him. 

“He wanted to come with us regardless of me because of looking for the Beach!” You retaliated, why was she getting so defensive!? You just had her best interest at heart here! Whatever if she really wanted to sleep with him that much it wasn’t your business but you didn’t want to deal with her crying when he busted one and conveniently found a reason to leave again. You paused your thought as you glanced at Chishiya who was looking up at the sky.

Would he really do something like that though? Brief hesitation passed through you, you didn’t know. You didn’t know anything with him. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know. And it put you on edge. Severely. What was his intention here? A part of you doubted he’d even sleep with Nanami, just because of who he was. 

Regardless of what happened, you still weren’t sure about him. Just because you had been partnered with Chishiya, you had the distinct feeling, it would be wise to not trust him completely. Not yet at least.

Nanami groaned as she stomped her foot, “Why are you always like this Y/n! Can't you just let me do what I want? I am an adult now.”

Yes that’s right, she was an ‘adult’ now, making very adult decisions. Sighing you rubbed your forehead, deciding to just give up for now, “Yeah you are, clearly. Do whatever you want.” You didn’t have the energy after tonight to try and do this right now. And maybe Chishiya would leave on his own, he seemed pretty intended on that before you had brought up your search. 

Puffing a breath you watched as Nanami stomped away as she crossed her arms and headed back for the camp. You couldn’t believe her right now…! Out of all the guys she had to choose she wanted to choose the most lifeless guy possible…?

You knew why she was doing this, well you couldn’t know for sure but you had the sneaking suspicion it was because when you both were younger it was because guys always tended to linger around because of you. Perhaps that’s where that sense of insecurity came from…? 

Truthfully you never wanted a rivalry between you and your sister, in some ways you considered yourself her caretaker, when no one else was there for her you made sure you were. Every, single, time. You wished she’d just be a little more transparent when it came to things like this and you could work things out without so much emotional stress. Especially now that your life hangs in the balance between life and death constantly. 

Wrapping your jacket around yourself you let out a soft sigh shaking your head before turning to face the car parking building, it spiraled upwards and suddenly an idea struck you. Rather than going back to the camp you entered it, pushing into the small room of staircases where you walked up. 

Your legs ached by the time you pushed the door open to the top floor that overlooked the night sky. A smile slowly crept on your face as you inhaled the cool night air, you used to love doing this back when you were still in school. Climbing up here all by yourself to listen to some music and overlook the city lights. 

Grabbing onto the ledge that overlooked the city you frowned again looking over the wash of black, all the venues must’ve been finished tonight, where some had a game clear or game over would never be known to you. But still, just the notion made you feel nauseous, who could ever do something like this? You tried tracing your memory back but you drew a blank.

Hoping up you sat down on the ledge letting your legs swing out over the blank unknown, looking down you came to the conclusion that if you leaned just a little too far, you’d probably die from falling. Who would’ve thought that would be a kind death compared to other people here. 

Hearing a loud blast you jumped as you looked up at the sky only in horror to watch red lasers shoot from the sky all in synchronicity. Your stomach churned once more at the sight that was straight out of a horror film and within a brief second, suddenly it was gone. 

“It happened last night too.” 

You jolted once more at the cool toned voice as you grabbed your chest, “Jesus do you want me to just slip to my death!?” You chastised as you turned to Chishiya, when did he even get here? Heaving a breath you grabbed back onto the ledge as you leaned back on your hands, “...I guess we know what happens to those who don’t participate in games…” 

How horrid, really...how could this even be reality at all? Was this really some kind of simulation or...experiment? A cruel one? Your mind drifted to the Beach again where Ryu must’ve hoped you’d go with them...His girlfriend though...you weren’t sure you trusted her either to be honest. 

“...Where do you think we’ll find the Beach?” You turned to Chishiya, his hoodie covering his head as he leaned onto the railing overlooking the city that was engulfed in darkness, his eyes however cast out to the sky where those constellations from before only became more vivid. 

He snorted, “Over a body of water, clearly as the name suggests. An actual beach would be too literal otherwise a full name would’ve accompanied it. Perhaps a ship or a hotel? I’ll need a map tomorrow and we can narrow it from there.” 

Tucking your tongue into your cheek you heaved a breath, “I’ve known you less than a day but...I get the feeling I’d hate to be your rival.” It was the truth, Chishiya if anything, was not someone who was considered all bark and no bite. Something about those eyes looked so cold and ruthless. As if he genuinely held no concern or resolve for anyone but himself. You frowned as you watched him carefully, what a sad life to live if that was the case. 

You watched something akin to a smirk twist on his lips, as if he was proud to hear those words despite it insinuating some amount of fear in you. Which you’d say was partially true, not that you truly feared him but...If he was an enemy? You were simply glad he wasn’t. Especially if he was as ruthless as he appeared.

“So you don’t want me to talk to your sister?” 

Your eyes immediately shot open from their lazed state as you twisted to face where Chishiya leaned on the railing, something so annoying about those smug eyes of his as if he was just talking about the weather. Tucking your tongue into your cheek an annoyed smile appeared on your lips, “Oh, so that’s why you’re here? What did she tell you.” 

Chishiya didn’t say anything only looking at you with that cocky smirk and dark eyes as slowly your expression faded as you realized she didn’t tell him anything he just took a guess as to what happened between you both and you just confirmed, “You are very annoying you know that?” Your voice lowered a little as you leaned a little closer to him, your expression dry at the realization you fell right into his trap. 

He shrugged, but you could tell in his demeanor even when you weren’t meaning too you were still feeding that massive ego of his, “Now that you confirmed it, what’s the problem?” You weren’t scared of him in terms of confrontation. Even if you felt the internal voice in the back of your head tell you that you should be. 

“It’s nothing personal against you,” You shrugged, deciding that regardless, it would be best if you were careful with your interactions with him, “Nanami is just…” You pressed your lips together, looking out over the night sky as you spoke, “This world doesn’t deserve someone like her, and someone like you?” A lopsided smile twisted on your lips as you laughed a little, “Be honest with yourself, I shouldn’t have to even explain that.” 

“Someone like me?” Chishiya challenged much to your surprise as you looked at him, it was your turn to be amused as he waited for an answer that you didn’t want to give. Why would you? And personally, it was as you said, it was nothing against him. 

You had no problems with him, “What about someone like you?” His expression turned smug and cold as he spoke, “I get the feeling you just infantilize your sister to the point she feels suffocated, if she chooses to do something stupid it’s only to get away from you. So what does someone like me have to do with this?” His expression became all the more sinister at your face darkening, “It shouldn’t be me you should be worrying about.” He shrugged, that calico smug smile of his on his lips as he shrugged, “So by all means, explain your wording, I’d love to hear you blame shift to ignore your own problems.” 

You glared down at your shoes, infantilized? You didn’t…! Anger simmered in your veins as you took a shaky breath to calm yourself as you let out a short laugh, suddenly looking up with a strained expression as you spoke, “Alright, I was going to be nice, but since you have no social ethic I’ll tell you why. I took one look at you when we first met and all I see is someone who’s completely hollow on the inside. Someone like you?” 

You spat out as your brows furrowed, “Has no remorse or care for others and after trying to figure out why I realized it’s not out of a bad life or mistreatment of any kind. You're just that kind of person that really doesn’t care. You’re the worst kind of person Chishiya, you don’t have any reason for the way you are, and I think you know that more than anyone else. This isn’t me trying to blame shift, I’m very well aware of my own problems, this has to do with someone like you manipulating and taking advantage of anyone, in your own words, stupid enough to fall for it.” 

You shrugged, your expression dim as you had hoped maybe Chishiya would’ve intervened to counter you and dispel your argument, but the more you spoke, the more you watched his expression become more cold and the more your own words were confirmed to you, “And you know what I think?” 

You frowned a little now, somehow saddened by the fact that there was obviously some truth in your words, “I think deep down, you're envious of people like us who can at least outwardly muster the attempt to be kind to people. Where as you?” You laughed a little, “You're so empty, you can’t even fake that. Every time I look at you, I see nothing. No concern, no care, not even anger. Just, nothing.”

The silence between you both, for the first time, felt very loud. Tapping your lip you hummed, deciding to shove even more salt into the wound, a bitter aftertaste about his words previously making you speak, “You know…” You turned around as you hopped off the ledge, now looking up at Chishiya’s figure that was still outlooking the city, “I’d diagnose you as a sociopath, but well...typically they’re charismatic. So I really don’t know what you are. Other than an incredibly sad existence.” 

Walking down the steps by yourself you felt the silence loud as your footsteps echoed. A part of yourself was licking your own wounds at his words, infantilizing…! You didn’t...you paused at the bottom of the steps, your expression wavering as you rubbed your neck...did you really do that to your sister…?

Looking back up at the steps you suddenly felt the urge to go back up and apologize to him, you were incredibly honest in your assessment, but...he did ask for it. Even after you tried to be polite about it. And if you could get anything from that, it was the assumption that he just genuinely thought you couldn’t read him or anyone else that well. 

You shook your head as you went back to the camp, whatever...It’s not like you’d be in contact with this guy for long. Once you all figured out what this Beach was, you’d simply part ways afterwards and you would no longer have to deal with him. Laying down on the taller grass wasn’t a great bed as you looked up at the sky. 

Still...it seemed like you were fire and ice together. You starkly remembered the look on his face, similar to now but something was different when you had both heard the words Game Cleared...you groaned as you rolled onto your side. 

Men were so frustrating.

“Are you sure this is it?” You felt a little reluctant at the sight ahead, there were certainly a lot of people but...it was as if they were far, far away from the reality of the Borderlands. And then it became apparent. Escapism, at it’s pure finest, if you had seen anything like it before. 

Chishiya’s eyes scanned over the map as he nodded, “If it’s anywhere, it’s here.” He confirmed as you all looked ahead as you curved a brow before shrugging as you sighed, it was better than nothing and you could use some answers. 

Strangely, it was as if last night's conversation didn’t exist between you both. You had woken up this morning and continued on as you had before, it was...very strange. You had anticipated he’d either leave or he’d alienate you. Maybe both? But then it occurred to you, he probably just didn’t care what you thought. 

You thought back on his expression which lead you to assume that no...It wasn’t that he didn’t care, granted he definitely didn’t care what you thought, that was a give but it wasn’t that he didn’t care in another way...That expression, it was dark and cold, not angry but...something bitter...How strange. You couldn’t pinpoint it. You were just glad you could, at the very least, co exist for the short while you’d be together.

“Well! Let’s go say hi then! I’m sure they’ll take us right to the leader or something...right?” Nanami leaned over to you in confirmation as you gave a weak smile before shrugging. You didn’t see any weapons and everyone was too busy playing around in the pool for you to assume otherwise. 

“Well shit let’s go! That looks like a lot of fun!” Akari was the first to bolt and Nanami was quickly after her as you and Chishiya walked behind them both and upon someone seeing you they had called out, “New comers!” 

And it was as if the whole party stopped. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you rubbed your neck, “Talk about party crashing...” You mumbled, immediately feeling unwelcome. 

“Hey…! You guys made it!” Ryu had pulled himself out of the pool in excitement as he ran up to you all, a boyish grin on his face in awe, “You found us surprisingly fast! It usually takes most people a week at most.” Well most people didn’t have a brainiac in their group...You briefly glimpsed at Chishiya who stayed just as stoic as always. Had it not been for him it probably would’ve taken two weeks to find this place. 

“Well if you’re here to join us I’ll take you to number 1!” Ryu nodded as he gestured to you all to follow him as you carefully looked around as you frowned, this place almost felt too good to be true...What even was it? 

Opening the doors to the upper level where all the higher ranked...members? Stayed you weren’t sure what you were expecting, “Welcome to Utopia! The Beach!” The man held up a bottle and his frizzy blonde hair swished around with his eccentric waving hands. It was the wall behind him that first you noticed. 

Playing cards had been drawn and only a little more than fifteen were X’d off? Was this supposed to be a whole playing deck? “Number 1! This was the group I told you about last night…!” Ryu waved a hand to you all in excitement, “I think they’d be a great addition to the Beach and it’s search for the cards!” 

“Cards?” Akari echoed out as she crossed her arms, flicking her hat up a bit to see better as you looked between both men.

The man let out a hardy laugh that made you wince a little...why did it feel like he was more than just...eccentric…? “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Ryu.” The man slammed him on the back a little to hard making him jump as he rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Allow me to introduce myself! I’m Danma Takeru formly, most know me as the Hatter. Here in this paradise we foster hope for all! Drink as much as you’d like, eat to your heart's content do whatever pleases your soul!” 

This was way too good to be true. It had to be...

Something about Hatter seemed absent but you couldn’t figure out what only for it to immediately strike you, it wasn’t that he was eccentric, no...He was definitely neurotic, you weren’t sure how or in what way, but your professor had made your class do a project based on the signs and symptoms of neuroticism based in serial killers that could be attributed to the lead up in their crimes. Not that you assumed this was the potential for Hatter but...well it was the Borderlands and surely it had taken a toll on everyone to a degree...some more then others...

“There’s only three rules to allow you to stay here! The first being when on Beach property, swimwear is required!” He pointed a finger before lifting a second, “The second can be considered quite important.” Hatter turned around as he waved at the large wall, “It’s quite simplistic and I can’t leak my source. There’s only one escape from this hell, and that’s by collecting all the playing cards!” 

All potential problems aside your chest fluttered a little at his words, escape…! So this really was real, and you all were experiencing it and the only way out was through collecting a whole deck? Hatter madly grinned as he spoke, “A team of players is created each night as a group of three or four with balanced strengths in their respective game type where the chances of death are lowered significantly! The way this works is simple, rule two is to give up all your cards.” 

Really? That's all it took, this was…! This had to be full proof, a part of you still felt this was too good to be true, and you were sure part of it had to due with Hatter, despite his obvious signs of some sort of mental illness, he was quite the charming and upbeat person, it would be hard for anyone to not want to match his energy, “That’s right!” Hatter crossed his arms triphumantly, “Once we collect a whole deck a single person will be chosen to leave!” 

What…

Just…Just one person! “But…wait- how does that work? I don’t understand.” You immediately spoke up, pushing forward a little bit as Hatter’s gaze turned onto you, that wild grin of his showing as he chuckled. 

“We have a whole ranked system here! The more cards you collect the more your rank moves and the value of each card contributes to your rank. Creating one full deck is impossible for one person but the impossible becomes possible when you band a whole crew together, we have a lot of repeating cards so once the first person leaves more will soon follow after. That’s the goal of our utopia The Beach!” 

“I can’t believe we’re actually a part of something so…! Hopeful!” Nanami squealed from behind the barrier, she had finished changing faster than you but she was too excited, a brief smile tugged on your face as you glanced at the barrier before back to your dilemma, “I’m gonna go lay out at the pool! Catch up later?” 

“Yeah! Don’t wait up for me I’m...probably gonna be awhile…” You sighed as you rubbed your neck, you never really liked swimsuits all that much…

Nanami hurried out of the room as you sighed, picking up the bikini top in dismay...did they really expect you to wear beach attire the full time? Grabbing the halter top you hummed...beach attire! Okay you could make this work.

It had taken a little longer than you expected to find something that didn’t make you feel so exposed but in the end it worked out. Pulling up the high waisted shorts you ignored how far up your ass it pulled. You’d make it work! Pulling up the sheer beach cover you nodded in affirmation. Still somewhere in your mind lingered an important question, was this really worth it? 

Much to your surprise after Akari had agreed straight away Chishiya was the one after to agree, he didn’t seem thrilled...hardly excited either. It made you briefly wonder if he was only staying because this place had electricity which Ryu explained on the way to the dressing room that was fueled by a mass of propane tanks.

Regardless you wouldn’t be picky...It didn’t seem too terrible here. Just cards for free stay to food and a warm bed? It’s not like you’d get a full deck on your own, much like Hatter said you’d prefer to just live out your days at least in functional condition. And hey maybe if you gathered enough cards you’d move to a higher rank. You still wanted to chat with Ryu but just how the Borderlands worked. 

Closing the door the room you decided you’d search for him immediately.

The hotel was massive and not even all the floors were in use, looking down at your bracelet that was slated with 52, there was only currently what…? Forty members? Maybe a little more? Stepping out onto the terris your eyes scanned the large crowd that was all laid out, some in the pool and you could spot your sister surrounded by three guys, clacking your tongue you shook your head as you watched her giggle. It was hard to believe she had a complex some days but men not liking her...Honestly. 

Close to the middle of the pool you spotted Ryu and Hiroko, who for once had a smile on her face as she splashed him with a giggle. You felt brief hesitation, not wanting to interrupt but...you did want to hear a more detailed explanation about...well everything and Ryu seemed the most approachable…

Shifting a little as you looked down at your attire as you sighed in exasperation, finding a pool chair before shimmying your pants off and kicking off your flip flops before sitting at the edge of the pool dipping your feet in, “Hey Ryu!” You waved over, “Hiroko! Can I have a minute?” Hiroko frowned immediately upon sight of you but with a few whispered words from Ryu she adhered. 

“Hey…! I never did get your name. I really am glad you made it! Hatter has been asking us to go out and find people to bring it to help keep growing the Beach.” 

You offered a small smile as you kicked your feet in the water, it was the heat of july after all and the water was perfect for swimming, “Y/n, and that's my sister Nanami over there.” You nodded towards Nanami who was giggling over two highscool boys who kept shoving each other in hopes of getting her attention, “Thanks by the way, for last night. Honestly if it wasn’t for Chishiya it probably would’ve taken us weeks to find this place. It’s nice here.” 

“You mean the sour blonde?” Hiroko snorted as she glanced over near the pavilion they had set up, turning to follow her gaze you had spotted where Chishiya now was, sporting a pair of white swim trunks and his jacket still zipped up only with his headphones in and on his phone. 

“Is there even a wifi signal here?” You frowned as you tilted your head in wonder, he did look pretty sour sitting there, “Ah- anyways, yeah! That’s him, unfortunately he does live up to expectation.” You rolled your eyes a little as you returned your gaze back to the both of them before offering a weak smile, “What I wanted to ask was...God where do I even start, what are the playing cards, and what do they represent? Given we’re supposed to collect them I’m sure they have some significance, that’s a given.” 

“Playing cards are awarded for each game you play, the numerical value determines how long you’re allowed to stay at the borderlands on your visa, so if you were to complete a game at a value of five, you’d be allowed five days of stay” Ryu explained carefully, “Much like in a regular deck there’s four suits. What we played last night was a Clubs game, it stands for team building, meaning the game is usually associated with needing to work as a team to clear the game. Spades are related to physical activity- ah...not really my strong suit…” He rubbed the back of his neck feeling a bit sheepish. 

“He’s great at them!” Hiroko boasted, obviously proud of her boyfriend as she wrapped an arm around his waist, “He’s just modest- Diamonds stands for intellect and wit, typically anything that has to do with puzzle solving or use of logic and reason. Hearts though….” She winced a little as her nose wrinkled making you tilt your head in confusion, “I’m not sure to be honest, many say it’s a game of psychology, playing with the players minds to make simple game clears a lot harder. I’ve never experienced a heart game though. We’re still missing a lot on the board.” 

You tapped your lip as you hummed, “That doesn’t sound too terrible, I did notice they only have the 2 of hearts and the Ace up on the board...The most they’ve collected is spades and clubs?” 

“They’re the most common from what I’ve seen.” Ryu shrugged, “I’ve also never had a heart game, I had two diamond though and a lot of clubs and a few spades.”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, alright this made sense, “And I’m guessing numerical value is the rating of difficulty?” 

Ryu brightly smiled as he nodded, “Yeah! We haven’t gotten anything past a seven though! And only one person experienced it and that was a Clubs too…” He rubbed the back of his head in thought, “Well things here only took off a few weeks ago to be fair…” 

“Just a few weeks ago?” Your mouth dropped in surprise before looking around in awe, “I never would've guessed! I thought it would take longer to build up such a crowd honestly…” 

“Not a few weeks-” Hiroko smacked Ryu on the back of the head as he whined a little, rubbing the sore spot as she spoke matter of factly, “It’s been a few weeks that we’ve been here...I think it’s been going for about a month altogether though...Things have been a little...tense…” She looked reluctant as she glanced away, a shadow cast over her face as you frowned, turning your head a little. 

Ryu and Hiroko exchanged looks as she nodded a little, “Well…” Ryu rubbed his shoulder as he lowered his voice, “Hiroko is in the top ten right now because of how much she participates in games, so one day she was with Kuzuryuu, Mihiru and An number 3, 4 and 5 right?” You nodded as you brows scrunched a little, wondering why Ryu seemed a little flighty as his eyes darted around as he lowered his voice once more, “Keep this between us alright? But when they opened the door with Agni- number 2 to a room full of slaughtered people. Apparently Hatter killed them all because they were hiding cards from him.” 

...Oh...so you were right? In assuming Hatter was definitely neurotic. Your professor would probably be proud but somehow you had a hard time taking pride in your assessment.

Hiroko winced a little at the memory as she looked away reluctantly, “...Hatter hasn’t really been the same, he only just created rule number three last week…” Right, rule number three. 

Death to all traitors. You had definitely suspected something was up with Hatter when he had explained that one but...you always tried your best to give the benefit of the doubt to everyone until you could no longer defend their actions by logic.

That one had admittedly caught your attention when Hatter explained that anyone with holding cards would be killed or if they tried to desert the Beach, a little scary but...again it wasn’t like it was possible for you to create a deck by yourself...But know knowing the story behind why that rule was put in place did make you feel a bit...Uneasy.

“That just happened?” Your face twisted a little as you wrapped your arms around yourself, both Ryu and Hiroko nodded. 

“Mhm, just last week. Things are slowly getting back to normal, there've been a few people resistant but I try not to think about it, word of advice? Just stay away from the militant sect, follow the rules and you’ll be fine.” Hiroko, for the first time offered a weak smile, despite her cool disposition she wasn’t too terrible. 

“Coming through y’all!” All three of you turned to watch Akari running full speed at the pool before jumping in making you jump as you covered the droplets of water that sprinkled you, “Whatcha talkin’ about over here? Secrets?” Akari swam up, floating on top of the water with a dorky smile, “I love secrets!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you splashed Akari with your foot as she yelped, flailing to stand up right, “Nothing that concerns you, did you abandon Nanami by herself.” 

“No offense but I think she’s doing pretty fine by herself.” Akari snorted as she nodded to Nanami, still yet again surrounded by boys but now had at least three drinks untouched sitting on the glass table next to her. Puffing a breath you rolled your eyes with a smile, typical. 

“They’re back!” Someone screamed before you heard more cheers making you straighten up as Hiroko puffed a breath, laying her arms on the edge of the pool as she rolled her eyes, “They went out to gather supplies because that snake tongue freak kept joking about using Ryu as target practice. I told Agni we were low on dry foods and alcohol so it worked out.” 

“W-well he wanted to set stuff on top of my head to um…” Ryu coughed a little as he looked away bashfully, twisting around you frowned as you watched several men walk in making your expression further contort. They all had guns. Like all of them. How has there not been a mass shootout? 

“We got all the liquor you could need! Get it fresh in the back everyone!” Your nose wrinkled at the sight of several piercings and you immediately knew who Hiroko was previously referencing to. 

“That’s Samura he just joined a few days ago,” Ryu spoke up as he nodded towards the guy with a fucking katanna on his back and tattoos all over his face, “People uh, just call him Last Boss though, he kinda looks like the end boss of a game that takes ages to beat. I think it suits him to be honest, a bit weird though…He immediately joined the militant sect as soon as he joined.” 

Hiroko rolled her eyes as she spoke, “Yeah Niragi apparently took a liking to him or something- I try not to keep up with them, they give me a headache. Plus that guy looks like a total shut in before he got dropped into the Borderlands, he has zero social skills.” You weakly smiled as you rubbed the back of your neck, that was a bit harsh...although you would say Last Boss did seem...there was something so focused yet...absent about his eyes. 

He in a strange way almost reminded you of a toddler that was still working on coordination between completing an action with someone's speech. 

The sun was suddenly blocked and a shadow casted over you as a raspy voice shouted out, “Well what do we have here? Fresh meat.” You glanced up to the tall dark haired figure, oh it was...snake tongue freak? As Hiroko had previously said, you would’ve in any other situation snapped something but this guy was carrying a sniper rifle like it was a loaf of bread. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked a little away, unsure of what to say as Hiroko suddenly stood all the way up, pushing herself out of the pool to stand up fully as she gave him a sneering glare, “Niragi go fuck with someone else.” 

The man- Niragi leaned back a little as he took a few steps back, cackling as he held up his hands, his tongue sticking out showing off the piercing briefly before he spoke, “Well excuse me miss bitch, I wasn’t talking to you.” A twisted smile appeared on his lips like it was some sort of sick amusement at Hiroko’s darkening glare, “Lemme see you kitty.” 

You made a noise similar to a yelp as you were suddenly dragged up to your feet and way too close to guy for comfort, his tongue sticking out and you were for a half a second wondering if he intended on licking you, “What a nice little body here, and such a pretty face too.” He cooed out sickeningly as he squeezed your face harshly, as you looked away from him, “I bet you and me would have a great time wouldn’t we.” 

You had dealt with a lot worse truthfully, and somewhere deep inside you were grateful you had otherwise you’d probably be in tears at how terrifying and semi psychotic this man was, “Sorry…” You winced looking up at him with an unappreciative look, “I only fuck people like you when they have a good paycheck.” 

Niragi howled out laugh making you briefly relax for a moment, offering a weak smile, at least he had a sense of- “Hey!” You screeched, suddenly being hauled against him as you squirmed to push away from him as you felt his hot wet tongue on your neck, “Let go!” 

His hands crawled their way up your waist as you squirmed, his tongue dragging up the lobe of your ear as he growled a whisper, “Why deny a good time huh? It’s okay, they’re always more fun when they resist.” He couldn’t get further when you jammed your knee between his legs taking the brief moment of his pain before harshly shoving him into the pool where a loud splash covered everyone who didn’t even pay any mind to the scene which obviously happened often much to your disappointment. 

Hiroko was immediately at your side, something motherish about the way she held you close as you watched Niragi flailed before getting his footing in the pool as he snarled, “You bitch!” Hiroko immediately brought you both back, her chest puffed as she glared him down as he crawled out of the pool, now towering over you both. 

What happened next baffled the both of you, something- No...a rock? It smacked straight across his head, not enough to cause any damage but enough to gain his attention, “These are quite useful for short range,” 

You whipped around in shock at the familiar voice, Chishiya had thrown a rock up before catching it as he glanced at the small thing, holding it up in examination, “Throw it hard enough and it could probably take out an eye,” He looked up at Niragi with perhaps the most frightening smile you had ever seen, his eyes in that classic cold sneer as he spoke, “Looks like you could use it given how blind you are.” 

You stepped away a little uneasy at the tension in the air that suddenly spiked as Niragi glared him down, Chishiya’s lips quirked into a smirk as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, not looking the least bit concerned. 

Wasn’t this just perfect? 

Note: I am by no means a Niragi simp but like,,,he lowkey kinda fun to write when Chishiya is constantly baiting this man into violence. Next chapter is v fun!! lemme know what you guys think so far! :)

[zathechaosgod]

Favourtie Stream Moments

Streamed by Philza on Twitch on Wednesday 25th of November

Hardcore boi doing hardcore things today!

Phil send techno a picture of his offline chat and techno just replied

Also rip the old alerts he’s been changing them around

RIP GREEDY GREEDY PHIL

He’s so popular now he can’t hear himself think due to the notifs lol

Greedy greedy phil might come back in a different form though!

Quartress garden again tonight!

He’s gonna make the swing he talked about before!

Scam train pog!

And we’re already having problems with the bits not coming through rip

Bits are now coming through but tts is still broken ripp

Also all tts is brian now sadge

Techno said “why are they like this” about the offline chat lmao

(you’re safe for now, but we’ll see how long it lasts)

Gapple gang catch up from monday~~~

Swing-making struggles rip

I can tell it’s gonna be pretty tho

The MCC teams just got announced on discord but Phil won’t tell us :( there’s some interesting teams though?

End of season one vid! (for mcc)

Phil paused the video specifically to say that Tommy has beef with the social media woman lmaoo

Epic Landlord lmaooo “I was never sorry”

glow squid go brr

Phil is very hyped for the new monster hunter coming to pc

“Special bois, a pig, y’know, everything a quatress should have”

“i have a few shulkers” *opens full double chest, then second double chest half filled*

“no no no” with a wagging finger bc chat was begging for an earcheck lmao

blocks go brrrr

this is in context to the people who keep asking what he’s gonna do about the warden lmao

Phil just wants to make shrubbery, but someone requested fishing lmaooo

AND AN EARCHECK LMAOOO

no progress on stream lol this is why he started doing stuff off-stream

phil asked chat what was the most stressful thing from this past week and ian decided that was the time to confess he almost broke the sub server

also phil reminds everyone stressed by school that it gets a lot better once you’re done and that you’re going to be okay!

ranboo is here as well lol, his most stressful thing was dying in hardcore with phil on the call lmao

Earcheck time!

lol i actually just found out i had my headphones on wrong pog

rip the audio is scuffed he’s gotta restart the stream :(

also he’s finally fixing the donation tts

“tommy shouldn’t be in charge of anything, really”

this is about the banned board on dream smp

finally back to the swing and the garden!

i feel like phil might’ve just gotten a new hobby, we’re looking at stuff with the pretty shaders on again

photographer!phil anyone?

