#and a bitch really wrote 7k words??

[spookyspecterino]

Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage.

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

 “What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

 You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn’t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

[booburry]

Echoes in Time Chapter 6: The past is only there to haunt us.

Summary: Time spent apart only provides Sam & Mallory time to reflect on their past and present lives.

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this chapter! It was enjoyable switching between POV's and I truly (read: I am delusional) thought this would fall under 7k. ALSO keep in mind, I actually had this chapter longer and cut the last third off.

WC: 9,903

CW: Lillian is a fucking bitch.

Mallory wrote as much detail into her plan for the interview as possible, not only so it would be easy for Walter to execute, but also out of habit from her old job.

Like her previous boss, and despite how Mallory felt of men like Walter from her time, she knew he was a competent man and would follow what she wrote to a T—only making necessary improvements as he saw fit.

Writing the list also helped her stay distracted from what happened at The Lodge, with Sam and that woman.

She needed to get this ball rolling so that she could then focus on getting back home.

The thought, despite Mallory vehemently trying to convince herself it was what she wanted, brought a tightness to her mouth and a flare to her nostrils. Her eyes stung as she quickly wiped away her tears, trying to tell herself to refuse to cry over that man anymore.

Sarah, thankfully, was okay with the lack of conversation as she was busy focusing on her documentation, sitting at the small table in the single hab of the Frontier. When Mallory was finally done writing out her plans, she ripped the pages from her journal and approached Sarah.

“How do I get these to Walter?” Mallory asked Sarah, who slowly brought her gaze to look at what Mallory was extending to her, her eyes pressed in confusion before looking exhausted.

“You wrote it down?” She asked Mallory for clarification—as one would speak to someone who was about to be told how stupid they were.

“I...uhm—” Mallory tried to defend herself but what other option was there? The only computer she had seen was Cora’s, and that thing had like 5 screens and Mallory recognized none of the UI. Pen and paper was...really all she knew.

“I guess you don’t know any better.” Sarah muttered, coming to the same conclusion as Mallory. “I would have told you to use the terminal in the cockpit.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly?” Sarah bluntly asked. “I thought you were writing in your journal about whatever occurred between you and Sam.”

“There’s nothing to write about in that regard.” Sarah just cocked an eyebrow at her, visibly not believing her words, and seemingly about to tell Mallory why.

“Is that so? Nothing about what occurred within the last 24 hours is noteworthy?” Sarah paused long enough for her to stand up, Mallory quickly glancing down at what Sarah was reading. She was able to catch a few words—'Crimson Fleet’ and ‘Lillian’.

Mallory’s stomach fell as she realized Sam must have sent in a report to Sarah on their way back to New Atlantis.

“Because, from what I read, you just faced down certain death. You killed for the first time, both with unbound accuracy and in complete disarray. You went from a novice pilot to somehow pulling off a manoeuvre that even Sam wouldn’t have thought of. And that’s not even getting to your, obvious, personal turmoil.” Mallory pursed her lips, not enjoying how her experience was summarized or the reference to her tremendous ‘personal turmoil’.

“Well, guess there is no point writing it down if you have it in writing already.” She muttered.

“I am concerned, Mallory, that you are being reckless right now. And recklessness can get you killed.”

“How am I being reckless?" Mallory bellowed, her pent-up anger finally having a target. “I’m getting the damn artifacts, I’m doing what is being asked of me. I am just trying to get home!”

“No,” Sarah corrected, her tone still managing to be a bit patronizing, “you are trying to get away from him—”

“What the fuck am I to do, Sarah! Tell me. What the fuck—” Mallory let out a seething sigh before pushing her hair back from her face.

“Are you two just blind or willingly ignoring your feelings for each other? Because we all see it.” Mallory scrunched her face, trying to still her emotions, to calm herself as it wouldn’t be helpful to blow up on the only person she was going to be around for a few days.

“When he had—” Mallory cleared her throat, feeling it strain itself from her stress. “When he had the chance to choose, to defend myself or her, he chose her, Sarah. I mean—” Mallory let a sarcastic, pained, exhale break her speech. “Who am I to come between a mother, a father and their daughter? I just need to get out of their lives, and get them out of mine.”

Mallory walked towards the cockpit, scanning all of the different screens.

“It’s to your left.” Sarah called out, having returned to her seated position and going back to reading her report. Mallory spent the rest of her time standing in front of that terminal, even well after she had finished sending Walter her message.

--xx--

Sam slept horribly, if at all, the first night after Mallory left. The way she had looked at him burned into his brain, bringing a hitch to his breath and a weight to his chest every time it forced him to see it again or relive that moment.

With a sense of foolish hope, and once he could no longer convince himself he could still fall asleep, he got up to check Mallory’s room. Maybe she had returned, or changed her mind or Sarah had convinced her to return. None of those options made sense, hence it being foolish to think she would be in there.

But...he just had to check. He just...had to know.

He left three small knocks on the door, waiting, and waiting...and waiting, until it was long enough for him to be assured she wasn’t there. He felt that weight back on his chest as he opened the door, his eyes falling to the floor, the rush of happy and exciting memories of the last time he stood right here flooding his senses.

He felt his face flinch before he took a deep breath, lifting his hat to push his hair back along his head.

“Get it together, Sam.” He muttered to himself as he placed his hat back on his head and flicked on the lights in her room. He noticed it was a lot cleaner than when they had both been here before, as his eyes scanned the room, looking for any glimpse of her.

But there was nothing. Most of her clothes were left behind, along with most of the shoes he had helped her purchase. He wasn’t upset at all that she left them, at first he thought maybe she did so with the intent to come back, until his eyes fell to the nightstand with his necklace and a note and he realized she left it all behind.

A pit grew in his stomach as he approached the necklace, his eyes on the note, petrified to read what Mallory had written him. Knowing just how vicious—justified, but vicious—her words had been to him, only made him fear how her written ones would make him feel.

However, when he realized the note was addressed to Mallory, from Cora, Sam deeply wished it had only contained words meant to lacerate him.

To see Cora say how happy he had been, how happy that made her and how much the both of them cared about Mallory nearly broke the man. He fell to sit on the side of Mallory’s bed, his hand clutching the necklace while his eyes desperately took in every detail of the letter.

Mallory must have read this too, he could tell by the crinkling present on the paper before he got it, knowing that Cora would have left it in pristine condition. He also noticed that some of the ink was blotted, with small patches present on the paper as if they dried from being wet.

It became quite evident that Mallory had been crying as she held this note. He didn’t have to question what it was that had her so upset, he only had to count how many things he had done to hurt her.

He didn’t keep her safe and was the reason they were in that dogfight in the first place. He forced Lillian upon her, knowing it wasn’t going to end well—however, never thought it would go like this...

Then he didn’t stand up for her, or defend her and then told her she was out of line when he knew what she was saying was true. Lillian wasn’t thinking about Cora when she demanded him to keep her away from Mallory, he understood that then and now, but what he didn’t get was why he told her to back down.

And if that wasn’t enough, he then left her on her own for the rest of the trip, didn’t get to her before she left and then when he finally did get to The Lodge...oh god. Sam felt like was going to be sick when the realization came to him that Mallory must have heard Lillian, who had bizarrely—to him at the time—spoken well above the necessary volume.

So Mallory would hear. Sam felt the thought burn into his brain, ironed and etched as if to never forget this betrayal. Sam had thought Lillian wanted to stay there as another attempt to sleep with him, but no...it had been much more devious than that.

She had done it to drive Mallory away.

Sam had never felt pain like this or guilt. Never with his father, never with his life as a smuggler or his times on Neon...hell, not even with Lillian or Cora—and god knows how many times he felt like he let his daughter down.

But to know that he had, without a doubt in his mind, ripped the very sense of safety Mallory had managed to gain in this world, ruined him. Sam clutched the letter and necklace to his chest—unknowingly just as Mallory had done herself—before lying down on her bed.

It was almost unbearable how he felt, and all it made him wish for was to have her here with him, her presence alone would provide him enough comfort. To hear her laugh, to see her lips purse and nose scrunch when he teased or when she didn’t want to admit he was right...to see the hope behind her eyes every time he had promised he would convince her to stay.

And now she was gone.

Because of him.

Sam tried, for a brief moment, to convince himself that he wished he was the brooding, cut-off, emotionally unavailable man he had once been, lying that it would be easier that way—until he thought of his daughter.

With the thought of Cora brought his mind back to the letter he clutched. This then brought him back to thinking of Mallory, and thinking of Mallory only brought the excruciating weight back onto his chest and a sharp sting to his eyes.

Sam was never a man to allow himself to cry, even in front of Cora he always wanted to be strong for her, and it had only been a few nights when he couldn’t stop it. This would have to be another.

Slowly Sam raised his hat to cover his face, the light in her room still on, the objects held in his hand pressed to his chest, as Sam allowed the first few tears to fall.

He laid there long enough to silently let out the pain, hoping it would make him feel better but it didn’t.

All it did was bring him slumber once the storm inside of him settled.

“Dad?” Cora’s voice woke him up. Sam sat up in shock, his hat having fallen off his face, and as he raised his chest, the note and necklace fell to the floor.

“Hey sweetie.” Sam croaked as his squinty eyes slowly opened to see Cora’s sad expression, every alert in his body going off. “You okay? What happened—”

“Nothing...” She quickly informed him as she slowly walked to sit on the bed beside him. “I saw the light on and just thought maybe Mallory had come back home.” Sam felt a gut punch at Cora’s last word, another guilty realization of what driving Mallory away also took from her.

“I was hoping so too.” Sam admitted, pained and extremely conscious of the words his daughter had written Mallory. He was aware that Cora cared about Mallory, and acutely mindful Cora was aware—to some degree, or maybe all degrees—of what Mallory meant to Sam.

Both Coes sat in silence, Cora’s legs lightly swinging as her feet didn’t quite touch the ground. Sam watched the motion, finding himself wishing that Cora was young again. Young enough, at least, where all of this wouldn’t affect her as much—Lillian, Mallory...him.

He knew how much Cora worried about him, he tried to always reassure her that he was alright, that he was fine, but with her written request to Mallory to take care of him made it obvious he had done a poor job at that too.

“Does Mallory not like us anymore?” Cora finally asked, her tone giving away her hesitation to the question but hinting there was more. Sam waited a moment, knowing his daughter well enough that she wasn’t done. “Did...uh, did I make her leave cause of my note?”

Sam hugged his daughter fiercely before speaking any reassuring words.

“No, Cora, not at all.” Sam let go of Cora to cup his daughter's small and delicate face within his large hands.  “I truly think you were the hardest thing for her to leave behind.” Cora’s eyes immediately welled.

“So she’s gone!?” She blurted out, immediately distressed, Sam instantly panged with guilt at his wrong choice of words. He hugged his daughter again, knowing he had to lie.

“I misspoke, she’ll be back.” He lied while taking another deep breath. “She just...I think she wanted some space from...well, me.” Sam finally blurted out, unsure of how to avoid talking about what actually happened, trying to spare Cora from the monotonous details of adult life and the complexities that came with such relationships, but it felt impossible to do.

Cora pulled away from him, looking at her father with confusion.

“But I thought you liked each other.” She stated, not even allowing those words to be a question.

“We do.” Sam said instinctively before questioning if that was still true on Mallory’s part—he truthfully wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see him again.

“Is...is it because mom is here?” Cora slowly asked, Sam closing his eyes with a sigh, oddly wishing his kid wasn’t so smart and observant.

“I am sure it doesn’t help things for Mallory but...we can’t hold that against your mother.” He found himself saying, desperately not wanting to be the reason Cora hated her mother, yet equally despising himself for defending that wretched woman.

“Dad...why is mom here?” Sam took another deep breath, Cora’s curiosity never giving him a break, and once again, he was left to either lie for Lillian’s sake or tell Cora his truth and possibly tarnish her mother’s image.

“I don’t know hun-bun.” Sam slowly said, settling on a half-truth. “She says she has had a change of heart, about the three of us.” Sam continued, again settling for a half-truth and secretly, with a healthy amount of guilt, hoping that the lie from Lillian would be the thing to separate the both of them from her. Permanently.

“Oh...” Cora remarked, Sam not being able to help the small smile he found himself having at one of his favourite sounds his daughter made. It always meant the same thing: that she didn’t quite understand but was trying to figure it all out in her head.

Sam sighed with a small amount of relief, holding Cora to his side, almost thankful he didn’t have to deal with having that much brains inside his head.

“Dad?” Cora asked, Sam waited a moment as he expected her to continue before looking down to see her bear a worried expression. He immediately knew that look. She was scared to be honest, scared that her feelings would hurt someone else and therefore she shouldn’t say it.

A habit, he had always thought was due to her being an unusually observant kid...but now, with Lillian’s veil finally starting to lift from Sam, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something she had instilled in Cora.

He felt venom want to sink its way into his very being at the thought but with one look at his daughter's worried and anxious expression, he brought his focus back to her.

“Talk to me.” He encouraged her, adding a loving squeeze to her body. This right here was exactly what he was afraid of.

“I, uh...is it bad or...does it make me a bad person if I don’t want that?” He heard the crack in her voice at her need to cry, the fear that he was going to be angry with her, and Sam felt like his heart had simultaneously plummeted into his stomach and stopped beating.

Immediately he dropped to his knees in front of Cora, making sure he bent down far enough so their eyes were level.

“God no, Cora, I—” Sam let out a small, hitched, gasp as he felt paralyzed by his daughter's visible confliction. He ran a hand over her hair before resting it lovingly against her cheek. “Remember how I tell you that what you want in life is most important, because it means you are being true to yourself?” He asked her, his voice calm and smooth, his intent to soothe his daughter and temper her panic and pain. Cora just nodded with a small sniffle. “The same goes for how you feel, Stringbean.” Cora huffed a small laugh.

“I don’t feel like a bean.” She muttered, looking up to her dad with a small smirk, Sam breaking out a small, easy, laugh in return. She surely was his daughter, and that thought brought so much love and light into his life. He immediately hugged her, knowing that her importance to him weighed on her yet not being able to stop the overwhelming love and protectiveness he felt over his daughter.

“If that is how you feel Cora, then there is nothing wrong about it. You understand?” Sam managed to calmly say to her while he still hugged her tightly, feeling her nod into his chest as her small arms tried to reach around him but barely got past halfway.

“So...you wouldn’t be mad if I told you that I wished Mallory was here instead of Mom?” Cora whispered into Sam’s chest and he felt a pain like no other at the question, at his thoughts returning to Mallory and how important she had become to his daughter.

He felt the restriction in his throat, and the sting in his eyes returning with aggressive force.

“No, my sweet, loving, daughter.” He pulled her away from him so he could look at her, feeling a tear escape him, giving Cora a weak smile with his fullest efforts. They both reflected the same heartbreak and loss at each other. “That’s exactly what I want too.”

--xx--

The only thing Mallory could think of as she walked through Cydonia on Mars was just how much she wished Sam was with her.

Wondering about all of the stupid jokes he would make that would have her laughing, all of the questions he would ask as they walked through the settlement that she finally had more information to share. This was, after all, the last project she had worked on before being thrown into the future—the blueprints for the airlock having sat on her desk a few days before her disappearance.

Or so Mallory remembered it as such, her concept of time around that event still very blurry.

All of the questions Cora would have had for her—that thought was a gut punch.

Mallory hated how much she missed them, miserable by the hole they left in her already bleak and barren existence.

And being around a monument of the life she was ‘apparently’ excited to get back to made her misery tenfold worse.

She didn’t want to be here, or well...not there.

All she wanted was to be among the stars with Sam again, seeing the galaxy and all it beholds, exploring endlessly in search of anything new and unknown. With Cora.

As a family, she bitterly thought to herself, so angry that she wanted that, angry that Sam had led her to believe it could be hers before immediately ripping it away.

It was so confounding to her how he could comfort her so easily, yet still stand up for a, frankly, abusive woman—both to Sam and to Cora. Mallory recalled with perfect clarity the tone with which she spoke to Sam with, like he was an idiot, an incapable man who had to only focus on being a parent to Cora. Which was, in Mallory’s opinion, fucking rich coming from a woman who can’t even bother to put either of them first for a second.

It was disgusting to Mallory, and she hated to know that Sam had convinced himself that this treatment of him was not only normal, but deserved. It broke her to know how little he thought of himself, of his own need for happiness.

It killed her to know that he had found it with her, she saw it in the ways he spoke to her, looked at her...held her. Was she being too stubborn? Should she return and be the one to fight?

No. That firm voice inside of her head told her—the skeptic, the protector—reminding her immediately of the reasons why not to do that and to stay her course.

The way he had shut her down, the way he had told her to back off with her truths, how he chose a woman like that over her...well, that shifted a few things for her.

For the first time, Mallory saw Sam in an unfavourable light. He protected the abuser of his child, and Mallory could only extend a certain amount of empathy towards Sam—wholly due to her own childhood trauma and mommy issues—knowing that he too was being just as abused by her as Cora was.