SLUGZA

“is it weird chat that i thought about naming that cow and immediately killing it, just to piss you off?”

(this is why my url is the way it is lmaooo, chaosza)

the nether void took 250k+ blocks of black concrete rip

pros and cons of tall oak trees: pretty, but such a pain to take down

a zombie piglin spawned in the tall tree and he’s now called Technotree lmaoo

i actually love love love how phil names anything pig related techno

There’s like 4-5 techno’s in this hardcore workd now lol

Someone suggested snowza for mcc13 and now people are spamming cumza again help

H E

S H E

someone asked if phil has a favourite kid and he refused to answer so now chat is just “it’s techno isn’t it”

love the amount of work a single tree is taking, so much effort goes in to spawnproofing

annd there he goes making ten stacks of buttons even though he does not need that much for a single tree

lmaoo there was another fishing request available bc he restarted stream

(he refunded it, chat is still spamming scamza)

honestly i live for the way momza is always on our side lmao

SCAM TRAIN LEVEL FIVE LETS GOO

also hella pog is replacing the log underneath technotree with basalt i would’ve just left it there lmao

7K SUBS POG

People are trying to pull a quackity support but phil doesn’t cry that quickly anymore

the tree looks so cool!

SNOOP TIME

aka time to weed out the weak ones (pun fully intended)

Lmaoo we gained viewers???

7777 go brrr

bot also go brrr to time out the 7s bc the bot doesn’t care

Seriously the tree turned out awesome especially with wet hands on the background

lmao he’s got no dark oak left bc it’s all buttons

soul lanterns!!! they might be my favourite item in the game they’re so pretty!!!

momza’s mom gifted 5 subs!!!

chat is discussing options please reply below: Nanza/Granza/Granmaza/Granza-in-law/Grannyza

comprimise on 7777subs: he’ll let it actually get to the sevens in the tts if he hit it

he can’t do all of the sevens bc tts would get wayyyyy too far behind

Things i’ve learned in minecraft today: You can place coral fans on the sides of other blocks!!!

Nethertree looks absolutely awesome, especially with the lanterns!!

Also with the rate subs are going, we might hit the subgoal next stream already? 500+ subs again already wow

rip game crashed due to the shaders

whoo the garden path actually leads to stuff now!

no shrubbery yet though and a greenhouse will also be added!

ohhh fallen tree possibly!

basalt+dead coral makes for an awesome fallen log!

Raiding Wilbur! 100man chaos lmao

GARBAGE DAY

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 1

I went through my entire ao3 history because I’m insane, AND here’s my favorites. (There’s not a lot of aus because I’m not a huge fan of them, and there’s no sad endings. I’m a hopeless romantic leave me alone. There is angst though! Lots) 

Beginning with SakuAtsu (I’m a hoe for Atsumu): 

Hide and seek, by badreputation (10k. E. canonverse) 

It sure is a good thing Atsumu doesn't have a latex allergy 

It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

Some Memories, We May Keep, by mika60 (31k. T. canonverse) 

This is canon, fight me on it. 

The missing panels, the missing games, the missing moments.

The them we never saw.

*Now complete! :)*

 every action has an equal and opposite reaction, by akanemnida (10k. T. canonverse) 

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

 Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study, by neverwere (2k. E. canonverse) 

Fucking hilarious, the imagery is absolutely hilarious. 

"Marry me, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself.

This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue.

Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart."

Or

When it comes to sex, Atsumu has rules. Guidelines! SOPs! He swears they work, they've always worked.

Until they don't.

 parallax error: angle of inclination, by min_mintobe (10k. T. canonverse)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

 autumn ends, but we remain, by wolfsbvne (5k. T. canonverse)

Author says in their ending notes that they're not an ‘author’, but methinks they should write more and pursue that career path because this was wonderful.  

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

I left a taste in your mouth, by emso (26k. E. bodyguard au)

Because obviously 

Sakusa fixes him with a vague expression of something like distaste. There's a scathing edge to his tone when he speaks. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, not everyone who meets you is instantly dying to get into your pants, Miya."

"Lucky I don't really care right now what 'everyone' wants to do, then." Atsumu swivels his mug around on the tabletop a few times, and then brings it to his mouth to drain the last few dregs of his latte. Over the rim of his mug, he adds casually, "Just you."

Whoa hey Bodyguard Omi, I think Spoiled Rich Kid Tsumu might possibly have a teensy crush on you. 

 How do you know you're in love?, by spiritscript (12k. T. canonverse)

Pure art

“So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”

Atsumu thinks he must be in love with Hinata Shouyou and so asks the best person he knows to help him understand his feelings

 san'yo expressway, 6:17 pm, by yamabota (13k. T. canonverse)

Of violent forethoughts, and handheld car vacuums. 

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out. 

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional, by DeathBelle (Series, 5 works. T-E. Canonverse)

Honestly, I think this one is kind of famous amongst Sakuatsu readers but I can’t not include it. If I recall correctly, this is the fic that got me into Sakuastu, so thanks, DeathBelle. The characters are portrayed really well (i.e. Sakusa is disgusted and confused, and Atsumu is a little shit). You’ve got a good balance between conversations and descriptive thoughts and all-in-all it’s just a really good read. 

 Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands), by liliapocalypse (7k words. T. canonverse):

Oh, god. This one was so cute. Super fluffy. Loved the metaphors and symbolism. Sometimes you just can’t say things out loud. 

When a bad injury shocks the whole V. League, Sakusa finds himself paired with Atsumu for more rigorous assisted stretches before every training. Atsumu then finds himself writing random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe the spiker, forcing Sakusa to reevaluate how his touch aversion became an irresistible yearning for more, and how the boy with the annoying hair somehow brought that hunger to life.

Or, the fic where Atsumu mindlessly writes a confession on Sakusa’s back when he thought Sakusa wasn't paying attention. Sakusa always did.

 mortality is found is the flesh of your sins, by novrik (10k. M. canonverse)

This is literally my favorite fic of all time. Not just of Sakuatsu, not even of the Haikyuu fandom. Ever. Favorite fic ever. Listen, I’m an atheist, but this fic took me on a religious experience that I haven't come down from yet. The symbolism had me actually shivering, and I had to put my phone down quite a few times. Just, oh wow, just read it. I’d like to share my favorite line; ‘And if Sakusa is Eve, if he takes a bite, what then? Perhaps, he is a little afraid of the knowledge he will gain’. My god, author, if you ever see this, this is not only a plea for you to continue writing, but also an offer of marriage. Your hand, author?

 dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate.

Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?

Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying?

When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

 sakuatsu domesticity simulator, by pseudoanalytics (75 words. T. canonverse)

75 words because it's actually a digital art simulator. An interactive fic! How frickin’ cool is that? The art is so beautiful and I love the plotline and ugh, just everything. Please read, or watch, or click around, yes. Good. 

Update: artist created another interactive fic and of course it is wonderful. SunaOsa this time! https://newttxt.itch.io/cheesecake honestly just check out @newttxt their work is amazing and I love everything they do. 

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

***

(this is the result of letting the sakuatsu brainworms really get to you...)

 Pas De Deux, by hatsuna (19k words. T. Ballet/college au)

There's just something about prim, proper ballet Sakusa and human-benign-tumor Atsumu that makes my heart burst. Seriously gorgeous writing style, loved every second. By the same author who wrote ‘liminal spaces’ (which is also just perfect) so that should give you a good idea of the style. 

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes. The twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?”

 Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

 the affective presence of our black and white reruns, by kozumess (19k. E. canonverse)

Beautiful, classic misunderstandings, my heart actually physically ached at that one scene (you’ll know the scene when you come to it). Kiyoomi is so refreshingly relaxed(? Is that the right word to use? We all know Omi never truly relaxes). 

but the want, it's always there, constant like the static playing on every television channel, present even when the station disconnects.

 cut the conversation, just open your mouth, by meeksoo (E. 16k. canonverse)

Absolutely filthy...BUT WITH FEELINGS! Completely nails the Sakuatsu dynamic, and protective ‘Tsumu? Love it. 

Sakusa opens the door. He always does.

 They’re teammates first, barely even friends. But they hook up on the regular and it works. It’s simple, easy. But then a fan gets too close, Sakusa reacts, and Atsumu is swept up in how quickly things can get complicated.

__

As Atsumu palms himself over his briefs, still feeling off, he realizes it’s because he still wants it. Him. Sakusa. Even after already having him earlier.

He should probably feel self-conscious, mildly ashamed even, that he’s panting ‘Omi Omi’ into the dark beneath the steady thrum of the AC unit when Sakusa’s right down the hall, probably good for it if Atsumu ended up back at his door. Instead, he lays there, writhing and sweaty, alone in his hotel room bed thinking about Sakusa and touching himself.

Afterward, as cum begins to cool on his chest, Atsumu really can’t help but face the fact that things may be getting complicated.

 the hands that beckon me to come, by Ellieb3an (4k. E. canonverse)

So hot, what the fuck! 

The toss, the run, the spike-serve at the end of it all—Sakusa sees it happen in perfect clarity as if time has slowed and his vision narrows to the center where just Miya exists, all powerful muscle and extraordinary skill and that air of confidence.

Sakusa isn’t one of the best receivers in the league for no reason, so his body moves on muscle memory, forearms absorbing the sting of the hit. It’s not enough. But his eyes are still on Miya—on the way his shorts ride up his muscular thighs as he lands, on the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, on the clench of his fist thrust into the air—when the ball ricochets out of bounds.

***

Atsumu stays late at practices to work on his new third serve, even when his frustration with it starts throwing off the rest of his game. Sakusa notices and starts hanging back to secretly watch him from the gym doors. He’s fascinated with Atsumu's determination... and more than a little turned on by it, too.

 you're the flame i use (when it gets dark), by starkartifices (55k. M. canonverse. Ongoing)

Everything is the same except the Sakusas are super rich. 

“Oh, if you want dear, you could bring a plus one. Though, I doubt you have a partner yet.”

“I do actually.”

“What was that, dear?”

"I do have a partner, I mean."

alt title: crazy rich sakusas 

 the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or; the fine art of emotional recognition), by pseudoanalytics (13k. E. canonverse)

Ah, yes. A Pavloved sex life. A Pavloved LOVE life?? 

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

 flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu oneshots), by wordstruck (5 works. T-E. canonverse)

Works 1-3, I think follow a linear story, whereas the last two don't. 

All sakuatsu works are just the angstiest, most miscommunication filled pieces of absolute gold and this one is no exception. Wow. These men are assholes and they bring out the worst in each other, but I’ll be damned if they’re not soulmates. 

Collection of SakuAtsu fics. Several fics are loosely set in the same storyverse. Not necessarily directly connected and can all be read as standalones.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Prologue)

(Gif credit to @honestsycrets​)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Greek/Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: Like 7k, I’m sorry

Warnings: As usual, mentions and descriptions of blood, death, torture, injury and people being burnt alive. Mentions or allusions to rape. If there’s anything else I didn’t mention, please let me know. Fair warning that the Reader Character may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please give her a chance.

A/N: So, in this universe, bc fuck Michael Hirst, Sigurd is alive (tho Ivar did throw the axe) but married and away, Bjorn is still somewhere sunny, and Dublin was founded in Saxon land by Hvitty, Ivar and Ubbe, but it is the latter the one in control, prompting Ivar to eventually return to Kattegat and take the throne form Lagertha (she is alive just like in the show, only Bjorn is not here -I like to think he would understand his brothers wanting to avenge Aslaug?- and Floki departed bc he didn’t want to have to choose between supporting the kid he raised and an old friend), leaving him as King, Ubbe as ruler of Dublin, Hvitserk in Kattegat for now like in the show, Bjorn getting a tan in the Mediterranean, and Sigurd alive and happy cause goddammit killing him was a stupid choice. Sorry and btw this isn’t my creation, this is based on some exchanges I saw on reddit and a lil bit of me lol)

The warrior hesitates before letting you enter the tent, but you do so quietly and without a word, like it is expected out of you, and the men discussing war take no notice of you as you slip into a seat and watch them discuss.

Narses, still in the armor of a Byzantine Strategus despite his back having been turned to the Empire for a long time, turns to look at you as you enter. He doesn’t say a word, but in his green eyes there’s a plea for you not to speak, one that you must obey with gritted teeth and bitten tongue.

He understands, and there’s relief in Narses’ eyes.

Your friend. Your confidante.

Your fool.

His lips are pressed into a thin line, his hands supporting most of his weight as he leans on the war table.

“Our numbers are strong enough to hold until support from Strepshire arrives.” The Christian you recognize as Leofric -a bishop? Cleric? You have no idea anymore- speaks, his voice not much unlike the sound of the Byzantine soldiers’ armor plates rustling together as they march down the streets, burning idols and slaying the poor fools that believed the Gods would save them.

“If we retreat, we can-…” Narses argues, but is quickly interrupted.

“You belong to us!” Leofric barks, and you startle at the sudden aggression, “You have made a deal, Greeks. You must honor it.”

“I am aware. I am also aware you Saxons would sacrifice everything for your revenge.” Narses scoffs back, interrupting the Saxon and your train of thought at the same time.

“You want the same, boy. Is it not why you insist on gaining our support?” Stithulf, the leader, states, leaning back on his chair and resting his hands on the back of his head.

His posture screams of arrogance, his young age of a boy with too much power, his scars of a monster eager to fight.

You could use someone like him leading your army. You have seen too many of the so-called soldiers in your home bend the knee to a false Emperor. Maybe you need a monster on your side, someone with the same thirst for blood Greece left you with, someone willing and able to bring the Gods down from the very Olympus for retribution.

And as he leans back he catches sight of you, his expression tightens into a scowl, and you discard the remote possibility.

Not only is he a Christian, the same brand of men that burned your home, your mother, and years later you as well; but he looks upon you like all you are to do is be one of more of virginal maidens for his strange pantheon.

“What is the witch doing here?” He asks out loud, and you swallow down the words you want to say, but still holding his gaze.

“She is to be my wife, I trust her advice.” Narses sentences, sending you a glance that you return with a grateful one of your own.

“I didn’t know you Greeks were ruled over by your women.”

“Greek women are the only ones to birth real men.” You quip before you can stop yourself, reminded with the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia of when your father told you those exact words.

“Is that what your Goddess tells you, Heathen?”

Even the cadence of Leofric’s voice is enough to get you to twist your lip as you turn your gaze to him, but he remains stoic, a quiet sort of anger bubbling behind his eyes. You could swear a small smile tugs at his lips, as if he truly believes a simple word is enough to silence you.

The loud interruption of Narses’ fists colliding with the table stops his mocking, and the man’s eyes shift to his Byzantine ally within a moment.

“Do not call her that.”

“It is not an insu-…” You start, but your friend turns to you once again, begging you in silence to keep quiet. Biting down a sigh, you lean back in your chair and return your eyes to the map.

A long way from home, setting tents alongside Christians, and shutting your mouth because a man told you to. For all the visions and counsel the Gods have sent you through the years, a word of what was to become of your integrity would have been appreciated.

The sound of the curtains of the tent flapping open and closed makes you lift your gaze from the map, and you see Stithulf’s retrieving back.

Narses sighs, not looking at you when he concedes, both to inform you and the rest of the Saxons and Arab mercenaries in the room,

“We will hold.”

A cold hand grips your heart and the names of the Goddesses you seek for guidance and comfort are at the tip of your tongue, shaped by your lips but never spoken.

The Christians leave you two alone, and you walk to the soldier hunched over the war table. Your native Greek feels like a soft song evoking nostalgia as it dances past your lips:

“You cannot…”

“Please, my love.”

Anger bubbles within you, and you stand up straighter as you meet his eyes, “Narses, the Varangians will overpower us, you know we lost too many already, the support from Ivar the Boneless’ incoming army will crush us, you know h-…”

“This is a matter of war, love, let me handle it.” Narses interrupts, to which you frown.

“I know of war Narses! And I know this is a foolish move!”

“Do you know how to lift a sword?” He retorts, a challenge in his voice that does not go unnoticed.

“I…” You clench your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “I do not need to fight to…”

He laughs bitterly, interrupting you, “Are you hearing your own words?”

“Are you hearing yours? The Varangian King has a crown made of bones and blood, Narses, don’t be foolish. Athena rejoices when he wages war, his army carries her favor.” You spit out your words, trying to make him understand. Narses remains impassive, though, eyes on the map and jaw clenched tight.

“You cannot argue of battle if you have never-…”

You interrupt him with a scoff, pointing an accusing finger at him even when he doesn’t meet your eyes, “I do not need to know how to kill to know the Varangians will swallow you whole. And you’ll drag our people with you.”

At your last words, his head snaps up, eyes facing yours with ferocity and more than old anger, “What choice do I have, huh? We will freeze or starve come winter, we need to move for Eleusis soon!”

“Our people…” You start, but he interrupts you again.

“Our people chose to follow me, and they will.”

“They followed me, they believe in me,” You correct without hesitation, teeth bared, “You followed me, Narses, and I let you, because you promised me an army.”

For a second he hesitates, takes you in with what seem to be new eyes. He seems to have forgotten there’s more than a meek priestess to the woman he followed from Attica. He seems to forget the bloodied hands and hungry smile that greeted him when you gave him the choice to be at your side.

“And I followed you because I love you, because I believe in you!” He exclaims, making shame and regret churn at your insides. You deviate your eyes from his, gritting your teeth.

“I begged you not to force our people to fight against these Norsemen, and you didn’t listen,” You grit out after a few breaths, anger returning to your voice, “Where was your love, your trust, when you chose to ally with these…Christians?”

He takes one of your hands in his, and the touch feels cold.

“You must trust me with this,” He intreats, warm eyes looking for something in your own you don’t think he can find. “Can you trust me?” A small pause, and you taste your own regrets in your mouth, “Love me?”

You press your lips into a line, and because you cannot say anything else, because the lie has gone on for too long and you might as well offer a truth before you entreat your soul to Hades, you whisper,

“Once, I could have.”

But he shakes his head, fervent and certain as he finds your eyes again,

“I promised you Attica, and it will be yours.”

But his words are empty. You do not care for that kingdom if the people that you love are not alive and prospering in it.

“Pray to the Gods you are killed by the Varangians, old friend. I will sacrifice you to Hades myself if you dare return alive from the place you are condemning my people to die on.” You sentence, unable to keep from showing the curl of disgust in your lip, the ancient pain in your eyes.

Narses walks closer to you, eyes searching yours and hands on your shoulders. You clench your jaw. He is gentle, he always is. Gentle, but so were the men that held you as their brothers in arms dragged your mother out of that temple.

You take a step back, but Narses speaks still, ignoring your discomfort,

“These Christians care not for their God, they just want Ivar the Boneless and his brothers. We give them to Stithulf, and they will march for Eleusis with us.”

You shake your head as you watch him believe his own lies.

“Even if we succeed, you are exchanging one master for another, Narses.” The words are your farewell as you turn your back to him and walk towards the entrance of the tent.

____

You walk into your tent and are greeted with a language these Saxons want to have you killed for speaking. The tongue of savages, of barbarians, of Vikings.

“Did they threaten to burn you yet?” Sieghild asks, and you can hear the smile in her voice even if her back is turned to you as she tends to the fire.

“Narses and Stithulf command us to remain,” You confess instead, voice breaking, “Kattegat’s army will be here in a day’s time to aid Dublin’s, but we will not retreat.”

The gasp she lets out forces you to shut your eyes tight in hope of keeping the tears at bay.

You both remain silent for a few instants, and you let yourself fall to the log she brought as a seat. Taking a seat next to you, she places a motherly hand on your knee, squeezing lightly until you look back up at her.

Blueish ink traces ancient marks on the skin of her face, and she moves a lock of your hair away from your face, the rattling sounds of her bracelets and trinkets reaching your ears and filling you with a sense of nostalgia you have difficulty explaining.

“If we must, we will die. Resisting, like your mother and I taught you.”

“This is not the war I will die fighting on!” You yell back, closing your hands into fists as they start shaking. “I will not see my people die fighting a cause not their own, Sieghild. I can’t.”

She takes your head in her hands gently, and, pressing cold lips to your forehead, she gives you the comfort only a mother can.

“Even if we die tomorrow, the Gods are with us. They have been close to you since your birth. You will understand soon.”

“I will certainly see Hades soon.” You smile bitterly, but Sieghild doesn’t falter.

“Then challenge his throne.” She states, and the feral, hungry, look in her eyes makes you think she is not speaking of your God.

You do not even believe in the same Gods, and yet Sieghild remains at your side, you at hers, since she found a crying child clutching a wooden carving of Persephone.

“They want me to give them up, but I won’t.” You argue stubbornly, as the red-haired woman cleans your face with a warm wet cloth. She smiles.

“Arguing about Gods is a matter for adults, little one,” She silences your next argument with a single finger, inked and painted like her face and arms. “They cannot make you believe in their God.”

“But…Mother’s altar, th-they…”

“Those are merely worldly things. The Christians fight with fire what Logi and Glöð themselves have created.”

“Who?”

She chuckles, fingers going through your hair and places a finger on your chest.

“Your faith, your legacy, remain here.”

And at dawn, when the men sound the horns and ready for a battle they must know will be lost, you whisper a prayer to Athena and Enyo, your heart griped tight by the cruel mistresses of Fate.

Even all the tales travelers and mercenaries told you about the army of Kattegat, the sheer strength, the flawless tactics, the barbarian-like warriors; none of that prepared you for the display of forces, however small considering his actual army, Ivar the Boneless has displayed before you.

You catch a glimpse of Narses and Stithulf approaching the King, you hear faintly of the Viking’s taunts.

“Narses is a fool.” You bite out, anger poisoning your voice even as tears clogging your throat make the words wobble.

“A Byzantine Strategus doesn’t fall without a fight, girl. Do not grant my countrymen their victory just yet.”

Even if you hide it as you lower your face, a surge of pride for the foolish warrior that followed you to the ends of the world makes a small smile blossom in your face.

“Do I hear you admitting us soft citizens stand a chance against your brutes, mother?” You mock with a smile, even as you discuss the imminent danger that the Norse men represent to you and your people. Maybe it’s because of the way Sieghild, with all her harshness and tough lessons, comforts you even facing death itself. Maybe it’s the Gods that have guided you your whole life embracing you as you near your descent to Hades.

She laughs, raspy and warm, as always. “I’m saying your boy may give the sons of Ragnar an entertainment.”

A crow flies overhead, cawing loudly and taking your gaze away from the soldiers ahead and into the sky. Something within you, something primal and asleep seems to follow its path in the skies with more than just your eyes.

“Odin is watching. History will be made today.” Sieghild whispers behind you, but you cannot take your gaze away from the black feathers as you answer.

“Apollo sends us an omen. The Gods do not favor us.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head as she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder

“Your Goddess surely revels in this, dear. The spilled blood of those who will be to arrive at her kingdom waters her flowers, after all."

Flashes of a life before chaos blossom behind your closed eyes, images of a life under the spring sun, of fertility festivals and your mother’s warm laughter as she honors the Daughter of Nature.

And for a second, with the warmth of nostalgia encompassing you, you want to argue that Persephone looks after life; but when your eyes open and all you see is war and cold, you realize maybe she wasn’t the one captured.

Maybe she was not a stolen maiden, but a bloodthirsty usurper.

“May she rejoice, then, and be merciful when we reach her Kingdom.” You whisper.

The war cries reach your ears before you can even see the warriors attack, but soon chaos follows the chariot, that marches not with the set pace of Apollo’s, but free and leaving chaos and death at its wake.

With a heavy weight on your stomach, you hold your place as the battle begins, the injured and dying falling back to the area you look after with Greek soldiers at your back, granting a safe haven for the fallen, either to give them another chance to fight or a merciful end.

_____

It’s been days and the Saxons still push for victory, despite the losses. And, despite their losses and bloodshed, the Vikings push ruthlessly for death.

The camp of healers you have set by the entrance of the woods is so filled with the stench of blood and death that you fear you will never be able to smell a flower again. The warriors come and go, the drachmas in their eyes or in their hands. Your heart dies a little with every familiar face you send off to Hades.

You are working on pressing down with the poultice of herbs to stop a soldier from bleeding from the wound on his back when you hear, past the yells and death and fighting, your name.

You would know that voice anywhere, and you leave the safety of the healing camp to follow the hoarse call.

Narses’ figure stumbles and crawls as he tries reaching you, and, not caring for battle, you run the space separating you. Your knees dig painfully into the earth as you kneel at his side, but the pain in your heart drowns it all.

“No, no, no,” You sob, shaking fingers tracing his bloodied cheeks as he gasps in pain in your arms. His eyes are focused on you, and you cannot deny him the answer of yours, even if battle still goes on around you. With another broken gasp, you whisper, “You fool, you fool.”

Galla calls your name from somewhere at your side, and you turn blind attention to her, murmuring to have people take him to the healers’ tent. She agrees, and you start to pull away from your childhood friend.

Narses opens his mouth to speak, but only blood pours out. You silence him with trembling fingers against his lips, granting the kiss you cannot. Your heart begs you to do something, anything, to keep him alive, to take away his pain, to…to…

But all you do is remain kneeling on the ground, and you cannot take your eyes off his shield. Splattered with blood and mud, left behind a few feet away from you, on the cold and unrelenting earth.

Your mother’s last words to your father, you remember them as if it were yesterday, as if you could still see the warmth in her gaze, the hardened adoration in his. Her delicate hands offering him the shield with Sparta’s symbol on it as he prepared to storm Macedonia, her words a murmur that meant come back to us, my love even when her sentence was other.

Return home with it, or on it.

With it, or on it. With it, or on it. With it, or on it.

But Narses never returned home, none of you ever did. He never returned home, he didn’t die for your home, he died for…for…

You hear hurried footsteps coming towards you, the feeling of having Varangian eyes on you makes you turn just in time to see the warrior approaching. You grab Narses’ shield from the ground, moving as fast as you can to guard your back and block the Viking’s strike with the metal shield.

It is sheer anger and grief, nothing more than the desire to hurt back, that pushes you to take an arrow from the quiver at your back and drive it through the warrior’s knee with your bloodied hand.

He falters, stumbling away from you, but you don’t let go, holding on tightly to the shaft of the arrow and inflicting as much pain as you can. When he finally hits the ground with his back, you crawl over him, sitting on his stomach and bashing his face with the shield.

With your weight upon him, his axe cannot find a home in your skin and instead meets the shield. Over and over, metal meets metal. With a growl, the Viking lets go of it and grabs your hair, pulling roughly and forcing your blows in his face to stop.

You let go of the shield, and your eyes focus on the skies above for a moment before you find the strength to fight.

A yell leaves your lips, and your hungry teeth find the tender skin at the inside of his arm, forcing him to let go of your hair. Blood fills your mouth and almost makes you gag. You spit the flesh from your mouth and with a snarl you drive another arrow through his eye.

He screams as your whole weight leans on the arrow, making sure the projectile you use as a spear kills fast. Your hands keep slipping from the shaft as the blood you have tried to keep from spilling and the blood you have spilled wets your hands.

When he finally stops moving, you know you should feel nothing but emptiness and dread.

Looking with frantic eyes for Narses and Galla, you find him being carried by two of his soldiers back to the tent. You should follow, but you cannot bring yourself to do so.

You look down at your dress. Red, the color of a bride’s veil, stained with the blood of the man you just killed. Your ears ring, your eyes cloud with tears as you realize what you have done, and you scurry away from the corpse as if your breath cannot get into your chest because of your proximity to him…to it.

You know what you should feel, you know what a Priestess, a woman, ought to feel at the sight of death, you know. But dread and horror are not the only things you feel. A part of you is satiated, like a snake curling satisfied and vindicated after injecting its poison; you taste the blood and feel alive.

When you lift your gaze to the battle again, you catch the eyes of the Varangian King. You know who he is, you have heard the tales and even without the chariot he sits on you would still recognize the eyes of the man that rules over Kattegat.

Ivar the Boneless.

He looks at you for a few moments, and you fear he is to call for his men or kill you himself, but he doesn’t. A slow, cruel, ruthless smile starts curving at his bloodthirsty lips, and when he regards you, you feel he can see through your eyes and into whatever it is that made you kill that man.

He lifts his arm not on the reins, bloodied axe held in his hand and slowly, with the same terrifying grin still on his lips, the King points towards you and grants you a curt bow of his head. If it’s a recognition of your kill, a promise to kill you himself, or something else, you cannot know.

You scurry back to the woods, fearing an axe to your back that never comes.

____

Whatever advantage the Christians were so sure to have quickly dissolves like mist, and within days the Vikings push forward with no regard for the lines your people or your unwanted masters wanted to protect.

There’s three injured men under your care when you hear the warning that a group of enemies is coming your way. A quick glance towards Galla, the childhood friend that followed you from Eleusis into this cold hell lets her know what to do.

Her dark eyes fill with understanding before you can even utter a word.

“Lift them up, we are retreating.” She barks at the other soldiers, bow held tightly in her hand betraying her fear, her pain. The men accompanying her hesitate, looking at you for a second before turning to her.

“I may not be able to fight like a Strategus, but I can distract them enough for you to run.”

“Our people…” One of them starts, but you interrupt with a shake of your head, reaching forward with a courage you do not believe to truly possess and take his sword from its holster.

“Our people live on in you,” You promise, and even as your voice wavers you still try not to show how fear grips at your throat or how unbalanced you are with the new weight in your hands. Galla’s eyes lock with yours, and you give her a nod, “Go.”

I pray you find Sieghild on your way out of this slaughter.

“You better make it out alive.” She threatens in good will, and you find yourself smiling. Just before she is to take off with the others, you call out.

“Galla,” You hesitate, feeling like asking to deploy this would be an acceptance of your death. Still, you take a deep breath and say, “Once the dust settles, send some of your people to Thebes, Constantinople and Sparta.”

“What for?” She asks, but in her tone you can hear she understands your words: she is to protect your people, she is to lead them. Because you will not be alive to do so.

“You’ll need spies. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do with them.” You sentence, and after a moment of hesitation you hear the girl’s footsteps fading behind you.

Galla’s hoarse yells in Greek to call your people to retreat become the rhythm at which you let loose arrows to find the Viking warriors. You tell yourself it’s just like hunting deer, you tell yourself it is not men and women you kill. Brothers, sisters, friends, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters.

You tell yourself it is just like hunting, but the tears clogging at your throat and making pain and rage accompany your moves as you let the arrows loose show you that you don’t believe your own lies.

It doesn’t matter how fast you move, how efficient your shots are, there will always be more of them. And you know this, and fear has a cold grip on your heart, even as you continue trying to take out any straggler that chases after the retreating Greeks.

So, the bodies dropping and the injured yells bring the attention to you, and you buy Galla and the others as much time as you have arrows and legs to run on.

Running helps when the Vikings can be distracted by something else, but after you took down some of his countrymen, this warrior seems to only have eyes for you. You scramble to lift the sword you took from your warrior before they took off, and, cornered as you are, you are forced to face the offending Viking.

The Viking strikes first, but you block his attack with the sword. The blunt force of his swing makes it so that the axe stops just shy of the intended blow to your head, opening a deep cut on your forehead as it is slowed by the sword.

Wincing past the pain you hold your ground, facing the hungry gaze of the warrior with your own, although you are forced to close one of your eyes as the blood from the cut in your forehead starts dripping down your face.

The man’s attack has failed, but he smirks, though, before wrenching the weapon from your hands with a twist of his axe.

You can do nothing but stumble back, you Goddess’ name on your lips as you face him with wide eyes.

He mutters something in his own language before discarding your sword and moving to strike again. This time you are defenseless, and can only step back and try and dodge his continuous blows with increasing panic.

Blood, probably his own and his enemy’s, stains his mouth, his face, his hands. He still smiles, and you wonder if bloodthirst becomes more literal than what Sieghild explained in her tales of her people.

His movements stop suddenly, though, and he falls limply to the ground, a small axe protruding from the back of his head.

“I told you you’d need to know how to fight, little one,” Sieghild boasts as she approaches you. The axe leaving the dead man’s skull makes a horrible sound, but she’s not bothered by it, choosing instead to say, “Even you Greeks must see the advantage of fighting like a Viking.”

An arrow in his knee, you feel the iron piercing the muscle, the bone, the tendons. The edge of the shield breaking the bones in his face, the sound it makes. Screams of pain, that you silence with another arrow in the eye.

The King’s hungry smile when he spared you.

You shake your head, returning your thoughts back to the moment, and regard the woman in front of you with a smile.

“Galla told me you chose to stay behind.” She states, and years knowing her let you know of the reprimand shining past the gruff tone. Her hand, bloodied as it is, reaches for the cut in your forehead, inspecting it with the eyes of someone that saw countless wounds and fought in countless wars.

“I wanted to distract the warriors from the path they took.” You offer in explanation.

“For someone so…small you sure take a lot of risks, my child.” She sighs. You’re about to answer when the thrumming of the ground underneath your feet stops you. Sieghild’s movements stop, your breath dies in your lungs.

Bees swarming. You remember an Arab merchant telling you about Varangian armies, and he spoke of chaos and deadliness and bloodthirst. And as you watch the Varangians flank the battlefield, archers at the ready, warriors beating their shields, while the King that crossed the sea to assist his brother commands them to hold with a single gesture; you cannot help but think why didn’t the merchant talk about the grace of it all, the beauty in the blood.

“That boy carries his father’s cleverness with him. And his mother’s favor.” Sieghild mutters in the strange calm that settles as Ivar the Boneless and his brothers taunt Stithulf, dare him to continue the fight and face certain death or retreat.

“You knew that before.”

“So did you. You tried to warn Narses against facing him, little one.” She says, and the name makes a pit of guilt and grief form in your heart.

“Maybe my warnings are the reason he is dead now.” You bite out, voice quivering and eyes burning.

The shieldmaiden turns to you, lips parted and eyes wide. You offer her a nod and a tight-lipped smile, a small sign that it is okay, that…that it is Fate.

You promised Narses you’d kill him yourself for sending your people to die, and grief and pain do not stray you from that resolve. He sentenced your people to die at the hands of these Varangians, it is only right he leads them to the Underworld.

It doesn’t help the pit of pain and absence and fear and cold that forms at your chest, but…but it makes it easier to burden.

Murmured words in Norse startle you out of your thoughts, and you find Sieghild’s eyes still on you, expression still stunned and in a mix of awe and terror.

“When the last of the chains of nostalgia fades away even as she clutches it in her arms.”

“What did you say, mother?” You ask, taking a small step closer and looking into her eyes searching for any answer.

But the shieldmaiden is quick to put on a smile on her face,

“You told me before you had no interest in what Lady Freyja has to tell me, little one.” She mocks, but there’s a shadow in her expression, a strange darkness looming behind her eyes.

A familiar one.

“You are the one that taught me-…”

“I taught you to be your own woman!” The Varangian roars, and for the first time you realize exactly the kind of fire the women from her homeland have, that made them capable and free. “I taught my daughter better than this!”

“What choice do I have? We need the support from Narses’ army, we need someone to lead the men into battle the way I know will grant us victory!”

Two long strides, and the tall and imposing shieldmaiden is standing before you, a mix of reluctant softness and angry stoicism in her inked face.

“You fight. You fight against the notions these men have about you, you fight against that boy that only listens to what you have to say when you promise him love in exchange,” Her green eyes burn into yours, “You fight, little one. That’s what I taught you to do, what you were born to do.”

“Narses is a good man, mother. I will not fight him.” You reply, as calmly as you can even as your chest caves under a strange pressure, as evenly as you can even if the words leaving your lips taste like lies.

“You wouldn’t give your love without a fight though, minn dóttir.” Her hand grasps at your chin, and there’s a strange storm in her gaze, “I won’t lose my daughter to that boy’s whims.”

“I am not lost to any man.”

Her lips curve into a smile, a little savage, a little Viking.

“I know. You are my daughter, after all.”

“He was a good man, mother.” You offer quietly, and even if the binds to Narses, the binds you set on yourself and your mother hated the most, are gone, there’s still the same dark desperation, that same stubbornness you saw in her eyes that day you told her about your choice to marry him.

“Not good enough,” Is all she replies, and her eyes focus somewhere past the two of you, on the center of the battlefield where everything seems to have stopped. Sieghild sighs, “And your Gods and mine know that, little one. Your Mistress may have touched your soul, but Freyja lays claim to your heart.”

With your eyes on the thick of battle, you watch Stithulf and his trusted men lay down their weapons, and slowly retreat. You have been defeated.

____

“I told you only death would follow,” You say, your back against the foot of a table as you sit on the cold ground, your bloodied hands in your lap, motionless. You allow yourself a small laugh, manic and broken as it is, “You fought for so long, sacrificed so much, and you couldn’t even make the Varangian King bleed.”

You followed the Saxons back to their decadent city, and now sit past their walls awaiting the death that will follow. The city may have held for long enough that the Saxons could secure an escape, back when your people were with them and they didn’t have more corpses than soldiers.

But now, now it is just a matter of time before the Varangians return to finish it all.

Stithulf turns to you, cold fury shining past his gaze, but you hold his stare. The man walks over to you, armor rustling and making a sound that rings in the ears that have heard nothing but war for so long now.

He bends down to be at your level, face close to yours and lips set on a snarl.

“You ordered your people to pull back.” He accuses, but you shrug in response.

The pretense of what a good little fucking woman you ought to be to make these fools content with their idea of supremacy is long gone from your mind. You will die without masks, and if it means earning a few deserved hits from these Saxons for not shutting your mouth, then so be it.

“It was never our war, Christian.”

“Where have they gone to!?” He asks, ignoring your words. His fascination with how the Greek forces work shines through his bloodthirst and anger as he regards you. You know the reason why he went to Narses for an allegiance in the first place is because of the tactics, the fighting style, of your people; and you know he longed to make them a part of his own army.

But you will leave your own under the boot of a Christian the day Persephone calls for your soul to become one of her Furies.

“You will never find them.” You promise through a tired and battle-worn smile, morbidly delighting yourself in the way he seems to grow more enraged.

“How are you so certain?”

“The Varangians, Vikings, will find us first. They will kill us all, and you know this.” You sentence, standing up. You cannot help it when your eyes fixate themselves on the drying blood staining your hands.

You wish you could say most of it was Christian, or even Varangian.

But no, the blood of Greeks stains your hands. The blood of thousands, even if only less than eight hundred died today.

“And why are you so certain?”

“If you had retreated before that King came from across the sea-…”

“Narses told us your mother is Viking, how are we certain you did not plan this, plan to betray us?” One of his trusted men speaks out, limping from his place by the war table. You watch the deep and bloodied gash in his thigh, wondering why that old man survives being incapacitated while in battle but Narses is to fall.

You shake your head mutely before offering him a hollow chuckle.

“Me betraying you would imply I ever faked loyalty for you, or pretended to care for your survival.”

“You live, witch. Any sane man would question why.”

“You think…what? That I have helped any of the sons of Ragnar defeat you?” You let out a small laugh. “No, I did not. I will not let you blame me for your own weakness.”

You move to leave the tent, but Stithulf’s hand wraps around your arm. His voice is low when he speaks.

“If you tell your soldiers to fight with us, I can-…”

“I am not Narses, you cannot fool me with empty promises,” You interrupt, wrenching your arm from his grasp. Less than two hundred Greek warriors still remain in this city, and the Saxon wants still for every last drop of their blood. “The Greeks that remain here will not die quietly, but do not fool yourself into thinking you can ever command them.”

He stalks even closer, looming over you with enraged factions, and you cannot help the pang of fear that the murderous intent in his eyes sends through you.

His sword leaving its holster startles the room of men into silence, and you feel their attention set on the two of you. The blade finds a home right under your chin, piercing mildly at the soft skin.

Your breath quickens in fear, and when you swallow past your dry throat you feel the tip of the sword inflicting sharp pain in your neck.

Stithulf smiles darkly, “I could kill you now and leave them leaderless, heathen.”

But you refuse to let him see the fear in your eyes, instead promising, “Make me a martyr and you will not survive the night, Christian. The Greeks will kill and die for me.”

Even as you leave the tent behind, you hear the heavy footsteps of the Saxon behind you. A call of your name, and you stop. Not your title -Anassa, Hiereiai-, not an insult -heathen, pagan-, not your lineage -Daughter of Athens, Daughter of Sparta-. Your name.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have done so in front of your men.” You state without turning around, and the Christian reaches your side with his sword holstered.

“I don’t want to kill you,” He insists, shaking his head, “But I should do it regardless. You are a smart woman, which makes you dangerous.”

Not even a muzzle would keep your next words from leaving your lips, “Dangerous? Is a man dangerous for being knowledgeable?”

“If he has nothing to lose, like you, yes.”

“What are you saying, Stithulf?”

The Saxon sighs, an act of regret and humanity you don’t believe for a moment.

“I’m saying you should know that you have forced my hand, Greek, that I had every intention to have you wage war alongside us, had you chosen to do so.

_____

Hi, I’m kinda amazed you got this far down lol, but thank you so much for reading! This is one of the first projects in a while that I am really loving to write, and I hope you like it!

Please let me know what you think, I am one needy fuck when it comes to feedback :)

[bookandcranny]

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality. 

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones. 

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke. 

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL. 

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod. 

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.” 

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top. 

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?” 

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.” 

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?” 

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit! 

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.) 

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling. 

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed. 

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”  

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp. 

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers. 

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin. 

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this. 

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor. 

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

[mydriases]

Headmaster’s daughter facing a beast

Anon asked: Thanks for making my headmaster's daughter scenario it was awesome. If I can request a part 2 where there is a dangerous beast loose(like a chimera or a dragon) and she tames it and the reactions of the dorm leaders and pround papa bird(Crowley)?

Thanks everyone for the 200+ subs! I didn't post anything for a week because I was working on this request (which is almost a series for me now, I won't lie), and since a lot of you liked the first part, I thought it would be a good way to thank all of you.  💘 Btw, can I do a more obvious title? Words: 7k Read the part 1 here

Morning light comes through the window and lits up your office. You take advantage of the quarter of an hour you have left before going to class to revise your notes -so that you don't get your fingers slapped by Mr. Trein-. As Riddle has told you many times before : as the first female student of Night Raven and daughter of the headmaster, you had to be a model student. It don't bother you, you are doing well academically and can keep up with the work pace.

Even so, you would be lying to yourself if you said that everything is perfect. The school life itself is really nice but it is disturbed by the rumors that reach your ears when the students are not discreet enough. In itself, it is nothing, only futile discussions, but to see your place questioned is never pleasant. Although many supported you with a kindness sometimes too forced to be true, others excluded you in an obvious way.

It’s sad to admit but you can understand. Among all the girls in the world you were chosen and, conveniently, you were Crowley’s daughter. Besides, it’s not like there aren’t schools for girls here and there. Actually, you took the entrance exam for one of them and passed with flying colors. You would have gone there if the first day of school a carriage had not been waiting outside your house.

You remember perfectly : your neighbors were waiting around it, and you could tell by their stunned expressions that it was what you thought it was: the famous carriage that led to Night Raven. In front of your house, the dark beauty of the alloy was laughing at you. It whispered deceitful words that meant: it is not you that I have come for, you will not see your father again, you are not good enough. Your throat would form a knot at the thought that it was there for someone else.

Then, through your blured eyes, you saw a teenager approaching the carriage. You recognized him, he was an old classmate of yours. He was an excellent magician, the Mirror of Darkness had made a good choice, right ? No. You didn't know him personally, but the way he used to mock you because of your quietness was embedded in you and was saying that he didn’t earn the right to go there.

Bitterness filled your mouth as the boy's hand clung to the door handle. You were sure you were going to remember the self-satisfied expression on his face for the rest of your life. That the exclamations of joy from his family and the other neighbors would haunt your nightmares. He was a good magician, that didn't take away the fact that he didn't deserve to go to Night Raven. You didn't know that person so well, but envy gnawed at your heart and prevented you from thinking of anything else but this word: why? Why couldn't the carriage have come for you?

You came down from the stoop, opened the gate and found yourself a few meters from him. Surrounded by all the other onlookers, you watched as the boy was approaching the gate. You felt your pulse rate skyrocket as he moved his hand in its direction. That's it, he was going to cross it.

But nothing happened. His hand bumped into the reflective surface. No one had time to react as a voice from beyond the grave echoed through the carriage:

"You are not the person we came for."

The silence took over the crowd and you dared to start breathing normally again. The hope that left the boy's body rose into the air and filled you. The carriage was in front of your house, the boy was the only teenager in your adjoining neighbors. Maybe, you could rightfully hope.

He went down the running board with his head low, pride had no place left on his face. No one said a word. Confused silence reigned for what seemed like an eternity. Then, he lifted his head and his fiery gaze fell on you.

"It’s you, isn’t it ? It came for you. Must be nice to be dad’s girl, I can’t relate sorry."

The fire of his gaze spread through the crowd and lit fires that you would have liked to see extinguished. You didn't know what to say. How could you explain that it wasn’t the case, that his statement was false when you were not even sure yourself ? You didn’t see your father since a year and your mother didn’t receive much news, maybe he decided on a whim to cheat your way into Night Raven. You didn’t know, you didn’t know anymore.

"What the hell you’re saying, loser ! Night Raven never had a female student before, you think he’ll get away with that easily !" yelled someone at him.

You turned over the origine of the voice and saw with surprise the person who just defended you. A girl, who looked older than you, had stepped forward and looked at the boy in disgust.

" Shut up ! You seriously think the miror made a mistake ? Her and I are the only ones in age to go to Night Raven in this place !"

"Poor child, maybe the mirror realized you were worthless and went back on its choice. I must say she'd make a much better addition than you, girl or not."

Your were getting involved and it was gonna get out of hand sooner or later. Still, no words could come out of your mouth. At least, you now remembered who the girl was : when you were a child, your mother used to hang out a lot with another mother from the neighborhood. They would take care of each other child when the other needed to do something important. The girl was the daughter of that woman.

That still doesn’t explain why she would help you, you two didn’t know each other anymore. But she went ahead and took your side. You had watched with admiration this girl who had more self-confidence than you ever had. She turned to you :

"I don’t know. But everybody will know if a girl enrolls in Night Raven, right ? So we’ll end up knowing the truth one day or another."

The crowd, made up of so many familiar faces, seemed to take the fact that the coach had come for you as truth. Hesitant hands patted you on the back and voices congratulated you, but the majority of people were perplexed. The murmurs of the discussions buzzed in your ears and made you deaf to the meaning of the sounds you were hearing. Your hands were clammy, your throat was dry, and your heart drummed again and again in your chest, threatening to pierce it at every moment. You wanted to leave, you wanted to go back in your house and never see the light of the day again.

The girl. The daughter of your mom’s friend. You could see her walking towards you, she was going to force you to go through the "door" . You were not ready. You felt the intense need to push her away when she grabbed your wrists with her hands.

"Breathe in and out, girl. Show them what you're worth. It's been a long time since we've seen your dad in this town, say hi to him for us."

Your father. You haven't spent much time with him thoses past years. He'd come back for the holidays, but he'd always leave in the end. He often told you the stories of the students of the school when he would come back. He must be waiting for you beyond the door.

"I’ll… I’ll tell him, thank you for helping me."

"You’re welcome. Don’t worry we’ll explain everything to your mother."

You climbed into the coach and went through the "door".

Then the void overwhelmed you. All that followed was a flurry of fuzzy memories. Your senses went numb and your consciousness was lost in a fog, time seemed to have stopped. You don’t recall how it felt to be in that state, only the feeling of your body melting and dripping remained.

What seemed to have lasted both a whole year and a minute ended when your father opened the door. His big hands had caressed your cheeks and his arms had embraced you when your legs collapsed. It had been so long since anyone had shown you affection that you almost let your eyes water.

He guided you to his office and let you sit in his chair like you used to do when you came to visit. From the other side of the desk, he explained that transportation problems had occurred and caused some complications. You were still in a state of extreme fatigue and his words were taking a long time to make sense, although the word complication resonated in your head. You didn’t like that, you already had enough problems.

Noticing your state, he led you to his bedroom and told you that just for this night you could sleep there, he had works to do anyway. Though, he told you that tomorrow you should join a domitory and get a proper room. His voice lost clarity as you felt asleep.

You woke up alone the next morning. The diziness had disapeared and you almost could have thought that all you had been through was just a dream if a uniform wasn’t waiting for you on a chair. The expensive cloth slipped through your hands and its blackness seemed to bled in the darkness of the room. There was no more color than this black on the uniform which meant that you’ll be spared to be the only person sporting the ceremonial robe -and also that you’ll have your dormitory sorting-.

You showered, put on your new clothes and waited for approximately fifteen minutes before your father came to pick you up. What followed will likely stay with you forever. As you walked behind your father, you listened as he told you the surprise he had when he found out that his dear daughter was going to be the first girl at Night Raven. He explained that he was leading you to the dorm leader meeting he gathered just for the occasion.

The next events are still cristal clear in your memory. Your father asking dramatically

the dorm leaders to take care of you, the introductions of everyone and, obviously, the moment you said your name in front of the Mirror of Darkness. The latter left its mark on you the most.

You had never seen the Mirror before this moment. Floating by magic, the face in its centre was looking at you without really seeing you. Behind you, the dorm leaders and the headmasters had formed a semi-circle which added undesired solemnity to the ambiance. Their gazes weighed on your back and didn’t put you at ease. You will be fine said Idia, show them what you're worth said your defender. You took your steps thinking of theses sentences.

"It is thee… reveal thy name."

There was a deathly silence in the room as you stuttered your name.

"The shape of thy soul… harmonizes with the spirit of Scarabia."

So that was now official, you were now part of Night Raven and of Scarabia. The Mirror of Darkness had consented so no one could object.

"Well, it'll make it easier to invite you to the banquets", rejoiced Kalim under the hostile gaze of your father. "If you’ve joined Scarabia it means you're very resourceful, I can't wait to see where it takes you. Anyway, we need to find you a room. Hum, our only free room is not cleaned, would you mind sleeping in my room for one n-"

"The room will be ready before tonight, interrupted your father while staring icily at your dorm leader. Now, congralutations angel ! I’m so proud of you, your new life in Night Raven can really start now. I’ll let Mr Al-Asim explains you what you need to know, you can also come and ask me directly if you’re more at ease with me. Here is your magical pen."

He gave you your pen adorned with a grey crystal tinged with purple and winked at you.

"It's not exactly by the book, but I thought it would be a nice gift to give you the first magical pen I had"

And that was how you became a student at one of the most prestigious schools of magic. You never really had a clear explanation for the fact that you were the only girl chosen by the Mirror or for the state of trance that followed your transportation. All of which led to you to start the school year a bit late, which didn't help to go unnoticed.

You think about all of that as you’re walking to class. You really depended on Kalim and the others dorms leaders back then. You often needed directions or an explanation of how the school lifestyle worked. That is usually the kind of thing you ask friends or acquaintances, the fact is that it's hard to connect with people when you're shy and trying to escape the over-attention you've been subjected to for weeks. So, when you were in desperate need of help, you called the only people you knew a minimum of. It’s taken you forever to press the "call" button but at least, when it was done, you knew what you had to do. They probably didn't mind either, because your calls were only left unanswered a few times. Idia was of course always present and more comfortable on the phone than when you first met him, Riddle had to obey the duty of being dorm leader so he always answered, Leona went straight to the point but answered, Vil was the same, Azul was generally busy and Malleus seemed strangely pleased to chat with you, as if it was entertaining him to talk about your boring old life. And how forget Kalim? He was always by your side since you joined Scarabia, so much that you almost wondered if your father hadn't ordered him to watch over you, although if he had, Jamil would have made a better choice.

As you take out your notebooks to prepare yourself for the long hour ahead, you tell yourself that you would give a lot to go back to Scarabia's lounge and have fun with the animals that were basking there. They were probably the main reason you were so happy to be in that dorm. No offense, but Kalim's banquets... let's just say you've never seen one. His invitations have remained unanswered, and it was probably for the best. And the people ? You felt good with the dorm leader and the vice dorm leader but with the other students it was different. Their eyes stuck to your skin, like the sand of the surrounding deserts, and there was nothing more unpleasant.

"Miss Crowley, if you would be so kind as to pay more attention to my lecture, it would be my pleasure. Unless I'm boring you?"

The whole class turns its attention to you and you lower my head in shame.

"No, sir. I’m sorry, I… I’ll pay more attention."

"Good."

You hate how your last name sounds between his lips. Those syllables have never brought such a feeling of unease until now. You don't even know anymore if it's you who's going crazy or if every person voluntarily insists on that name when they call you. You just want them to call you by your first name.

You were going to take your pen to write down the new dates written on the board but a feeling of discomfort runs down your back. With your head still down, only your gaze travels through the classroom until you meet the green eyes of your observer. Sebek's pale, expressionless face appears in your field of vision. There's no animosity in him, yet you can't hold his gaze. You wonder if he thinks you disgrace your father, or Malleus, by your actions.

Sebek looking away, you start to pay close attention to the class, writing down everything even if your wrist starts to get tired. Only Mr. Trein's voice pierces the silence that weighs on the students. You want this class to end soon so you can move on to the next one. If you could skip the breaks and the lunch, everything would be fine. It's not that Kalim or Jamil's company bothers you, but the fact that you can't go unnoticed anywhere is bothersome.

It's like having your wish granted when a staff member enters the classroom.

"Excuse me for disturbing you in the middle of class, but I'm here to inform you that the evacuation plan has just been initiated. The bell will ring in a few minutes and in the meantime we're informing you that the regulatory procedure must be followed."

One moment the surprise appears on Mr. Trein's face, only to be replaced the next by a frightening indifference. He opens his mouth to answer, but the man has already left.

"All right, everyone please follow me in a line to the Hall of Mirrors. I don't want to hear from any of you, so save your questions for later."

The seriousness of the situation spread among the students who remain silent. In spite of the teacher's words, the students pack up their belongings before hurrying to follow the others out of the room. With a nervous step you follow your classmates in the corridor where other classes are already on their way to the Hall of Mirrors. You look on unfamiliar faces for a trace of understanding, but all you see is a general confusion.

At the front, Sebek is turning his head around like he's looking for someone. Sliding between the students of your class, you approach him and pull on his sleeve. His gaze that waltzed between the students lays on you but, as you were going to speak, a strident ringing resonates between the walls of the corridor. Before it's even over, he makes a gesture that orders you to stay silent. We’ll know later, he seems to say.

Forced to follow the movement of the mass, you shut up and stay by Sebek's side while the sweat runs down your forehead. He continues his search and you begin to do the same, your gaze passing nervously from person to person. The dorm leaders have to be there, it's their job to manage the students in their dorm. You're almost tempted to call Kalim, but now is really not a good time.

"-We will enter the hall, from there I count on you to follow the orders of your dorm leader and enter your domitory calmly. Some of the dorm leaders are absent, so please follow the directions of the staff in that case." a voice you don’t recognize says.

Your class comes in and you starts looking for someone who can give you answers. In the middle of the room you think you recognize your father's silhouette. You walk towards him but a firm hand grabs your arm and prevents you from continuing.

"The mirror that leads to Scarabia's dormitory is not in this direction." remarks Sebek

"I...I know, I want to go see my father"

"You're picking the wrong time."

You're too intimidated to respond anything when a familiar voice comes up:

"Let her go, Sebek. I need to talk to Mr. Crowley, she can come with me. Join the others, Lilia is already taking care of the students."

As if struck by lightning, Sebek lets go of your arm and turns in a flash towards Malleus. He hesitates, turns towards you, and finally leaves under the keen gaze of Diasomnia's leader. The latter, after making sure that Sebek is joining the others, starts to make his way in the crowd with no problem. Impressed and astonished by what has just happened, you quickly follow Malleus' great strides, using his wake to make your way. In a few seconds you're standing next to your father who’s giving orders to various strangers.

"Sir, it seems like your daughter would like to tell you something" interrupts Malleus.

Your father is quick to notice the imposing stature of the man at your side, his gaze slides towards you. Before you can even say something he speaks up :

"Sorry, I don’t have time to talk with you right now, darling."

"Dad, please, why the evacutation plan has been initiated ? Surely, I...I can make myself useful !"

"You’re a student, young lady, you don’t have to know this kind of thing. Everything will be explained later. Now please, I will feel better once I know you are in security."

"I understand, but please, I have to do something! Why are we leaving the school?" you insisted

"That’s enough ! I told you to g-"

"There’s a feral beast who has gone out of control, and it is on school grounds."

Malleus’ calm voice stopped your father mid-sentence. From his altitude, he observes you with curiosity. Before you or your father can answer him, he goes on:

"The first time we met, you seemed constantly uncomfortable, you still do. However, it’s crystal clear that you want -that you always wanted- to prove yourself. I heard that you’re quite good with animals, even with the beasts. Surely, you’ll be able to help though you’re still quite young…Kingscholar ! Can you lead her to the beast ? I’m sure that with your keen sense of smell it will be no problem for you."

Nothing make sense anymore. The dorm leader of Diasomnia is helping you. On the other side of the Hall you see Leona already on his way, he’s mumbling something under his breath. Leaving before your father can hold you back, you whisper :

"Why ?"

"I told you the first time we met : I want to see your skills in action."

You ran out of the room and away from your father.

In the corridors, you follow Leona, and in complete silence. You two haven't exchanged a word, if you take away Leona's constant grumbling which can be summed up as: "Malleus doesn't have to give me orders", "why would they take a kid to the front ?", "for once I wasn't going to have class even though I came; I could have slept in peace".

On your side, you didn’t say anything because you are scared of losing heart. You want to be useful, you want to not be seen as the Headmaster’s daughter anymore. It is time to show them.

"I can smell your fear. You stink." smirks Leona.

Oh well, it’s been long since the last time you wanted to bury yourself six feet under.

"I’m sorry, I can’t really help it. I don’t know what to expect, you know, how exactly the beast will be and all."

"Why did you come in the first place if you're already trembling just imagining what's waiting for you ?"

He didn't say that in a mocking tone, but it touches on sensitive points that you want to ignore. You didn't think much when you ran to your father. You wanted to make yourself useful, help others as best as you could, you wanted your dad to trust you enough to tell you what was going on, yes ; but you didn't want to fight.

"It’s dumb...I...I want everyone to acknowledge my skills. I can’t stand to be « Crowley’s daughter » anymore !" you hissed the last part, an unknow rage burning in you.

When Malleus had trusted you by revealing that a beast was in the school grounds, your heart skipped a beat. Beasts, that was your specialty. Malleus knew it and he gave you a chance to help. You're full of gratitude and you don't want to disappoint him.