“Sarah—” Mallory croaked as they took off their helmets, feeling a sudden need to do something. She gave Mallory a direct look, showing she had her attention.

But her mind fell short. What was she to say? Tell Sarah to do the thing she wasn’t willing to do? The thing Sam wasn’t willing to do? No...

It’s his mess Mallory, leave him with it. She forced herself to think before taking in a deep breath.

“How long do you think we will be here for?” She asked, trying to make it seem like that was the question she intended but there, really, was no point in trying to fool Sarah.

“Depends on how much persuasion the bartender needs to give us our lead.” She stiffly remarked before eyeing Mallory suspiciously. “Why?”

“I, uh...thought I may take a look around? Won’t be suspicious but...I have to look at this place Sarah. Please?” Mallory asked, and Sarah reluctantly agreed. Thankfully Mallory had the thought to tell Sarah that her boss was one of the three executives leading the project for the colonization of Mars and for building the settlement of Cydonia.

So with that knowledge, Mallory suspected, Sarah agreed to a plan she would have otherwise refused.

And so, with a nod, Mallory was off. She walked down the ramp, noting the bar that Sarah was walking into, before venturing further into the settlement. Lots of the features looked familiar by shape but the 3D renders she recalled were far more pristine than what she saw now—but the girl looked good for almost 300 years of use!

Mallory looked down into the large mining area, seeing the miners hard at work and hearing the heavy machinery, but it was nowhere near the capacity they had originally planned for with these mines. Mallory couldn’t help but wonder if they managed to over mine but...by her boss’s original calculations, they should have at least another few hundred years of supplies if well mined and managed.

Mallory, leaving the view of the mines, sauntered by the few stores until she found her way into the residential quarters—which didn’t fill her with a lot of joy.

If she thought the outside of here was in bad shape, the residential quarters were almost derelict. Most ‘homes’ she was able to glance into were glorified storage containers with absolutely no windows. These people lived in...boxes.

And they didn’t seem well off either.

It honestly reminded Mallory of walking through a slum and it brought her such a great sadness to see something that should be a great monument for the human species being left to...well, the dust.

As Mallory was talking down a corridor, she spotted a child sitting alone—the image immediately reminding her of Cora caused her heart to sink. The child looked towards Mallory and sighed.

“All those sad people out there.” They said with a frown. “I wish I could help them but...my parents said I can’t leave the house.” Mallory saw the upset behind the child’s eyes, and with the endearing cause being a wish to help others—the same depressed ‘others’ Mallory had seen—brought an immediate need to assist.

“Any ideas on what could help? Maybe I could do something?” The child’s face lit up before frowning again.

“My parent’s told me I shouldn’t talk to people I don’t know but I am sooooooooo bored! So maybe if I talk to you then I can get to know you and then I won’t get in trouble. Right?” Mallory chuckled, immediately being reminded of Cora—with a slight pang of sadness knowing how much Cora would have loved to be here. “I’m Renee!”

“Mallory.” She said in return with a soft smile. “And that seems like some pretty sound logic.” Renee’s face lit up.

“See! Now we’re friends and my parents can't get upset with me!” Renee rejoiced before immediately gaining a serious expression. “Okay, so...normally I put up some of my drawings to brighten people’s day but I can’t leave here and put them up. I was thinking that maybe as my new friend, you would be willing to put up these posters for me?”

Mallory feigned a notion of feeling honoured by this request.

“To me, that sounds like the most important thing I can do today.” Mallory stuck out her hand to receive the posters. “I’m on the job, boss.” Renee giggled before handing Mallory 5 unrolled posters—the first she could see was of an adorable frog.

“Just post them where you think a lot of people will see them—okay? And then when you come back, we can talk about all our favourite things!” Mallory smiled, somewhat hoping that there would be enough time for that but she, at the very least, needed to rush to get these posters up before Sarah found her and—no doubt—drag her away from this mission.

“You got it, Renee!” Mallory said with a smile as she rushed through Cydonia looking for the best places to hang these adorable Space Frog posters.

--x--

Sam sat alone at the bar within The Lodge, throwing back his third whiskey of the day, knowing that Cora was going to be out in New Atlantis with her mother until the evening.

He was alone, as he wanted, left to his thoughts and the emptiness that had been growing inside of him. Every time he looked down at his glass, or poured more liquor into it, his eyes peeked at the note and necklace Mallory had left behind—the fool keeping it on him in hopes it would change things when he finally saw her again.

If he got to see her again.

That thought brought him more thirst for drink.

“Hey there, partner.” Barrett greeted Sam, his over-enthusiastic cheerfulness not being a welcome presence, but Sam also wasn’t about to send away one of his closest friends.

“Saddle up.” Sam advised, placing the bottle of whiskey between the two men. Barrett grabbed a glass and poured himself a full glass and topped Sam’s up to the brim as well.

“That should do ya for the day, huh?” He asked while putting the bottle out of Sam’s reach.

“I can just walk around the bar to get it later...” Sam retorted, trying to tell Barrett his actions were useless but he understood why he did it. A few times Sam would sit at this bar and get this sauced but...that’s what heartbreak does to a man with the vices Sam Coe has.

After a short break in the conversation, both men sat next to the other in silence as they both sipped on their drinks.

“So, Sam,” Barrett started, his tone shifting to a matter-of-fact way that told Sam he was about to get to a point Sam didn’t want to discuss. “Why’re you here?” Sam just sighed before taking a large gulp.

“Because I somehow found myself going from one manipulator to another and for me to realize that depressing truth? Took about 15 years and the loss of a woman I actually love.” He admitted, surprised at his honesty yet he gave it in such a self-deprecating way that it made it ok to say.

He took another big sip before Barrett brought his hand down to rest Sam’s glass on the counter.

“I don’t think you’ve lost her, Sam.” Barrett softly tried to advise but Sam just huffed in anger and disbelief.

“You don’t know what happened.” Sam bit back venomously, Barrett immediately taking a peaceful defence.

“No, I definitely do not.” He agreed, however, Sam knew there was a ‘but’ coming. “But,” there it was, “what I do know is love. Luckily had it before, once, and it doesn’t go away so easily.” Sam just sighed and hung his head.

He understood what Barrett was trying to say, trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. Sam knew, from the look on her face, from the tone of her voice, from the prolonged silence she gave him, that Mallory wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

It was done. It...it was over.

He ruined it.

“Sam, if I can give you a single piece of advice?” Barrett’s words cut through his self-loathing.

“Sure, but I doubt it will do a helluva lot. I fucked it all up, Barrett.” Sam returned his glass to his lips, slamming back what remained. “Like always.” He muttered under his breath, hearing Barrett sigh.

“Sure, you made a mistake Sam, a big one,” where’s your ‘but’, old friend? “But,” Sam felt a sarcastic, pained, smile flash across his lips as he raised his glass once more only to realize it was empty, “you could also say that the infinite possibilities of the universe are full of everything but coincidences.”

Sam was too drunk to listen to that many words.

“What the hell is that supposta’ mean?” He barked at Barrett, the man just smiling at his friend which only infuriated Sam more.

Barrett then swapped their drinks, making Sam a little less irritated.

“That it is no coincidence that you and Mallory found each other.” Barrett clarified, the words sinking into Sam like a golden light of hope—he had said the same thing to her the night he took her to see the stars. Sam released his grip on his new glass to look up and meet Barrett’s calming, soft, eyes. “Sam, the woman travelled through time. Time. How can you not see that as fate?”

Fate. Sam thought with a scowl, immediately returning to his drink.

“Yeah...well, never had much luck with fate.” Sam growled, bitterly thinking about how meeting Lillian was fate, how everything in his life had been ‘fate’, but it just left him—aside from Cora—with nothing but misery. And the guilt he felt by putting his happiness onto his daughter, onto her existence? He knew it was beyond unfair.

God, he just desperately wanted Mallory to be beside him.

“You’ll never know if you don’t chase after it, after her.” Barrett must have sensed his thoughts—or maybe his moping had made it that obvious too. Sam, bringing his mind back to Mallory and away from Lillian, felt his anger calm. He took a moment before asking a question he desperately wanted to know and feared to have the answer to.

“How has she been?” He finally croaked before taking a deep drink.

Sam heard Barrett chuckle.

“About as miserable as you but...not as open about it. Sarah says she keeps herself busy so she doesn’t have to think, while you—”

“Drink.” Sam cut him off, pressing the glass away from himself as the thought slipped into his mind...

He wouldn’t want Mallory to see him like this.

--x--

Mallory let out a pleased and satisfied sigh as she put up the last Space Frog poster. She had to admit, it felt nice to help people—and this was something she could confidently do.

Thankfully there was no high-tech futuristic-poster-upper-machine, or whatever.

“Just the ol’ stick it to a wall and go.” Mallory said to herself with a smile, turning around to return to Renee before being smack-dab in front of Sarah.

“You’re hanging posters?” She asked with a half amused, half annoyed, tone.

“I’m helping a friend.” Mallory quickly defended, however instantly regretting that she was now going to have to explain who her new ‘friend’ was.

“A friend, you say?” Sarah asked—damnit! Mallory thought to herself with a sigh.

“Look, okay it was—there was a kid and they looked sad—”

“Reminded you of another kid we know?” Sarah summarized before Mallory rambled on. She smiled at Constellation’s leader, appreciating the summary and wondering if Mallory hadn’t given enough credit to how well the others knew her, too.

“Perhaps.” Mallory shyly admitted with a small rock of her feet. “Look, I’ll be quick! I just need to go tell Renee that the posters are up, okay?” Sarah pondered this for a moment, Mallory hazarding a guess that it may have even been playfully long.

“Alright then, but no more detours. We have a direct path to where we need to go.”

“Roger that, Captain!” Mallory said with a salute, Sarah immediately snatched her arm and lowered it.

“Don’t do that.” She harshly whispered, Mallory unsure if for personal reasons or because it was something highly inappropriate as far as future manners or customs are considered. From the lack of strange looks around them, Mallory hazarded another guess that it was a personal request.

Renee was overjoyed to hear that Mallory had put up the posters, the two of them exchanging some pieces of information before Sarah started pulling Mallory away as she started giving very ‘bizarre’ answers to her favourite book, TV show or artist.

“Wait!” Renee ran after Mallory, who managed to pull away from Sarah for a moment. “It’s not much, but I wanted to say thank you for helping me today.” Renee smiled at Mallory with a brightness only a child could contain. “I can’t think of a stranger that would have stopped to help, so here.”

Renee placed a small, rectangle-shaped, microchip into her hand. Mallory smiled, looking back up to Renee—whatever this junk may be, she still appreciated being given something of value to the child.

“Thank you, I will treasure this...gift.” Mallory said with an earnest smile until Renee gave her a worrying look before shrugging.

“It’s just 15 Creds, I didn’t think it would matter that much.” Renee commented before Mallory felt Sarah pull her up from the back of her space suit.

“We’re getting out of here.” She advised, Mallory seeing a few more people staring at the two of them than before, a sudden knot in her stomach as she reminded herself she needed to be careful or she would be in danger.

Damn, maybe I am being reckless...

--x--

Sam hated how happy he felt when Barrett casually informed him that Sarah and Mallory would be back later in the day. Not because he didn’t want to feel happy, but only because he knew this joy would only lead to further pain for him.

Pain he would have to silently endure.

It was now within the hour that they, she, would walk through the front doors of The Lodge and Sam had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He had spent more time than he will ever admit fussing over his hair, tugging at his clothes so they fit better—trying his best to push away his thoughts of self-doubt over the man he saw in the mirror.

But once he was finally over that, Sam then became plagued with the thought of where to be when she arrived. Where would be a place that was casual or seemed likely that he would be, but still give him a vantage point to see her? Or should he even be out at all? Would it be better for him to stay hidden in his room?

That thought made him immediately recoil as he remembered who currently occupied his room.

“My, Sam Coe looking like he fussed all mornin’” Lillian’s wretchedness came from behind him, Sam feeling his body immediately stiffen.

“What do you want?” He asked her coldly, feeling like she had more than overstayed her welcome at this point, but he knew Cora was enjoying her time alone with her mother.

He definitely knew she wasn’t enjoying the times that he and her mother were within close proximity together or conversing.

“What? I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore? Make idle chit-chat?” Lillian asked her passive-aggressive questions, setting Sam’s teeth on edge.

“Not if I have a choice in it.” Sam replied and started to walk away but he heard her footsteps follow.

“Yet you reply now.” She gave her smart-ass reply, Sam immediately turned on his heels and stuck out his hands, ready to choke her, before immediately restraining himself.

“Would you just—” His speech broke off when he looked at Lillian and saw a familiar fire and spark behind her eye. She was enjoying this, and even more so, getting turned on by Sam’s reaction. He immediately deflated. “Leave me alone, Lillian.” He asked of her before going down the stairs.

“How is she this important, Sam?” Lillian bellowed, having replaced all of her playful taunts with anger. “How is that woman any better than me?”

“That woman!” Sam immediately yelled, knowing he would regret it later but he also refused to let Lillian disrespect Mallory any further. “Has a fucking name and you will respect it while under this roof! Got it?” His voice was firm, his tone curt and he felt the flames of anger flick off his tongue with every word.

Lillian just smiled, deeply, her eyes darkening. Sam just grimaced.

He hated her, and he hated himself for never seeing it before.

And he would have yelled further, said worse, except he caught a glimpse of his daughter, looking anxious and scared, and he immediately felt guilty. He went to walk towards her, to reassure her and comfort her when the door started to open. Sam stopped in his tracks, while Cora sprinted to stand next to him.

Sarah entered with the artifact.

Then closed the door.

Sam honestly felt like he was going to throw up. Never had he experienced such a reaction before, so couldn’t say why, but he just felt sick to his stomach beyond repair that Mallory hadn’t also walked through that door.

“Where’s Mallory?” Cora immediately asked the question they both wanted to know. Sam heard Sarah sigh and he would have looked at her if he didn’t have the immediate instinct to look up at Lillian—who bore an exaggerated scowl at Cora’s immediate and earnest question.

“She wanted to visit The Eye.” Sarah informed, Cora letting out a small sound of disappointment while Sam just watched Lillian’s scowl deepen with jealousy. “She has her eye on another Artifact, so I don’t think she is coming back right now.” Sarah informed Cora, her tone full of compassion as she has when speaking to his kid. Something he would normally show a gesture of gratitude for, if it weren’t for the fact that he was glued to Lillian. She was slowly descending the stairs, a glint of pride or—well, Sam would say happiness, but he no longer thought her capable of that emotion.

Lillian came to stand next to Sam, everything about her oozing smugness. He couldn’t help but give a few biting words, the woman always being able to pull out his venom—something he was quickly realizing was what she seemed to crave.

“Do you even care how sad this makes Cora or are you just happy for yourself?” He whispered as he watched his daughter wipe away a few tears as she quietly talked to Sarah. He just heard Lillian smile.

“Cora, darlin’, I have a great idea to get your mind off things.” Lillian started and Sam immediately felt a lump in his throat. Cora turned to look at her mother with a sniffle, Sarah immediately shooting a glance at Sam. “You, your father and I are going to Paradiso for a week! I already got everything booked.”

Lillian turned to look at Sam, a smile on her face with nothing but contempt in her eyes.

“Oh, ok.” Cora said, hesitant but in a sweet and excited tone that Sam knew was forced, but Lillian didn’t seem to catch on, but of course she wouldn’t—she’d have to be around to understand her daughter like that.

But Sam knew that, with how Cora said those two words, this ‘trip’ was the last thing she wanted. He signed, knowing he would have to convince Lillian of this fact, already knowing he would fail.

--x--

The Eye was quite an interesting place to be. Mallory had, truly, never been more aware of the gravitation systems within a ship—or whatever this is—as she was when walking around here. To have her head pointing towards the planet just felt...off.

But Vlad was good company, and thankfully treated Mallory with, quite literally, no special treatment. Plus, Walter was here, and he had been a person Mallory had also grown to enjoy the company of.

“The deal with SSNN is almost finalized, I just need you to sign—” Mallory grabbed the pen and signed right away, Walter just stuttering in surprise. “You don’t want to read it?” He asked her, credulously. Mallory just shrugged.

“I’m not going to be around for long enough for most of it to matter and I know you would have my best interest in mind Walter.” Mallory informed him with a smile, he just scowled in return.

“And how, exactly, do you know that I would?” He slowly asked her, seeking clarification, in his old, proper, grumpy ways. Mallory just smiled—he reminded her of the grandfather she always had wanted.

“Well, Pops,” Mallory smiled while Walter frowned further—it would stick, “what is in my best interest, is also in yours. And I know you wouldn’t let me get fucked over by some big corporate himbo’s.” Walter looked almost proud at what Mallory was saying until the end of her sentence.

“Himbo?” He slowly asked.

“A male bimbo.” Mallory informed with a sudden tug at her smirk. “Maybe not actually relevant here...” Mallory began to mutter before Vlad’s howl of laughter cut the tension.

“HIMBO!” Vlad yelled before cackling into a drawn-out sigh. “Oooooh, that’s a good one.” Walter and Mallory just looked back at each other before both giving a motion they would move on.

“You are correct that I did get you the best deal. What you were asking for was...well to be perfectly honest, would have been insulting for my lawyers to offer such terms.” Mallory snorted, both at Walter’s frankness and being deadly curious at how greedy he was going to tell her she had been.

She knew 500,000 Credits was a lot to ask for, but she figured her story was unique and that should be enough money for Sam to be able to get a new ship—and even with everything that happened between them she still wanted to honour that thought and intention.

Selfishly, she knew it would mean that even once she returned, there would always be a piece of her with him. Something to keep her in his memory.

All Mallory could hope for was at least enough credits for him to get a decent ship. What that number was, exactly? She had no idea.

“So we will start with an upfront payment of 10 million credits...also opened a bank account for you, since you now have money.” Walter stated, his voice rising at the end of his sentence as it always did, a cadence Mallory had come to enjoy. This time, however, she didn’t stop to enjoy it as her mind halted at the fact an ‘upfront payment of 10 million fucking credits’ was deposited now? Into her bank?

What, the actual, fuck???

With a deep breath of accepting that she had to come to terms with this arrangement, quickly—as she had already signed the document—had Mallory scrambling.

“Wish you read the document?” Walter teased, Mallory just blankly nodding. “SSNN will own the rights to use your story and likeness for TV Shows, Movies and the merchandise from those. With that, I got you 20% royalties—because without you that revenue would never exist—along with a payment of 50 million credits once the interview has been conducted.” Mallory felt her mind go blank.

“Uh, Walter...”

“No, ‘thank you’?” He scolded her, a small twitch in the corner of his mouth giving away his true feelings. Mallory smiled and waved a hand towards him while bending into a deep bow.

“Yes, yes, thank you! Thank you oooh great lord businessman of great prowess for getting me this unfathomable and, most definitely, crushing fortune.” Mallory sarcastically dragged on, Walter just chucking with amusement.

“It feels nice to finally be seen.” He cheerfully retorted. Mallory snorted at her response, covering her mouth, shocked yet so grateful for Walter’s sense of humour to keep things light for her. Especially because of the thing she wished to bring up.

“What, uh...what exactly do I do with that type of money? Like...is it a lot?” Walter just smiled at Mallory, in a way that could either be endearment or amusement. “Cause I, uhm, want to buy a ship, or well...custom order one? Is that possible? Can I do that?” Walter watched Mallory for a short moment, studying her or pondering his words carefully.

“Are you asking me if you can purchase a ship with your 10 million credits?” He slowly asked, Mallory just awkwardly smiling, guessing from his tone that she now sat on a substantial amount of wealth.

“I take that as a yes, I can.” Mallory muttered, the stress of this ‘gift’ almost suffocating her. She had never been one to seek a life of extravagance, always lived below her means and usually gave away any excess wealth she didn’t think she required. To have 60 million credits?? “What do I even do with that type of money Walter?” She found herself saying, looking at the older man with nothing but fear and desperation.

He seemed taken aback by her reaction. Perhaps he had not seen many fear being wealthy.

“If you wish, there are ways to invest your fortune so it is self-sustaining—custom ship included,” he added with a smirk, a gesture Mallory deeply appreciated, “charity organizations, or—”

“What would it take to revitalize Cydonia?” Mallory immediately asked, the gears turning in her head as she began thinking of ways to give away her fortune—something she was great at.

“Cydonia?” Walter asked, intrigued but shocked. Mallory absently rubbed one of her elbows awkwardly.

“Yeah, I just...uh. It kind of made me really sad to see, Walter.” Mallory slowly admitted, unsure how she could play around her vulnerability, but something in the way the old geezer looked at Mallory as she spoke made her feel comfortable. With great hesitation, she leaned in. “To see the last standing thing of my past, of the life I came from in such disrepair? To see the hovels the people have to live in? The depressed expressions on mostly everyone was just...if I can do anything to help them. I would want to.”

Walter gave a soft, gentle, smile before clapping a hand onto Mallory’s shoulder.

“I’ll have my people look into some things.” He reassured her. “Also, if this whole ‘going back to your time’ thing doesn’t work out, I would love for you to come to work for us at Stroud-Ekland. I’m sure I could convince my partner to add you to the executive board.” Mallory gawked at Walter before shaking her head with a smile.

“You’re a crazy old man, you know that?” They shared a laugh before Walter gave another loving pat, again, as one would expect from a loving and proud grandparent.

“Be back at The Lodge in five days for the interview, okay? I’ll have my men start the construction in a few days.”

“Sounds good—thank you, Walter.”

He left with a chuckle.

--x--

Sam had tried to talk to Lillian about them not going to Paradiso but it hadn’t gone well. It ended with Sam telling her that Cora and him were not going and that it was ‘the end of the discussion’ before walking out. He hated how she looked at him in those moments, hated the person it reminded him of—the person he had once been.

He laid on his back on Mallory’s bed, still finding it hard to be in here but it was better than any alternative. He let out a large sigh. On top of his argument with Lillian, Barrett had also let him know that he was set to go out with Mallory to get another Artifact—something Sam was greatly against at this moment.

And despite how everyone thought it was because he wanted Mallory here—which was true—he was truly worried about her touching another one of those damn things too soon.

Sarah had reported that Mallory had passed out when touching the one they brought back, that Sarah was OK to hold the artifact after Mallory had touched it, or that the person who had it before was OK to touch it as well. There was something about Mallory and these hunks of space metal that did not go well.

And if Mallory passing out wasn’t enough of a reason for her to not go for another, Sarah had said she had been out for half the ride home! Half a day, just sleeping, making odd noises and murmuring nonsense...and they wanted her to go get another one??

Sam bit his tongue, however, when in the meeting with them all. Despite how much he worried for Mallory, he also knew he had no say. If he tried to enforce his wishes it would, painfully, be overstepping. The term not being lost on Sam at all—as he very well may have had a say if he hadn’t shut Mallory out.

I would have been there with her. He bitterly thought to himself, but with a click of the handle, Sam was pulled from any further thoughts.

For a moment, fool-hearted as ever, Sam thought it would be Mallory.

How disappointed he was to see his ex instead.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” Sam asked her, immediately sitting up. “Also, don’t be in here. Just—”

“What?” Lillian snapped. “Be in the space of your delicate Earth woman.” Lillian spat and Sam knew she was baiting him. He just closed his eyes and forced his breathing to remain stable. He suddenly felt a force upon his body—opening his eyes to see Lillian, in her underwear, pressed against him. “I miss us, Sam. Don’t you?” She asked as she looked up at him. Sam felt absolutely frozen in shock and disgust. “The heated discussions, the rising tension...” she trailed a finger along his chest, “doesn’t it make you want to...get some frustrations out?” Sam snatched her hand and took a step back.

“This ends, Liliian.” He told her coldly, Lillian almost writhing at his tone.

“Jumping right back in, are we?” She purred, Sam just released her hand and walked towards the door.

“Whatever this could be called that has been between us Lillian, is done.” He told her sternly, pausing a moment before shaking his head lightly. “You know...heh,” Sam let out a deep, heavy, sarcastic laugh, “she told me this would happen.”

“Who?” Lillian couldn’t help but interject.

“Mallory.” Sam said her name, furious that Lillian still refused to use it. He felt his temper hit a boiling point of no return. “When she left she told me that you were here for me, not Cora! But I didn’t want to believe it.” Sam paused, watching Lillian, for once, look uncomfortable as he tried to steady his emotions. “I wanted to think that, for once, for once! You could put MY daughter first, but you can’t and you never could.” Lillian just growled in anger, fury igniting behind her eyes.

“So you throw all of this away for a whore?” Lillian screamed, ripping open the door so that her words could travel. Sam could have shot her, if she was some nobody constantly disgracing and insulting an amazing woman.

But, unfortunately, she was the mother of his daughter, and Sarah wouldn’t be happy with fresh blood on the flooring.

So Sam settled to give her a look telling her to keep quiet, to shut up, even though he was already sure Cora was hearing them without the door open.

“I do this because Mallory taught me I deserve better. That Cora and I deserve better—and that you were never capable of that.”

--x--

Cora sat in her bed, tightly hugging the stuffy Mallory had found on the Crimson Fleet ship, while listening to her parents argue upstairs. She didn’t want to go to Paradiso with them. Dad? Sure! He’s been wanting to go there for a while, always talking about it and Cora knew he would enjoy it! But Mom?

No...Cora didn’t feel like that would be much fun. She didn’t even know if she liked swimming! Did she even own a bathing suit?

It all just felt weird to Cora. She didn’t understand what was going on, and as she hugged the stuffed animal, it just made her miss Mallory more. She hated not understanding things, and people were the hardest cause she couldn’t really read a book on them.

At least not the ones in her time.

But Mallory always made it make sense to Cora. Mallory always made her feel better, and helped her understand, and Cora was sure that Mallory would be able to stop her parents from fighting.

Or at least make her feel better while they did.

“...you were here for me, not Cora!” She heard her Dad yell, immediately realizing that he meant to say that her mom wasn’t here for her...

That hurt.

A lot.

And it only fueled a determination that if Cora couldn’t feel safe here, if she didn’t want to be here, then she would do the same as Mallory—leave. She would go to The Eye and be with Mallory there. And Vlad! He’s cool.

Cora felt herself smile at her thought, enjoying the feeling she would have to be around them and not her parents. But then she frowned, thinking of how worried her dad would be when he found she wasn’t here.

With that thought, Cora leaped from her bed to grab one of her many journals, ripping out a page and writing a note for her dad.

Hey Dad,

I’m really sorry. I know you are probably already worried about me by the time you find this. I just didn’t want to be here anymore. Not with both of you.

I don’t like how mom makes you act, and I can tell she makes you unhappy.

That makes me unhappy.

And it hurt to know that she didn’t come here to spend time with me... I tried not to listen.

I went to The Eye to see Mallory. I will be taking the Frontier (haven’t done that yet) and will bring Vasco (so that way you aren’t too scared for me).

Love you, and please don’t ground me,

Cora xoxo Coe

Cora read through her note to make sure there were no mistakes, but of course, there wasn’t. She then tucked it in a specific spot that was meant for her to put anything she wanted to tell her dad but couldn’t—she used it a lot when she was younger and had a hard time talking about her feelings.

With a big sigh and reconfirming to herself that this was what she wanted to do, Cora starting to doubt herself.

“Do you throw all of this away for a whore?” Cora heard her mother scream, knowing that the ‘whore’ she referred to was Mallory and Cora didn’t like that at all.

Mallory had been the best thing for Cora and her dad since he joined Constellation! So it greatly upset Cora that her mother didn’t seem to understand that.

With the new reinvigoration for her desire to leave, to be away from here, Cora sought out Vasco who was in ‘sleep mode’ in his usual spot.

“I need you to take me to The Eye, Vasco,” Cora asked in a hushed whisper, not wanting to alert her parents despite them continuing to yell upstairs. At Cora’s voice and question towards the robot, Vasco powered up to look at the child with its lens.

“It is not wise for a human as young as yourself, Cora Coe, to be leaving home at this hour or without a parent.” The robot logically retorted, but Cora was quick enough to know how to use logic to get Vasco on the side of her mission.

“It’s also not wise to let a kid go out of their own, and I’m going, so...really, you should be accompanying me. My parents are pretty occupied at the moment.” Cora muttered the last part, briefly glancing back at her room and at the object she hid her note under.

“Yes, indeed they are. Well...it seems your logic makes the most sense. I will follow you, Captain, until our mission is done.” Core smiled widely. “Captain...” she whispered in glee before heading out of The Lodge, into The Well, to only find her way to The Frontier and up to see Mallory.

[socialdegenerate]

Fanfic: If We Fall, We Fall Together

I started this fic back in late June, wrote 7k words in like 3 days, lost interest, came back to it and wrote the remaining 4k this afternoon — but I don’t remember that game at all beyond 1) the 3 Hopes characters are the 3 Houses characters if they went to therapy, and 2) the Sylvian/Yuri support chain was gay as hell

But I’m a Sylvix fella at heart so I can only use Sylvain/Yuri as a vehicle to get Sylvix together, of course

Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes Sylvix | Sylvain Jose Gautier x Felix Hugo Fraldarius ; Sylvain Jose Gautier x Yuri Leclerc NSFW (but pretty mild for me, mostly just some hand and mouth stuff)  11,247 words

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“C’mon, Felix, you need to take a break at some point. You’re almost working yourself harder than Dimitri at this point, and I won’t be picking you up off the floor if you pass out.”

Trying for his best ‘kind of concerned, but not enough to piss Felix off’ face, Sylvain hoped it would be enough for Felix to actually do what he asked for once. His best friend had never been good at taking as much rest as Sylvain would have liked, despite the fact that Felix bitched regularly about Dimitri doing the exact same thing, and becoming the Duke had only made things that much worse.

“I told you, I haven’t even trained yet—”

“You’re just about the most highly trained person in this whole damn camp, you’re not gonna forget how to swing a sword if you take one night off to grab dinner at a reasonable hour and then sit down with me for a bit.”

It was the second part of that that Sylvan was really pushing for. Having forced himself to take a step back from his younger years of sex and scandal in constant rotation, he’d managed to find the time and the space to really think about what he wanted — and what he wanted was Felix.

Bitchy, recalcitrant, impossible to deal with Felix; but also loyal, quietly devoted, and unfairly fucking beautiful Felix. For all his whinging and barbed jabs, he’d never given up on Sylvain even when everyone else was well on their way, and in quiet moments together he could even be damn near affectionate sometimes. 

Hell, he’d even gotten into a physical fight because someone had dared to say something less than complimentary about the skirt-chasing heir to House Gautier.

Really, what else could Sylvain have done except fall in love with him?

Not love in the way he’d used to sweet talk about to convince a pretty merchant’s daughter to let him under her dress, but in the horrible, nausea-inducing, oh-so-addicting way he’d finally come to learn was actually real. And one of these days he might even manage to find the chance to subtly hint about it to Felix; if, of course, he could pull the man away from his to-do list for five fucking minutes so that they could spend some private time together.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Felix snapped, souring Sylvain’s little love-struck mood a little, “but some of us have actual responsibilities now.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Sylvain said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I know, and everyone respects the hell out of what you’re doing — and what you have done for the last couple years. But no one’s gonna judge you for taking one evening off to hang out with your best friend.”

“It’s not about judging, it’s about the fact that we’re in a fucking war, Sylvain!”

Ah.

Truthfully, Sylvain was usually better at picking up on when Felix was stressed and knowing not to push him too much. But then again, when wasn’t Felix stressed these days, with the Empire breathing down their necks and thousands upon thousands of innocent citizens caught in the crossfire. Obviously he’d picked the wrong day to bother Felix, and he knew enough about military strategy to know when to make a tactical retreat.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the war; it was just that he coped by spending quality time with the people he loved, while Felix coped by isolating himself. Felix wasn’t wrong about that, necessarily, but Sylvain just wanted to make sure that he knew that Sylvain was always there for him.

“Felix, I—”

“I’m not done,” Felix interrupted sharply, and Sylvain really did not like that look in his eyes. “We’re not kids anymore. Some of us actually grew up and realised there are more important things going on than lazing about and pretending like everything is okay.”

It was nowhere near the worst thing anyone had ever said about him and yet, it hurt like it was. Of all the people who should have noticed that Sylvain really had cleaned his act up, had worked hard to become the kind of man he always should have been, Sylvain had thought that Felix had really seen him grow since they’d met again at the Academy.

Apparently not, though.

“You’re right,” Sylvain said before Felix could keep cutting him to the core with words as precise as his swordplay. “Sorry.”

Turning on his heel, Sylvain walked away from Felix’s makeshift office and towards the quieter areas near the stables. Of course, nothing was ever truly quiet around camp, but the last thing he wanted to do was have to put on a smile for everyone else while he wondered why he could never quite get on the same level as Felix.

In fairness, that was probably his divine punishment for the hearts he’d broken in his youth…not that he believed in things like that.

But if it was true, he definitely deserved it.

Fully intending to pet his horse and definitely not sulk until he felt a little better, Sylvain grabbed some of the grooming equipment from the stable’s storage area and headed over to where his true favourite lady was enjoying some well-deserved rest time. 

“You know what, I just don’t get him,” Sylvain murmured as he set to making his horse shine as beautifully as she deserved. “He whines about Dimitri not taking enough breaks, and then gets all rude at me when I try to stop him from working himself to collapse.”