Leona doesn’t answer, you almost wonder if you've shocked him. But he suddenly turns to you:

"You think it will change anything ? You can prove you’re strong, but in the end people will find a way to compare you to your father. Your efforts will be reduced to genetics, or to a privileged education. You can try to contradict them, but people like to put others in boxes."

You are surprised by his practical tone, you can tell he is trying to warn you. Still, you don’t want to listen to this kind of speech. You want to hear that you’ll make it, that they will see you for what you are.

"They don’t know who I am, they have their idea but that’s what it is : an idea. Nothing more than an illusion. I can’t change the fact they will never know who I am really, but I can change the box. I’ll...I’ll switch boxes. I’ll be the one who’s capable, who must be respected. I will not be the resigned person anymore."

You two stopped walking. You are looking at each other, it may only be on your side, but you feel a mutual understanding in spite of your awkward words. You feel that this time he won't contradict you.

"At first I thought you were, uh, sorry for the term, dull. I realize that I was wrong." embarrassed, you blush a bit at his words.

"I guess we all put other people in boxes, it’s fine" you mumble under his intense gaze.

You quickly start to walk again, hoping he'll follow you, which he does his laughter echoing on the walls. Your cheeks are burning as he catches up with you in a few strides. It's not just his confession that makes you blush, it's also what you didn't say. Unconsciously, you didn't have a good idea of Leona yourself. You resented him for not trying harder, you saw in him what you feared to become on day. Someone who had given up who, faced with too many failures, has not been able to continue. You didn't know what he had faced, but you recognized yourself in him and you were afraid. Afraid of him, afraid to look at youself and not being able to hold up your own gaze.

But here, the morning light coming through the windows. In the religious silence of the empty corridors. In his company. You tell yourself he’s a lot more than you thought he was. You want to tell him too, but you don’t know how to express what you’re feeling, so you keep silence and let this moment sink in.

You look ahead and think you're on the right path. Maybe it's crazy to go up against a beast, but you're not alone, and you've almost forgotten that. You wonder where the others are, the impulse to get your phone out to get news is strong. In the Hall of Mirrors, you saw the Heartslabyulst students lined up perfectly which probably came from Riddle’s presence ; you saw too the Ignihyde students hurrying back to their domitory, perhaps Idia was one of them. Were the others fighting already ?

You try to pay attention to every sound -though you know Leona would notice before you do if something was approaching-. It seems the talk with the lion calmed you down because you notice that you pulse calmed down. Your hands are still clammy, though. You never noticed how gloomy the atmosphere of an empty school is. You really don't feel comfortable there, especially knowing that danger is approaching with every step.

Leona comes to a sudden halt, raising his arm to block your path. His ears are pricked up and all his senses seem to be alert. You hold your breath and wait.

"I know where they are : the schoolyard. I heard a shout, let’s go. "

It was about time. Quickly you enter the last corridor that will lead you to the beast and the others. Your heart beats in your ears and you see red. Leona heard a scream, is anyone hurt? In several strides you'll know. Anger and fear turn your stomach as you almost start to run. Coming in like a cannonball isn't going to help anyone, especially if they have the upper hand on the beast.

Daylight dazzles you, but hearing don’t deveive: they're there.

You notice the beast first. It stands on its hind legs, its angular body in plain sight. Sharp, black claws plough the ground, while its tail flaps in the air like a furious cat. Saliva drips from its mouth and, like acid, kills the vegetation on which it falls. It's not a normal beast, something's wrong.

In front of the creature, their magic pencils as their only weapons, Vil and Azul are in a defensive position. Behind the beast, a shadow sneaks in discreetly, you suspect that it’s Kalim who‘s trying to take the creature by surprise. At this distance, it's hard to tell if one of them is injured or not.

By observing more closely, you notice other people hidden in the scenery. A multitude even. From the treetops, in the upper floors. Some of Night Raven staff members who had been waiting for several minutes for the beast to be brought into the yard by the dorm leaders. At that moment you understand that as soon as they will retreat, the beast will be executed by the flood of magic that will come rushing towards it.

You take one step forward, the first one that would have been followed by several others faster and faster in order to create a barrier between the beast and the prefects, in hopes of stopping the fight. But Leona's grip on your shoulder is holding you back.

"They’re fine, the situation is in control, they’re tired but not badly hurt I think."

That’s good, but that’s not the issue. They’re going to kill a beast in the middle of the school,  in front of you. You don't want to see this. All your life you've loved the creatures of the world you were born into. You've tried to understand their behavior so you could tame them better. A beast would never have come to Night Raven on its own, it would have stayed on its territory unless one of its children was abducted or if it was totally disoriented. Besides, how did it get in so easily ? Does that mean it beat the guards ? Given the field of magic you feel running through the area, it's likely.

"There’s something wrong with the beast. I need to get closer so I could understand the situation and help it."

"And you're going to interrupt when the mission's about to be successful?" he stops a moment and observes you reaction, you make a point of keeping a determined expression. "Eh, suit yourself."

His hand lets go of your shoulder and you’re free to move forwards. You don’t waste time and rush to Vil and Azul. A voice orders you to turn back to safety but you ignore it. If they try to restrain you, there's a good chance they'll end up hurting you. So you have a chance to reach your goal.

The closer you get, the more magic flows through your body in an electrifying feeling. You’re now able to see that the silhouette behind the beast was indeed Kalim’s. You catch his eyes and, as you keep running, you see his expression crumbles and turns into one of pure distress. Vil and Azul too, just noticed your presence, but it’s too late for them to stop you. You’ll think about your excuses later.

"What are doing here ! I thought you were with the others, go back before it hurts you !" Azul exclaims

"Don’t attack, I can calm it, I swear !"

"Are you out of your mind ? This beast isn’t in its normal state, it almost hurt us badly ! You’re only a first grade, go away !" yells Vil at you.

They won’t listen, in a way you think they are right, you’re not strong enough to face the beast. However, if you play your cards right, no one will be hurt. If you don’t, well, this is a risk you're willing to take in order to help this creature. Your mother would probably tell you that you’re still putting your well-being in danger so as to help inferior beings, that it’s all good to be altruistic but that you have to be selfish to be happy in life. She may be right. But those animals are your life, as dramatic as that sounds. They are your second family, the one that gave you a reason to keep studying and you will not abandon them.

Despite your arrival, the boys manage to keep the beast's attention on them. You feel the weight of Kalim's gaze on you, you’re sure that he doesn't approve of what you’re doing but that he will have your back. The beast is now at only a few steps from you, you need to calm down and apply what you've learned.

You focus on your breathing and try to forget about the black claws that could shred at any moment. For a while, you bring up memories of happy moments: the summer picnics with your parents, when you finally managed to chat with a doe, when you spent an evening chatting with Idia on the phone and you both felt that feeling of mutual understanding, when Kalim showed you pictures of the animals from his home country, when Riddle helped you solve a problem and you were shoulder-to-shoulder, when Azul let you order whatever you wanted at the Mostro Loungue after you beat him at an animal language test, when Vil combed your hair one morning when you didn't have the courage to get ready, when Leona understood you and when Malleus gave you a chance.

You lift up your hand and let the magic flows in you.

"Outpouring of empathy" you mumur.

Your unique magic allows you to transmit what you feel to the being of your choice. It took you a long time to realize this ability because it was hard to discern. At first you thought it was just a normal reaction, a basic form of empathy present in every living being. Then, one euphoric day when you went shopping, the salesman let you leave without paying. The miser who, because he felt "good", hadn't asked you for a single coin; there was no room for doubt anymore.

Your power also manifests itself by making others feel emotions without you experiencing them. But this side is unstable and, in the present situation, could be very dangerous for you and your friends, so that’s a better idea to stay in your comfort zone.

You see that the beast is beginning to sense you intrusion. It starts to get more and more agitated and its drool starts to foam. The boys keep distracting her but if you don't get the upper hand soon it will turn against you. You don't know exactly what a connection between you and another being can do to you. You've always felt it was a one-way conversation. Maybe it was a mistake, you think as you feel a turmoil running through you. There's definitely something wrong, you've never sensed such negative energy in a creature before.

Trying to infuse calm into the spirit of the beast, you feel a force to push back and try to break the link. You hold on, trying to keep the connection with the beast's nervous system despite the unknow nuisance giving you no respite. Unfortunately, every second becomes more and more painful, the cries of the beast pierce your ears and the streams of magic from Vil, Azul and Kalim drain your energy. Continuing ardently to strengthen the bond, you feel your emotions being overwhelmed by rage.

Your train of thought is being parasitized by the magic that made the creature its host. Your field of vision becomes blurry, a constant whistling resonates in your skull and your legs can no longer support your weight. As you feel your power take the upper hand, you understand that in a few seconds you will lose consciousness.

It's with one last attack from Vil that you win and then collapse, someone’s arms catching you before you hit the ground.

"Why did you let her go ! She could have died, she’s a first grade, a first grade !"

"That’s what she wanted, Vil, and I don’t think you really helped her either. "

"Luckily, Kalim was there to catch her." You hear a muddled and preoccupied voice say. "I didn’t think that she was the disobedient kind, I'll get her to review the rules, maybe that'll keep her out of trouble."

"I-I had a bad feeling about this, w-when I learned there was a beast involved I went to look for h-her amongst Scarabia students but she wasn’t with them. I should have know…"

"It’s fine, Idia. I’m her dorm leader, I’m the one who responsible."

"You’re...you’re not, Ka..lim." you succeed to say.

You lift your eyelids with difficulty, and in the silence that has covered the arguments of Vil and Leona, and the laments of some, your eyes get used to the light of day. You notice a warmth coming from something on your forehead and understand that it’s Malleus’ hand as you see his concerned green eyes looking at you.

"Welcome back" he whispers "You gave the fright of a lifetime for some, it’s rare to see Vil loses his temper. Your father and the staff have gone to get your medical supplies, I don't know if they overestimated your exhaustion, do you feel able to get up?"

"I think...I’ll need one of you to carry me, hehe." Malleus giggles at your answer.

"I don't think Kalim caught her very well, she must have hit her head." laughs Leona.

"I’ll carry her if no one wants to !"

While Kalim is starting a friendly war, Azul comes at your side and helps you to sit down. Your body isn't in pain, but the exhaustion is getting you all bogged down. You've never used your magic so much before, let alone your only magic, and the repercussion is brutal.

Then it comes back to you: what happened to the beast?

"If that’s about the beast that you’re thinking, well, she’s fine. She collapsed a bit after you, her appareance changed drastically. Don’t worry, she will be taken care of" explains Azul.

"And she left this behind" continues Malleus, showing you a bright cristal tinged with black.

He puts it in your hands and you watch it, puzzled. That doesn't look good, you must show it to your father. And talk about your experience with the beast too, if he let you explain yourself in the first place.

Looking up, you wonder what might have happened to you if you had been only slightly less powerful. Suddenly, the light that dazzles you and burns your skin becomes like a treasure as you tell yourself that things could have ended badly for your life. But the boys were there, weren't they? Leona and Kalim were watching you, so they would have helped you before things got dramatic. The seriousness of the situation is hard to see in the way the boys talk to each other and makes you think you’ve just lived an intensive use of magic as it can happen. But Azul's hand on your back, Malleus's piercing gaze and the point of disarray in Kalim's eyes cast doubt on you.

You are not reckless, at least you’ve never seen yourself that way. You wonder if you weren't like that by choice, or if it's just a part of you that you were repressing. You don't think you're repressed, you are struggling with confidence and self-esteem, yes, but you're not repressed.

Your father must be shocked too, though, as he comes running at you, you can’t see his eyes because of his mask. The boys, silenced -for once- by the headmaster’s presence, are surrounding you and it only reinforces the image of weakness you're sending back to your father. Your eyes find the ground, you're used to avoiding conflict and that's not going to change anytime soon.

He lowers himself in front of you and at that point it would be very childish to ignore him :

"I’m sorry."

What else could you say ? Your don’t want to make things worse for yourself and, to be honest, your exhaustion doesn’t help to find the right words either.

You father doesn’t answer. His hand cups your cheek and you remember he always did this when you were younger. It was a gesture of parenthood that comforted you when you were troubled. It's strange to receive emotional gestures after all this time without any physical contact. You’d almost forget the dorm leaders around you who watching you two. In a surge of prudishness, you gently push your father’s hand away.

"I’m glad you’re fine."

Before you can react, his arms embrace you and hold you close to him. His sobs wetting your uniform jacket.

"Dad ! Not in front of everyone !"

"I-I was so scareeeeed ! I’m not letting you go, young lady ! Never !"

The fact that a person like your father was able to conceive a being as calm as you is still a mystery. No reservations are allowed for your father despite the entourage that has just increased with the arrival of the members of the infirmary. And while laughter makes you bury your head in your father's chest, you tell yourself that things could have been worse.

"Sir, we found this next to the beast after she collapsed."

Malleus' voice interrupts your little family reunion. Your father pulls back and you see the crystal, which you had dropped under the shock of your father’s grip, in Malleus' hand. Your father watches him with an inscrutable expression. As Malleus gives the crystal to him, he says :

"I’ll need you to explain me what happened with the beast, Malleus…I’ll inspect this later. Now, darling, we’re going to lead you to the infirmary. Sssh, you need to be taken care of. Shroud and Schoenheit, help her to get up, please. No time to lose, she may be hurt more severely than we think !"

Too focused on Idia's hands, which help you with an endearing clumsiness, and Vil's hands, which seem to be soaked with voluptuousness, you don't notice your father's satisfied smile.

At first I wanted Kalim to scream YEEEEES at reader-chan being sorted in Scarabia

When I did the first part the "you'll be fine" sentence was originally said by someone else but I thought that Idia had almost no line at all so I was like "yeah don't care he'll find out the courage to say it",that's why it's a bit out of character (since he needs more time to open up it was that or nothing lol)

Yes, your father cockblocked you (does anyone wants an alternative universe where you get to sleep with Kalim in a totally platonic situation? lmao)

The focus on Kalim is (a little bit) here since a very similar request wanted him to be more put in the front than the others, but it is also because I thought while reading the first part (man, I hate to read what I write once I published it, it's awful) that he was the more "noticed" by the "reader" because he restrained himself to talk to let her introduce herself

For once, I wanted to write in present tense but I still prefer to write in past tense lol, the pacing of this story is bad but at least I tried. My writing will hopefully get better with time.

[supertweetycherry]

DIE HARD || [iv. Girl Talks and Boys]

—Pairings: BTS x OC

—Genre: BTS Mafia Au, Slight Fluff, Angst (a lot of it), Heartbreak, Thriller

—Ratings: 18+ | MA Content | R

—Warnings: Abuse, Rude Behaviour, Fighting, Blood, Death, Weapons/Blades and Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Killing.

—Summary: She belong to them. They belong to her. It’s simple as that. Period.

—Word Count: 7k

 Navigations -> Masterlist || MASTERPOST <<Part 2 || Part 4>>

Chapter 3 - Girl Talks and Boys 

“—the local law enforcements in South Korea are still working on the case of the famous murder mystery of the Lee Enterprise executive director, Jung Jae-hee. The case has become a global interest as it is related to the world’s most dangerous and notorious gang of the decade. Tweets, news articles and unseen videos are being surfaced around the web, with ‘Bangtan’ trending on social media. It is being speculated that the notorious group of viscous killers are residing here in America, causing fear and a state-wide panic around the country. The United States government has yet to say anything official about the rumors. Till then, the focus has been shifted onto the murder case and the increasing mafia activities in South Korea—”

Yoona hummed to herself as she sipped onto her herbal tea for the tenth time in the past hour. Her small fingers cupping the warm cup as her ears continued to pick up the words of the nearest news channels playing in the large cafeteria.

It has been few days since the actual incident and people are still continuing to hear the old, recycled news over and over again. The amount of channels covering this piece of segment for the last few days has left a large gaping hole in Yoona’s ears. She was sick, tired and exhausted of it.

Yes, a murder happened in her home country.

Yes, the victim was her former boss.

And yes, the culprits might be the worldwide famous gang called ‘Bangtan’. A native Korean gang who had appeared out of nowhere.

So what? Deal with it! 

Yoona sighed loudly as she buried her face into her arms. Her ears picked up the change in the news reporter’s voice. It seemed more feminine now. Pulling her head up a bit, she glanced at the large TV as a new segment rolled in.

“—moving on, the three-day search for the two college girls in Beverly Hills has now come to an end as the local authorities here in the downtown Los Angeles, discovered a series of dead bodies in the Chinatown district of the city. A total of five girls were found, dead and tortured, with their vital organs missing from their bodies. Two of those bodies matched the description of the two missing girls while others are still unaccounted for. The bodies have started to decompose suggesting that they’ve been dead for quite a while before a citizen of Chinatown found them in a ditch near his area—”

The 26 year old groaned and rubbed her ears in frustration as the segment ate her brain up, again.  She dipped her head back into her arms, pushing the warm beverage away from her fingers. Sure, she felt remorse, pity and sadness for the dead girls but it also annoyed her that her surroundings are filled with so much of negativity. It triggered her in a way that she didn’t like.

That is until... a large folder slammed onto the white table infront of her. The loud bang that erupted from it was enough for yoona’s tired, aching muscles to tense up again. She had to hold down her cup tightly before it could jump and topple down the table due to the vibrations.

“You know, a small warning would have been sufficed.” Yoona said slowly as she threw a slight glare at the person who dared to interrupt her personal ‘me-time’.

“Bitch please. You should be happy that a mere peasant like you has the honour to be in my holy presence. Not even kings can afford me.”

This only earned the intruder a mocking eye-roll from the 26 year old beauty.

“Don’t you have work to do, your highness?” Yoona mocked as her shaking nerves relaxed. She pulled herself up and continued to drink her warm tea. But it wasn’t warm anymore.

“Not when there’s juicy gossip.” Her friend smirked before shoving the said folder in Yoona’s direction. Yoona stared at it blankly. It was black in colour and looked quite thick. “It’s about Jung Jae-hee.”

“No.”

The mere mention of the late director was enough for Yoona to do a 360 turn and never look back again. She picked up her cold tea and left the small table she was sitting on.

“Yuriii...”

“No, Suzy.” Yoona ignored her friend’s whining as she dumped her cold tea through the drain before leaving the blue coloured cup in the sink. “Why are you all so obsessed with her death? People die all the time. Just get over it.”

The little shiver in the older girl’s voice should have been enough for Suzy to stop pestering her friend. But like the stubborn chick she is, Suzy continued in her voyage to tell the new juicy gossip she had discovered recently.

Yoona didn’t like it when her only friend gave her a sudden smirk before pushing her right through the fire exit’s door and right into the stairs that suddenly appeared in her view.

“Suzy!” Yoona exclaimed when she realised that the younger girl had practically kidnapped her.

“Shush.”

“But—”

“I said shush, Yuri. I need some girl time with you. And this, my friend, is the best way we can relish our old memories, considering hardly anyone looks our way these days.”

That was true. Yoona couldn’t deny that fact. They were the noisy, cheap girls of the company. No-one gave them a second glance unless they needed a one-night stand or something. Yoona wasn’t exactly sure how they gained that reputation. She had never been active in her love life unlike her friend, Suzy. Yoona had kept herself quiet, timid and hidden most of the time. Infact, she’s a pure virgin, with no skills at batting her eye lashes at any pretty boy. So, why?

“You want us to bond over a murder case?”

“No, I want us to bond over the world’s most dangerous species... boys.” The girl exclaimed, making Yoona groan.

Boys is a topic that Yoona tends to stay away from. There are just too many old and painful memories associated with them.

“Come on, don’t be a spoil sport. There are many varieties in here.” Suzy insisted as she pulled Yoona near the steel railings where they found a clean spot to sit on. The older girl didn’t like how open and wide spread the exit was. She peeked down to see an array of blue stairs leading down to the ground floor. They were designed in a zigzag formation, continuing on and on for what seemed like, forever.

It wasn’t Yoona’s first time at being kidnapped by her friend. Suzy had done that to her many times on multiple different occasions. But today, the familiar scenery of the descending stairs was unwelcoming. Not to mention, the see-through glass that acted as the walls of this passageway was too exposing and open for her taste. She could literally see the giant skyscrapers from here with a visibility record of 100%.

Yeah... Lee Enterprise is too rich for their own good.

“So, this baby here—” Suzy held up the thick folder. “—was delivered to the queen boss this morning. And like the curious, evil person I am, I snagged it before she could have a chance to read through the papers.”

Yoona raised her eyebrows at this before shaking her head in disappointment.

“No wonder files kept disappearing around Ji-Soo. She’s too dumb to notice her surroundings.”

“Exactly.” Suzy smirked before flipping through the pages. “And that is how ARIA files must have been stolen from her desk. She really needs to invest in a good secretary.”

Yoona couldn’t help but smile at this. Her uncle’s plaything ‘ARIA’ has been unresponsive for the past few days. The files continued to be missing while no-one has any idea as to what has been going on with ARIA. The large casino building is one of their major money-making sites here in the American branch.

“Anyways, back to the topic, there’s a postmortem report in this folder indicating that our lovely girl, Jung Jae-hee, might not be so innocent as we thought.” Suzy teased, flickering to a page filled with numerous Hangul symbols. “I’m not great at reading Hangul, but by the look of this, I can tell, Jae-hee had an intimate intercourse with her killer. It was right before she was killed. How exciting is that?”

Yoona was spooked by her friend’s glazed eyes.

“Exciting? How is it exciting?” She questioned.  

“You very dumb dumb bimbo...” Suzy groaned, hitting Yoona on the head. “Jae-hee was known to have a special, unique taste in men. Whoever she chose to be worthy of her attention, was a diamond from the rarest mines. Think about all the boys that surrounded her. Danny, Brad, Jackson, Bambam and our very own, Taemin.”

The older girl scoffed at her eldest cousin’s name.

“Taemin had a crush on her?” Yoona asked, whacking her brain to remember all the interactions between the two people she despises.

“He still does. Why do you think this baby is here in my hands?” Suzy said in glee, pointing at the opened folder.

“So, what’s the point?”

“The point is that my dear Yuri, Jae-hee had an impeccable taste in men. Which means whoever she had sex with was just as impeccable as her taste. Wanna see who that could be? There are few delicious choices in here.”

The older girl felt scared at her friend’s weird taste in men. She wanted them to bond over a series of hot killers? No thanks.

“No.” Yoona said, shaking her head. “You seriously have a messed up kink regarding these ‘delicious choices’. I’m not interested.” She continued, standing up on her feet.

“Honey, you haven't experienced the dark, steamy side of the world of guns. So women up and sit down.” The younger girl pressured, tugging down on Yoona, forcibly. The force of the little tug, sent the older girl spiralling down onto her bottom.

“Ya!” Yoona shrieked but was ignored by the younger girl.

Suzy threw a smirk in Yoona’s direction before she opened her mouth to recite the names of the killers like an intimate, sex broadcast on a radio.

Yeah, she was that crazy.

“Suspect number one: Do Kyung-soo. Code name is D.O. Height is unknown and DOB is unknown. His occupation is being a freelance hot-headed assassin. He has a body count of 256 people including both women and children. He fights with his hands and bites with his mouth. Known to be very brutal with his victims and has a large thirst towards sex. He’s the maniac elf that even the local law enforcement can’t control.” Suzy read off the folder as Yoona sighed in defeat. She made herself comfortable on the stairs before glancing at the photo of the man that her friend was so intimately reading about.

“The guy looks normal to me.” Yoona commented, not feeling any kind of attraction from the young-ish looking boy. “He’s a bit cute, but not cute enough.”

“You hardly feel anything towards any boy, sweetheart.”

Yoona forced a smile back in her friend’s direction. If only her friend knew about the lost boys from her past.

“So, who’s next?”

Suzy gave a bright smile to Yoona. She patted the older girl in affection before flipping the page to the next person.

“Suspect number two: Kwon Ji-yong. Code name: G-dragon. He’s a sniper, mainly works for the local gang called ‘Big Bang’. But it says here, he’s known to have involved in various assassinations of high profile victims. He’s a bit old for our age but still, he has an impeccable taste in women. Who knows Jae-hee might have fucked him before she departed to hell.”

Yoona looked closely at the picture. The guy looked a bit familiar. Or was it his eyes that reminded her of someone?

“Wait...” she said slowly, letting an old memory resurface. “Isn’t he—”

“Yup. The one and only.” Suzy nodded, cutting her off with a wicked smirk. “Jae-hee must have been one lucky girl to bang one of the most wanted criminals in the world.”

Kwon Ji-yong, AKA the G-dragon, was one of the snipers who was involved in the assassination of Donald Trump, the deceased president of United States of America. The attack took place an year ago. Upon deeper investigations, it was revealed that a series of snipers and killers were hired to kill the president. It was a month of horror for all of Americans and the president himself. There were so many attacks, so many explosions, the streets were flooded with criminals trying to get to the 73 year old man. But in the end, it was the two Asian killers who managed to cut the old man off. And Kwon Ji-yong was one of those Asian killers. The only one who had his face plastered on every news channel.

“Wow..” Yoona gaped at the new information.

“I know right? When I saw him, I had the same reaction.” Suzy commented, running her fingers through the photo. “Too bad he's a wanted criminal. I would have loved to bang this beauty.”

Yoona cringed at the cliche.

“He has a tattoo.” She offered, trying to get Suzy’s glazed eyes off the photo. “A large insect tattoo.”

“So he does.” Her friend teased with a devilish smirk.

“And multiple ear piercings.”

“So he does.”

“He’s not good. He’s bad.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Suzy countered with another smirk. “After all, bad boys are known to bring the heaven to you.”

Yoona groaned at her friend’s infatuation with criminal boys. The very first year into their friendship, Yoona had discovered the crazy obsession of bad boys that lives inside the younger girl. It peeked out from time to time whenever the younger girl’s sexual frustration increased, which by the way was a lot of times. Maybe that’s why the 24 year old was no longer a virgin. The pure innocence was lost in a dark, steamy one night stand three years ago.

“You’re still stuck on that boy, aren’t you?” Yoona questioned when she saw Suzy fingering the little trinket in her neck. It was a little necklace piece shaped into a Bluebell, hanging dangerously close to her round cleavage. It always makes a bell like noise whenever it was moved by her fingers or her olive skin.

“Who?” Suzy asked, snapping out of her glazed look. She was still fingering the little necklace.

“You know... that tall, steamy, purple-haired sex god who let you ride him for hours and hours.” Yoona teased, finally enjoying the moment.

A small hue of red appeared on Suzy’s cheeks. Her lips curled into a small smile as a warm feeling entered her chest.

Yoona chuckled at the blushing young girl. That boy must have been very special to cause the great Bae Suzy to blush like a little girl.

“Hush... stop laughing. It’s not funny. We’re going off topic!” Suzy exclaimed, flicking at Yoona’s obvious giggling state. “Yuri, Stop!” The younger begged. “We have to focus on Jae-hee!”

“Oh come on!” Yoona whined, flicking at the folder. “I’m more interested in your steamy one night stand than this folder full of lazy criminals.” The words caused Suzy’s ears to turn red. “Come on, let me do the honours.”

A terrified look appeared in Suzy’s eyes. Before the younger girl could react, Yoona had already snatched the folder out of Suzi’s fingers before throwing it over the railings. It clattered down the small, narrow gap quietly before a loud thump was heard indicating that the thick file has touched down on the ground floor.

Suzy gaped at her friend’s actions before looking down the railings. Yoona followed the same movements, only to discover the large heap of flying papers still descending down the stairs slowly due to the air and their light weight. The black folder itself was lying limply on the bottom floor like a dead man.

“Y-you just... oh my god!” Suzy couldn’t form the words. She looked so shocked that Yoona tried not to look too guilty. Looks like her habits of being unpredictable were acting up again. “That was Ji-soo’s file you dumb child! I was gonna put it back. But now it’s...”

“Don’t worry, she’ll just think it’s lost like the ARIA files.” Yoona shrugged before pulling the younger girl away from the railings. “Now tell me more about your knight in the shinning armour.”

It’s funny how Yoona changed her mood so quickly. A moment ago she wanted nothing more than to run away from Suzy’s constant prodding into her dead boss’s case and now, she wanted nothing more than Suzy to tell her about the dreamy boy she encountered in her euphoric adventures three years ago. She didn’t even care about the giant stairwell that was now flooded with colourful photographs and Korean paperwork outlining the details of a very sensitive case around America and South Korea. Something that could put a lot of people in a tight spot.

“Please?” Yoona begged, trying not to cringe at herself. Suzy looked tormented between her friend and the file on the bottom floor. After few seconds, she sighed in defeat.

“Why do you want to know so much about my man, lady?” Suzy countered, not liking the sudden interest.

Yoona grinned to herself. I’m interested because then you will forget about that stupid murder case and not give me anymore of those painful headaches that I’m already dealing with. She played the words in her mind.

“Because I love a good romantic story.” She beamed at the younger girl. Lies. I hate romantic stories. They always end up with a sad ending. Like mine did.

“Fine.” Suzy agreed, still giving her friend a suspicious look. She clapped her hands before opening her mouth to recite the memorable night once again. But before she could, a loud noise from down below interrupted them. They both panicked as they heard a hoard of footsteps making up the staircase.

With no time to think, they sprinted out of the same fire exit door that they originally came through, just barely escaping the steely eyes of the eldest Lee child who was sprinting up the stairs to find the person who stole the files from his sister’s desk.

He grumbled when he couldn’t find anyone and stared hopelessly at the mess of photos and papers that covered the stairwell, revealing the origins of his illegal sources.

“Fuck.”

                                                    *******

“—it has now been confirmed that the missing vital organs of the girls found dead earlier in Chinatown, are up on the black market to be sold to the highest bidder. The local police force are trying to trace the source of origin, but nothing has been found yet. With this new killing spree, young girls are advised to stay in their homes until the culprit has been arrested. The death of these girls has raised awareness issues around—”

“I can’t believe he actually did that.” Jongin commented as he grimaced at the graphic pictures being displayed on the large TV. His elder brother who sat beside him also looked uncomfortable. “Hyung, you should keep him in South Korea. He’s too brutal for America.”

“I wish I could, Kai. But I might have pissed him off real bad this time.” Minseok admitted as he shivered at the screams he heard that day. He was a member of the mafia too. He has seen his fair share of murders and has indulged in various killings but bangtan?...  Bangtan is on a completely different level compared to him. They were ruthless and crazy-minded.

“Where is he now?”

“Honestly speaking... I don’t know.” Minseok replied with a shake of his head. He exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have a feeling he’s still here, lurking around somewhere in the city.”

A tensed silence passed through them. Their body tensed up at the thought of their cousin still roaming around somewhere in the city. It’s dangerous for that guy to be here. The man had the most unstable mind in the group despite being the oldest and most responsible. He was an obsessed freak.

“This is too depressing for my liking.” The younger joked. Minseok couldn’t help but smile at the lame joke.

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a small pause between them, before Jongin spoke again.

“I wish Chen hyung was here. I miss him.”

The words were quiet and faint to the normal ears, but with minseok’s enhanced hearing, he heard every syllable. He also heard the painful longing that was hidden behind the tone. He looked at his youngest brother with a sad smile.

Kim Seokjin wasn’t the only one who had lost his love that night. Minseok had lost one of his little brothers that day. Kim Jongdae. He usually went by ‘Chen’. He was assigned as a bodyguard for the lovely Lee Yoona, swearing and dedicating his life to protect the girl who has once saved him when he was little.

“I miss him too, bud.” Minseok replied with the same tone. He really wanted his little brother back. But it was too late. The cheerful, playful boy was gone. He died that night, taking three shots to the chest for the very girl he was trying to protect.

Unknown to the Kim family, somewhere back in their home country, in a dark, dirty cell, a man laid on the floor, whimpering from the recent torture he has just received. His face was half burnt. His body was filled with numerous scars and painful wounds. He was shaking on the cold floor as he cried himself to sleep, thinking of only one thing. His brothers.

                                                    *******

“That was a close call.”

Yoona couldn’t agree more. She was slumped down onto her soft, leathery chair, relaxing as she closed her eyes and thought about the unexpected getaway she was involved in few hours ago. All thanks to Suzy of course.  

The older girl glared at the younger girl who was invading her cubicle like a tall tree. Suzy’s eyes were focused on Yoona’s slumped state. After their hurried escape, they had separated into different directions, promising to meet up after the coast was clear.

“How can you be so relaxed, Yuri? We nearly got caught this morning!” Suzy whispered-yelled in a low voice. She was sitting on Yoona’s desk, a pile of papers acting as her cushion underneath her curved butt.

“The only thing I care about is that we escaped. And the fact that I will never let myself be kidnapped by you again.” Yoona muttered, poking a tongue out at the younger girl.

Her friend pouted.

“Oh come on!” Suzy whined. “We both know you were enjoying it.”

“Correction. You were enjoying it, I wasn’t. I was miserable.”

Wrong move.

“Fine, then be miserable forever.” The younger girl hissed before jumping off the table and leaving the workspace.

Yoona shook her head in disappointment. She was used to Suzy’s unexpected angry tantrums. Rubbing her head in complete tiredness, Yoona stood up and made her way to the furthest water station that served cold water and some cold ice cubes. Something that she truly needs to soothe the pain in her head.

Despite her bruises being healed, she still felt her body ache from time to time. The lack of a nutritional diet and her constant voyages of skipping meals produced sudden headaches and body weaknesses inside her. It sometimes affected her health in a bad way, but it doesn’t faze her even one bit. She’s careless with her existence. It’s something she has tried to work on but she never had the right motivation.

“Ahh... this feels nice.” She mutters to herself. The small bag of ice cubes was now placed against her forehead as she sipped onto the cold water quietly. The coldness from the bag was seeping into her skin, soothing the hot pain that penetrated her forehead like fire. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right here and then. But something stopped her.

A loud voice echoing behind her.

“ENOUGH!”

The loud volume of the voice was enough to tell her that it was coming from the nearest cabin which turned out to her uncle’s. Putting her makeshift ice bag and the water cup down, she walked further down the corridor that led to her uncle’s cabin. The curiosity cat inside her was bubbling to know the reason behind the loud voice. Her body shook in nervousness as her feet led her to a slightly ajar door. She stepped a bit closer and peaked through the small open space.

Her cousin Ji-Soo was crying as she held her right cheek with her hand. The tears that tickled down the younger girl’s face almost made Yoona regret her decision to eavesdrop. It was then her eyes travelled to the fuming figure that stood like an angry bull, pointing his angry, blazing eyes at his own daughter.

“Do you see this, Ji-Soo?” The man screeched, holding a stack of papers in her cousin’s face. “This means that someone transferred the property on their name, leaving us with no authorities over ARIA. They took possession of our one of the largest money making revenues in America. Do you know how it could affect our reputation here? Or back home? We will be mocked!”

Yoona griped the door frame a bit harder. She wasn’t surprised at the news, considering the disappearance of the property files was a dead giveaway, but she did feel a bit disappointed though. It doesn’t matter if Lee Enterprise is being controlled by her uncle right now. The company is still part of her family’s legacy. Any losses that it faces, it affected her directly. She had a sense of duty towards it. ARIA was one of the true blessings to their company. It brought a good fortune to them. So, loosing the property was a big disappointment to her.

“Appa, I swear it wasn’t my fault. I had no idea.” The younger girl whimpered as Yoona felt a pang of guilt hit her. She felt an urge to hug the girl. Despite her younger cousin’s hatred towards her, Ji-Soo was still her partially blood sister. Whether she admits it or not, they were related by blood. So, when her uncle raised her hand to hit Ji-Soo again, Yoona’s heart clenched at the sight. She held herself back from entering just in time to see another tall figure blocking the raised hand.  

Taemin.

Her oldest cousin. The brother who fiercely loved his sisters except Yoona. He stood over Ji-Soo like a protective tiger.

“It wasn’t her fault.” He said firmly, gazing into the man’s eyes who gave him birth. Yoona bit her lip in silence. She felt jealous that her younger cousin is so lucky to have such a protective brother on her side. It nearly made her miss her dead sister who promised to stay by her side forever too.

“You of all people should know that Ji-Soo would never do this, dad. The files were stolen. It’s not her fault.”

The elder man huffed angrily at his son. He exhaled loudly before returning back to his seat.

Yoona felt a bit awkward standing there. She was about to move away is when her cousin’s next words stopped her.

“I know who did this.” His voice was laced with venom. “I know who stole the papers and sold them to a bidder.” There was a forced silence in the air, before he spoke again. “The Kim Industries.”

A sudden chill went down Yoona’s back. She lost the ability to breathe for a second. It’s been years since she had heard that name.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They all died that night.” Her uncle countered, grumbling to himself.

“No, not them. Their extended family. Kim Minseok.”

Yoona felt her eyes water at the familiar name. Minseok was one of the supposed brother she had when everyone was still alive. He took care of her just like her older sister. But after that night, he never got in contact with her. She figured either the man didn’t know she was alive or he hated her for killing his brothers. Four members from the Kim family died that night. It was enough for anyone to hate her, considering they all died protecting her.

“He’s been inactive for years, son.” The eldest Lee said, resting his head on his chair. Yoona could see Ji-Soo cowering in her spot on the fancy couch. “He’s an emotional mess due to his brothers deaths.”

Guilt hit Yoona like a wave of water. Was the man she considered as her older brother was really messed up due to his brothers deaths? Does that mean he hates her?

“Kim Minseok has been very much involved with everything we have neglected, dad.” Taemin’s voice echoed through the small gap. “He’s been eating off our hands without a blink from us. I just discovered his little projects.” A slam of a heavy folder sounded among the room. “He has been gambling in the mafia since the very beginning, staying under the radar to avoid us. All the projects we have been involved in, his company, Kim industries, has been snagging them one by one. And ARIA is one of them. Even after those little bastards are dead, their family line still continued to dominate us.”

The 26 year old felt her fingers grip the doorframe tightly.

“How far off is he?” There was a thick tension radiating from the room. Everything had gone so quiet suddenly.

“Far enough to topple down the lowest of our rank in the circle.”

The circle. Yoona has heard about them before. A mysterious group of leaders. The term has come up in many of her uncle’s secret conversations when she had accidentally stumble upon them. Like today.  

There was a silence in the room before something creeked and the door she was leaning on, swung open, toppling her balance and crashing her down to the floor. She groaned slightly at the pain. That was until someone gripped her hair and dragged her into the room.

She bit onto her lips from screaming out.

“We have a pest here, dad.” Yoona gulped as she recognised the harsh voice of her oldest cousin. Her luck has finally ran out. “Let’s teach her a little lesson.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the fateful slap that would grace her cheek... but after a minute of waiting, it never came. She slowly opened her eyes to see what was happening.

Taemin’s raised hand was being blocked off by another arm. The arm that was covered in a stripy grey suit with the finest material known to mankind. Only one person in the family has a taste for rare things. Her uncle.

“Leave her.” Her uncle’s firm voice cut through the thick silence. Both of his children stood gaping at the man. As for Yoona, she was surprised and shocked to hear the words. Lee Sung-Woo has never defended Yoona before. Her uncle was the one who gave his wife and children permission to torment her with verbal, physical and mental abuse. He let them break her down into bits as he watched from his throne quietly, not giving any care to his beaten and bruised niece. So, why now?

“But dad—”

“I said, leave her.” The older man repeated the words with a dark undertone to his voice. His son shivered before dropping his hand to his side. Yoona glanced at her eldest cousin, only to see him glaring at her. Something told her that she was still in the danger zone.

The elder Lee turned to face her, his light brown eyes boring into her dark ones.

“Get up, Yoona. I have a job for you.” He said, giving her a genuine smile that raised red flags in her head. His face showed the kind features he had mastered over the years while his eyes reflected his true intentions towards her.

Still stunned by his words, Yoona didn’t move from her position on the ground. She still sat on her knees, dress ruffled at places and hair pulled out into a messy hodgepodge due to her eldest cousin’s tight grip on her.

A sudden pain enveloped her when the same man applied a bit of strain onto her escaping roots, causing her to whimper softly.

“Don’t push your luck, pest.” She clenched her jaw at his words, holding herself back from bitting at him. It will sign her an eternity of pain if she ever did.

Slowly but surely, the 26 years old beauty picked herself up from the floor. She stood on her feet with shaky legs as her uncle walked back to his leather chair in the middle of the room.

“I won’t ask you how much you have heard because I know you have heard everything.” The male spoke, rubbing his hands together. “And frankly, it’s a good thing you know this now.” Yoona was puzzled by his words. “Do you remember Minseok?” She nodded which earned her a small laugh from him. “He always stuck around you and your sister like a magnet.”

Yoona bit her lips. Was he mocking her?

By now, she has been forcibly pushed onto a chair, across from her uncle’s table.

“Do you know he hates you?” Her body stiffened. “I bet this vendetta he has going on against Lee Enterprise is because of you. I mean, you were the reason for the death of his brothers after all. How can he not hate you?” Yoona felt a chill run down her back at those words. Her chest ached at the idea of Kim Minseok hating on her. She knew he did, but it hurts a lot when someone say that to her directly. “You very well know who was the target that night.” Yes, she knew. Yoona was the target. Lee Yoona and her older sister. The offspring of the current Lee family.

“And you know why he—” Before he could continue, Yoona cut him off with her hand banging on the dark polished table.

“You don’t need to tell me the past because I know what happened.” She hissed, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I know they died because of me. What do you actually want, uncle?”

A sudden pull on her hair was enough to know that his bratty children are acting up again. She could feel the long nails behind this one. It has to be her darling female cousin.

“Let her go, Ji-Soo.”

“But appa...”

“Let. Her. Go.” The younger child growled before letting go of Yoona’s hair. The 26 year old was surprised at the sudden change in her younger cousin’s behaviour. One moment she was crying and the second she’s on her feet like a wild cat, ready to tear her apart.

“What do you want from me?” Yoona demanded after a full minute of silence.

Traces of a faint smile appeared on her uncle’s lips. He pulled something out of his nearest cabinet and slapped it down onto the table infront of her. She stared at it blankly. It was a large yellow envelope about the size of an A4 page.

“I want you to go on a little trip for me. It’s indefinite of course.” He pointed to the envelope. “All your tickets, identity papers and everything else is in that envelope. You are going to be starting a new life. A new name, a new look and a new identity. Congrats Yoona, you are the new executive director of Lee Enterprise for the Korean branch. You’re going back home.”

“What?!” Three different voices in the room screamed, and Yoona was one of them.

“What do you mean?” She asked, stunned at the words he just blurted out.

His children were also looking at him in shock. Ji-soo’s hand was curled around a nearby couch pillow while Taemin’s fist was turning white due to the pressure he was applying on the chair next to Yoona.

The 26 year old flinched when the leather of the chair curved inwards at the raw strength. She looked at her uncle in obvious shock and fear.

“We need a new person to take the position. It been chaotic in our home country. Since you are practically useless to me right now, I have assigned you as the acting head. The position is yours to work with.”

“What—No!” Ji-Soo said in outrage. “That’s my position! How could you just give it to her?”

“I don’t need to explain my reasons to you, Ji-Soo.”

“But appa—” the girl looked appalled at her father.

“Leave my office. Both of you. Now.” The direct order was cold and piercing to his children’s hearts. The man who had never raised his voice on his kids, unless they did something wrong, is choosing their dirty cousin over them.

When Yoona heard the loud slams of the cabin’s door, she lifted her eyes up to the old man.

“Let’s talk in peace, shall we?”

                                                  ********

Meanwhile, miles away from America and right into the heart of South Korea, a dark figure, clad in the most darkest attire of an assassin, battled his way through a crowd of armed men as his silver blade pierced through their bodies one by one. With each duck and with each stroke of his blade, blood spilled out onto him like splashes of water. The oncoming rain from above hit him like bullets as he rolled on the wet pavement and slashed at yet another men. His clothing that was designed in the most expensive polymer, tightened around his lean figure as he bent, jumped and rolled under various stalls to avoid the oncoming slaughter of the real bullets, aimed directly at his prominent limbs.

“Ya, hyung!” A childish voice whined from behind him. “Hurry up and save me already. I’m hungry!” A young boy said, jingling the silver metal cuffs on his wrist. He was sitting on a nearby stall, sucking onto a lollipop as armed men surrounded him.

The boy was unfazed by the ring leader who tried to make him cower in fear.

“Pali, Pali hyung!” He whined again when the ring leader tried to take away his lollipop. “Ya! You little cockroach, let go of my lollipop or I swear I’ll stuff your butthole with them.”

The assassin who was in the middle of a trio fight, shook his head in annoyance. He bent and rolled on the ground, letting his blade do the work instead.

“Aish.. this kid.” He muttered to himself before throwing one of his trusty knives at the grubby hands of the ring leader. The old, puggy man screeched in pain as his right hand is pierced by a pointy blade in the shape of a Star. “Stay the fuck away from my brother’s lollipop!”

The said brother smiled and continued to suck on the juicy blob of sugar.

Another minute passed, and the assassin’s enemies has decreased in numbers. Bodies piled up the wet pavement as the last of the armed men fell to the ground with a sliced neck. The only one remained was the puggy ring leader and his two trusted men.

“Daebak! Hyung, your awesome!” The younger boy cheered, clapping his cuffed hands together like a teenage Pom Pom girl. His light brown hair also bounced as he jumped up and down.“I feel so proud. My hyung is the best!”

The said hyung scoffed. He has heard that line several times from the younger boy on many different occasions.

“You say the same thing to others, Jungkookie.”

“No, I don’t.” The boy lied, giving the elder a huge, innocent pout. The tongue that has now turned blue due to the lollipop he has been sucking, lapsed around his puffy lips like a little boy. “Pali, Pali! Save me and let’s go for dinner.” He whined again, pouting his lips and widening his doe-eyes.

“Aish...” The said assassin grumbled before raising his sword like a true ninja. He grit his teeth and charged at the last remaining set of men.

A minute later, all three them fell lifelessly on the ground with broken limbs. The younger bunny boy cheered, jumping on the stall like a little kid.

“Yay! Let’s go for hotdogs now!”

The assassin clad in black huffed and wiped his sword clean with his sleeves. He stashed it back into its holster behind him before tugging on his younger brother’s metal cuffs and pulling him off the stall with one hard pull.

The said boy stumbled to his feet before landing on the wet pavement with a thud. His pretty, child-like face turned into a scowl as he felt the rain water seep into his black pants.

“Hyung!” He exclaimed angrily.

“This is the only favour I’m doing for you, Jungkookie” The assassin said in a husky voice as he removed his face mask. He pulled his hood back, revealing a nest of dark orange hair. “Go back home or I’ll dob on you. Next time you get kidnapped by goons, fight your way out. Don’t call me for help.”

“But it’s fun watching you fight.” The boy whined innocently. But he stopped when he noticed his hyung’s narrowed eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

And with that he pulled himself up on his feet, discarding the metal cuffs on the ground with no help. His hands swiped another lollipop out of his pocket before he skipped away, throwing a simple smirk over his shoulders.

“I swear I’m going to skewer him one day.” The assassin mumbled before shaking his head. Who is he kidding? The bright, sunny angel inside him would never let the dark ninja kill his maknae.

Stupid brotherly bonds.

Tag List: @demonic-meatball​, @youtube-obsessed-duh​, @trinityautumn​, @original-internetmonster​, @seoul9711​, @jinniesjoon94​

[searchingwardrobes]

Early Leaf’s a Flower: 4/11

Now we reach the part of the story that has me nervous even though I am immensely proud of it. Emma and Killian will be separated for a bit here in the middle, but I just need ya'll to hang with me and trust me, okay? This is where the "fate" part of the summary begins to come into play.

This is also when Emma meets Neal and Killian meets Milah. I am writing these relationships more along the lines of being young and making immature decisions rather than villainizing Neal and Milah. In canon, Neal and Milah were both significantly older than Emma and Killian (which is an interesting parallel I have never thought much about before, come to think of it), but in this story, all four of them are the same age (17). There is no relation whatsoever between Neal and Milah in this story. Neal is also just Neal, not Bae. In other words, he has no connection to the fairy tale realms. He's just another runaway teenager.

I have to once again thank the mods of the @captainswanbigbang​ , and my betas @shippingtheswann​, @distant-rose​, and @optomisticgirl​ for believing in this fic, especially this section and for encouraging me when I doubted myself. I especially want to give a shout out to Ro who encouraged me to write Milah in the way I had envisioned instead of changing her character to please the fandom.

So, fingers crossed, here we go! Got your tissues ready?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Around 7k in this chapter (all chapters will be rather lengthy from here on out)

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 17

Emma wipes at her cheeks, frustrated with herself for crying. Those people don’t deserve her tears. She plops down on the bench in front of the bus stop in downtown Bangor, Maine, the one bag she always keeps packed at her feet. She’s fully aware of what running away at seventeen means.

There will be no more chances.

That makes her frustrated with herself, too. The fact that a tiny part of her still clings to hope, even now. Even after the words her foster father spoke just this evening.

“We have to think of our children, Emma, if you’re going to act this way.”

“Our” children - and that didn’t include her. They didn’t even wait to hear her side of the story. They never asked why she got into the fight in the first place and never once thought that maybe the pot in her book bag wasn’t even hers. It was clear how they saw her - a screwed up orphan who couldn’t be trusted.

She sees the bus coming towards her, and she snatches her bag. She’s not sure how far she can get on the cash she’s got, but any place is better than here. She never belonged in the suburbs anyway.

All she has in her pocket is a little cash that she lifted from her former foster mother’s purse. Portland - that’s how far the cash gets her, with a few bucks left over. She blows it all on a grilled cheese and onion rings in a greasy diner next to the bus stop. She gets as many refills of her soda as she can before the waitress starts to get suspicious.

A year in the suburbs has made Emma rusty, and she wastes way too much time wandering around the city. She hopes that she’s at least walking with a purpose. The most important rule on the streets is to never show vulnerability or weakness.

It begins to rain, and she needs a place to sleep. The corner of her mouth kicks up in the hint of a smile when she sees what’s a block ahead near the pier. It’s a carnival, closed for the season. Better yet, there’s a gap in the gate of the chain link just wide enough for a slender girl to slip through. Surely there’s a warm, dry place to spend the night somewhere on the grounds.

As Emma walks around the silent carnival, she has to admit that it’s a bit eerie. The swings move subtly in the breeze, their chains clanking. Rain pelts the colorful awnings and drips down the boarded up booths. The rain starts to come down harder, and Emma dashes across the grounds with her hoodie over her head. It’s getting dark fast.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

The voice is jolting in the abandoned setting, and Emma’s feet move faster. She clambers aboard a dark carousel just as the pouring rain turns into a full blown storm. The wind whistles around the still carousel, and lightning illuminates the immobile faces of horses, zebras, and unicorns.

Emma hears the shouts again, almost inaudible over the storm, and she drops down on all fours. She scrambles beneath the feet of the wooden menagerie to the very center of the carousel. She presses her back against the wood, heart pounding.

The beam of a flashlight cuts through the darkness, and Emma claps her hands to her mouth as if that can help cloak her from the light.

“Who’s there?”

Emma’s hands slip from her face as she realizes that it isn’t the voice of an adult. Still, she looks around frantically, hoping to see a service door somewhere. A security guard would call the cops, but another teenager might do something ten times worse to a girl alone out here. Emma can’t see a damn thing between the flashes of lightning, so she crawls along the edges of the center of the carousel, hands groping for an opening.

“Hey, stop!” the voice shouts again, and the light of the flashlight blinds Emma. Hands reach out, but she fights against them. “Stop it, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

The only reason she believes him is because he releases her. Her eyes blink open, but all she can see is a shadowy figure leaning over her. The flashlight is rolling away on the floor of the carousel. The lightning flashes again, just long enough to show her the face of a teenage boy. They’re plunged back into darkness, however, just as quickly.

“You a runaway too?”

“Too?”

“Hey listen,” he says, gently touching her arm, “I’m gonna go get my flashlight, okay? Don’t run off.”

Emma isn’t sure if it’s his youth or her fear of the storm that keeps her where she is. He comes back, shining the flashlight at her feet so he doesn’t blind her again. When he hunkers down in front of her, the light fully illuminates him, and she’s able to get a good look at him: extremely thick, slightly curly brown hair that falls into his dark brown eyes, a boyish smile, and a nose that’s a tad too large for his face. The hoodie he’s wearing is stained, ripped, and soaked from the rain.

“I’m Neal,” he tells her, “Neal Cassidy.”

She simply regards him suspiciously.

“This is the part where you tell me your name,” he adds with a grin.

Emma turns away from his gaze and crosses her arms stubbornly. He sighs.

“I get it, I really do, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she snaps.

“If you want to survive, you do,” he replies solemnly. “Now, do you wanna see where we sleep or not? Cause it’s a lot better than this carousel.”

“We?”

Killian: Age 17

“Man overboard!”

The crew of the Jolly Roger rush to get ropes as soon as the words leave Curly’s mouth from where he stands guard in the crow’s nest. It’s a mission they’ve been through many times, fishing lost boys out of the water.

“Starboard!” Curly yells, and they hurry to that side of the ship.

The Jolly Roger, despite being captained by a boy of seventeen, is still the finest ship to sail the seas in any realm, just as it was under its other name - The Jewel of the Realm. And despite its crew ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, her familiar outline shimmering on the horizon is already enough to strike fear in the hearts of the most experienced sailors. For one, the Jolly Roger with its pegasus sail has been known to drop upon a ship from the skies above. Then there are the tales of the demon pirate children and their one-handed captain, stories that have almost reached the status of legend. Enough so that Hook and his crew have to shed very little blood. Their intent is to avenge the death of Liam Jones, and to that end, crippling the navy of King George is enough.

Killian Jones is no longer the navy's disciplined sailor he was a year ago, but more importantly, he also is no longer a boy. Plenty of sailors underestimate him because of his age, but few seventeen year olds carry the experience or the tragedy of Captain Hook.

As for Pan, Killian hasn’t forgotten the day he slashed his brother with dreamshade. Though Captain Hook longs for a more violent revenge, the best he can do for the moment is rescue Pan’s boys from thinning, and occasionally, save a boy from Pan’s shadow. Not all boys come to Peter willingly, and many used to perish in the waves around the island until Hook started fishing them out of the water. Both practices have caused The Jolly Roger’s crew to swell over the past year.

On this particular day, his crew is fishing their latest recruit out of the water. Two in as many days? Pan doesn’t usually send his shadow out that frequently. Then again, he’d thinned a few recently. No matter how hard the pirates try to save them, not all Lost Boys realize the intent of their leader until it’s too late. Hook’s current cabin boy also fought off the shadow just yesterday. Killian grins as he thinks of Pan’s frustration. He lounges against a few barrels, crossing his legs at the ankles, and casually watches his crew work the ropes. He arches a brow as the wet figure flops to the deck.

“Looks like it’s a pirate’s life for you, boy,” he says. As the “boy” stands, Captain Hook finds himself speechless, something that hasn’t happened in well over a year.

The entire crew gasps, for standing before them, dripping wet, chest heaving, and fire in her eyes is not a lost boy but a lost girl. She wears a corseted dress that shows off an ample amount of her bosom, and Hook’s been in enough ports to know a lady of the night when he sees one. Yet she is, indeed, a girl. Not a woman. Anger flashes clearly in his suddenly darkening eyes. His crew misinterprets it as frustration towards the girl herself. They all eye her warily and step a few paces away from her.

Hook draws closer to her, removing his long leather duster as he does so. She lifts her chin defiantly, almost hiding the shiver that courses through her body. He swings the duster towards her, the words of a gentleman on his tongue, but she slaps his hand away. The crew murmurs nervously, but all Hook does is smirk at her.

“You are cold, lass, I was offering my coat.”

“I don’t need your charity,” she spits, “all I need is to find someone, and I’ll be on my way.”

Killian’s brow arches as he regards her. “I see. Unfortunately for you, that will be rather difficult to accomplish without the aid of me and my crew.”

She props her hands on her hips and scowls at him. “Doubtful.”

He draws closer and leans forward to whisper in her ear. “No. Fact.”

She narrows her stormy gray eyes at him, and he’s close enough to see the swirls of blue in them. Some of her dark curls have stuck to her wet face, and he wants to reach out and brush them away, but he refrains. She strikes him as the type of lass who would not welcome such a gesture.

A sudden, high pitched shout of delight breaks the tension, and the girl lets out a cry as she shoves past Killian. She falls to her knees in front of Hook’s new cabin boy, a lad of only six, and envelops him in her arms.

“Mason!” she says, her hard facade slipping away as she holds the boy tight and cries with joy. “I’ve been so worried ever since that shadow -”

“It’s okay!” the boy interrupts with childish exuberance. He rushes over to his Captain and tugs on his hook. “Captain Hook let me join his crew! I’m his cabin boy!”

Those eyes of hers become tumultuous again, and Killian regards her in contemplation. The boy is six, the lad told him so, but surely this girl can’t be his mother. He knows, however, that not all the girls in the brothels are of age, nor are they all there by choice. He guesses the young lady before him would have had to give birth at the age of only thirteen, at the most, if she truly is the boy’s mother.

“What have you been doing to him?” she snaps.

“Taking care of him,” Killian says calmly but with authority, “and a thank you would be in order that we fished him out of the sea.”

“And kept him hidden from Peter Pan,” Starkey, his first mate, adds.

Killian kneels before Mason. “How about you go below and get some hardtack from cook while I talk to your -”

“Sister. And her name is Milah.”

Killian lets out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, your sister.”

“Okay!” Mason chirps as he skips off. Killian watches him go fondly. They normally don’t take on boys as young as he is, but Mason had fought the shadow tooth and nail where most lads his age are eager to see The Neverland. He sees a jadedness in the boy’s eyes that is much too familiar.

Killian stands and turns to Mason’s sister. He bows. “Milah, I believe it is?”

“Yes,” she says coolly.

“If I may have a word with you, m’lady?”

She tosses her hair saucily over one shoulder, yet takes the arm he offers her anyway. He glares at his crew and shouts for them to get back to work. He and Milah stroll to the ship’s bow.

“May I ask,” he begins, knowing he must proceed with caution, “how you managed to follow your brother here?”

Milah sighs and lets go of his arm. “A week ago, Mason told me about the shadow coming to our window. He said it whispered to him about a place where orphan boys can be free. I’m ashamed to say that I brushed it off as a dream.”

“But it kept coming back.”

Milah nods. “It began to frighten Mason, too. He said that the shadow wanted to take him away from me. I told him to keep the window locked. I have to work nights, you see . . . “ Milah trails off, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looks away from him in shame.