His conversation partner didn’t seem to have much to say to that, but Sylvain didn’t mind. “And one minute he’s literally fighting people over my honour — yeah, yeah, not that I have any of that — while the next he’s treating me like I’m still the same jackass I used to be.”

Sylvain patted his horse’s flank and sighed, not quite knowing what he was hoping to achieve by talking to his horse. 

“Careful,” a voice said from deeper in the stables, Sylvain jolting in shock at the unexpected interruption. “Your mask is slipping.”

“Didn’t realise you’d taken up lurking in the stables,” Sylvain said as he turned to face Yuri, who was carefully picking his way through the muck in his heeled boots. 

“There can be good info to be overheard here, people seem to like talking to animals when they think no one’s around.” Playing with the ends of his hair in clearly feigned innocence, Yuri side-eyed Sylvain’s horse slightly and came to a stop just outside of biting range. 

Sylvain scoffed, not even bothering to try to play it off. Yuri had always been able to see right through him; perhaps even better than Felix did. But he saw through Yuri in return, and it was strangely easy to talk to someone like that. “And here I thought you hated getting dirty.”

“Oh, please,” Yuri said with a wink. “You know me better than that.”

Despite himself, Sylvain had to laugh. After their slightly awkward first meeting, Sylvain hadn’t quite known what to make of Yuri. He certainly hadn’t trusted him, which was something that had definitely gone both ways. With time and battles fought side by side, though, they’d built up a grudging respect and something that was almost like friendship.

And then, well, Yuri was hot and discreet and liked using sex as a tool to play with people’s favour; and while Sylvain had given up his terribly philandering ways, he certainly wasn’t celibate. It worked out well for them, even if Sylvain sometimes felt like he was catering to Yuri’s whims far more than the reverse

“Did you hear anything good this time?” Sylvain asked. 

Yuri shrugged, idly inspecting his nails with calculated casualness. “I could tell you — for a price.”

“And here I am, having spent my entire fortune on booze and women.” It was a stupid joke, if not one that felt particularly jagged considering the way Felix had treated him earlier. But if even his best friend still thought that he hadn’t made any progress then he might as well just run with it.

“What a shame,” Yuri murmured, patting Sylvain’s chest, and the way his hand lingered a little made it unavoidably obvious as to why exactly he’d emerged from the darkness to bother Sylvain. “So then, what are you doing tonight?”

Sylvain really had grown up a lot from his days of drowning in sex to avoid taking a good, hard look at his actual problems. He had! He’d genuinely made an effort to start dealing with things properly, and as annoying as it was, it really had made things better to start facing them head-on.

But he was still only human, and Felix’s harsh words had cut at his ego like only Felix could. And at least Yuri knew the score with Sylvain, and knew that things would only ever be casual between them. Sylvain even suspected that if he ever managed to give up his infatuation with Felix for long enough to develop so much as a single feeling for Yuri, the man would disappear into the night for the last time.

Thankfully, then, it didn’t seem like his feelings for Felix were going anywhere anytime soon, even when Felix was being really fucking rude.

And if Felix thought he hadn’t changed, then maybe he should prove Felix right.

Tilting his chin up with calculated flirtation, the kind he’d put to bed years ago and now felt surprisingly rusty, Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “You, I hope.”

“You’re hotter when you’re sad,” Yuri said, screwing up his nose. “But if I feel like it, I’ll meet you in your tent after dinner.”

Turning away, Yuri glanced back over his shoulder when he reached the entrance of the stables. “And make sure you bathe, I’ll leave if you still smell like horses.”

Shaking his head, Sylvain turned back to his horse and began to gather the grooming equipment he’d barely gotten to use. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you heard the orders. I’ll bring you extra treats tomorrow, okay?”

Sylvain was reasonably sure that his horse wasn’t aware enough of the conversation to be actively judging him, but it sure didn’t feel that way when she shook her head and snorted. 

“Can’t win today,” Sylvain sighed, petting her nose in apology. “Copping it from all angles.”

Taking a deep breath, Sylvain shook himself out and donned his emotional armour before stepping back into the world outside of the stables. Even though it was a shame that Felix certainly wouldn’t be joining him, he could pull himself together for dinner and a bath.

At least he had something to look forward to afterwards, for once.

—----------------------------------------------

The thing about Yuri, Sylvain had quickly learned, was that he very much worked to his own schedule. 

‘After dinner’ could mean anything within the span of about six hours, which was how Sylvain found himself beginning to drift off as he laid back on the cot in his tent while waiting to see whether Yuri would even show up at all.

At least it was beginning to get warm enough for him to be able to laze around without a shirt on, clad only in the loose trousers he favoured after bathing.

Being alone with his thoughts no longer terrified him as much as it used to, especially once he’d stopped fighting the way his idle mind tended to inevitably turn towards Felix. As fun as Yuri was, there was no question that Sylvain would have much preferred to have been waiting for Felix to retire to his — their, perhaps, if he felt particularly self-indulgent — tent for the evening.

Felix’s sharp edges tended to soften when he was tired, and he was almost painfully adorable when his hair was beginning to escape from the high ponytail he’d begun to favour after haircuts had fallen extremely low on the priority list during the war. 

Biting his lip, Sylvain let one of his hands fall flat against his bare stomach, fingers brushing against his waistband. If Felix were to come back to their tent, ready to crawl into bed with Sylvain, would he let Sylvain touch him a little to work through some of his pent-up stress? Would he let Sylvain worship him the way he deserved?

“Getting started without me?” 

“Fel—uck,” Sylvain recovered clumsily, ignoring Yuri’s too-knowing gaze. By now he really should have been more used to Yuri’s habit of sneaking up on him, but the man had an uncanny knack for knowing when people were at their most vulnerable. “You know, the only thing I really miss about the Academy dorms was having an actual door that closed.”

“Closed doors have never stopped me,” Yuri said casually as he let down his hair and  took off his shirt, leaving it neatly folded on Sylvain’s tidy little table. That…really wasn’t altogether surprising, Sylvain supposed, and once again he was glad that he and Yuri had settled into a relatively peaceful existence instead of the constant wariness and backstabbing they’d been heading towards at first.

Even if he didn’t entirely trust Yuri, it was much easier to have him sort of on Sylvain’s side rather than not.

Not to mention that the fringe benefits weren’t too bad either.

The beds at their camp weren’t particularly large, practicality being a far more urgent concern than luxury when on the battleground. Still, Yuri moved with utmost grace as he straddled Sylvain on the bed, neither of them interested in having a chat before they got into it.

“You were getting started without me,” Yuri said with a smirk as he rolled his hips, rubbing his cock against Sylvain’s much harder one through their trousers. 

Opening his mouth to say something that wasn’t admitting that he’d been fantasising about another guy while waiting for Yuri, Sylvain didn’t get far before Yuri’s tongue was in his mouth. As someone who’d tended to take the lead with the people he’d bedded, it gave him a thrill to give up a little control to someone else; especially someone who was shorter and slighter than him and, well, built a lot like Felix.

Sylvain had to admit that his fantasies about Felix had become a lot more realistic since he’d started sleeping with Yuri, even if he doubted that Felix would ever be as upfront about what he wanted as Yuri was.

Sylvain had known Felix his whole life and he still didn’t know what the guy wanted half the time.

”Focus,” Yuri murmured right into Sylvain’s mouth, biting his bottom lip with slightly more force than most people would have been game to. The sharp sting had Sylvain’s hips pushing upwards and he groaned when one of Yuri’s hands slid between their bodies, groping at Sylvain’s dick.

Still, Sylvain wasn’t about to let Yuri do all the work — he still did have somewhat of a reputation to uphold, of course — and so he grabbed Yuri’s hips and coaxed him into moving, letting him rub himself up against the back of his own hand. 

“Are you going to hurry up and fuck me?” Yuri asked bluntly, sitting up and tossing his long hair back. “Some of us like our beauty sleep.”

“And some of us like foreplay,” Sylvain grinned. Yuri scoffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem particularly bothered as he broke away from Sylvain’s grip and made his way further down the bed, kissing along Sylvain’s bare torso as he went. 

If Yuri was good with his tongue when he kissed, that had absolutely nothing on how good he was with a cock in his mouth. Sylvain buried a hand in Yuri’s hair and groaned, barely managing to stop himself from thrusting further into Yuri’s throat —

And then the flap of his tent opened.

“Sylvain, apparently I might have been a little rude earlier, so…” Felix’s voice trailed off as he stared wide-eyed at the pair on the bed. All at once, Sylvain jolted in shock and broke Yuri’s rhythm, leaving Yuri coughing as he pulled away from Sylvain’s dick.

“Felix, I—” Sylvain started, completely forgetting that his whole cock was out now that Yuri had sat back, but Felix had already disappeared just as suddenly as he’d arrived.

“Awkward,” Yuri said, already swinging his leg back over Sylvain’s hips. “Tell your boy to knock next time.”

“On a tent?” Sylvain asked dumbly, before he caught up to himself and grabbed Yuri’s hips to lift him back off. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Yuri lifted an eyebrow, staring at Sylvain in that calculating way that always made him feel too exposed. “You’ve never complained before.”

“Yeah, well,” Sylvain said, pointedly looking down his body to where his cock had apparently decided that it no longer wanted to play. 

“Hm.” Rather than seeming offended, Yuri was still looking at him like a puzzle to be solved — and not a particularly difficult one. Rather than sit there with his pants down and wait for Yuri to pull his ego apart, Sylvain shuffled his trousers back up and then flopped back on his bed, slapping a hand over his eyes with a frustrated groan.

“I think I get it now,” Yuri said, and he sounded so smug that Sylvain had to move his hand to eye him suspiciously. “Would you get hard again if I did my hair more like this?”

Gathering his hair in his hand, Yuri pulled it up and held it in a messy imitation of Felix’s high ponytail, and Sylvain felt sick.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, feeling simultaneously still somewhat emotional brusied from earlier, embarrassed at having been caught with his pants down by the man he loved, and guilty that he’d once again tried to use sex to smother his problems. 

His smug look fading into something more neutral, Yuri let go of his hair and nodded. “I suppose at this point, I won’t begrudge you one secret.”

Standing up and grabbing his shirt, Yuri dressed himself again and then crossed his arms, looking down at Sylvain. “But sort your shit out before you invite me back here again.”

“Noted,” Sylvain said. He didn’t watch as Yuri left, not wanting to prolong the awkward failure of a moment any longer, and then he shoved a knuckle in his mouth to bite down on the frustrated yell he really, really wanted to let out.

He kind of wanted to sink into the ground and never have to leave his tent again, but he didn’t like it when Felix was mad at him. Even when it was justified, which honestly Sylvain didn’t think it really was this time. With Yuri there were no chances of broken hearts, of bastard children, or of loud blow-up arguments that arose if his eyes strayed to someone else.

If anything, Felix should have been applauding him for his responsibility and maturity in finding appropriate ways to soothe his libido.

Snorting at himself, Sylvain flopped back against his bed and ignored the way it shook underneath him. Sure, in an idea world he’d have nothing to apologise for: he’d been in a private space, engaging in entirely consensual activities with someone he hadn’t misled at all as to their future together, and it was Felix’s fault that he’d barged straight in without at least announcing himself first.

But Felix was Felix, and considering that they’d just had an argument about Sylvain not taking the war as seriously as he should have been, Sylvain figured he could at least extend an olive branch.

“The things I do for you,” Sylvain muttered to himself as he shrugged on a shirt and stepped back out into the camp. “Now, if I were a pissed-off Felix, where would I be…”

There were still a few soldiers scattered around the training grounds, but surprisingly enough Felix wasn’t one of them. He also wasn’t in the empty dining hall, the tent that doubled as his office, the tent he slept in or the armoury. 

By the time Sylvain had found the war room, the market and even the fucking chapel devoid of Felix, he was beginning to worry. It had gotten late — surely Felix hadn’t left the camp on his own?

Fully prepared to do another full walk around the camp, Sylvain squinted into the darkness and started when he recognised a familiar figure in front of him

“Ingrid!” He said as he walked over to her, almost as glad to see her as he would have been to see Felix. She’d frequently taken part in the hunts they had to hold when Felix got worked up and disappeared, and Sylvain hoped she’d be able to help him out once again. “Have you seen Felix? I can’t find him anywhere and I need to talk to him.”

“Nope, not tonight,” Ingrid said, and Sylvain would have believed her if he hadn’t known her for as long as he’d known Felix. Her voice got a little higher when she was hiding something, although it was hard to pick if you didn’t know what to look out for.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain said, turning on the charm just a little. “Please let me know where he is, I’d rather sort this out now than let it hang over us for too long.”

“You really have grown up,” Ingrid said with a surprisingly proud look on her face. “But I promised him I wouldn’t say…”

She looked close to breaking, but Sylvain could only sigh. “Okay, okay, I won’t push it as long as he’s safe. If I make you spill he’ll only get mad at both of us, and you don’t deserve that.”

Clearly relieved, Ingrid nodded her head. “You know what he’s like. Give him the night to cool down, it’s not as if he can ever stay mad at you for long.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He forgives you quicker than you think, it just takes him a while to forgive himself and stop being embarrassed over how he acts sometimes. And I’m only telling you this because I’m mad about him putting me in the middle of your little squabbles again, so please try to work it out as soon as you can.”

“Noted,” Sylvain said. “I’ll try to catch him during his morning training, then.”

Ingrid laughed, and the joyful sound made Sylvain feel just a little better about his absolute shitshow of a night. “You’re either a brave man or an idiot, confronting Felix Fraldarius when he has a sword in hand.”

“I like a little danger,” Sylvain shrugged. “Just — if you see him again, tell him I want to talk to him, yeah?”

“I will, and good luck,” Ingrid said. “Go get some sleep.”

“Of course I will,” Sylvain said, wishing her a good night as she turned and walked off into the darkness.

‘Some’ sleep turned out to be very little, as Sylvain spent the entire night alternating between lightly dozing and staring at the roof of his tent. Being in love with Felix was bad for his health, he decided, considering that he couldn’t get his brain to stop fretting about just how bad things would be between them this time. Even if he hadn’t actually done anything wrong (this time), it was obvious that Felix was hurt and unhappy, and there was no way that Sylvain could brush that aside as not being his problem.

So he’d catch Felix early, sort their latest round of nonsense out, and still have time to grab a little nap before the day began in earnest. It was the perfect plan.

…Except, of course, the Goddess (and/or the Empire) had other plans for them.

Sylvain was jolted out of a light doze when a messenger called for him outside his tent, announcing that the generals were expected in the war room while the troops mobilised. The timing couldn’t have been worse, considering that he’d barely slept and was still stuck on needing to sort things out with Felix before it could fester any longer, but the war didn’t care about any of that.

At least he was well-practised at getting himself presentable and into position with minimal brainpower, and time blurred slightly until he found himself sitting around the long table with the other generals.

Dimitri was explaining what they were rushing off to do, but all Sylvain managed to take in was that they were expected to go to some place and fend off an approaching battalion of Empire soldiers that a scout had spotted bearing down on a nearby city. The finer details didn’t matter, not when Felix was sitting at the other end of the table looking like death warmed up.

He seemed like he’d slept even less than Sylvain had, and he was very obviously avoiding looking in Sylvain’s direction. If it was anyone else, Sylvain would have considered quietly approaching them and asking if it was a good idea for them to be going into battle, but Felix would murder him for even suggesting that and then probably get himself hurt trying to prove that he was fine.

Shaking his head, Sylvain resolved to keep an eye on Felix as much as he could during the upcoming battle. If Felix ended up in danger due to a lack of sleep dulling his reflexes, Sylvain would never be able to live with the guilt

That was easier said than done, of course. Felix had his own troops to organise before the march and then when they reached the battle, as a mounted unit Sylvain was directed to take care of the further reaches of the city while Felix handled the closer areas on foot. As much as he wanted to leave his duty behind and go chasing after Felix, he wasn’t that stupid and irresponsible. People’s lives were in his hands, and he was going to take that seriously.

Still, it was a relief when they’d managed to push back the enemy from the north of the city, leaving their own people to guard particularly sensitive areas and allowing Sylvain to make his way back towards the centre of the city.

He was almost beginning to feel confident in their complete victory when he heard the sound of an explosion, looking up just in time to see a second huge projectile falling towards the city. Forgetting about looking for Felix, he urged his horse towards the sound of screaming, determined to get everyone out before more projectiles could rain down on them.

He could see Ingrid circling overhead, and when she spotted him racing towards the impact zone she swooped down and flew alongside him for a moment.

“Dimitri and I are going to find the source of the projectiles so we can stop them,” she yelled, no time for pleasantries on the battlefield. “Dedue and Felix could use backup straight ahead.”

“Got it,” Sylvain said, already urging his horse to go faster. While he couldn’t take a direct hit, Dedue at least wore heavy armour that could help keep him safe from debris that would be flying around from each impact; Felix tended to dress in lighter armour that was good against swords but less good against huge explosions.