“Hey,” Killian says softly, turning her chin gently towards him, “I was sold as a slave when I wasn’t much older than Mason. I know what it means to just survive.”

She holds his gaze for only a moment before turning away, her hard demeanor back in place. “Anyway, I came home one night to see the shadow for myself, but it already had Mason. I lunged for my brother, but it was too late, the shadow was flying away with him.”

“Then how did you get here?” He glances up at the pegasus sail fluttering above them. “It is no easy feat, lass.”

Milah smiles with a bit of pride behind her eyes. “I went to a sorceress in the village square. It took far too much of my coin, but she had the information I sought. She said if I stood before my open window and said I believe, the shadow would come for me.”

“And it did,” Killian says, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

She nods. “Aye, but the sorceress warned me not to let the shadow take me all the way to the island. I wasn’t sure why, but figured I should listen, so -”

“So here we are.” Killian leans against the railing, admiring the way the sea air rustles her curls. She shivers again, and he once again offers his coat. This time, she accepts.

“Here we are,” she says, suddenly shy. He sees now a hint of her real age.

“How old are you?” he asks gently, hoping she won’t take the question as anything more than genuine curiosity.

She bites her bottom lip as she clutches his duster tighter. “Seventeen.”

His cheeks dimple with the force of his smile. “So am I .”

“Are you serious?” Her jaw drops. “The fearsome Captain Hook is just a boy?”

“A boy!”

She laughs teasingly, then cocks her head at him. “So, does the offer still stand?”

He tilts his head. “Offer?”

“You know, a pirate’s life for me.”

He reaches out and adjusts the heavy coat that rests on her slim shoulders. “Yes, Milah. I think you’ll make a damn good pirate.”

Emma: Age 17

Emma stares out across the dark carnival grounds, pushing the swing around idly with her foot. She hears chains clink behind her and sighs wearily.

“Hey,” Neal says, grasping the chains of her swing and spinning her to face him.

“Hey.”

He searches her face and gives her a boyish grin. “Don’t let them get to you, Ems.”

She says nothing. She searches his eyes, for what she isn’t sure. He tugs the swing forward and captures her lips in a kiss. She kisses him back for a moment, then pushes gently on his chest.

“I’m still mad at you,” she grumbles.

He shakes his head and chuckles, which causes Emma a tiny prick of irritation. He lifts the metal bar of the swing nearest her and sits, his long, awkward teenage legs sprawled out on either side of hers.

“They were just messing with us. They know we’re a thing, so -”

“It was my first time, Neal!” Emma snaps before he can finish.

“It’s not like I planned it or anything,” he shoots back, still with that infuriating grin on his face, “one thing led to another -”

“I was there, Neal,” she tells him dryly.

“My point is, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”

Emma blushes as the memories of the night before come back to her. “You said they wouldn’t be able to hear us.”

“I didn’t know you were going to moan that loud.”

She kicks him, but can’t help smiling shyly at his teasing. He leans forward and yanks her swing close to his until their noses are brushing.

“I also didn’t know you were going to cry out my name like that.”

She bites her lip at the heated look in his eyes. Honestly, she had yelped his name more than crying it out. It had hurt at first, but she’s too embarrassed to tell him that.

“I . . . “ she swallows thickly as he presses a kiss right at the corner of her mouth, “Neal, I . . . “

“Yes?” he mumbles against her neck.

Emma stops the explorations of his lips with her hands to his cheeks so she can look him in the eye. “I think . . . that is, I . . . I love you, Neal.”

He smiles brightly then, pulling her close and kissing her with incredible passion. He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t say he loves her too. She tells herself that’s okay, though. After all, they’re only seventeen.

*************************************

Lily is the leader. Emma isn’t sure exactly how that came to be, though she guesses it has something to do with Lily’s intimidating demeanor. There’s something darkly intense about her, an edge behind her dusky eyes that makes everyone in their crew afraid to question her authority.

There are seven of them, including Emma, forming a loose sort of family. Neal had been correct that first night - the supply warehouse they’re squatting in is a much better place to crash than the carousel. It’s a slightly macabre final resting place for anything broken or out of use, from rusted coaster cars to broken haunted house furniture. There’s even an old red sleigh and a troupe of ten-foot tall nutcrackers when the carnival had apparently been open for the holidays.

Neal was also telling the truth that they’re all runaways. Emma, however, is the only actual orphan. Truth be told, she secretly thinks the rest of them are all a little self absorbed in their reasons to leave home. Neal’s dad apparently had become angry and bitter after his mother’s death. Emma has to keep from rolling her eyes every time Neal tells her how the man “just didn’t understand him anymore.” Claudia and Jamie felt overlooked in a big family, Sam just longed for adventure, and August chafed against his father’s rules. Then there’s Lily, adopted as an infant by parents who she claims never loved her and - naturally - didn’t understand her. The whole “they don’t understand me” thing is a constant refrain, and one Emma is frankly a little tired of hearing.

When Neal had brought her to the group that first night, he’d gone straight to Lily who had regarded Emma, shivering and dripping water on the concrete floor, with casual disdain. Then her mouth had ticked up into a smile that Emma couldn’t quite read.

“Welcome to the family,” she’d told her, and only then had the rest of the group even approached her. They’d each carved out space amongst all the junk, using bits of this and pieces of that to make beds. There wasn’t really a “bed” for Emma, though, so Neal had offered to share his. When Jamie, who is only thirteen, snickered, Emma had blushed and said she’d figure something else out.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” Lily had snapped with a roll of her eyes, “we already know he wants to fuck you. Emma’s staying with Neal, and that’s just how it is.”

She’d said the last as if it were a royal proclamation, and everyone had scattered to go to bed for the night. Neal’s face had been bright red, and he’d not only mumbled an apology, but had been a perfect gentleman that first night.

But only the first night. And now here she is, in the first real relationship of her young life, and five other kids heard every word of it. It’s humiliating and degrading. Yet Emma knows better than to mess this thing up. Lily’s crew means protection, it means seven kids pulling cons and picking pockets and sharing the spoils. And it may not be the family she’s spent her whole life dreaming of, but it’s better than being alone.

Emma isn’t sure where Neal is at the moment. She’s attempting to get a moment to herself, hidden behind the broken down cotton candy machine that makes one “wall” of the “bedroom” she shares with Neal. Claudia had swiped a pad of paper and some pencils from a discount store yesterday and hadn’t minded sharing with Emma. It’s been years since she’s sketched, but inspiration struck. Her pencil flies across the paper, and when she’s finished, tears sting inexplicably at the corner of her eyes. It’s the wardrobe. She bites on her lower lip and swallows back a sudden lump in her throat. She remembers the sparkle in Killian’s eyes and a bit of sadness sweeps over her as she wonders where he is right now. She shakes her head and crumples the paper in her hand. Why the hell is she thinking about that wardrobe today?

“Emma?”

She jolts and turns to see Jamie standing there. “Neal wanted me to give you this,” he tells her as he hands her a piece of paper.

Emma rolls her eyes as she takes the paper from him. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Jamie.”

His grin only gets wider. “Did Claude tell you she swiped some ear plugs for me? She doesn’t want your sex noises corrupting me.”

She jumps up to smack the kid across his smug face, but he darts away laughing before she can reach him. Letting out a frustrated huff of breath, she opens the note he’s given her.

“Meet me at the spot where we first met. xoxo Neal”

Even though the xoxo postscript is a little middle school, she can’t help the smile that fills her face. She heads eagerly for the carousel and finds Neal waiting for her. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her in greeting, and when they part Emma has to catch her breath.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks him.

The grin he gives her fills his face and lights up his brown eyes. “Working on a surprise.”

She smiles back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “A surprise? For who?”

He shrugs teasingly. “I was thinking maybe Claudia would like it - ow!” He rubs at where she punched him in the arm, though her indignation seems to only make his smile broader. “Just kidding, Ems, you know it’s for you. Come on!”

Neal pulls her across the carnival grounds almost at a run, and Emma is breathless again when he stops in front of an office door. She quirks a brow at him.

“What’s in there?”

He shuffles his feet back and forth, nervous for the first time. “Um, just close your eyes.”

Emma eyes him suspiciously.

“Please?”

She shrugs and complies. She hears the door swing open, and Neal tugs her hands gently to lead her inside. The door shuts behind her, and she feels Neal pressed up against her back. He leans forward and whispers in her ear.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say.”

“Okay,” she agrees, letting her breath out in a huff.

“I’m really sorry about how our first time went. I should have planned it - made it special. So . . . maybe this will make it up to you?”

He tells her to open her eyes, and when she does, she sees a small, modest office with wood paneling, filing cabinets, and a musty smell. However, there’s also a couch along one wall that Neal has scattered with rose petals and on every flat surface in the room, tea candles flicker.

“Well?” he asks her, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“I . . . I . . . “ Emma swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “How did you even get in here?”

She worries that maybe she’s hurt his feelings, but Neal just shrugs. “I picked the lock. It was a simple one with no deadbolt, so . . . “

Emma wanders around the small room, taking in every candle, reaching out to touch some of the rose petals.

“They’re fake,” he tells her apologetically. “The convenience store didn’t have real ones. Oh, and I got you something else!”

Neal reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a key chain which he dangles in front of her. Emma reaches out to take it, smiling down at the round pendant.

“It’s a swan.” She throws her arms around him and gives him a brief kiss. “I love it!”

She wraps her arms tighter around him as he pulls her close. She buries her nose in his shoulder and revels in his embrace. Then, suddenly, a bright fluorescent light catches her eye. Just over Neal’s shoulder is another door, and through the square window in its center she sees something she remembers from her past.

“What’s that?” she whispers as she steps away from Neal and draws closer to the door.

“Oh, that’s the arcade,” Neal tells her, “this office must be for the manager.”

Emma turns the knob and is surprised to find it unlocked. She steps out into the dark arcade, drawing closer to the glass cube that pulses with a neon glow.

“I wonder why that one’s still plugged in,” Neal muses.

Emma presses her palm to the glass and draws closer. Voices from the past drift to the forefront of her memory. Now, decide which prize you want, and focus. Emma remembers the way the game had sparked, how Sarah hadn’t seemed fazed at all. The claw in this machine hangs immobile, and Emma gives a soft gasp as she sees the prize right below it - a stuffed white rabbit with a pink ribbon around its neck.

“Emma?” Neal asks hesitantly.

What if you did have magic, Emma?

I travel to you through an enchanted wardrobe, Emma. And you think magic sounds crazy?

“Emma?” Neal tries again.

“Do you believe in magic?” she whispers, her hand still pressed to the glass, her gaze still fixed on that stuffed rabbit.

Neal laughs. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but this life of ours ain’t no fairy tale.”

A tear slips from the corner of Emma’s eye and rolls down her cheek. “But there are things that can’t be explained. Aren’t there?”

Neal steps closer and grasps her loosely by the elbow. “Emma, what’s wrong? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Emma shakes her head, swiping at the wet spot on her cheek. “Nothing.”

Neal turns her to face him, his eyes searching hers carefully. “Is this still about the sex thing?”

Emma can’t help it, she blurts out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Cassidy, you didn’t waste all those candles.”

His pupils widen as he grins eagerly. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Although I stole the candles so . . . “

Emma shakes her head and throws her arms around his neck. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“You know,” Neal says softly, rubbing her arms, “everyone’s on edge because the carnival’s off season is almost over.”

Emma sighs and presses her forehead to his. “I know. Lily wants to have a meeting tomorrow to talk about it.”

“What if we . . . took off on our own?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where would we even go?”

“Well, don’t tell Lily this,” he says, looking around nervously as if Lily might be hiding behind the pinball machines, “but I’ve had a few big scores that I’ve kept to myself.”

“Seriously? How much?”

“Enough to get us pretty far,” he tells her confidently, then he’s yanking her hand eagerly back inside the office. He stops in front of a map of the United States hanging next to a small desk. Grinning broadly, he sweeps his hand across the expanse of it. “Come on, Emma, dream big. Where do you want to go?”

She shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”

He wraps his arms around her waist. “Only about you.” Then he releases her, and turns her towards the map. “Go ahead, pick someplace, and it’s yours.”

“Mine? Or ours?”

“Ours.”

Emma smiles, her cheeks flushed, then she closes her eyes, extends her hand and walks blindly towards the map. When her finger collides with its surface, she opens her eyes.

“Tallahassee,” she reads aloud, then she spins to face Neal, “is there a beach?”

“It’s Florida.” He shrugs. “It’s all beach.”

Emma rests her hands on his shoulders and gives him a slow, tender kiss. “So we’re doing this?”

“Yeah. Tallahassee it is.”

****************************************

Emma really doesn’t like riding in the back of this van. Or more specifically, her stomach doesn’t like it. She moans and rests her head on Neal’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks her.

“You two aren’t naked back there are you?” Jamie asks in a loud, obnoxious voice.

“Shut up, you little shit!” Emma yells back.

Correction, Emma doesn’t like being in this van at all. This ugly, avocado van from the early 80s that smells like a sickening combination of pot and urine. Neal had said they were going to head off on their own once the crew left the carnival, yet here they are. They’d had a fight about it, but Neal had insisted that they needed a bit more cash. Lily had a big con planned, and once they pulled it off, getting to Tallahassee would be child’s play.

Emma’s stomach roils, and she scrambles over the three rows of bench seats to the front passenger seat. She almost pukes all over Jamie, which would have been great karma, come to think of it. She plops down next to Lily, who’s driving, and quickly rolls the manual window down. She sighs in relief once the cool air hits her face.

“Car sick?” Lily asks.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she presses her temple against the side of the window.

“Well, you can stay up here with me.”

“Thanks. Where are we going, again?”

Lily grins as she glances at Emma, then back to the road. “All the ski resorts up here are closing up for the summer. The people who own cabins up here are loaded. We can squat in style until fall.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “But Neal said we’d be flush with cash.”

Lily gives her that icy look that says she finds Emma incredibly naive. “Of course we will. Before we head out, we’ll clean the place out. We’re talking major electronics - TVs, gaming systems, DVD players.”

“Okay,” Emma says warily.

“Just you wait,” Lily assures, “it’s gonna be incredible.”

****************************************

On her third night in the vacation home in the mountains, Emma wakes up to a flashlight blinding her eyes and questions being shouted at her. As the cops escort her down the stairs and out the front door, she sees that the others have cleaned the place out already. Nothing but wires stick out of the wall in the family room where the tv, vcr, and gaming system had been connected. She’s barefoot and in a pair of pajamas that she’d found in the master bedroom drawer, but none of the cops seem to care as they put her in the squad car. She’s not handcuffed, though, maybe because she was too disoriented to resist.

Emma sits there in the back seat, cursing her stupidity. She should have seen this coming the moment Lily smirked at her that first night. There were so many signs that the girl was a complete narcissist, and Emma had missed them all. How could she ever think Lily was her friend?

Emma reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants and clutches the small white stick she’d slipped inside before going to bed. Why she’d put it there, she doesn’t even know. She shouldn’t be surprised that Neal bailed on her after the way he reacted when she’d told him. He’d literally recoiled from her, his face pale.

Well, they’d taken care of her, hadn’t they? The expensive silver from the dining room slipped into her bag was an especially nice touch. A clean break from the girl who was nothing but a burden.

After all, what crew of teen runaways wants a pregnant seventeen year old?

Killian: Age 17

Killian’s eyes blink open drowsily, and he doesn’t feel particularly ready to get out of bed. He shoves his pillow under his chest, groans, and then reaches out to pull Milah close. All he feels is empty sheets. He rolls over to look around the cabin, and there she is, clad in her shift, her dark curls a riotous mess down her back. She’s standing in front of the wardrobe, running her fingers over the intricate carvings that cover the doors.

“How did you get this?” she asks.

Killian hops up out of bed, wrapping the sheets around his waist. “It’s um, always been here, even back when this was a naval ship.”

“What do you even keep in this thing?”

“No, don’t!” he shouts, slamming his good hand against the door before she can open it. He isn’t wearing his hook, so the sheets he was grasping tumble to the floor.

Milah looks him up and down appreciatively and smirks. “Though I like the view better without the sheet, why are you so jumpy about a piece of furniture?”

“I um . . . I just . . .” Killian snatches up the sheets and holds them in front of himself while he turns and presses his back to the wardrobe. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. This wardrobe - it’s magic.”

Milah’s eyes widen. “Magic? How?”

“It opens a portal to another realm.”

“Really?” she replies, skeptically. “Prove it.”

Killian blinks rapidly, his brain scrambling for a reply, but all that comes out is one word. “No.”

“No?” Her hands are on her hips, and her glare could curdle milk. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

He feels his cheeks heat even more under her icy stare. What’s he hiding? Only that he checks the wardrobe every day? That despite the fact that he cares deeply for Milah, he still sometimes wonders where Emma is and if she’s okay? He feels so nervous under Milah’s intense stare that he stumbles sideways when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“Milah!” he shouts as she flings open the wardrobe. He lets out a relieved breath when all that’s inside is an empty rod for hanging clothes.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she demands when she whirls back to face him.

Killian collapses on the edge of the bed and reaches out a hand to her. “Come here, and I’ll tell you.”

She eyes him warily but sits anyway. He runs his hand nervously through his hair, unsure where to begin. He finally decides to just start at the beginning when he was ten. Once he starts talking, he can’t seem to stop, and he tells her everything: his crush on Emma, the white rabbit, even the kiss. When he finally finishes, he looks at Milah sheepishly.

“I’m sorry.”

Milah smiles softly and cups his face gently. “Why? Because you loved someone before you met me?”

Killian blinks rapidly. “Loved?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it was puppy love, maybe, but it was real. And pretty cute, actually.”

He tilts his head in surprise. “Really?”

She brushes a kiss to his cheek. “Really.” She looks back over at the wardrobe. “So you were nervous that I might end up face to face with her. With Emma?”

Killian rubs his face. “Aye, I suppose.”

Milah laughs. “I guess that could have been awkward, especially since you’re wearing nothing but a sheet right now.”

Milah’s eyes turn a darker shade of gray as she runs her hands over his chest and pushes him back down on his cot. He was nervous six months ago when their relationship first turned physical. Milah was obviously very experienced and was used to men, not boys. Yet she told him as he held her close in the afterglow that before him, all she had known were men who took from her, often violently. He was different.

Still, there was a part of Milah he felt that he could never quite reach.Her homelife had been difficult and became worse once her mother remarried. However, she had never told him exactly what life had been like with her stepfather. All she would say was that the man had planned to marry her off to a local farmer when she was fourteen, so she’d run away. The thing was, she’d taken Mason with her. Killian knew there had to be more to the story than that.

It felt as if Milah was holding back when they were making love, too. She was definitely teaching him things, and he certainly didn’t mind that. It was more that she seemed to get uncomfortable anytime Killian tried to initiate anything. She wanted to be in control, so he let her. As long as she felt safe, that was all that mattered.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had much to offer her. A seventeen year old boy with a mutilated stump instead of a left hand leading a crew of kids. Milah took to being a pirate naturally, however, wielding a sword and fighting just as well as the rest of them. There was even a type of manic joy on her face when they overtook a crew, as if she were getting vengeance on every man who had ever touched her.

Emma had always been a mystery to him, but it was because her entire existence felt like a fantasy. Milah was a mystery to him in a different way. She confused him and fascinated him in equal measure. She was a deep well, jaded and wounded, that he wasn’t sure he could ever plumb even though he wanted to. Thoughts of Emma Swan, though they still plagued him at times, seemed to belong to an entirely different boy. A boy he wasn’t sure still existed.

Tagging:    @snowbellewells​​  @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @let-it-raines​ @welllpthisishappening​ @wellhellotragic​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​ @courtorderedcake​ @branlovestowrite​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @carpedzem​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @spartanguard​ @shireness-says​ @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @snidgetsafan​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms​@delirious-latenight-laughs​

[connordavidscamera]

Moving In | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is the first CONcept I've made into a full fic and I'm excited to do many more. This is also the longest thing I’ve ever posted on here.

Summary: just a series of events that y/n and Connor experience whiling moving into their new home.

Warnings: fluff, and the tiniest bit of smut

Word count: 7k

***

I sigh when we get back into the car. “That’s the third house we’ve seen today, babe.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t feel like home.”

“I know,” Connor takes my hand and places it in my lap while he rubs my knuckles with his thumb. “Just one more, okay?”

I stare down at our joined hands. “What if this one doesn’t work either?”

“Then maybe we need to stop looking for a little bit.”

I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “No offense, hon, but we’ve outgrown your apartment.”

“Our apartment,” he corrects. 

I roll my eyes. I know it’s technically ours, because over the past two years I have very slowly started bringing in my stuff. But until we got married just a month ago, I hadn’t moved in, not officially. And that probably sounds really weird, but I just wasn’t ready to get rid of something that was just mine - something I worked so hard to get. Connor understood that, but we did agree that once we were married, I’d move in with him officially. However, we didn’t realize just how much stuff we actually had when we put it all together and tried to fit it in his two bedroom apartment. Which is why we’re here now, house hunting because we can’t live there for much longer before we go completely crazy. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think this will be the one.”

I nod, “I hope so.”

“Hey,” he says when we roll to a halt at a stoplight.

“Hmm?” I glance over at him and he’s staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes that I don’t think have ever held anything but love. 

“You know I love you, right?”

I smile contently and lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Love you, too.”

He was right. The house is perfect. Four bedrooms, three and a half bath. Sure we don’t need all the bedrooms, but we can make a couple of them into other things. Con has always said he wanted a room to develop his photos and work on his videos. And I wouldn’t mind having an actual home office.  

“Y/n? What are you thinking, baby?” his arms encircle my waist and I fall into him. 

I nod, “It’s it, Con. This is our home.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning in his arms, rubbing my hands up and down the backs of his arms. 

“Well I’m glad to hear you say that because I just told relator to draw up the contracts. It’s ours, baby girl.”

“It’s ours?” 

He presses a gentle kiss to my temple and holds his hand out for me, the keys in his palm. “All ours.”

---

It only took a week for us to sign the contracts and be out of the apartment. The boxes are piled high in our new living room and we’re still bringing some in. “We really should have asked the boys to help us move the stuff.”

Connor just shakes his head, bringing in what I think are the last two boxes. “They’re helping set everything up. I think we did good here by ourselves.”

I nod, looking back at him with a soft smile. “That the last of them?” I ask, gesturing to the boxes he just set by the fireplace.

“Yes ma’am.” He takes my hands and pulls me to his chest. “Now, come with me.”

“What? Where? We have to start unpacking.”

“It’ll only take a second, I promise.” He says, already pulling me to the front door. He closes it behind us and we’re both just here, standing on the porch. 

“Whatcha doing there, bub?”

He just smiles like he’s won the lottery. “I want to do something. Do you trust me?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “Not when you ask me that.”

He laughs and opens the door, but before I get to step in, he takes me in his arms, lifting me from my legs, in true bridal style. “Connor, put me down!” I beg, laughing too and wrapping my arms around his neck. He kicks the door open so we can walk in, and he sets me down in the middle of the living room. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. 

“Yes?” I look back at him, a smile on my lips, hands covering his.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Brashier.”

I tilt my head up and press a kiss to his jaw. “Welcome home, Mr. Brashier. Now,” I pull away from him and walk over the one of the large piles of boxes. “Which one of these have the kitchen stuff?”

He just laughs, shaking his head at me. “The ones closest to the window.”

---

This is something that I’ve only ever heard people talk about, but I never thought it would be something that I got to experience. Connor and I are sitting on the floor in our living room, eating Chinese take-out, with paint samples between us.

“Ew, no. Why would we paint our bedroom yellow?” Connor says around a mouth full of egg roll.

“Chew with your mouth closed!” I scold, taking a piece of chicken from his container. “Okay, no yellow. What about red?”

“No way.”

“Why not? You like red.”

“Yes, but not for a bedroom. Red’s an angry color. Do you really want to go into a red room when we’re mad? It’ll make it worse.”

“Oh, so you believe in the subconscious effect that colors have on a person? That’s new.”

He rolled his eyes, popping a piece of broccoli in his mouth. “I’m just saying.”

“Fine. But since we’re talking about the feelings that colors give us, yellow is a happy color.”

“Yellow is also really bright. You won’t get to sleep in on the weekends like you love to do.”

I groan, “Okay, smarty pants. Then what do you think?”

“How about grey?” He sets his container down, “Can you had me a napkin?” 

“What kind of grey?” I put the stack of napkins between us and sift through the samples at our feet. “Like a light one? Or darker?”

“Lighter. Kinda like that one shirt you wear that I really like.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You like a lot of shirts, honey. Be more specific.”

“You know the one! You wore it on our first date. It’s not quite medium grey, but it’s not super light either. Kinda grainy. You wore it like two weeks ago. It has that small tear at the hem.”

“How do you remember what I was wearing on our first date?” I ask, amazed by his memory.

“That’s what you got from this? I was explaining the color I liked! Pay attention, dodo bird!” he shoves my shoulder lightly. 

“Okay, but you weren’t explaining the color, you were explaining the shirt. Which, by the way, gives you extra good husband points.”

“There’s points? What’s the prize?”

“Anything you want,” I say, looking him in the eyes, making sure he knew I meant it.

“Anything?” he smirks.

“Within reason,” I answer, looking back down at the colors. “Like this one?” I point to a color that’s not quite medium, but not quite white, either. 

“Yeah, like that. I like that a lot actually.”

“Then it’s decided. This will be the bedroom. Now everything else.” I let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Well, we don’t have to do everything now. We can leave some things the way they are and come back to them later. Like this room. Do we really have to paint it?”

I look around and scrunch up my nose. “No, I guess not.”

“I do, however,” he picks up his glass of water and takes a sip before continuing to speak, “have an idea for that wall.” He points to one that holds the large window in the middle of it. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but I want to keep it a surprise for a little bit.”

“What? No! You can’t do that. What if I don’t like it?”

“You’ll like it,” he nods. “Now, I think it’s time we celebrated.”

“Celebrate what?” I look up at him from where he’s now standing. 

“Um… hello? Are you new here? We just moved into our house.”

“Well, I mean, we’re not technically moved in. Our stuff is just here.”

He groans and squats down, taking my face in his hands. His wedding ring, cool to the touch, rests on the side of my jaw. Connor presses a gentle chaste kiss to my lips, but doesn’t release me just yet. “You’re a handful, Brashier. You know that?”

“That’s why you have two hands, love.” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose and neither of us can pull back without a smile. 

---

I don’t think the intention was to go through an entire bottle and a half of wine in just once sitting, but I mean, that’s what we did. And that’s how we ended up making horrible dance routines to Nice to Meet Ya, and sending awful videos of us singing If I Can’t Have You to Shawn. And how we’re here, right now, in the middle of the room, heads resting on one another’s as we sway to Perfect. (Is that the most cheesy thing you’ve ever heard? Yeah, well it’s cheesy for us too. But the song holds a special place in both of our hearts. We consider it one of our songs - we have too many to count, really - because when we went on our first road trip together, this song was playing on practically every radio station every five minutes. We couldn’t escape it. It was almost comical, but it’s, ironically, one of our favorites now.)

“Listening to our favorite song, I have faith in what I see,” he mumbled into my hair. “Now I know I have met an angel in person and she looks perfect.”

“I don’t deserve this. You look perfect tonight.”

“Can we get really sappy for a minute?” He asks when the song comes to an end. 

“Sappier than Ed?”

“Just a little,” he holds his thumb and forefinger close together. 

I smile at the goofy man in front of me, “Sure, blue eyes. Go ahead.”

He picks my phone  up from one of the boxes and types in my password. I yawn as I watch him type something out and then set my phone back down when he’s found the song he wants. 

Elvis fills the room and I immediately feel my face turn red. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“You may,” I give him my hand and we’re once again swaying to the music. 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you,” we sing in unison.

“Shall I stay?” he starts.

“Would it be a sin?” I respond, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“If I can’t help falling in love with you?” Connor picks my chin up and presses a feather-like kiss to my lips and I feel like I’m floating. Even after all this time, he still knows just how to sweep me off my feet. He knows how to make each kiss feel like the first, make each stare feel just as intense as when he’s trying to get me in bed with him. And the stare that he’s giving me now? Yeah, it’s doing exactly what he’s wanting it to. 

---

“Con, do we have a ladder?” I ask, standing on my tip toes, trying to get the paint as high as I could, which wasn’t high enough. 

“No, but I can have Brian bring one over later. Why?”

“Well, I mean,” I look up at the wall, “Unless you like the wall being only three fourths painted, I think we might need one.” I laugh, but he doesn’t look as amused. 

“Okay, smart ass. I’ll tell him to bring one.”

So, starting on opposite ends of the same wall was not our brightest idea, because when we meet in the middle, we’re nudging each other, trying to get our sides. The logical thing to do would be to have one of us just finish off the wall ad have the other start another wall, but clearly we’re not logical.  

“Y/n, move.”

“No, you. I’m trying to get my side.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Standing here just to look pretty?”

I roll my eyes, “Fuck off, Brashier. You give me a headache.”

“I give you a headache? Since when?” 

“Since forever. This isn’t news. Now, scoot over.”

“Hmm,” he pouts and turns around, giving me the space I need to finish my part of the wall - well, what I could without the ladder. 

“Y/n.”

“What?” I ask, turning to face him and I’m struck with something wet on my cheek and nose.  I gasp. “Connor!” 