If he was working at anything less than his best, he was in serious danger.

Adrenaline keeping him moving forward, Sylvain swept his lance through groups of enemies, his beloved horse knowing exactly where to take him and trampling on the stragglers as he went. How this many enemies had managed to sneak up on the city without advance warning, he didn’t know; and in the moment, he definitely didn’t care. What mattered was keeping the city safe, and making sure that Felix walked away from the battle on two legs. 

Rounding the rubble of a destroyed building, Sylvain could see Felix’s soldiers fighting further down the long street, but there were a lot of enemy troops between them. Throwing himself into the battle, Sylvain’s attention was split between the fight he was in and the fight happening in front of him. He just needed to know that Felix was still standing, and then he could put all his focus on cleaning up the troops that were stubbornly hanging on.

And then, like a gift from the goddess herself, some of Felix’s soldiers pushed the enemy back with a wave of reason magic and Sylvain had a direct view of Felix locking swords with an enemy assassin.

He looked like he was going to come out on top — and Sylvain would have expected nothing less from his best friend — but the amount of enemies still swarming around them made Sylvain nervous.

If he could just get a little closer—

“SYLVAIN!” Dedue shouted from somewhere off to the side, and Sylvain ripped his eyes off Felix just in time for his horse to wrench them both to the side as a huge boulder fell from the sky and landed right where he’d just been. But the boulders alone weren’t the only danger, and Sylvain yelled as a huge piece of debris from the explosion hit his body with unfathomable force, his brain unable to keep up with the pain and what was happening as he was thrown from his horse and headfirst towards the ground.

—----------------------------------

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Sylvain heard someone demand, the words coming through fuzzy and a bit too loud. He considered opening up his eyes to see what was going on, but his head was pounding and he felt a little like he’d fallen off a cliff.

“Mmph,” he said, aiming for ‘perhaps a little quieter, please’ and not quite getting there.

“Shh,” someone else said instead. “A head injury like that takes a little longer to recover from than a stab wound, even with this much healing magic. Besides, you should be resting as well, you’re injured too.”

“I’m fine,” Felix insisted — because even with his eyes closed and his brain refusing to cooperate, Sylvain could recognise that stubborn tone anywhere. “When is he going to wake up?”

“M’up,” Sylvain managed this time, and he forced his eyes to open. He wished he could say that he didn’t recognise the roof of the medical tent from the camp on sight, even with a serious headache and blurry vision, but it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up here.

What was less obvious was how he’d gotten here. He distinctly remembered going into battle, but everything after that was blank.

“Please don’t try to get up,” Mercedes said, leaning over Sylvain and smiling down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Ow,” Sylvain said, his body revolting against him when he tried looking around to see where Felix was. “Felix?”

“You idiot,” Felix said. He looked exhausted and dishevelled, and Sylvain might have appreciated his shirtlessness more if it wasn’t for the bandage wrapped around his chest. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“He’s not the only one,” Mercedes said lightly, Felix looking away with a scowl. “Do you remember what happened, Sylvain?”

“There was a…battle,” Sylvain said, wincing when the words felt like they were tearing up his throat.

“Ah, one moment,” Mercedes interrupted, leaning away and then coming back with a vulnerary in hand. “Drink this.”

She held the bottle to his lips and he gratefully swallowed, everything feeling a little bit easier as the healing potion flooded through his system. “Better?”

“Better,” Sylvain agreed. “I remember going into battle, but…”

“You got hit by a fucking flying rock,” Felix snapped. “Like an absolute idiot.”

“And Felix here was stabbed when he turned his back on the enemy to run towards you,” Mercedes said, her voice as sweet as honey and her judgement as deadly as, well, a fucking flying rock. Felix scowled but looked appropriately chastised, Sylvain now able to turn his head enough to watch as he crossed his arms and sank down.

“Not my fault he clearly can’t look after himself.”

Sylvain barely managed a laugh that quickly turned into a pained gasp, the vulnerary only able to do so much for what seemed like it must have been a pretty nasty hit. 

“You need more rest,” Mercedes said, and all Sylvain could do was agree. “Do you want some help falling asleep again?”

“Goddess, please,” Sylvain sighed, well-acquainted with the soothing magic that Mercedes could wield to help her patients settle down. “Thanks.”

Her fingertips lightly touching his temples, Mercedes hummed lightly under her breath as soothing waves of magic sent Sylvain back towards sleep.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like there was something he’d missed, considering that he didn’t remember anything since riding into battle on his—

“Horse?” Sylvain forced out, anxiety sluggishly spiking through his body. If he’d been hurt this badly, surely she—

“In the stables and recovering nicely,” Mercedes said, a gentle smile on her face as she continued to send that numbing magic through Sylvain’s body. “She saved your life.”

“That’s m’girl,” Sylvain slurred as sleep took over once again.

—----------------------------------

The next time Sylvain woke up, he felt damn near totally human again. Mercedes’ magic really did work like, well, magic. He even felt well-rested, although it was a bit disappointing to sit up and realise that he was alone this time. There were a bunch of purple flowers in a vase beside his bed, though, and Sylvain reached for the wax-sealed note sitting up against them.

Glad you’re not dead, it’d be a waste of good dick.

Well they probably weren’t from Felix then, Sylvain decided as he re-folded the note and tossed it aside. There was a semi-decent chance they’d be toxic, though, and so he settled for admiring Yuri’s gift from a distance as he hauled himself out of bed.

This time Manuela was pottering about in the tent, and she smiled at him as he left the patient rest area. “Ah, Sylvain, glad you’ve rejoined the rest of us in the world of the living.”

“How could I possibly die and leave my favourite beautiful doctor alone?” Sylvain flirted, knowing that Manuela wouldn’t take him seriously.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Manuela laughed. “As long as the dizziness is gone, you’re free to leave, but absolutely no physical exertion for at least another day. And yes, that includes sex.”

“You know me too well.” Or, at least, she knew his reputation too well; he hadn’t actually been planning to walk straight out of the infirmary and into someone’s bed.

“And if you see Felix, make sure he’s following my orders to spend the day resting. He might not have taken as bad a hit as you did, but he nearly fainted from exhaustion when we got back to camp yesterday.” From the look on Manuela’s face, she clearly assumed that Felix was ignoring her orders entirely, and Sylvain figured that was probably correct.

“Got it, I’ll try to pry him away from his training.”

“Thanks,” Manuela sighed, sounding defeated. “At least he let us heal him eventually: he kept insisting that no one should waste their magic on him until you were healed, even as he was actively bleeding out.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Sylvain said as his heart filled with a weird mix of exasperation and affection, and Manuela laughed.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

—-------------------------------------------

Felix was, surprisingly, nowhere to be found at the training grounds. 

He was, however, sitting up at his desk when Sylvain stuck his head through the tent flaps, frowning at whatever he was working on.

“I heard you were told to rest.”

“I’m busy,” Felix said, not looking up. “The world didn’t stop just because you were asleep for the best part of two days.”

“Whatever you’re doing, it can wait. You got hurt too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Felix.” The serious tone in Sylvain’s voice made Felix pause and look up, treating Sylvain to a clear view of the dark circles under his eyes. “You need to rest.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Felix snapped. “You nearly died, and if I don’t have anything to focus on all I can think about is the way you sounded as you went flying off your horse.”

Inhaling sharply, Sylvain walked around the desk and squatted down beside Felix’s chair. Felix leaned away from him, just slightly, and so as much as Sylvain wanted to reach out and touch him, he didn’t push it.

“Hey, I’m fine. See? It takes more than a little rock to kill me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” Sylvain said. “Felix, please. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Felix didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t go back to what he’d been doing. Sylvain figured that was a win.

“What do you suggest I do, then? Mercedes already told the training master not to let me anywhere near a sword.”

Sylvain barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes — of course Felix had already tried that. Still, he hadn’t quite thought this far ahead and now he was scrambling for something else that Felix would let them do.

“Oh, I know! We can go on a little expedition, somewhere away from the camp for a bit?”

Felix didn’t look convinced, so Sylvain turned up the charm a bit. “I’ll beg some food from the kitchen, and it’s a beautiful day outside. And if you hang out with me for a while, I won’t complain if you want to do some more work afterwards.”

“Well…”

“And we need to talk. About…y’know.”

Felix sighed, looking like the entire world was against him, but Sylvain knew he’d already won.

“You’ll let me work in peace after?”

“I’ll let you work in peace after. Within reason.”

“Fine. Meet me at the gates in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Felix,” Sylvain grinned as he hauled himself back to standing. “I promise you’ll have a great time.”

“Hm.”

—------------------------------------

The ride to the field passed in companionable silence, Sylvain mostly managing not to think too hard about the fact that he had to ride a borrowed horse because he’d gotten his own hurt. She’d seemed glad to see him, though, happily snorting at him and accepting the loving attention he’d lavished upon her, and he had no doubt that she’d be back in action shortly.

He pulled to a stop when they rode up to a private little space, nicely sunny but enclosed by enough trees that they wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone travelling past. He’d possibly scoped this out as a potential date spot, but there was no need to tell Felix about that.

Especially not when Felix finally looked like some of the tension had drained out of his shoulders, to the point that he actually thanked Sylvain when he’d offered Felix first chance at the basket of food he’d managed to charm the kitchen staff into handing over. Even Sylvain wasn’t stupid enough to ruin such an unguarded moment from the duke of poor social graces.

“So,” Sylvain said once Felix had finished a few small pieces of meat. “First up, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Felix asked, looking genuinely confused.

“For screwing up the battle? And, uh, that whole thing with Yuri too.”

“Unless you got hit on purpose, which I doubt even you’re stupid enough to do, you don’t need to apologise for that.”

“But then you got hurt—”

“Sylvain, as much as you’re determined to think otherwise, not everything is your fault.” Felix sounded too close to clamming up again, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, and so Sylvain didn’t push any further.

“In any case, I’m glad you’re okay. I would’ve been so annoyed if you’d died while you were still mad at me.”

“Why do you assume I’m always mad at you?”

“I don’t?” Sylvain said, confused. “But you were definitely mad at me because of the whole argument we had, and then the Yuri thing.”

“I was coming to apologise,” Felix pointed out. “Even I know when I’m wrong, despite what you think.”

“And then you were so mad at me that even Ingrid didn’t want to risk telling me where you’d disappeared to.”

“No, I needed space to think,” Felix said like it was blindingly obvious and Sylvain was an idiot.

“...Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“I had some things to figure out. That’s all.”

Sylvain blinked, not quite sure what to think about that. “And did you figure it out?”

“Not really.”

“...Well, if you want to ask me anything, I’m an open book right now.”

It was actually the truth. Away from the camp, from the military, from their responsibilities and any prying eyes, Sylvain was actually willing to be entirely upfront with Felix. It was the least he could do, after all the problems Sylvain had caused within the space of a couple of days.

There was a long silence and then Felix muttered something quietly, but even with how close they were sitting Sylvain couldn’t make it out. And, of course, Felix tended to hate repeating himself.

But Sylvain’s curiosity would always get the best of him.

“What was that?”

Felix glanced at Sylvain and then away, and Sylvain blamed the cool air for turning his nose and cheeks pink. “I said, why him?”

“Who?” Sylvain asked, genuinely not sure who Felix was referring to. 

Rubbing his nose, eyes still averted, Felix spat out the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Yuri.”

Opening his mouth, Sylvain caught himself before he could make some stupid joke. That would more than certainly go poorly, and he was a changed man. Opening himself to genuine scrutiny was more agonising than almost being literally cut in half, but this was Felix.

Felix, who had seen the best and the worst of him; Felix who, above all else, had earned the right to a bit of truth from Sylvain.

“He’s hot, he knows how to make something casual work, and I,” Sylvain hesitated slightly, suddenly feeling a little bashful, “I like the way he takes the lead, I guess. Not something I was used to, y’know?”

Felix frowned, clearly thinking. “I should’ve known you’d only be interested in fucking around.”

“Well, with him, yeah,” Sylvain admitted. “Neither of us were interested in anything serious with each other.”

“Are you ever?” Felix said, the jab clearly pointed. It hurt a bit, for sure, but Sylvain wasn’t going to get goaded into an argument and have Felix storm off in a huff.

“For the right person? Sure.”

For you? Anything, he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Nothing would have made Felix run away faster than going straight to that.

“I find that hard to believe,” Felix said. 

“I’m not as terrible as you seem to think I am.”

Picking idly at the grass they were sitting on, Felix clearly wasn’t about to face Sylvain directly. Still, he hadn’t left; so Sylvain would take what he could get. “I don’t think you’re terrible.”

“Oh, sure,” Sylvain snorted. “Just frivolous, idiotic, foolish and, apparently, incapable of feeling love.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Sylvain asked, his frustration beginning to boil over despite his best efforts. “Because I sure can’t interpret that any other way.”

“I meant,” Felix started, and that was clearly all he had. But Sylvain wasn’t going to let him wriggle out of this one, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. “...I don’t know what I meant.”

“Then why did you say it?”

Felix shrugged, and there was going to be a bare patch in the grass from the amount he was pulling out in frustration. 

“I do have feelings, Felix, and they can be hurt.”

“I know,” Felix said quietly, glancing at Sylvain and then away again. “...Sorry.”

It didn’t totally soothe his bruised feelings, but getting an actual apology from Felix helped dissolve more of Sylvain’s irritation than he would have expected. Especially as this apology wasn’t being thrown at him while he was under another man.

“I appreciate that,” Sylvain said. “It means a lot to me — you mean a lot to me — and I hate it when we fight.”

“I really did think you were dead,” Felix said suddenly, picking some grass out of the ground beneath them. “You were so still and the enemy was bearing down on you and I didn’t even realise I’d been stabbed until after I knew you were still alive and everyone around you was dead.”

Sylvain’s chest hurt, knowing just how badly he would react if their positions had been switched. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the head injury, or the fact that Felix was actually opening up to him for once, or even the near-death experience, but Sylvain’s unspoken feelings were crawling up his throat and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep them down.

…So he didn’t even bother trying.

“Felix?”

“Mm?” Felix hummed, something in Sylvain’s tone making him actually look up to meet Sylvain’s eyes.

Fuck subtle hints.

“I love you.”

“Wh-” Felix spluttered, his eyes wide and his face rapidly going red. “Sylvain.”

“Feels good to finally say that,” Sylvain said, pressing a hand over his rapidly beating heart and shooting Felix a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to feel the same way or anything, I know I’m not the kind of person who deserves—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Felix snapped, still as red as Sylvain had ever seen him. “You might do stupid shit sometimes but you’re worth more than you think.”

“...Thanks, Fe,” Sylvain managed to say eventually. “I just meant that I’m fine with staying friends.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You barely tolerate me most days, so I figured that’s what you’d want.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Felix frowned. “You just frustrate me sometimes. And think with your dick too much.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sylvain wouldn’t lie, that hurt a little.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Felix said, and he actually stretched his leg out a bit to knock it against Sylvain’s knee. “I’m not good at…talking.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Sylvain,” Felix said, and as Sylvain watched he took a deep breath and visibly steadied himself. “When you went flying, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live without you. Couldn’t live without you.”

The words were halting, sounding like it was taking all of Felix’s considerable strength to get them out, and Sylvain felt like he was going to melt on the spot.

He might have been an idiot and a fool and whatever else Felix liked to call him, but he thought he was pretty decent at reading between the lines.

“I wouldn’t want to live without you either,” Sylvain admitted, and the smile Felix gave him was small but so precious. “But I won’t push you into anything, so—”

“Sylvain, shut up and let me think.”

“Anything for you,” Sylvain said, earning himself a familiar eye roll. Still, he sat back and watched Felix clearly struggle through whatever he wanted to say, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally shook himself out and started again.

“So obviously you’re not opposed to,” Felix paused, looking embarrassed, “sex. With men, I mean.”

“Yuri is very pretty but he’s definitely a man,” Sylvain agreed, still looking at where Felix’s leg was touching his own.

“And you liked that he took the lead?”

“Hm?” Sylvain asked, not quite keeping up with where Felix was going. “Yeah, I guess.”

Slowly nodding his head, Felix seemed to be considering something. And then, with reflexes honed from thousands of hours of training and battles, Felix lunged towards Sylvain.

His hands grabbed Sylvain’s shoulders a little too tightly and his lips hit Sylvain’s own a little too hard and with an awkwardness that screamed inexperience. But the feeling still made Sylvain’s mind go blank and as the momentum made him topple over backwards, he was forced to choose between catching himself and wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist.

The last of Sylvain’s breath was knocked away when his back hit the ground, but he barely noticed it when he realised that one of Felix’s hands was cradling the back of his head to prevent it from getting hurt in their fall. 

Felix, who had knocked him on his ass (and his front and his back and, yes, his head) during training more times than Sylvain wanted to remember, had softened his fall and was now using their positions to keep Sylvain trapped in a clumsy but oh-so-hungry kiss.