“There, now the paint fumes can be the reason for your headache instead of me.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

“Yeah -” he’s cut off when I take my rolling brush over his full face. “Right,” he finishes, wiping some of the paint out of his eyes. “Okay, I see how it is. I hope you know what you’ve started, love.”

“I didn’t start anything, you did. I just finished it.”

“Is that right? Well it’s funny that you think that because,” he swipes his brush over my shirt, but I just laugh. “Ha, this is your shirt, loser!”

“Damn it!” he curses and I smile triumphantly, and turn back to the task at hand and start painting again. I’m on my tip toes, stretching as far as I can to get as close to the trim as possible when I feel a sharp tap on my ass. 

“Ow, what the fuck?!” I laugh a little, bending over slightly in pain. “That stings, dickhead!”

“Sorry honey, but,” he holds his hand up, revealing a grey palm, “had to get you back somehow. And those shorts aren’t mine.” he smirks. 

I groan, “I’m going to kill you.”

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.” And that’s how the paint war starts. We’re throwing it at each other by the handful. And now there is definitely more paint on us and on the tarp we threw over the floor than there is on the walls. We’re both laying on our backs, giggling messes. 

“Hey, look at me,” Connor said softly.

I do and his eyes look even bluer with the grey covering his beautiful face. “Yes?”

“Let me take some of this off you.” he mumbles and reaches out for my face, wiping gently at my skin with his thumbs, but it does nothing other than smear what’s already there. He laughs, “I don’t think this is working.”

I can’t help but laugh too, “You think? Your hands are covered in paint.” We’re practically hysterical, laughing so hard our stomachs hurt and our jaws ache, and we’re coughing. We look like two absolute messes and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. And when we’re finally able to control ourselves, I roll closer to my boy and his arms instinctively open, ready for me to curl into his side. 

“What the hell happened here?” Brian’s voice startles us minutes later and we pull away from our cuddled position, looking up at our friend.

“Oh, hey.” I say, stifling a laugh. 

“‘Oh, hey?’ That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Why are you two covered in paint? What, did you bathe in it? It’s in your hair!”

“We may have gotten a little carried away,” Connor admitted. “Hey, did you bring that ladder?”

“Yeah, it’s downstairs. But we’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s focus here. Why are you covered in paint?”

“He started it-”

“She started it-” 

We say together, pointing accusingly at each other. 

“I don’t care who started it. Do you realize the mess you’ve made? Look at yourselves. You’re covered head to toe. And the floor! Thank god you put something down. There’s more paint on you and the floor than there is on the walls. And you,” he stepped farther into the room and scoffed, “And you still have two other walls to do? What on earth were you thinking? Do you know that paint is expensive?”

“Are you paying?” Connor challenged. 

“No, but you literally just moved in. You have bigger things to worry about than adding paint to your next shopping list.”

“Oh quit being a fun sucker. You’re just mad that you weren’t in on it.”

“Damn right I am! How dare you do this without me?!”

Connor and I exchange a look. “You’re right, Bri,” I stand up, suddenly very aware of just how covered I was. Con really got me good. “And we are so sorry that we didn’t invite you. Can we make it up to you?”

“Well…” he taps his chin and looks up which gives us the chance we need. Connor and I lunge for him, wrapping ourselves around him, covering him in paint too. “Hey, no. Fuck you guys! This is my favorite shirt!” he exclaims.

“It’s plain white, dubass!” Connor shoves his shoulder. “Buy another one.”

---

“I think that’s the last of it, sweetheart.” Connor says, placing his freshly fluffed pillow on his side. 

I flatten out the rug at the foot of the bed and smile fondly at the room. “It looks good, don’t you think?” I ask, glancing around the room. 

“Mhmm…” he hums, his arms wrapping around my waist. “But you look better.”

“Oh yes,” I mutter. “I’m sure my matted hair and sweat are a huge turn on for you, huh?”

“Well that’s how I leave every night, isn’t it?” He muses, running soft kisses down the side of my neck, to my shoulder, where his teeth sink into my skin. 

I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat and he takes that as encouragement, moving the straps of my tank top to give himself even more access. “Con,” I say, turning in his arms, my hands flying to his hair. “We have to… work on… the bathroom,” I mumble against his lips.

“Later,” he growls. “Wanna love on you for a little bit.”

“But-”

“Baby, I’m doing some of my best work here, you can't just talk through it.”

���Best work, huh? I think you’ve done better.”

“Oh, I have? Well I guess we’re just gonna have to make this my best work then.”

“I’d love to see you try, bub.”

“Don’t challenge me, baby girl.” his hands sneak up my shirt, and back down, sending shivers down my spine as they come back down and he pops the button of my jeans. 

“Oh, an eager boy, are we?” I tease. 

His hand easily slips down my pants and I gasp. He smirks, “And I’m eager?” his lips graze my ear as he rubs me through my panties, causing my eyes to flutter shut.

“Yeah yeah,” I roll my eyes and pull him back to my lips. “Just keep your promise, okay?”

“I am a man of my word.” Before I know it, he has me on my back on our freshly made bed. But I’m enjoying his lips on my skin too much to worry about that right now. “Okay,” he says, pulling back from my heat where I so desperately need him. “I know I’m kind of busy here, but this rug is really comfortable.”

I laugh, covering my face, “Glad to hear it, now could you?”

“Right, sorry,” he wraps his arms around my thighs and buries his head between them once again. He’s sucking and slurping, while I fill the room with lengthy moans and heavy breaths. “Hmm… so wet for me,” he utters, kissing down my folds. 

“Jesus, Connor. More.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His lips leave a wet trail down the inside of my thigh and I can't help but whimper when his teeth sink into the sensitive skin. He kisses his way back up and I squirm at the feeling of his lips circling my clit. “Fuck.”

“Use your words, y/n. What do you want?"

“Fingers, Connor. Please. I need you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks against me as one finger slips inside, soon followed by another. Let’s just say I don’t last too long after that.

---

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I ask my husband, fixing the covers on the bed. 

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could never leave.”

He hums, “Good point. But like, they’d have to eventually. I mean, hello! Shaw’s literally always touring. He’ll be here two days and be back on the road. 

“And Brian?” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He sighs and nods, “Yeah, we might have to kick him out.”

“We’re not giving them a key, right?”

“No, of course not,” he says all too quickly. 

“You already gave them one, didn’t you.”

“No…”

“Connor David!”

“I’m sorry! But I told them that it was just for emergencies.”

“A broken nail is an emergency in their eyes.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. It is no-”

“Y/n? Connor? Are you here? I stubbed my toe on the way up the steps. I think it’s broken!” Shawn’s voice rings from downstairs. 

“It’s not broken, he’s a big baby!” Brian comes trailing behind him and I give Connor a pointed look.

“Oops?” he chuckles and we make our way out of the room, closing the door behind us.

“Brashier!” Brian yells.

“What?” we answer in unison and then stop for a second, staring at each other with big dopey grins. 

“We’ve never done that before. Answered to the same name.”

I push his hair out of his eyes, “I know.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

“What so you can answer us, but not help with my broken toe?” Shawn says, dramatically limping up the stairs. 

“It’s not broken,” we all respond. 

“It could be!” 

“And if it is, that’s your fault for being so goddamn clumsy.”

“But-”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Were you not listening? I broke my toe!”

“Yes, we heard. On our porch steps. So what are you doing here?”

He pouts and looks down at his feet. “We missed you guys.”

Connor laughs, and I try my best to stifle mine, but fail miserably.

“Hey! I’m serious. The hotel room is boring!”

“Oh, Shawn,” I step forward and wrap my arms around his torso. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” I look up at him and he presses a kiss to my nose. 

“Glad you mention that. Can I stay the night?”

“What?” Connor says, pulling me back to his chest, keeping his fingers tangled in my belt loops. 

“Come on, the hotel sucks! There’s nothing to do!”

“Get a stripper,” he suggests.

“Now why would I hire a stripper when y/n would do it for free?"

“Hey, watch your step, Mendes. That's my wife. I will kill you if I have to.”

I slap Con’s arm, “Bub, stop.” I turn my attention back to our friends. “Yes, Shawn. You can stay the night. But I’m not stripping. I’m off duty today.”

“Oh, but if Connor asked you’d be all for it, right?” Brian teased.

“Well obviously, he’s my husband.”

Connor pinched my side, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I want a stripper tonight,” he mutters teasingly into my ear.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, we’ll get back to that grossness later, but if Shawn’s staying, I want to stay too.”

I know Connor’s rolling his eyes behind me. “Of course you do.”

“Guess we better show them, bub.”

“But it’s still not done.”

“I know, but if they’re staying the night, we might as well.”

“Show us what?”

“The guest room. We designed it specifically for moments like this.” I slide out of Connor’s arms and take a hand of both boys in front of us. “Follow me.” I take them to the end of the hall and face them when we reach the door. “Now, there’s still quite a bit that needs to be done with it, but I think it’ll work for now. Bub, can you open the door?”

“Yeah,” He nods and steps around us, turning the knob, revealing the only half done room to the boys.

“Are those?” Shawn started.

“Bunk beds?” Brian finished with a goofy grin.

Connor chuckles. “We figured if you’re staying here at the same time, you wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed.”

We watch them exchange a glance and then they’re hurtling themselves toward the beds. “I call top bunk!” Shawn exclaims.

“Why so you can hit your head every time you sit up, you fucking giant. No way! I get top bunk.”

“With the way you toss and turn? No way. You’ll wiggle the bed from its screws and it’ll fall on top of me!”

“Fuck off, Shawn! I don’t even move that much.”

“Yes you do!”

“Should we leave them to fight over this?” Connor whispers into my ear, taking my left hand in his. I nod against his chest. 

“Do we trust them not to break anything?”

“I think it’ll be fine. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” I ask, intrigued. “What could you possibly have to give me.”

“It’s not necessarily something I’m giving you. It’s something I’m showing you.”

“Okay?” I follow him down the hall, the boys bickering still audible from the steps - and from the living room, where Connor has a large sheet covering the wall with the window. “So, I know you’ve been curious about this for a few weeks now.”

“Well obviously, you’ve been covering a big part of our living room, making it impossible for me to hang the curtains-” I go to point to the box that had been sitting by the fireplace, but is no longer there. I furrow my brows, “Did you move them?”

“No, just hung them up.”

“Is that my surprise?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Nope. Close your eyes.”

“But-”

“Close. Them.”

I sigh and do as instructed. “They’re closed.”

“Good. Now keep them that way until I say so.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms over my chest. I hear the rustling of the sheet and a soft thud as it hits the ground. The light from outside shines even through my closed lids. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice coming from behind me now. “Open them.”

I open only one eye, but they quickly both go wide when I see the wall in front of me, covered in black and white photos, the perfect contract to the red walls that Connor finally agreed on - after much coercion. (Well, really all it took was one blowjob and he was putty in my hands, but, hey, whose business is that… but if it’s that easy to get him to agree to a paint color, I wonder what else that can get me.) If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, they’re all of us. Past to present - the most recent being one of our wedding photos. I walk closer to the photos, noticing that not a single one of them repeats. I cover my face, feeling the tears start to well in my eyes. 

“Well? Do you like it?” He asks, hopefully, when I turn back to face him.

I sniffle, wiping at my tears and then I’m in his arms, holding onto him for dear life. “You are…” another sniffle. “You are incredible. I love it,” I pull away just enough to see his face and he removes his arms from my waist, his hands coming to my face, the pads of his thumbs swiping at my still falling tears. “And I love you. So much.”

He smiles, kissing my, no doubt, red nose. “I love you too, y/n/n.”

---

“Tell me again why we’re making a blanket fort,” I said, standing at the end of the stairs, holding a few more pillows.

“Because it’s fun. And also the only way to watch a movie decently,” Brian crawls out from under the blanket he and Shawn just threw over the couch and lamp. “Oh good, you got the pillows.”

“Where’s Connor?” I ask, looking around, not seeing or hearing my husband in the room. 

“Under here, love. Hey, do we have an extension cord somewhere?”

“Maybe in the garage. Why?”

“The lights don’t reach from here.”

“What lights?”

“I took the Christmas lights from the box in the closet. It was too dark under here.”

“Babe, just use the lamps.”

“One of the bulbs is out.”

“We have more.”

“Yeah, but they’re in a box somewhere and I didn’t feel like looking for them.”

“Connor, if those lights catch the blankets on fire, you’re sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life.”

He sighs, coming out from under the too big fort that’s taken over our living room. “Fine, I’ll find the bulbs.” He grumbles, the lights trailing behind him as he walks down the hall to the garage. 

I shake my head, “I love you,” I call out when the door opens. 

“I love you more!” he yells back. 

“Okay, so I ordered the pizza and wings. They should be here in thirty minutes.”

“I found the bulbs!” Connor says, rushing in and placing a kiss to my cheek before disappearing under the blankets again. 

“Why are you running?”

“I think I heard something move in the garage.” “Connor!” I exclaim.

“Dang, how often do you do that?” Brian teases, nudging my side. 

“Craigen, I swear to god, I will fight you.”

“Oh, hush. I’m just teasing.” He kisses my other cheek and follows behind Connor with the pillows I was holding. 

“So, what are y/n and I supposed to do?”

“Just stand there and look pretty, I guess. You’re good at that,” Brian grumbles. 

“Well,” I sit on one of the steps, patting the spot next to me, “I’m not one for standing.”

Shawn smiles and sits next to me. “Well, since they’re setting up, we should pick a movie.” 

"I think it should be an Alessia night."

Shawn tilts his head to the side, giving me a funny look. "You know she doesn't act, right?"

"Obviously! I mean, we should watch movies with her songs in them. Everything Everything, Moana, After."

"Fuck, yes! Let's watch Moana!" Brian stumbles out from his spot in the fort.

"As long as it's not Everything Everything, I'm down for whatever." Connor says, coming over to us and resting his chin on the banister. 

"Why doesn't he want to watch it?"

"You want me to watch my girl drool over some guy that isn't me for an hour and a half? No thank you."

"What?" Shawn chuckles and I roll my eyes.

"Hubby, here, thinks I have a thing for Nick Robinson."

"And why would he think that?" Brian asks.

"Because I have a thing for Nick Robinson," I answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"See! So, no. We won't watch it."

The movie is just about to start when the doorbell rings. "Must be the pizza. I got it." Shawn crawls to the opening of the fort and Brian follows after him.

"I'll get the plates and napkins." 

"Ah," Connor wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. "Finally, some alone time." His lips dance over my jaw and I giggle, trying to push him away. 

"Come on, love. The boys will be back any second."

"I don't care." He shakes his head, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. I hum against him, gripping the side of his shirt to keep me close. His tongue quickly finds mine and I don't know what is, but this feels like our first kiss all over again. Of course then we were sitting on the hood of his car, at the beach, watching the sun go down. "I love you," he says, out of breath as he nibbles on my bottom lip.

I stifle a moan, but I'm not sure if it's from the words or the slight pull on my lip.

"Gross, you guys can't wait until we're asleep go have at each other?" Brian groans, coming back into the fort. "Move over," he says to Connor.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not watching a movie with you two sucking face right next to me." He plops himself down, partially in both of our laps seeing as we don't move fast enough. 

“Hey, you’re boney. Get off!” I push him to the side so I can move over a little.

We make it through the movie without too many interruptions, until Shawn scoots closer to me and rests his head in my lap. He takes my hand and sets it on his head. 

“Whatcha doing there, cutie?” I ask, threading my fingers through his hair.

He hums, “Want you to play with my hair. Your nails feel nice.”

“Okay,” I shake my head, turning my attention back to the screen.

“It doesn’t feel this nice when Connor does it.”

“Um, excuse you. What do you mean it doesn’t feel nice?! I’m great at playing with your hair!” He exclaims, throwing a handful of popcorn at Shawn, who sits up, throwing some back and I immediately regret us having two separate bowls. 

“She’s gentler than you are.”

“She loves it when I play with her hair! You’re just a baby!”

“Maybe she’s just too nice to tell you that you’re too rough with it. You don’t have the nails for it. She does.”

“Baby?” He looks at me with pouty eyes. “You like when I play with your hair, right?”

I frown, “Shawn, you hurt his feelings!” I slap his arm and he winces. “Yes, love. I do.”

“Yeah, that’s great. You all have hands and shit, now can you shut up? I’m trying to watch a movie here!” Brian grumbles, curling into the blanket in his lap. 

“Wait, is it almost over?” Shawn asks after a while. “Let’s call Les.”

“What? Why?”

“Let’s sing to her! She’ll love it!” He says, already trying to connect to FaceTime. 

“Hey, Shawn. What’s up?” 

“Hi, my love!” I come into frame, smiling widely at my friend.

“Y/n! What are you guys doing?”

“Well,” I take the phone from Shawn and turn it to the side so we can get Connor and Brian in the frame too. “The boys and I are having a movie night in this very impromptu blanket fort that took them over an hour to set up. And we’re just thinking about you.”

“Missing you,” Brian corrects. “When are you coming down? Their guest room has bunk beds!”

“Bunk beds?” she laughs. “Liv! Y/n and Connor have bunk beds!”

“For us?” We hear her ask and Connor and I shake our heads. 

“Well, they’re currently occupied by these two Canadians, but once they leave, we can make room for two more.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Connor!” Liv yells, shoving her face next to Alessia’s.

“Liv!” he yells back. 

“You treating our girl well?”

“In more ways than one,” he smirks. 

“Connor!” I gasp, lunging for him. Shawn takes the opportunity to steal the phone back. 

“Oh god! Cover the camera, Shawn. They’re going at it!” Brian jokes when I straddle myself over Con’s lap. His hands firmly on my waist.

“Well am I wrong?” he raises an eyebrow, challenging me. 

I run my fingers over his perfect, pouty lips. “No, but they don’t need to know that.” He playfully bites at the tips of my fingers and I throw my head back with a soft giggle.

“Get a room!” Shawn scolds, throwing a pillow at us. 

“The whole house is our room, dick!” Connor fires back, squeezing my hips a little tighter.

“So, what are you guys watching?” Alessia asks. And before any of us can answer the ending credits roll through and her voice fills the speakers. Brian starts and we can’t stop him, so we join in. 

“I wish I could be the perfect daughter, but I come back to the water. No matter how hard I try.” He sings totally off key, and so loud, but it’s Brian, what are you gonna do?

“Every turn I take,” Shawn continues. 

“Every trail I track.” Me.

“Every path I make.” Connor.

“Every road leads back to the place I know where I cannot go.” Shawn again.

“Where I long to be,” We all sing together.

“See the light where the sky meets the sea, it calls me!” she finishes, laughing hysterically with Liv beside her, continuing the song for us.

“Why are you watching Moana?” she asks when she’s finally calmed herself down.

“We told you. We missed you.”

“We were gonna watch Everything Everything, but we’re trying to keep Connor from divorcing y/n.”

“What? Why would he-?”

“She has a thing for Nick Robinson!”

“Who doesn’t? Connor get a grip!”

“I have one,” he says, showing the camera our joined hands. “And I’d like to keep it.”

“Awe,” I rest my head on his chest. “Don’t worry,” I mumble into the smooth skin of his neck. “Nick Robinson has nothing on you.” I press a gentle kiss to the base of his throat, “I’ll prove it to you later.”

“Hmm… don't tease me.”

---

"Y/n, can you come here for a second?"

"What's wrong, love?" I finish laying out the beach chair make my way over to him, where he's cleaning out the pool.

"What is that on the floor? It's kind of grey," he points in a general direction and I squint, trying to find what he's talk about. 

"I don't see anything."

"Well look closer. Look, it's right there." He points again, his other hand on the small of my back. I sense the push before I feel it, which is how I'm able to bring him in with me.

"You're an asshole, Brashier," I splash him when we come up for air.

He pushes his hair out of his face before holding his hands out for me. "Okay. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, it was kinda funny."

"You know, this is the third outfit you've ruined this week." I wrap my legs around his waist and his hands slip under my butt.

"It’s just wet. We'll dry it."

"Mhm… and the flannel I wore yesterday? I'm pretty sure one of the buttons is under your desk, Mr. Impatient." I kiss the underside of his jaw, playing with the tufts of hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's only two, if you're counting this one. Which I don't."

"My leggings," I answer, sucking a perfectly purple mark behind his ear. "Monday night on the kitchen counter."

"Well how was I supposed to know the seam would tear that easy?" he grumbles, pushing up my shirt, his hands running over my wet skin. "But let's get out of here before I do ruin this outfit too."

After a very steamy - and that's not entirely because of the water - shower together, Connor's sitting on the bed in just his boxers and I'm slipping into one of his flannels, just in case he gets any bright ideas. And I know I've made the right decision when I turn back and see his usually bright blue eyes dark with lust.

"What's up, baby blue?"

"C'mere, baby doll."

Oh yeah, he's in a mood. But it's going to end very well for both of us. "Don't you ever get tired?" I ask, straddling his lap. 

"Of you? God, are you crazy?" His hand tails slowly from my cheek to my throat, bringing me in for a heated kiss. I moan into the kiss and his tongue slips easily into my mouth while his grip on my throat tightens a little.

"What am I calling you tonight?" I question,  when he pulls away, forehead resting on mine.

"You should know by now." 

I smirk, "Yes sir."

And that's all it takes for him to flip us over, his body hovering over me. He unbuttons the shirt, moving it to the side, exposing my torso for him. He quickly pulls my panties down and I'm surprised he doesn't tear them. 

"Fuck," he mutters against my chest when he pushes himself inside me. "Feel so good around me, doll." I reach around him, scratching at his back, but he takes my hands, and pins them above my head. "No touching."

"But-"

He pulls on my bottom lip, "are you talking back?" 

"No, sir."

"Good girl." He's working on my clit, kissing me everywhere, leaving love bites all down my torso. "You're so good for me."

"Baby, I'm close," I moan into his neck. "Cum for me, doll. Scream for me. Let the neighbors know just how good I make you feel." He says with a grunt. "Fuck, I'm close too."

"Hey, Connor, where's your - Holy shit!" The door swings open revealing our red headed friend with his hands covering his eyes. 

"Brian!" We both yell, Connor still very much on top of and inside me. "Get out!"

"I'm sorry! Fuck! I'll just," he closes the door behind him. "I'll be downstairs when you uh. Finish."

Connor laughs into my chest, but I'm mortified. "Con?"

"Yeah, love?" He says and he's no longer the dominant man he was only seconds ago. He's just Connor, my Connor. Which is why it's easy for me to say, "We're taking his key back."

He nods, "First thing I'll do when we go down there."

I whimper when I feel him pull out of me. "Guess the moment's gone, huh?" 

I shake my head, pulling him back, my back arching when he enters me again. "Finish, blue eyes. Please."

"But, Brian."

"Already knows what we're doing. He can wait."

He chuckles, "Yeah, love. He can wait." He says, slipping back into me.

Brian can't look us in the eyes when we come back down.

"So why'd you come?" I ask.

Brian shakes his head, "I can't remember. But I know why you did."

"Brian!" I cry out.

He laughs, patting Connor's shoulder. "Thought she only screamed your name, didn't you bud?"

"Haha, very funny. Yeah, we need your key."

***

I really hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Tag: @sunrise-shawn @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs @luvluvxx @foreveralone19588 @shawnandconnor @5-seconds-of-mendes @emma-manuhpe @nedthegay @shawnsblue

Connor Tag: @shawnm521 @divinginfearlessly @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @bettroff @myyohmyuohmyy @madison-malfoy @shawnieeboyy @mutuallynotmutual @tinycertain @rockstarshawnmendes @lostinmendess @sunrisebrashx @alinaxxshawn @definitelynotshawnmendes

[lost-tanuki]

- Life update (25/08/2020) -

Hey pumpkin! This is an unfortunate announcement plus, I guess, a fortunate summary (which I now think I could've done sooner but I'll just do it now). I'll be talking a lot and it's quite centered on personal stuff so I won't blame you if you skip past it, this is a long post. TL;DR: the unfortunate announcement is that I won't be posting as much as before, the fortunate summary is that I'm very grateful for the year (+ a few months) I've spent as a contributor.

1. Unfortunate announcement : the year which I'm about to start will not allow me to create as efficiently and profusely as I have been creating. 

Long story short, my real-life occupations take priority over my hobbies and internet life. Real life is tiring. I'm going to have to throw myself into work and I'll be too busy/spent to be able to give GM,L the time I used to. The same goes for anything I hoped to update regularly. I probably won't stop writing but I will likely drop the weekly/bi-weekly update schedule unless I’m very motivated all of a sudden. What does this mean I will post? - Original work : snippets, occasional chapters, whump prompt fills - DBH fics : GM,L Vol.1  updates monthly (edit: this objective has been accomplished as of end 2020, and Vol. 2 will have to wait), Lucky Dog/Pigments and Solvents updates probably, maybe oneshots or short fics if I get a burst of inspiration and have the time - End Roll fic, Gintama fic : maybeee? 

I won't be participating in fandom events, obviously, since I won't know how much time I'll be able to devote to those. Answering comments will not be easy but please continue leaving them, I always read them all and it really boosts my mood/creativity :D (Expect me to answer in waves of replies- you might have to wait a year but you'll get one eventually)

I wanted to let you all know about what to expect this year. Hopefully I'll be back on my usual bullshit in about a year, though I'm not sure what I'm supposed to expect of my future exactly. I'm still around so please don't hesitate to interact with me as you have been doing! I'll answer asks and DMs, see mentions and comments, link fanarts to the corresponding chapters (make sure to @ me) and give feedback on them as always!

2. Fortunate summary : the amazing year (+ a few months) I've spent as a contributor

Since I've started posting online a few years ago, I've met people who share my centers of interest and enjoyed talking about writing and drawing and creating. It's not easy finding people like this in real life and it's even harder to dare talk about my own things, and I'm glad that being TNKT allowed me to do this. I feel more confident now. I even feel like I have an actual, tangible talent, and that's very reassuring.

I've written a lot the past year in particular. Really, it's more than I ever have before! I was able to write almost daily and I was constantly inspired, and I've managed to keep a mostly consistent weekly update schedule for the better part of a year with huge-ass chapters (the mean word count per chapter for Good morning, Lieutenant is 7k- and that's not taking into account how the first chapters were about 5k while the later ones tend to be around 10k). That is CRAZY. It's a productivity that I never thought I could achieve, before.

Because I finally decided to join and produce for a big fandom instead of simply enjoying other fans' products, I got to know what it felt like to write (and very very occasionally) draw and be seen by a LOT of people. It hadn't happened to me before for one of my works to get so insanely popular, for readers to actually spread the word and mention my stories, to theorize on them and make fanart. Just thinking about this makes me emotional. Thank you so much for the support you've shown me, I'm grateful for how creative you all are and I'm overjoyed that I could inspire anyone at all in any way. The comments on my works have been so motivating and heart-warming, they made me feel like what I did mattered to many many people and I'm grateful for those who took the time to show me their appreciation. It also makes me emotional to think of the readers who've commented that they felt a sense of kinship with some of my depictions of characters and that it helped them figure themselves out somehow. I'm glad I could help. I had so much fun learning about events like Big Bangs and Gift Exchanges and Zines and participating in them. 

I still am astonished that people see my name and think: "I like what they do, I want to read more of their work, I relate to their writing". Thank you for telling me how you feel about me and the creations I put out in the world. It has been a very incredible year and I hope to spend more of those with you in the future once I'll have accomplished 2020-2021!

If you've made it this far, thank you very much for reading. If you have any questions about anything at all, my ask box is always open! This tanuki wishes you courage and luck for your own year ♥️

[lockdownfest]

LOCKDOWN FEST MASTERPOST WEEK #2 EXTENSION

*

BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE (2007)

Stuck in the Middle with You by InsanelyWriteful (M) 6k, WIP. With the zombie pandemic in full swing, Nigel flings himself into the fray on the hunt for groceries. Don't even get him started on trying to find that most-sought-after, priceless item of all items: toilet paper. As far as the world's concerned, that doesn't exist anymore. With the world going to hell, Nigel finds himself trapped with a strange man named Aiden Galvin. But, hey, there are worse fates than being stuck with a hot piece of tail, right?

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Two Weeks In Quarantine by JedIzuku (T) 48k WIP, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto. A virus threatens all of Japan. Everyone needs to self-quarantine for two weeks to help prevent the spread. Izuku Midoriya learns that his friend, Shoto Todoroki, would be quarantined alone because of his father’s work. And Izuku won’t stand for that.A love story.

CHARLIE COUNTRYMAN

Stuck in the Middle with You by InsanelyWriteful (M) 6k, WIP. With the zombie pandemic in full swing, Nigel flings himself into the fray on the hunt for groceries. Don't even get him started on trying to find that most-sought-after, priceless item of all items: toilet paper. As far as the world's concerned, that doesn't exist anymore. With the world going to hell, Nigel finds himself trapped with a strange man named Aiden Galvin. But, hey, there are worse fates than being stuck with a hot piece of tail, right?

FALL OUT BOY

Gradually and Then Suddenly by earlgreytea68 (G) 3.3k, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz. Life in quarantine: fourth-grade science, couch concerts, blanket forts.

HANNIBAL

Point of View by house_of_lantis (M) 3.8k, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter.  Summary: Franklyn Froideveaux gets an unexpected peek into Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s personal life during their self-isolation. 

HARRY POTTER

Locked Inside Your Temper Trap by VeelaWings (E) 4.3k, Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom. This was a minor problem. Not the being trapped in a humid greenhouse with a sweaty, gorgeous Draco, mind you. No, it was being trapped with a sweaty, pissed off Draco who would inevitably blame Neville.Plus the obstacle of not having the privacy to enjoy a fast and dirty wank with all this evening’s material.

Top Priority by JayGwen23 (T). 8k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. England is trying to stop the spread of an aggressive, new virus that is affecting both wizards and muggles. Everyone is being told to self isolate. House mates, Harry and Draco are stuck at home trying to brave it through the madness, while trying not no go mad themselves.Written for Lock Down Fest.

Bored Harry by foxymoley (G) FANART. Harry's been stuck in his room at Privet Drive and is bored out of his mind!He uses his wand in a mug as a lamp as Hedwig stretches as much as she can in her cage.

Harry Potter and the Secret in the Library by EvAEleanor, tasteofshapes (E) 11.6k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Draco stands outside the library for a moment, before he turns the handle and pushes the heavy double doors open. What he expects to find is a silent library cloaked in darkness. What he gets instead is a fire crackling merrily away in the grate, the library lit only by firelight, and Potter lounging on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, clad only in a terry-cloth bathrobe, a glass of wine in one hand.“What the… Potter—!” Draco yelps, and Potter looks up from the book open in front of him and raises an eyebrow at Draco.

The Magic of Muggle Films by sunshinedraco (E) 5.3k. Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Harry is happy to get home from an Auror mission in Northern Ireland, but may have been exposed to a contagious disease. Draco Malfoy, who comes with a team of Healers to inspect Harry and also happens to be the subject of Harry's long-term awkward crush, is also accidentally exposed. The two are quarantined together. You know what happens.

Sweetheart by WolfyWordWeaver (T) 3k, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter. Remus Lupin comes home after a long day working at the hospital and quickly realizes that something is wrong with Sirius. Avoiding COVID-19 doesn't mean avoiding all hurts and Sirius has to deal with a major hurdle. While Remus doesn't have all the answers he does know how to do his best.

Stuck Senses by TheUltimateUndesirable (E) 12k, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood. In the mist of the 2020 pandemic the wizarding world is left with a dire and unknown future as Covid-19 makes it's way into Europe. Hogwarts ends up on quarantined leaving students, professors and a Luna stuck at the school. How long will anything last and what will anything become? No one knows.

Augmented Agony by Drarrelie (T) 365, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Of all days... Draco's luck was apparently just as abysmal as ever. This work is part of a series of connected weekly drabbles written during 2020. It takes place in 2001, before the rest of the currently published drabbles in this series, while the two of them are still in Auror training.

If It Takes All Night by tackytiger (M) 11k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. It's not the first time Harry's been the victim of a botched curse (that's one of the reasons he doesn't like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too. So they're bonded. That's ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm.But this isn't going to be a problem for their friendship at all.Is it, Harry?

I'll Tell You Mine (If You Tell Me Yours) by MarchnoGirl (E) 4.2k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. When a cauldron of Veritaserum explodes all over Harry and Malfoy, Harry has the chance to finally discover Malfoy’s secrets. And maybe something about himself too.

Correspondence in the Time of Quarantine by Lediona, Zigster (T) 1.5k, WIP, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. After informing Scorpius of my plan to bring him home, he wrote back immediately to ask if he might bring a friend with him to isolate at the Manor. When I inquired about the identity of this friend, imagine my surprise to discover that it was none other than your son, Albus Potter.

Garden War by Cibee (Cibeeeee) (T) 5k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ?

LITTLE WOMEN (2019)

Chocolate Kisses by lady_needless_litany (T) 3k, WIP, Theodore Laurence/Josephine March. If Jo had to be shut in her house for the foreseeable future, at least she had Laurie to keep her company.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Strange Attractors by dance4thedead (T) 882. There's an asshole in Matt's apartment. An unworthy love letter to the fic "The Goldilocks Principle". Set in late March 2020, during the COVID-19 crisis.

I walk this lonely road by xxx_cat_xxx (T) 1.6k, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov. Part 3 of Red in my Ledger.

MERCY STREET

We run a very tight ship by middlemarch, sagiow (t) 3k, WIP. Jedediah "Jed" Foster/Mary Phinney. "There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said -- no. But somehow we missed it.” Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.Every single passenger on the ship would have that thought. At least once. Sometimes, on an endless loop, like the announcement about pina coladas on Deck 4. It turned out, the only way out was through. With card tricks.

OCEAN’S 8

You Shall Go To The Ball by ShadowHaloedAngel (T) 1.4k, Daphne Kluger/Rose Weil. The lockdown means the parties are all cancelled, but Rose and Daphne decide to have a little ball at home instead. After all, when else can you have a costume party for the hell of it? And with your own fairy godmother on hand, your gown is always going to make you feel like a princess.

OVERWATCH (video game)

nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody (ooh) nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody no— by faorism (M) 9k, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada and other ships. Like most things now, it's more a matter of not if, but when. (Or: five times Jesse kept himself together and one time he really, really didn't.)

PITCH PERFECT

Icy Hot by Notsoawesomenerd (E), 7k. Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. No, this is not a story about the topical pain reliever. This is a story about the interesting things Chloe can do to Beca with ice and ice-related items.

Desperate Measures by aliciameade (M), 6k, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell. Chloe and Beca have everything they need to weather the mandated period of social distancing and staying home: food, water, shelter, games, entertainment, and each other's company.The one thing they don't have?Much-needed privacy.

RWBY

The Man in Your Head by goreds (G) 431, Ozpin/Salem (RWBY), Ozma/Salem (RWBY). Salem has a friend in her head. Not that she considers him a friend...

STAR TREK: ALTERNATE ORIGINAL SERIES

fourteen by sciencebluefeelings (T) 2.6k, James T. Kirk/Spock Prime. Two years ago, Spock waited for Jim. Now it's Jim's turn to wait. 

STAR TREK: ORIGINAL SERIES

Seventy Two Hours by LiraelClayr007 (G) 2.4k,  James T. Kirk/Spock Prime. Kirk lowers his voice, makes it almost too low to hear, and this time he is pleading. “Bones. You know why I can’t stay here. You know what this’ll do to me.” He closes his eyes, then says one more time, “Please.” He can’t look when he says it. He already knows the answer.“Sorry, Jim. It’s only three days. If it’s any consolation I don’t think you were actually exposed, but we have to be sure.” He looks at Kirk, then at Spock, then shrugs. He knows what he’s putting Kirk through.Or: Kirk and Spock are accidentally exposed to something on an alien planet and have to spend seventy two hours together in an isolation chamber. Easy, right? Except Kirk is going to go mad, because he's head over heels for Spock.

STAR WARS

grey and sprawling by srawratskcuf (Doreen) (E) 7k WIP, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren. Ben and Hux have had a rocky long-distance semi-relationship ever since Hux went away to college. Basically, they call each other once a week and have phone sex, and absolutely do not talk about their feelings.When Ben finally saves up enough to fly across the country to visit Hux, his ten day trip gets extended indefinitely. Sheltering in place together will make or break them.

SUPERNATURAL

some kinda something by quillquiver (E) 2k, Castiel/Dean Winchester. There are only so many places to hide shit when you’re playing with 700 square feet of totally shared living space. This is something Dean has become very aware of in a very short amount of time.

Que Sera, Sera by wigglebox (G) 4.3k, Castiel/Dean Winchester. A few months into his new human life, Cas comes down with a fever and cough. Usually, that wouldn't be a concern, but now there's a contagious, new illness spreading across the country, and the anxiety that comes along with it.

I Don’t Understand These References by CeliPuff, Winchesterlovr0508 (M). 1.5k. Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester. Dean says the president extended the quarantine so Sam suggested I make a journal. I suspect it’s a ploy to keep my hands off his brother but being extremely old, I’m entitled to do what I want. And I happen to have eons of experience in multitasking.I prayed to Gabriel to run some interference. I believe this is a foolproof plan.

Apocalypse by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat) (E) 36k WIP, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam, Michael/Adam Milligan. Dean moves through Cas’ kitchen with the ease of familiarity, as he sets about re-heating the leftovers. Ironically Cas’ kitchen is better equipped than the one in his apartment. It’s just that he’s been pouring all his money into The Roadhouse. The apartment is a rental anyway.“You have got to be shitting me!”His eyebrows shoot up at the language. Cas doesn’t curse often, but given the fact that the world is slowly descending into madness, he has a good guess what is provoking it. He glances behind him, across the counter that connects the open kitchen to the living room, where Cas is staring at the television. 

THE MAGICIANS

hard rain, honey, and the sweet sun by Allegria23 (E), 7k, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh. Eliot and Quentin are staying in their apartment. They both have some ideas.

THE WITCHER

Love in the Time of Video Conferencing by Elizabeth (M), 15.6k, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier. Pestilence is a bitch, and the entire university has had to shift to e-learning overnight. Jaskier is a systems admin being forced to pick up slack for the overwhelmed help desk. Work ended hours ago, so why is he on a support call with the most technologically-incapable history professor he's ever met? And really, what is the deal with this guy?Based on the "OMG they were Zoommates" prompt from the AO3 comment Tumblr.This is, five times Jaskier and Geralt used Zoom for tech support, and one time they used Zoom for... something else. I apologize if this upsets you; it helps me cope with the emotions, so I'm hoping to channel stress into fluff and put it out there so it can possibly help others.

YURI!!! ON ICE

Music from the Heart by Multiple_Universes (G) 6.5k, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov. A curse falls over the land. It keeps people stuck indoors and will not let them out. The most powerful magician in the land seems unable to break the hold of the curse. But, as they say, love will always find a way.Inspired by videos of people singing from their balconies during the coronavirus quarantine.

[heyktula]

Closer, Chapter Two: Aware - Bonus Features

(I'm sorry about the chapter titles, lolsob. They are, in fact, "Risk", "Aware", "Consensual", and "Kink", plus a surprise title for the fifth chapter.)

((Okay, fine, I'm not nearly as sorry as I should be.))

Chapter two of Closer, the first installment in Somewhere in Canada (the Terror kink AU)... is now up! What is wordcount! (Apparently shit to me, since this chapter is three times the length of chapter one!)

Same deal as last week--technical notes first, story notes after, line notes to finish it all up. (Although I still blame Edward, a number of this week's line notes are Jopson's fault, and he's a lying liar on a number of occasions, the terrible sweetheart.)

Alright, here we go.

Technical Considerations:

Chapter Length: So, this story was intended to be much shorter than it is. Initially, the fic was a one-off. After all, it's only taking place over a weekend, how long can it be? (lolsob--sixty k, as it turns out, and that's with a significant number of hard cuts. I cringe for the future Fitzier, because the winter conference is longer than the summer one.)

Initially, I'd followed the same chapter structure I used in one of my earlier fics--one day = one chapter. Obviously, that worked fine for Friday, but didn't work for Saturday or Sunday, both of which I've split into two chapters. I still feel like the chapter length is a bit obnoxious--I prefer a 7k chapter, and chapter two is 15k, but it's the best place to make the cut, I think. I considered a cut after Edward's talk got derailed by Hickey--but that would have left Edward in a really ugly headspace for a week while everybody waited for the next chapter, and I didn't want to let him chill there knowing that Jopson is gonna make him feel better, like, immediately.

Hard Cuts: One thing I really like about the source material for The Terror is that it uses hard cuts liberally, and something about that feels like it frees me up to do the same in my own work? So I cut the things that don't matter to the story, even when they're things that I care about. (That rope suspension scene with Sophia and Gore and Dundy was real good, but Edward did not give one single shit about it, and thus, it is not on the page.  Similarly, we didn't get dragged through any of the other panels, etc, that were happening throughout the day, and the one panel we actually did attend, Edward is giving by rote, without thinking about anything he's saying, because Jopson! is! there! oh! god!)

Story Considerations:

Goodsir: Like, of course Goodsir moved to Canada. I don't think it was for Silna, necessarily--and she would have been super unimpressed with that if it had been--but it wouldn't have been not for Silna either. I just think he really loved it here on his first visit, and that was it for him--he came home, he missed Canada, he went back, and he stayed. I'm sure he's in the process of getting his citizenship, and in the meantime, he's going out for hikes and taking pictures of elk and going ice-fishing and organizing kink conventions and generally just having a wonderful time living his best life, and I love that for him.

(And if he's on the receiving end of Silna's strap in increasingly regular frequency, I love that for him too.)

The Tozer-Little Experience: So, outside of the joplittle, which was my primary reason for writing the fic--I also have, like, the world's biggest soft spot for Solomon Tozer. And the dynamic that I ended up developing for Tozer and Little in this fic is a hell of a lot of fun, because it's deeply intimate, and steeped in years and years of shared experiences, but it's platonic at the same point--or, at least, what constitutes as platonic for them, which is more intimate and open than you would see for a lot of male friendships. (I'm putting a pin in the discussion of feelings as feelings relate to their friendship, but we'll come back to it in a few more chapters.) If you asked either of them to describe an ideal partner for the other person, they could both do it, and they've got all kinds of stories about each other, which Tozer shares easily and at length, and Edward keeps his goddamn mouth shut about.

That easy camaraderie between them is, I think, why the takedown panel goes so wrong so quickly.  Tozer has no reason to suspect anything is different than it has been any other time, and Edward isn't admitting how much he's obsessing over Jopson, so he's also just stubbornly pretending things are fine. I don't think that Tozer had any intention of letting Edward win, no matter how good Edward thinks his chances are, because it's Tozer's panel, and goddamn it, if Sol's going to all the effort to give a talk, he's gonna try to get his dick sucked as part of the aftermath, am I right, lads?

(Conferences that I've been to are hyper-careful about bodily fluids, and for good reason--so if blood is a possibility, everything should be tarped off and proper protective gear should be used, and Edward visibly bleeding all over everything would have been a Very Bad Look. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.)

((Also, just as a side-note, can we talk about Tozer's quick transitions between "shit, fuck, Little--", "and that is a takedown!", and "do not bleed in here, don't fuck this up for me, I don't know what the fuck your dumb ass was doing"? Because I love that Tozer's first reaction is "holy FUCK are you OKAY" and then he immediately takes control of the room to finish his talk, and then leans in to threaten Nedward. As though the threat is gonna take away the part where your first reaction was being horrified that you clocked him in the face, Sol.))

The Jopson-Little Meet Cute: Okay, fine, I guess it's not really a meet cute when one of you is bleeding into a sink, and the other one of you snuck into a takedown panel late in the hopes of seeing your crush and gets the bonus experience of watching your crush totally get hit in the face. But, whatever. They'll work with it.

One of the things I love about this scene is that the balance of power is exactly the opposite of where it would normally be--Jopson is the one controlling the scene here, through service, and Edward is the one that's following Jopson's lead. Jopson is, in canon, a caretaker, primarily, and I set this scene up so that he would shine, and I think he does that effectively here. Edward is the kind of guy that gets easily rattled when things don't go the way he expects them to, and it's indicative of their compatibility that he unwinds so easily for Jopson.

Also, I appreciate the hell out of Jopson gently bullying the topic of conversation around to giving talks, so that he could just slide his own talk under the door to gauge Edward's reaction. After all, if one is a trans man, and one's crush is a transphobe, better to find out before this goes any further. Between us, Jopson was reasonably sure things would be fine--after all, as Blanky notes later, he's had his face in Edward's blog*, and I'm pretty sure Edward went through his blog a while back and edited all his posts for gender- and trans-inclusive language, and left a footnote indicating he'd done so--but it was important for Jopson to make sure everything was on the table, and Edward's meandering discussion of the requirements for giving presentations was as good an in as any.

*Jopson clearly didn't know who Edward was by name on Saturday morning, but knows by Saturday afternoon. There's any number of ways he might have found out Edward's name, but I suspect he talked to someone** who had attended the power play panel he was on with Tozer earlier that day.

**I have a candidate in mind for this, but we'll get back to it later.

The Rough Physical Play Panel: Well, when that went wrong, it went real wrong, huh?

I think one of the things I'm enjoying so much about writing a modern Terror AU is that it lets me explore Hickey in more detail, because canon!Hickey just makes me so goddamn furious (the motherfucking BOOTS, he took James' BOOTS, and then EVERYTHING ELSE, and I CAN'T) that I can't even delve into him right now without wanting to throw things. But I can dig into him here, because I have the protection of this, you know, not being canon.

One of the things I really love about Hickey is that I think, one hundred percent, that he's exactly the kind of person that pays attention to the things you're interested in, and that makes it easy to start a friendship with him. I can guarantee that he knows every single item Tozer has ever stocked in his booth, and how well each of those items sells. I also know for sure that he's read every single post on Edward's blog, and can talk intelligently about any of them. However, Hickey is also exactly the kind of "friend" that will use that information against you at the drop of a hat if it benefits him in any way--and I can guarantee that the temptation was irresistible for Hickey here, because not only is it an excuse to deliberately trigger Edward's anxiety in front of a room full of people right immediately before those people leave the room, thus guaranteeing it's the last thing on their minds--but it's an opportunity to do so in front of the guy that Edward has been interested in all weekend. From Hickey's perspective, it's for Edward's own good--any idiot can see that Jopson is way out of Edward's league, and the sooner Edward stops making an ass of himself, the better it'll be for everyone involved. (I would also argue that  if any of their friend group "deserve" to have more status in the community, Hickey feels that's him, so any attempt by Edward to "rise above" by, say, associating with someone linked to Crozier, is going to be viciously stamped out.)

The miscalculation here, of course, is that Hickey has misread Jopson just the same as everyone else has misread Jopson. We'll come back to why this mistake is important next week, I think.

(It's unfortunate we didn't get the good version of the panel, with the demo, because it's very good--Edward picks a random audience member, demonstrates the consent negotiation in front of everyone, and then walks through an entire gamut of activities, the intensity of which varies depending on how the person he's chosen is enjoying it. This is the way that I had my first exposure to this type of play, and watching the talk was a goddamn delight--and there's nothing that makes someone look competent more than them just improvising an entire talk on the spot.)

Dungeon Setup: So, again, because Canada, every dungeon I've ever been in has separated the drinking section from the fun section for safety reasons. Usually they're in separate rooms, though I've been in a couple dungeons where the drinking section runs along one wall of the fun section. Because this is my fic, and I'll improve it if I want, I went full bore on this and created that second-floor lounge that's open to the dungeon below, so you can stand up there and drink and watch the dungeon from above (or you can sit up there and drink with Hickey, but yuck).

The showcase performance thing isn't something I've seen at a kink conference before--I borrowed that from burlesque conventions I've been to because I needed it for the upcoming Fitzier fic. I kinda wish Edward had paid attention, I feel like that was a really good rope suspension scene. But, he was standing too close to Jopson, and thus, nothing else mattered.

Also, is it really a dungeon if it doesn't heavily rely on Enigma's music? I don't think I've been in a dungeon once without hearing Return to Innocence or Sadeness, and at this point, if I hear either of those pieces outside of the context of a dungeon, I get really nostalgic for dungeons.

(I guess while we're talking about setup, I'll also confirm that pretty much everybody* is staying on-site here--the hotel has a bunch of space set aside for the kink conference, and as long as people booked their rooms quickly, their hotel rooms are also in the same venue, so there's no need for transport, or going outside, or anything like that. Poor Nedward can have his meltdown about collars without needing to call a cab once.)

*I know a certain repressed somebody who has opted not to stay at a hotel full of perverts, but, uh. I mean, it's a Choice, but maybe sit with yourself a second, John.

Line Notes:

“Dude,” Tozer says, swinging his duffel bag off his shoulder and booting it under the table. “I had the most repressed guy in my talk this morning, it was fucking brilliant.”

Hi, Irving.

Edward can’t quite tell what Jopson is talking about, they’re too far apart for him to be able to eavesdrop. He wishes he was over there, though. Listening.

They're talking about you, Edward. Jopson knows who you are by this point, and he is three hundred percent telling Blanky about your blog right now.

He hasn’t paid attention to the specifics, because it’s not his talk, and it doesn’t matter.

Except it does matter, Edward, because one of those times the door opened and Jopson came in.

Jopson takes another step forward, his hands down at his sides, palms facing Edward. “I saw what happened,” he says. His voice is gentle, low. Hypnotic.

I appreciate Jopson approaching Edward like Edward is a wild animal that's going to spook at any moment, because Edward is, in fact, a wild animal that's going to spook at any moment.

“One of the better quality sessions I’ve seen this weekend,” Jopson says.

Thomas Jopson, you are a lying liar. It is the first day of the convention, and this is the first instance in which you've left your booth for any significant length of time.

“—you must see there are gaps. I was thinking, maybe, there’s another conference in six months...”

I can guarantee that this is a conversation that has been had with Francis in slowly increasing levels of volume, and I can also guarantee that Francis has been very supportive of Jopson wanting to fix those gaps. I would also side-eye the length of time (none) it took Jopson to pull up his fully-completed notes for a talk that Edward notes later is ready to go, and doesn't need any alterations. (Anyone taking bets on whether or not Goodsir has seen this? Yeah, I wouldn't bet against it either.)

It’s only after Jopson’s left that Edward realizes his black handkerchief is still on the edge of the sink.

Remember that conversation we had last week about the hanky code? Good, because Edward doesn't.

“Don’t wanna have a discussion about feelings if we don’t have to,” Tozer says gruffly.

Translation: if your eyes are wet because I smoked you in the face, then we'll have that conversation, but for fuck's sake please provide me with literally any other explanation--oh, thank fuck, I forgot about your septum piercing, perfect, good, onwards.

(I'd argue that Edward's probably all up in his feelings from Jopson's talk, BUT both of them are talking around everything in this scene, so I guess we'll just let them have that.)

They’re walking down the hall, and literally anyone could walk past Edward right now—fucking James Fitzjames could walk past Edward right now—and there is no way in hell he would notice, because Jopson is right there...

James Fitzjames, "that online guy" and most recognizable kink celebrity, would be So Offended by this, and it would be good for him.

They’re walking side-by-side, Jopson just a fraction behind Edward, and Edward can’t tell if it’s on purpose.

Jopson knows how to sub--it's on purpose, Nedward.

(I should note that this isn't at all a requirement for subbing--but it's part of how Jopson, in particular, submits, and since that's how he wants to interact with Edward, that's how he's behaving now.)

—not a blog post from five years ago that he’d kept up because there’s hardly any information out there and he wanted to make sure that people were aware of the risks and safety concerns, and—

And, I mean, also because you like to do this, Edward. Let's not beat around the bush here, you're not writing entire blog posts about things you have an academic interest in for safety reasons, although it would be totally valid if you did. But you aren't. You wrote an entire post about how to safely fit your fist into someone's ass because you did a lot of research as to how to do it safely and then subsequently did it on multiple occasions.

“It’s right there on the blog post,” Jopson continues, fingers clenched on his notebook. “The exact same blog post you’re citing has the answers to the questions you’re asking, and it’s disingenuous of you to…to purposefully derail his panel and pretend that the answers aren’t right there.”

If Edward was thinking critically about any of this instead of just bluescreening, he'd realize that it's Significant that Jopson knows this without consulting his cellphone, which he hasn't needed to do here, because his hands are still on his notebook, which means that Jopson either a) sought out this post specifically, b) made it multiple years back in Edward's blog archives, or c) both AND remembers it in detail.

But, he's Edward, and he's not thinking about shit right now except possibly how nice it would be if the building just randomly caved in on top of him. Not everybody else. Just him.

Jopson’s posture relaxes slightly as he exhales. “I was wondering about aftercare,” he says. “What you would normally recommend.”

Translation: Reassure me that you know what the fuck to do with me after we've just done everything that you've been talking about, because I AM DOWN TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW.

“Fucking peckerhead,” Tozer says, straightening up and rolling his shoulders, his eyes flashing. “I needed him to do some goddamn work.”

Yeah, well, Hickey’s got no fucking work ethic, so I dunno what the fuck you were thinking, Tozer. Duty owed, indeed.

It’s the guy that was watching Tozer. His eyes are burning with fanaticism. “It’s not too late,” he repeats. “Your crisis is an opportunity to repair yourself.”

Irving, sweetheart, buddy. You are at a fetish convention. Nobody here is interested in repairing themselves, and neither are you or you would not be here.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Jopson says. He’s still behind his booth, which is entirely too far away from Edward. “And Blanky’s due back any minute, so unless you want an interrogation over what you’re planning to do with the collar, you might want to come over to my side and look at books instead, I promise I won’t give you the third degree about anything.”

JOPSON, you are a LIAR. You fully intend to give him the third degree about everything, you just want him physically closer to you while you do it.

He’s not quite close enough to hear the conversation, but he is close enough to watch the way Jopson’s hands move in front of his body as he speaks, realizes after a moment that he’s signing. Realizes a few moments later that the words he’s saying aren’t English—and only then because it’s a different rhythm than Jopson usually speaks in, a little more halting, less fluid.

Francis' crash course in Netsilik went alright, apparently! I'm sure Jopson is disappointed in himself for not being fluent, but Silna will confirm to Francis that Jopson tried hard.

“We’re acquainted,” Jopson says carefully. Then adds, “It’s been a bit since I’ve spoken to her.”

LIAR, Jopson, you were literally in a deep conversation with her YESTERDAY. Edward, of course, does not notice this, even though he observed said conversation. (*cough*himbo*cough*)

Jopson shrugs, the motion a little self-deprecating. “That’s it. I’ll be finished then.” He sets his jaw, looks away. “I imagine we’d need to be more concerned about your availability than mine.”

Bold of you to assume that Edward "anxiety" Little actually checked his Fetlife messages and sorted out any play dates with anybody in advance.

Blanky grins at him. “That’s more like it. If you’ve got a couple minutes to wait, I’ll cut back the extra leather on the straps here for you.”

A number of people who make collars leave extra length on the straps in case it's needed. In this case, Blanky knows it won't be, so it can get trimmed back before Edward even leaves the booth. (Also, the Edward Little energy of Edward dropping a bunch of money on collars for Jopson, and then immediately freaking out and sticking them back in his hotel room?)

As an aside, considering Blanky is #teamjoplittle, I would give so much to see the content of the inevitable groupchats that are happening right now.

Phew. That's it for this week! Chapter three, Consensual, goes up next Friday! See you then! And if you have questions or anything in the meantime, you can always drop me an ask on tumblr or Curious Cat. I know I didn't cover everything, even in this long-ass entry, cuz there's a fuck of a lot of stuff going on in the foreground, much less the background. I honestly don't mind if you ask, it's totally cool. :)

See you next week!

[dashesofink]

Commissions

In light of recent events, I have decided to give writing commissions a shot. Below are a few rules for commissions, and if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to send me a message!!

I will write for...

any fandoms on my list, which can be found here at the bottom of the page

OC’s (i.e. Steve Rogers x OC, Thranduil x OC, etc)

some ships, however I have the right to deny ships if I feel uncomfortable or that I don’t know them well enough

anything from angst to fluff, humor to character deaths (again, ask if you have any questions)

some !au’s

i will also accept some actors

I will NOT write for...

smut - I am still not quite at this point yet. HOWEVER I can still write some steamy/suggestive fics (example 1 and 2)

incest

rape

sexual harassment

abusive relationships - I can mention them, but I will not be writing a character abusing someone else

self-harm - again, I can make mentions of it, but I will not write/explain film the actions of self-harming

underage of any kind

When asking for a commission please be sure that what you’re looking for has been put down in light detail. Namely the important things like a name of you want, certain pronouns, features, etc. If you don’t give me certain details that are important to your fic/idea then I will just write as I feel is fitting for what you asked me for. In order for me to write what you have in mind correctly, and in addition to the important information, I ask that you give me a plot line as well. This does not have to be super detailed, but remember that I will write how I see your commission in my head.

If you would like me to post your commission(s) publicly please let me know when asking for one. The same goes for if you would rather have it privately posted/sent to you personally. I will make another post to notify you guys as to when commissions will be closed. However I will be keeping requests open for the time being, but I would ask that you be patient, as I might not get to them as quickly as I usually do.

Pricing...

$2 for 200-500 words

$5 for 600-800 words

$10 for 900-1200 words

$15 for 1300-1800 words

$20 for 1900-2500 words

$30 for 2600 words and higher

If you would like a series, as in more than one part, then I will charge you extra. However the most I will do for a series is three parts, no more. As of right now I will limit each part for a series at 7k words, which will be 21k in total for the three parts. For a full three-parts the price will be $75; for two parts $50. You must make sure I know how many parts you would like for said series. We can discuss, however, adding more parts to a series if it is needed as well as charging extra for said part, however right off the bat I will only do the three.

Commission requests can be sent to my email specifically for this blog and other writing related things at dashesofink@gmail.com and all payments will be accepted through PayPal/Ko-Fi only. Once a commission is sent in I will contact you for more details if needed, as well as whether or not I will be accepting your commission. Payment will only be needed if your commission request has been accepted and before your story has been written. If your request is accepted I will send you a link to my Ko-Fi/PayPal. If payment has not been sent then your commission will most likely not be written. But if it is pending, then I will set it aside until it has gone through. The time it takes for me to write, edit, and finalize your commission request will vary depending on the amount of words you have requested, what your commission is about, and also how much time I have to write it. You will be notified when I have started, when I’m about half way finished, and when I’m finalizing you commission. So please be patient!!

I wanna thank you for taking your time to read this post. I appreciate you guys and again, thank you in advance for any and every commission I receive!! I appreciate each and everyone of you guys!! 💜