Not that ‘trapped’ was the right word when getting away was the last thing Sylvain would have wanted.

“Sylvain,” Felix said when he finally pulled away, sounding as winded as Sylvain felt. “I won’t do…casual. So if you can’t be serious, tell me now.”

Despite the confidence of his actions, Felix looked more than a little petrified. When Sylvain tried to meet his gaze, his eyes kept darting away and then back again; and the hand that had slipped down from Sylvain’s shoulder and onto his chest seemed to be trembling. 

Unwrapping one of his arms from around Felix’s waist, Sylvain laid his hand on top of Felix’s and held it tight over his own heart. “I’ve never wanted to be so serious about anyone in my life, Fe.”

Even the chill settling in as night finished falling couldn’t be blamed for the way Felix’s face burned bright red. He looked so cute that Sylvain had to grab the front of his shirt and haul him in for another kiss, which naturally led to another and another and another.

When they finally parted for longer than a few moments, Sylvain’s wandering hands had knocked parts of Felix’s hair loose from its tie and left his clothes so askew that Felix was going to have a task ahead of him to fix them up. While he was fiddling with that, Sylvain took the opportunity to sit back up and rest his elbow on his knee, his chin resting on his palm.

“...What?” Felix said when he noticed Sylvain watching him, not quite managing to hide that it was embarrassment rather than annoyance driving his attitude. 

“Never thought I’d see you like this,” Sylvain murmured, his eyes tracking over Felix’s messy hair and kiss-swollen lips. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Felix replied, his usual venom completely missing. Sylvain laughed, reaching over to coax one of Felix’s hands away from where it was straightening his clothes and lifting it to his own lips.

“If I’m an idiot, it’s only because my brain stops working right when I’m around you.”

Felix spluttered, his cheeks going bright red again, but he didn’t try to snatch his hand away from Sylvain. That was definitely a win, and Sylvain looked up to wink at Felix as he kissed the back of his hand once more and then let it fall away.  

He was probably laying it on a little thick, but how was he supposed to stop doing that when Felix was letting him do it?

“C’mere,” Sylvain said, still shocked that it took minimal coaxing to get Felix kneeling over his lap again. Another deep kiss, Felix already picking up how to meet Sylvain’s tongue with his own, and Sylvain wanted to touch him properly so badly; but he didn’t want to scare Felix off, and so he kept his hands on Felix’s waist this time.

And then, for the hundredth or so time that day, Felix shocked him by taking the lead and sliding his hand between their bodies with obvious intent.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sylvain said as he grabbed Felix’s wrist, regretting that he’d bullied himself into being the good guy so thoroughly that he couldn’t just let Felix grope him with a clear conscience. “I know I said I like assertiveness but you don’t have to push yourself into anything you’re not comfortable with just because you think I want it.”

“Who’s not comfortable?” Felix asked, but then his eyes widened slightly. “Unless you don’t want —”

“Oh, believe me, that’s not the problem here at all,” Sylvain rushed to reassure Felix, his grip loosening and Felix immediately taking advantage to let his fingers resume their slow crawl. “But you’ve never struck me as that kinda guy, and I never want to do anything that we’re not both fully into.”

After a long, silent moment, Felix rocked his hips against Sylvain’s thigh and Sylvain had to bite back a groan at the sudden knowledge that Felix was just as hard as he was.

“Does that feel like someone who’s not into this? Besides, you let Yuri touch it,” Felix grumbled, his fingers still slowly inching down Sylvain’s stomach. “It’s my turn.”

“This isn’t a competition, you don’t need to prove anything —”

“You’re right, there’s no competition at all,” Felix said, haughty and proud even with his fingers prying open the front of Sylvain’s trousers.

“There really isn’t,” Sylvain sighed, trying not to sound so much like a lovestruck fool. Sure, Manuela had said no sex, but surely a handjob would be okay? “So if you wanna touch me that bad, you can go right ahe — ah fuck!”

Felix clearly didn’t have technique. Well, Sylvain assumed he’d at least handled one dick before, but the angles were slightly different on someone else; there was an art to it, and Sylvain had never really believed that enthusiasm could make up for a lack of practice.

But Felix already had him questioning everything he’d thought to be true, so what was one more thing to toss onto that pile. The positions of their bodies made it hard for Felix to get a decent motion going, but Sylvain couldn’t have cared less when that was his dick in Felix’s hand. 

“Tell me what you like,” Felix said, the words barely penetrating the pleasure fog that had descended on Sylvain’s brain. 

“I like you,” Sylvain managed, grinning dumbly when Felix snorted in amusement. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby, feels good.”

It was probably fifty-fifty as to whether Felix had decided to allow the pet name or if he’d missed it entirely, but Sylvain really hoped it was the former. To call Felix a pet name and not get his head figuratively (or potentially literally) ripped off was like a dream come true, and he tipped his head forward to rest against Felix’s shoulder as he let himself indulge in pleasure.

“A little faster and I’ll come,” Sylvain said, enjoying the way Felix shuddered against him. Always a quick study with something in his hands, Felix gradually increased his pace until Sylvain groaned, recognising the clear sign that he’d found the sweet spot. 

His hips rocking up to meet Felix’s hand as best he could with a grown man in his lap, Sylvain let his eyes drift close and wrapped his arms around Felix’s waist to hold him close. 

“Almost there,” he warned when the pleasure started to become too much, and while he wanted the moment to last forever he also wanted to completely fall apart under Felix’s hands. To make sure that Felix knew just how much of a hold he’d always had over Sylvain.

“Do it,” Felix said breathlessly, and before he knew it Sylvain was groaning as he came into Felix’s hand. All he wanted to do was clutch at Felix’s narrow waist and bury his face into Felix’s neck as he shuddered, and Felix’s free hand buried itself in the back of his hair when he went ahead and did it.

“Fuck,” Sylvain muttered against Felix, his breath coming fast as Felix stroked him through the last of his orgasm. “If you’re this good already, a little practice is gonna make you deadly.”

“I’ll add it to my training routine,” Felix said, so dry that Sylvain almost entirely missed that he was joking.

Still…that was some training that Sylvain wouldn’t need much convincing to join in with.

“My turn now?” Sylvain asked, because he might have been deep into his post-orgasm high but he was still a believer in immediately giving back twice as good as he got. Add on the fact that he had Felix in his lap and Sylvain would have kept Felix there with him for the next week if he’d thought he could get away with it. 

One thing at a time, though.

Waiting for Felix to turn his focus to wiping his come-streaked hand on the grass next to them, Sylvain took advantage of his distraction to grab Felix by the hips and haul him around until he was sitting between Sylvain’s thighs with his back against Sylvain’s chest. “This okay?”

“Show me that all that practice was at least worth it.” The way that Felix melted into him had Sylvain biting his lip, suddenly finding that his usual composure was deserting him in the face of, well, Felix.

The man always had been a force of nature to Sylvain.

“You asked for it,” Sylvain replied, gently catching Felix’s earlobe between his teeth as he loosened the front of Felix’s trousers. Felix felt so hard in his hand that it must have been close to hurting, precome already making the head wet. 

Setting a slow pace, Sylvain paid attention to what made Felix shudder and his breath hitch, completely entranced by every moment. His free hand was wrapped firmly across Felix’s stomach, holding Felix as close to him as Sylvain could manage without being physically inside of him, and Sylvain genuinely didn’t know if he’d ever be able to let him go.

Hooking up was great. Sylvain had done enough of it to know that. But hooking up with someone he loved?

Sylvain had never been so eager to please and so unwilling to let it finish.

“Is that good?” Sylvain asked, his lips moving against Felix’s jaw. He didn’t get a verbal answer, which he’d more or less expected, but one of Felix’s hands was gripping Sylvain’s thigh and he was beginning to squirm despite an obvious effort not to.

“You’re beautiful.” Trailing kisses along Felix’s jaw and the exposed parts of his neck, Sylvain could only laugh when Felix very unconvincingly called him a fool, his voice breaking slightly when Sylvain rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Fe.”

“Less talking, more — that,” Felix groaned, his breath coming harder and his head lolling back onto Sylvain’s shoulder and exposing more of his neck to Sylvain’s lips. Even though Felix was being so open and pliant now, he was careful not to leave any marks: Felix would definitely kill him for that once his orgasm wore off.

Picking up his pace, Sylvain held Felix close to him as he brought him towards his climax, wanting Felix to know that he cared so much even without words. If Sylvain was feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing, he doubted that Felix would be feeling much better; but Sylvain wasn’t going to let him fall.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, not even caring if that made no sense to Felix. “You can let go.”

Lifting his free hand to tilt Felix’s chin towards him, Sylvain leaned over Felix’s shoulder enough to kiss him. Felix nearly bit him when his body suddenly jerked, teeth grazing off Sylvain’s lip, and it wasn’t surprising when Sylvain felt come splash against his hand a second later. 

Felix’s chest heaved as he slipped away from Sylvain’s lips, his expression as open and unguarded as Sylvain had ever seen it. “Sylvain…”

Not wanting to respond and break the moment, Sylvain just smiled and let Felix pull himself back together. He was slower to snap back than Sylvain would have expected, seeming almost reluctant to pull away and begin putting himself back in order. Surprisingly, his usual sense of distance didn’t return even after he and Sylvain had cleaned up as best they could and stood up, Sylvain offering his cleaner hand to Felix and letting the contact linger a little after he’d hauled Felix upright.

“Is this where you usually run off?” Felix asked once Sylvain let him go, brushing himself off and pointedly not making eye contact.

“Do I look like I’m going to run?” 

“...No,” Felix admitted, and he was right. It actually kind of scared Sylvain a bit how unwilling he was to let the moment end.

“Hey,” Sylvain said, lightly grabbing Felix’s forearms. “Look at me.”

It took a while for Felix to comply, emotional vulnerability never really having been his strong point, but Sylvain was patient. Eventually Felix’s eyes met his own, and Sylvain let himself smile as genuinely as he wanted.

“I was telling the truth, y’know. About wanting to be serious for the right person.”

Felix flushed again, and how had Sylvain never noticed how easy it was to get him to do that? “And what, I’m the right person?”

“Who else could it be?” Sylvain asked, simultaneously wanting to vomit from being so fucking genuine and feeling like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. “It’s always been you.”

Felix stared, silent for several long, torturous moments, but he didn’t try to pull away. “...Who knew Sylvain Gautier had actual emotions?”

“Wow,” Sylvain said, his tone matching the playful glint that had appeared in Felix’s eyes. “Treat a man to the best handjob of his life and this is the thanks I get?”

“The thanks you get is that I might let you do it again.”

“Promise?” Sylvain asked, trying not to sound as excited by the idea as he felt. Felix didn’t reply, but he did tilt his face up towards Sylvain in a playful challenge.

“I like you kind of a lot, Fe,” Sylvain admitted, leaning down to leave a quick kiss on Felix’s lips. 

“No, really?” Felix said dryly, and all Sylvain could do was laugh.

It was fleetingly quick, but Felix smiled and shook his head, his hand briefly resting on Sylvain’s hip before falling away.

“I’m not sleeping in the cold all night, let’s head back.”

“Wanna sleep in my tent?” Sylvain asked hopefully, not actually expecting it to work.

“...I suppose,” Felix said, and Sylvain nearly tripped over his own feet in shock.

“Then let’s get out of here,” he managed, and this time Felix really did look amused.

Fuck, Sylvain loved him so much. 

—----------------------------------------------

“Felix!” Sylvain called as he swept into Felix’s makeshift office. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“Some of us have actual responsibilities,” Felix grumbled as per usual even as he pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Yes, yes,” Sylvain agreed pleasantly, hooking his elbow into Felix’s and laughing when Felix immediately slipped away and shoved his side.

“Don’t push it.”

“I would never.”

The dining hall wasn’t overly busy when they arrived, Sylvain collecting two plates of some sort of meat off the soldiers on cooking duty and dramatically presenting one in front of Felix when they sat down. 

“How are things in Fraldarius?” Sylvain asked, sitting back to enjoy how animated Felix got as he discussed the homeland he was now in charge of. The sudden promotion had clearly worn on him at the start, but now he’d settled into his role so smoothly that it was sometimes hard to remember that he was only nineteen.

Halfway through a story about his mother effortlessly shutting up some old nobles who’d thought that Felix’s absence should have been filled by his uncle alone, Felix abruptly cut himself off and glared at something over Sylvain’s shoulder.

Confused, Sylvain went to turn around but froze when arms were hooked over his shoulders from behind.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” Yuri murmured, a little too close to Sylvain’s ear. 

“Tch,” was all Felix had to say as Sylvain tried and failed to extricate himself from Yuri’s grip. He didn’t trust this shit at all, and just hoped that Yuri would keep the potential for damage (to body, relationship and surroundings alike) to a minimum.

“It’s been a while, Sylvain. What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh,” Sylvain started, eyeing the way Felix’s grip tightened on his knife and wondering if he should duck and save himself or piss Felix off by preventing him from stabbing Yuri. Before he could do either, though, Felix relaxed as if nothing had ever happened.

“Me,” he said simply, surprising a laugh out of Sylvain who could only watch as Felix’s knife cut through his food instead of Yuri’s eyeball. 

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” Yuri said, not sounding surprised at all. Patting Sylvain on the top of the head, his hand lingered a little even as his weight disappeared off Sylvain’s shoulders. “Congratulations, I suppose.”

“Yep,” was all Sylvain risked saying, even as Felix didn’t look the slightest bit bothered anymore. 

“Well, don’t expect me to wait around until he gets bored of you.” 

“You wish,” Felix muttered under his breath, and Sylvain was so touched that he barely heard Yuri’s footsteps as he walked away.

Not sure if he should voice his thoughts, Sylvain waited until Felix had taken a few more bites to put down his own knife and lean forward. “You know, I promise there’s nothing going on with him anymore.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“When did you get so cool, Duke Fraldarius?” 

“Somewhere around the time I realised that you’re so in love with me that you’re wrapped around my little finger.” 

Sylvain considered putting up at least a token protest to that, but he was well aware that neither of them would believe it. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

Going back to his meal, Sylvain let a few beats pass before he looked up at Felix and grinned. “D’you promise that I get to do you tonight, though?”

Felix raised an eyebrow, although as had become much more common for him lately he didn’t look anywhere close to annoyed. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Gotta stop getting my hopes up like this,” Sylvain said with an exaggerated sigh, although he almost dropped his knife when Felix’s leg pressed up against his own under the table.

“Maybe I’ll do you instead this time.”

“Fuck, Felix,” Sylvain cursed, trying not to think too hard about that in the middle of their bloody dining hall and failing miserably. “If anyone notices me walking out of here with a huge boner, I’m telling them exactly whose fault it was.”

Felix laughed, a too-rare sound that Sylvain was always going to treasure, and eventually their conversation returned to more appropriate topics as they finished their meal and lingered at the table, both of them clearly unwilling to part until evening.

Felix was the one who finally broke the stalemate, his sense of duty finally outweighing everything else. “I’ll see you tonight, Sylvain.”

“You bet,” Sylvain winked, and he wasn’t at all subtle in turning around to watch Felix leave. He looked so regal in his family cloak, his posture straight and proud, and there really was no way Sylvain could have even considered going back to anyone else. Felix really had been right, that day they’d sat together on the grass and finally sorted years of emotions out: there was no competition at all. 

Sylvain was in it deeper than he’d ever thought possible, but that was a lot less scary when he knew that Felix was right there beside him.

[nuclearanomaly]

Sugar is Sweet

Is it a date if you both agree to go out and it just so happens to be Valentione’s Day and you both happen to really like each other but neither of you do anything to acknowledge that? [Modern | Bookshop AU. | wc 7046 ]

Estinien checked his coat pocket again, for the millionth time since leaving his apartment earlier that afternoon. He didn’t need to check. The box that was tucked into his coat was still there. As it had been the time before, and the time before that. His breath clouded his view momentarily as he exhaled, nervously. 

He stood just outside the entrance to Page 64, shifting slightly in the cold, eyeing the warm light that spilled out of the cluttered windows and poster plastered door. He checked his pocket again. Still there. 

Maybe he should text first, a casual message about being in the neighbourhood before stopping in. Or maybe—he jumped as the door abruptly opened and a rare customer started to exit the store. They gave Estinien a perplexed look as he shuffled out of the way before stepping aside and holding the door for him. 

Shit.

“Thanks.” He mumbled as he slipped past and into the store. 

The comforting smell of old paper greeted him, accompanied by the overfilled shelves and stacks of books and as he made his way further into the store, Ninira. She sat at her usual spot at the counter, busy at her computer after the departure of her customer. He smiled, she hadn’t noticed him yet. The light from the laptop screen reflected in her glasses, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. As he drew closer she must have sensed his presence as she started to look up a greeting halfway formed before she realized who she was talking to.

“Hel–oh! Estinien! What are you doing here?” She blinked, shocked. “It’s Tuesday, don’t you have band practice?”

“Cancelled.” He fished the stool tucked under the side of the counter out and took a seat. His stool. Going through the motions of taking it out and sitting on it was second nature by this point. “Some of the others have plans tonight.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “it’s no big deal. Our next show isn’t until the end of the month. Besides, I was able to get some work shit done instead. Thought I’d stop in since I was dropping stuff off at the store.” A small lie. She didn’t need to know that all he had done in the back room of his own store was kill time, pacing nervously while watching the clock tick closer to Page 64’s closing time.

Ninira smiled in a way that made Estinien’s gut flutter stupidly. “You know that you’re always welcome to.” She lifted a couple books stacked beside her laptop before sliding off her stool. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to put these back.”

It was a bold statement considering it felt like a majority of the store had little to no organization to begin with. Ninira did claim that some parts had more order than others, and perhaps these books were from one such section as it wasn’t too long before she returned empty handed. 

“You’re closing soon right?” 

“Yep.” Ninira hopped back up onto her seat, turning her head to glance at the time as she did so. “In about twenty minutes.”

Estinien nodded, but under the counter his leg trembled anxiously. “Want to grab something to eat when you’re done?”

Ninira’s expression fell. “I’m sorry. I can’t…”

It was as if his heart had plummeted. “Oh… you have plans?” He fought to keep his face neutral. 

“W–what? No!” She laughed in disbelief, “not at all. It’s just…”

Estinien watched, frowning, as her shoulders sagged. “Money’s tight this month. Foot traffic is already slow being winter, but with how cold it’s been recently it’s just been… hard.”

“How hard?” The fact that Ninira didn’t have it easy balancing the cost of her store wasn’t news to him, but the thought of her skimping on essential things to do so…

She blinked, as if surprised he cared. “I’m fine!” His furrowed brow obviously didn’t convince her as she tried to give him what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. “I promise! I just have to watch what I’m spending… so I can’t really splurge on dinner. I’m sorry. Maybe when things pick back up again?”

“Or, how about, I buy you dinner?”

“Estinien… I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.” He was aware that his leg had begun to shake nervously under the counter once more. “Nothing fancy, we can get Hingan, or there’s that new Hannish place that opened that we talked about trying.”

Still Ninira squirmed, noncommittal. 

“Well, think about it, at least.” This wasn’t exactly going as planned. “Do you need help with anything before closing?”

She jumped at the change of subject, “yes! If you don’t mind…” 

Estinein shook his head as he rose from his stool, shrugging out of his jacket as he did so. “I offered.” He draped his jacket over the stool, careful to make it seem nonchalant but while also taking care not to jostle it too much less he disturb the contents tucked away inside. “What do you need?”

Ninira sheepishly tapped a large cardboard box that he had failed to notice sitting on the counter. “Can you take that to the back office? I’ll need to go through it later.”

Walking around and peeking into the top, Estinien was unsurprised to find it full of books. “Are these new?” 

“Mmm… they were brought in this afternoon by a very nice old man.”

He sighed before rapping Ninira, lightly, on the top of her head with his knuckle. “You have to stop accepting this shit.” 

“I–I know!” She rubbed her head. “But he was so passionate about them and I couldn’t say no!”

“If he was passionate about them, he would have kept them.” Estinien grunted as he lifted the box into his arms, it was heavier than it looked. “The fuck is in here? Weighs a ton.”

“I think he said something about encyclopedias. I haven’t had a chance to really look.” 

Of course it was. Some old geezer’s dusty out of date encyclopedias that no one in their right mind would want. He hefted the box higher in his arms as he started through the shelves towards the back of the store. She better not have paid for them. On top of all her other expenses the last thing she needed was to be made to feel sympathetic towards buying some old trash books. Perhaps he should have come over sooner, at last he could have been an intimidating presence. 

Between helping to move items and cleaning around the store it wasn’t long before Ninira was switching over the open sign and locking the door. Estinien watched as she sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she made her way back towards where he was leaning against the counter. 

“Thanks again for helping.”

He shrugged. “It’s no problem.” 

She continued past him, as she worked through the motions of closing up for the night. 

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she froze in place while he continued. “I could go for a big plate of biryani, maybe some samosas, fresh naan.”

He was sure he heard Ninira whine faintly. 

“Papadums and tikka masala, or perhaps vindaloo.”

Ninira snorted. “You can’t handle vindaloo.”

Estinien turned, “that’s what you think.”

“Last time we went for ramen you got one labeled mild and almost died.”

Almost died was definitely an exaggeration. Yes, the broth had been much hotter than he had expected. Yes, the server had warned him. Yes, he’d destroyed napkin after napkin trying to mop up the endless tears and snot streaming down his face while Ninira had wheezed into her far spicier bowl of soup. It had been agony, but also—he thought fondly of Ninira sitting across the table from him, her own tears in her eyes from laughing—a very good night. “I’ve improved my tolerance since then.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, “well…” and watched as her expression fell and she started to retreat back into the version of herself that worried about stupid things like, bothering him.

“Come on, Nini. At the very least it will be better than whatever the fuck you have waiting upstairs.”

That earned him a sheepish grin, “I don’t know… half a can of tinned soup is hard to beat.”

Estinien frowned. She was skimping on necessities. “Don’t make me physically carry you to the restaurant, because I will. You deserve a good meal.” As if on queue Ninira’s stomach let out a growl loud enough that even he could hear. “Sounds like your stomach agrees.”

She sighed, before raising her hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go.”

Estinien grinned. Success. 

“Just give me a minute and I’ll go get my stuff.”

Estinien snatched his jacket off his stool, pulling it back on as he followed her through the shelves to the back of the store. Here he waited at the base of the stairs that led up to Ninira’s apartment for her return, his fingers drumming against his leg as his nerves returned in full force. It wasn’t long until Ninira reappeared bundled in her winter gear. Cute. Estinien caught himself thinking at the sight of her; though, he pretty much always thought of her as cute in anything she wore. “Ready?” He asked, and Ninira nodded. 

The restaurant Estinien had in mind was further into the city. A short ride on the subway got them most of the way there and despite the cold and now falling snow, they opted to walk the rest of the way. Also despite the fact that they were now arriving past what Estinien would have considered dinner time there was a line of people, mostly couples, waiting on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant doors. 

“It’s busy,” Ninira observed. 

“That must mean the food is good, at least.” He glanced down at her. “If you’re cold and don’t want to wait we can try somewhere else though.”

“It’s okay,” they shuffled forward as the line moved. “The line is moving. Besides, it seems like everywhere has been busy tonight.” 

Estinien watched as Ninira eyed the waiting couples and passing crowds. Watched as she pieced together the thing he was hoping she wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Wait,” She looked up at him, “isn’t today Valentione’s Day?”

It was. There was a reason band practice had been cancelled, as the majority of the other’s plans had involved their desire to spend time with their significant others. Understandable, though he could have done without their bonus desire to bother him about doing something himself. Despite knowing this, Estinien shrugged before making a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket to check the date. “Huh, so it is…”

Ninira chuckled, “No wonder everywhere is packed. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that the line isn’t longer.”

“Well isn’t it supposed to be all stuffy candle lit dinners? Going for Hannish probably isn’t considered very romantic.”

“People who think that are missing out then. This is way better, in my opinion.”

Estinien smiled, pleased. “You’re just biased because you like the food.”

“Maybe so.”

“What if the candle lit dinner was exclusively dessert?”

She gasped. “Well that would be completely different!”

With their conversation helping to pass the time they eventually made their way off the street and into the restaurant. Inside was a bustling din of noise. The bright array of colours and textures that covered both the walls and the furniture made for an authentic Hannish atmosphere. And then there was the mouth-watering smell. Estinien was glad that they were getting seated next as he was definitely starting to get hungry. It wasn’t long before a server led them to a small table tucked away near the back of the room, positioned under a large graphic mural on the wall and lit by a glass lamp hanging from the ceiling above them. Estinien shrugged out of his coat, draping it over the back of his chair and taking a seat as Ninira did the same. 

“Can I grab you drinks to start?” Their server asked, to which Estinien nodded, flipping over his menu to check out the selection of beers as Ninira replied.

“Just water, thank you.”

Estinien furrowed his brow.

“Of course! And for you.”

“I’ll have a Cedarwood,” Estinien replied. “And a cream soda.”

The server’s mouth twitched with the hint of an amused grin at this combination, but nodded before leaving their table. As they did, Estinien levelled his gaze on Ninira. “Thirsty?” She asked, though she was unable to keep the waiver out of her voice.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to order inexpensive things because I’m covering the bill.” 

She slumped her shoulders. 

“Well too bad, because you’re having a soda. And,” he reached across the table and plucked her menu away from her. “I already know what we’re ordering.”

“But we’ve never been here before!”

It pleased him that she didn’t seem to consider the possibility of him having come without her. “They have a menu online. I’ve done my research.”

Ninira pulled a face but resigned to her defeat. “Fine, you win… again.”

Estinien smirked, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to enact revenge.��

This made her smile. “When you least expect it.”

Their server returned shortly with their drinks, placing the water down in front of Nini and the beer and soda in front of Estinien. Tucking the serving tray under their arm they then asked “are you both ready to order?”

Estinien nodded at this. “We’re going to share,” He explained before beginning to list off items. Papadums and chutney to start, then a chicken tikka, lamb vindaloo, and paneer. An order of rice—of course—as well as a side of naan and raita. With each item he added Ninira’s brows rose further. It was for her own good, not only was she going to have a good meal but hopefully also some leftovers to take home as well. If she got at least one additional meal from tonight’s order Estinien would be happy. 

As the server left their table Ninira stared at him wide eyed. “That’s a lot…”

“I’m starving.” Estinien replied, matter-of-fact, as he pushed the cream soda across the table towards her.

Carefully she took the drink in both her hands, the glass too big for her to hold it in just one. She studied the soda, an expression of sad longing on her face. “You really didn’t have to order this for me.”

He sighed, “well you weren’t going to, so someone had to.” He gave her chair a nudge under the table with his foot. “Enjoy it.”

She hesitated briefly before taking a sip, unable to keep the pure bliss off her face as the sweet drink hit her tongue. Estinien masked his own pleased smile by raising his glass to his lips. 

“You mentioned practice being cancelled because the others had plans.” Ninira commented, having recovered from the ecstasy that was her drink. “I suppose that’s because it’s Valentione’s Day, huh?”

Estinien shrugged. The thought of their conversation returning to the holiday was less than ideal. After all the more they talked about it the more there was a chance that Ninira might begin to worry that he was implying that this was more than just friends just so happening to hang out on Valentione’s Day. Because, regardless of how he felt, that was all they were. Friends. “I guess that would make sense.” He tried to sound as non committal to the idea as possible. “Hilda’s been out of town since Friday. She and Lucia went to some ski resort in Coerthas, extended weekend.”

“Oh, that sounds really nice!” Estinien had never put Ninira down as a skier before but with the way she lit up at the mention of it… “The perfect opportunity for cozy evenings curled up by the fire with hot cocoa.” She sighed.

Ah, that made much more sense. Of course she would focus on the possibility of hot chocolate over anything else. Though perhaps she had the right idea. The thought of a rustic cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow, lit and warmed by a roaring fire didn’t sound too bad at all. His stomach fluttered stupidly, helplessly, as the scene he was now forming in his mind came with the very vivid addition of Ninira in his arms. If he kissed her he would taste the cocoa.

“Estinien?”

He came crashing back to reality, the restaurant with its ambient din and smells of Hannish food, and Ninira across the table.

Shit. “Sorry, what was that?” He tried, as smoothly as possible, to take a sip of his drink. Hoping beyond hope that he was not visibly blushing.

“I asked if you knew if the others were busy as well.”

He shrugged, “no idea.” It was true enough. He was sure Ysayle had plans of some kind but also knew she was more likely to run him over with her car than share the details. As for Fray he genuinely did not know, and honestly wasn’t about to ask. His business was his own, and Estinien appreciated the fact that the respect for privacy was mutual. Hilda and Ysayle could do with learning a thing or two in that regard.

“I know you said your next show wasn’t until the end of the month, but that’s not that far away really.” Ninira continued. If she’d been bothered at all by his sudden lapse in attention she didn’t show it. “Will you need to do another make-up practice before then, since you’re missing today?”

She was at the very least doing better than him at keeping up the small talk. 

“Maybe, we still have practice next week. If we feel like we need another one before the show I’m sure we can squeeze one in.” Estinien wasn’t worried about it. The band knew what they were doing, were comfortable with the planned setlist, and it was a venue they’d played at before. If he was worried about anything it was… “Speaking of, you’re coming to the show, right?”

She fidgeted with her glass, “I’m… not sure. I mean, I would like to, just…”

Right. Money was tight, and concert tickets sure didn’t fall into essential items. 

“I’ll see how things look closer to the date.”

“You know, if you do want to go. Me, or anyone else in the band, can get you in no problem.” She opened her mouth to protest but he continued. “We know you support us. Hell, you sell some of our merch at your place now.” At what could only be the slowest turnover rate ever. He couldn’t imagine that old men that came in to drop off dusty encyclopedias cared much for the local punk scene “We can cover you for a show or two sometimes, you don’t always have to buy a ticket.” 

“But I want too.”

“I know, we all know. That’s why it’s no big deal.”

Any further objections from Ninira were put on hold, and ultimately forgotten, by the arrival of their Papadums. Thank the gods. While he’d mostly said it to save face earlier, he really was starving. Still, he nudged the basket towards Ninira allowing her to take the top most Papadum before helping himself.

“So,” he watched amused as Ninira snapped off a piece of the fried lentil chip and ladened it with mango chutney. “What’s the book club reading these days?”

The book club in question was less of an actual organized club and more just whatever novel she and Aymeric had decided to read at any given time. Though recently Lucia had also joined their ranks and, from what Estinien could gather, they had started to all read the same book simultaneously.

Ninira looked at him, shocked, as she worked around her mouthful of food before responding. “You don’t really want to hear about that… Do you?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.” He popped his own bite of Papadum and chutney into his mouth. Unlike Ninira he had not drowned his in the mango sauce, not that he was opposed to the flavour; it was sweet and contrasted well with the salt of the papadum. He simply knew how much Ninira liked it and wanted her to have as much of it as possible. Swallowing, he continued, “besides, you can spoil things you might not be able to with the others yet. It’s not like I’m going to mind.”

“Well…” 

He sat back, listening while Ninira started to describe the novel they were reading. Hesitantly at first, but with more vigour after it became apparent that he was still listening. He did his best to follow the plot she was describing. After all, he wanted to be able to contribute back, to prompt her to describe something further, or explain how something was connected. The more she talked the more he got to listen and watch; because when she did talk about her passions and the things that made her happy she was captivating… radiant. Since walking into her store that evening very few people had existed outside of his bubble of attention that was Ninira, now it was as if the restaurant had ceased to exist around him. His focus belonged to her, and her alone. 

Even the arrival of their order did little to distract either of them. The array of food was presented on a large platter, the dishes of curries framing the larger bowl of rice and the basket of naan. Between all the food, their drinks, and their individual plates their little table had become quite cramped. 

“So, Aymeric is convinced that the main character is going to end up with the childhood friend, but Lucia is sure she’s ending up with the glamorous famous guy that’s taken notice of her.” Ninira explained as she dished herself out a portion of rice.

“And who do you think she will end up with?” Estinien asked as he tore off a piece of naan, the still warm bread practically flaking apart.

“As much as I’d like to say I support Aymeric’s choice, Lucia has the whole story nailed down. She’s one hundred percent ending up with the famous guy. They’re both about as compelling as wet cardboard, though.” 

“Do the others agree with that statement at least?”

“Oh yeah! I don’t think Aymeric’s trying to advocate that the childhood friend guy is actually attractive but he’s at least a little nicer than the other option.” Ninira scooped curry and rice up onto her fork. “The thing is, the main character is also terribly dull and way too drawn to the glamorous lifestyle the other guy offers.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I’ve been talking about this for way too long, you've got to be bored out of your mind.”

He wasn’t. He’d listen to her talk about the stupid love triangle romance novel for hours if she wanted to tell him about it. “It’s fine.” He smiled. “But if you’re not careful, I will eat your naan.”

She gasped and quickly snatched her own piece of bread out of the basket, tearing off a piece and adding it to her mouthful of food with a defiant look. 

Estinien chuckled and lifted his own forkful of food about to take a bite–

“Wait, Estinien!”

He paused.

“Is that the vindaloo?”

He glanced at his fork, “yeah.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ninira hurried to stab her own piece of lamb and pop it into her mouth. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked at him in earnest, lifting a hand to cover her mouth so she could speak around her food. “Estinien it’s hot. Like really hot. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I told you, my tolerance is way better.” Her eyes widened as he continued to lift his fork to his mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

He was not fine. 

He had expected to feel the heat slowly build as he took the mouthful of vindaloo. Instead the spice of sauce seemed to erupt as soon as it hit his tongue. It was so potent that it was as if his throat and nose were full of it. He erupted into a fit of coughing, while desperately trying to keep his mouth shut. He could barely breathe, barely see, his eyes were already watering. He should have listened, this shit was hot. 

Vaguely he was aware of Ninira loading up some naan with raita and holding it out across the table towards him. He forced his way through the rest of the vindaloo, his mouth screaming in protest, before taking the offered naan and shoving it into his mouth. The relief from the cool yogurt sauce was unparalleled, gods, he even moaned. 

“I warned you.” Ninira chided him. 

Despite the fact that he was clearly still suffering he tried to counter that he was fine but the spice still had a hold of his throat resulting in a second fit of coughing.

“Here,” Ninira pushed her untouched water towards him. “Drink.”

He chugged the entire glass which made her chuckle. Slowly he started to feel like he was no longer in the grips of hell, though he still had to wipe undignified tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Fuck,” he wheezed, finally able to speak again. 

“What was all that about built up tolerance?” Ninira wasn’t even trying to hide her smirk now that it was clear he was no longer dying. 

Estinien scowled in return. “I’m suffering, and you’re laughing.” She raised an eyebrow at this and he continued. “I obviously just got the sauce stuck in my throat, it had nothing to do with how spicy it was.”

“Oh? So you’re going to have more, then?” 

“No.”

“That’s too bad!” She made a show of popping more vindaloo into her own mouth. “It’s delicious!”

Vindaloo aside—in Estinien’s case—the rest of the food was delicious. And, despite the fact that between them they had made quite the dent in all the food he had ordered, Estinien was relieved to see that there were still some left over for Ninira to take home. 

With the end of their meal came the arrival of their bill and the return of Ninira’s guilt. The price of the dinner didn’t phase him. Estinien had decided—long before his arrival at Ninira’s store—that he didn’t care how much the events of this evening cost. Unfortunately there was no way to translate this to her without making it evident that he’d been planning the possibility of this entire night for a while. Instead he simply went through the process of paying and leaving the restaurant as quick but nonchalant as possible, giving Ninira very few opportunities to fuss. 

Now, standing outside on the still snowy sidewalk Estinien exhaled, his breath hanging in the air momentarily before him. Aware that they were now barreling towards the end of their outing he found himself grasping at ideas to extend their time together. He did have a few, it was just a case of executing them…

“The snow’s almost stopped.” He noted. Ninira was preoccupied beside him, adjusting her scarf so it came up near her ears. “Want to take the long way back? We can cut through the park and catch the train from there instead of going back the way we came.”

“Oh!” She looked up at him. “That’s a good idea! I heard they put up a light display there this week. It’s supposed to be really well done.”

So she had heard about that, at least it would give them a reason to take their time. 

“Well we can check it out on our way through, then.” He started down the sidewalk, Ninira hurrying to fall into step beside him. 

They were a block or so from the park, waiting at a crosswalk, when the coffee shop across the road caught Estinien’s eye. He nudged Ninira lightly, getting her attention before nodding with his head across the road. “Want a drink?”

She followed his gaze, her mouth twisting with uncertainty. “Ummm.”

“To have while we walk through the park.” He added, in case she found the idea of another sit down situation unappealing.

“I shouldn’t… so it’s okay, I don’t need one.” The light changed and they started across the road. “But if you would like one, then by all means.”

Of course, he should have known better. Asking her was pointless. In that case… “Yeah, I think I’m going to grab one.”

“Alright!” She eyed the line visible through the coffee shop window. “I think I’ll wait outside.” 

“Okay. I won’t be long.” That suited him fine, after all she couldn’t stop him from buying her a drink if she wasn't there. 

Entering the shop any frets he’d had over what exactly to order Ninira left him as soon as he looked at the menu board. Right in the middle was a large display advertising their Sweetheart drink. A special Valentione’s Day exclusive; white hot chocolate, coloured pink for gods only knew what reason, topped with whipped cream, as well as an obscene amount of marshmallows and sprinkles. It had Ninira’s name written all over it (the implication of her being his sweetheart aside). 

He tried not to feel foolish while he ordered it—having to ask for one Sweetheart made him extra grateful Ninira had not followed him into the store after all—and tried not to fidget too much while waiting for it to be brought to him. The impact of the drink was lost a little by the fact that it needed to be in a take-out cup, but the barista did put a domed lid on it so that the cream, sprinkles and marshmallows were on display. 

His coffee in one hand, hot chocolate in the other, he made his way back out onto the street. Ninira was waiting where he had left her, near the door, pressed up close to the wall so that she was out of the way of the passers by. As he approached her she looked up at him, the faintest hint of uneasy surprise on her face as she quickly took in the two drinks in his hands. 

“Thirsty?” She asked, again, the waiver in her voice, again. 

He answered by simply holding the hot chocolate out towards her, while taking a sip from his own drink at the same time. When she didn’t take it he added, “that one is yours.” 

She started to reach for it but stopped herself. “I can’t pay you back…”

“You don’t have to.” He pushed the drink into her hands. “It’s part of the dinner… dessert.” He added. “It probably has enough sugar in it to kill a man so that basically makes it a dessert.” 

Ninira didn’t laugh. She did take the cup but rather than take a sip just gazed forlornly down at it. “I appreciate it but… I would have been okay not having one. You’ve already spent so much on me tonight, I can’t imagine why you would want to spend more.”

To Estinien the answer was simple, obvious. Because I like you. Because I really like you. Because I would buy you anything. Because you deserve it. Because I want to see the way your face lights up when you taste something you enjoy. Because I want you to be happy. Because I want to give you things, anything. Because I like you.

He, of course, said none of those things. “We’re friends, Nini. Do I need a reason besides that?”

She exhaled, her breath shaking as she did so. “No… you’re right. I’m sorry. I promise I am thankful, really! I just… feel like I’ve been a burden, making you pay for all this.”

“You’re not a burden.” He reassured her quietly. 

She nodded, “right.” He didn’t miss the way her voice cracked, or how she turned to try and discreetly wipe at her eyes under her glasses. Shit. He was pretty sure making your crush cry on Valentione’s Day was the last thing you were supposed to do. 

He started to reach for her but stopped himself. What comfort could he truly offer her?

She let out another long breath, “sorry. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. Like I said back at my place, it’s been a hard month.” 

“I know. I’m also sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” He stepped up beside her and she looked up at him. Blessedly her eyes were free of further tears. 

“No. No, you haven't.” She sighed, “ I just need to remind myself I am allowed to, you know, get given things by my friends. Like this.” She held up her drink a little and Estinien smiled. “What is it?”

“Ah,” he couldn’t bring him to tell her the name of the drink. “Some kind of hot chocolate. It was their special today, apparently.”

“Oh! Well that explains all the toppings.” 

“I have no idea how you can drink that. Just looking at it is enough to make me feel like I’m going to go into a coma.” Estinien admitted as they started down the sidewalk once more. 

This did make her laugh, “but it’s so good!” she insisted after taking a sip.

Warmth flooded through his chest, the origin of which had nothing to do with his own drink.

The city park was not far from the coffee shop. It was decent sized, and functioned as a popular gathering place and often hosted events year round. As Ninira has said the trees along the main thoroughfare had been done up with lights. Whether this had been done intentionally for Valentione’s Day or not Estinien didn’t know. It didn’t matter either as it was clearly a popular destination for those celebrating the holiday regardless.

They fell in with the crowd, following the stream of people as they made their way along the path of lights. Ninira was content to look up at them with wonder, Estinien however found his attention drawn by other things. The way the couple in front of them walked with their hands entwined. People with arms around waists, arms linked. He even went as far as to turn his head to watch as another lalafell rode past on their partner’s shoulders. Would Ninira like that? He glanced down at her, she was still looking at the lights, absently sipping her drink as she did so. It would have at least offered her a better view. 

Lost in his thoughts the walk through the park ended far quicker than Estinien would have liked. At least Ninira seemed pleased, her mood having lightened considerably as they walked. 

“That was really pretty!” She commented as they walked back out onto the city street. “I’m glad we did that. I didn’t think I’d have a chance to come see it before they took it down.”

“Oh?” From his knowledge, and text message history, Ninira spent most of her uneventful evenings in her apartment.

“It’s been too cold!” She made a face. 

Perhaps it had been, though he personally didn’t think it was that bad. And as much as he longed to find some way to drag their last remaining moments together even further, Ninira did look cold. Her ears and nose were visibly red and she shook, ever so subtly. “Let's get you home then,” he offered. “Less you freeze here and now, on the night you decided to actually brave the weather.”

A subway ride, a short walk, and Estinein found himself standing in the small alley that led to Ninira’s back door while she flipped through her keys; their evening officially over. At least the light above her door worked now. 

Her key clicked in the lock but she turned to look at him before opening the door. “Thank you, Estinien, for everything. I know I was a bit of a downer at times, but I really appreciate everything that you did for me tonight.”

He shrugged, “it’s no problem. If you need anything, ever, just let me know.” 

She gave him a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

It was all he could ask for. “Here.” He held out the bag containing the leftover Hannish food that he had been carrying since leaving the restaurant. “You should have this.” He added.

Ninira blinked, “but you bought that, it’s yours. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“Well, most of it is the Vindaloo. And anything that isn’t has probably been contaminated by it so…”

She laughed. “Okay, maybe it is best I take it then.” 

Relief, Estinien hadn’t really wanted to work around another instance of her trying to refuse his generosity. She took the bag from his outstretched hand peeking in as she did so. 

“I don’t remember it looking like there was this much left back at the restaurant. This will last me a while… thank you.”

“Again, it’s no problem”

“Well,” she turned a little back towards her door. “Goodnight, then.”

“Night,” He smiled, and tucked his now free hands into his pockets. Or at least, attempted to. One pocket was full, as it had been all night, and before his arrival so many hours ago. 

Fucking shit! God damnit!!

He’d forgotten all about the stupid thing! His plan initially had been to leave the box on Ninira’s front counter when she wasn’t looking, after she was finished wrapping up for the night. That way she would have found it the next day and, despite the fact that it would have been painfully obvious he’d been the one to leave it there, he could act none the wiser. So wrapped up in trying to get Ninira to agree to dinner, and then the euphoria of his success he’d neglected to ever take the box out of his pocket. 

Now he was faced with a dilemma, he could hold onto it, try and sneak it into her shop on another day. Attempt to do what he had planned to initially, or he could just… give it to her now. A terrifying idea, but he was running out of time to debate the possibilities, Ninira was already opening her door, already starting to step inside.

Just do it you idiot!!

“Hey, Nini, hang on.” 

She froze.

“I forgot something.”

Slowly she turned, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “O–oh?”

He stepped closer, Ninira’s eyes widening even further as he did so. He didn’t know why she looked so startled, he was the one who felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest with how nervous he was. Producing the box from his pocket he thrust it out in her direction. “Here.”

She stared at him and at the box before slowly piecing together that he wanted her to take it. “O–oh! Um…”

“I was at the store earlier and, I don’t know, they gave it to me for free. I guess I spent enough to get it or something. I don’t want it though, so you can have it.” Considering he hadn’t planned on any of this he was pleased with his story. It must have sounded convincing enough because she took the box with no extra prompting. “I uh, meant to give it to you earlier, but like I said… I forgot.”

“T–thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” He tucked his hands properly into his pockets now that he was able. “Goodnight.”

“G–Goodnight!” For some reason, Ninira still looked stunned. 

“Talk to you later?”

She nodded, “y–yeah.” 

Estinien watched as she turned, fumbling her way inside with her now full hands. She gave him one last glance over her shoulder before the door shut and he was left alone. He scuffed his boot in the snow, watching her door for a moment longer before tuning away to start making his own way home.

—

Ninira leaned back against her door, heart pounding in her chest, trying to catch her breath and still her nerves. The Hannish leftovers settled lightly on the ground beside her as she slowly released the death like grip she had on the bag’s handle. She was such an idiot. She couldn’t believe she’d actually thought he was going to kiss her. 

Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!

Of course he hadn’t! Why would he?

So caught off guard by the entire moment she hadn’t even looked at what it was he’d given her. She did so now, turning the box in her hand so she could read its lid. Chocolates. Not only was it a decently sized box but they looked like they would be good quality too. Estinien had clearly gotten a really good deal to get them for free. Intrigued, she turned the box over, hoping for a list of the types of chocolates on the rear. There was none. There was, however, a patch in the corner, the remnants of a torn off sticker, one that would have contained the barcode… and price. She ran a thumb over the spot. Give-away items were not normally priced… 

She straightened, still staring down at the box in her hands. The implications of being gifted chocolates on Valentione’s Day of all days… But she would have sworn that Estinien, of all people, would not have cared or given a damn about the holiday to begin with. Even if he for some reason did like her, surely he would be opposed to doing something so… stereotypically cheesy.

Perhaps it was all just a fluke. The store was just getting rid of old stock and had dumped it in Estinien’s lap as he had said.

Her head swam. This was all too much and she was definitely overthinking it. 

Picking up the leftovers she started up the stairs to her apartment. Despite the hot chocolate she had had earlier that evening she longed for a cup of tea. It would help clear her head and warm her up. She supposed she could also indulge in one, or maybe two, of the stupidly confusing chcolates. Regardless of the implication she wasn’t about to let the gift go to waste.

[ineffable-writer]

I just wrote

10k

of original fiction

in two days

BUT I WON NANOWRIMO DAMN IT.

[jeanslilslut]

4.20AM

! ! ! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI ! ! !

#︙pairings: stoner!eren x reader

#︙cw: smut, car sex, drug use, getting high, alcohol, breeding, weed, fingering, driving under the influence, blowjob, fem!bodied, slight overstimulation, dirty talk

#︙word count: 7k, ik wtf is that

☻ reblogs are appreciated ☻

in which stoner!eren takes you on a late night drive to celebrate 4 / 20.

i wrote this for the lovely @sweetforlevi 4/20 collab and honestly i loved this idea. me and this fic have a love hate relationship and at one point i was convinced it was never gonna get written but here we are <3 a big thank you to peach for letting me join her collab and a big thank you to @bokutosdove for supporting me and helping me out with this fic. luv you 5ever bitch <3

smut under the cut, enjoy my lovelies ;)

This has become quite a regular thing; Eren picks you up at an ungodly hour and he drives you both to the beach, always parking where the best view is so you two can light up, share blunts, and get high as you watch the sunrise. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s these nights that you look forward to the most.

It’s one of those nights tonight.

You’re in bed, the fan blaring above you. The month of April has brought along a heat wave and you couldn’t feel more uncomfortable. You’re tossing and turning against the thin sheets that stick to your skin, fighting your inability to sleep. These warm days always end in hot sticky nights; they’re always the worst. You can feel the sheen of sweat that covers you, making you feel icky, the fan doing little to ease your heated skin.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you glance at the alarm clock next to you and watch as it turns from 1:43 to 1:44. Thank fuck it’s Friday; you’re not in the mood to get up in the next 4 hours and get ready for college, running on an hour or two of sleep. Your sleep schedule is already fucked as it is and you’re planning to use this weekend to catch up. And that’s when you hear the ping from your phone — it lights up with Eren’s text, illuminating the small corner of your room.

Happy 4/20, you gonna celebrate with me?

What a stupid question.

Did he really think you’d be awake? Of course he knows you are. He’s the one who has fucked up your sleep schedule by taking you on these late night spliff sessions.

You’re almost grateful for Eren’s invitation. Truthfully, you’re willing to make any excuse to escape this uncomfortable and stuffy room. Your reply comes out fast, and you hope it doesn’t look desperate.

I’m down, you picking me up?

It takes him a little longer to reply; he’s probably getting his shit ready, stuffing his pockets full of wraps and little weed baggies. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgets to bring a lighter. You could count on both hands all the times Eren invited you to one of these sessions but forgot to bring one. The last time the both of you were about to light up, his lighter broke and he didn’t bring a spare. You better remind him, because he’s definitely smoked a blunt already, and his memory is not the best when he’s high.

Make sure you bring two lighters. Don’t want one to run out now, do we? That would just be embarrassing.

And you can’t help the small pang of excitement when you see the little bubble of dots that let you know he’s typing.

Haha fuck you. I’ll let you know when I’m here.

You smirk at his response. Dumbass would have totally forgotten.

So you start to get ready, taking off your pyjamas and putting on a pair of shorts and a hoodie, stopping to look at yourself in the mirror.

You take in your appearance. If someone couldn’t already tell by the dark circles around your eyes, your messy hair definitely gives away your struggle to fall asleep. You think about taking a quick shower to freshen up a bit before you head out, but then again, it’s only Eren. He’s seen you worse than this.

Your fingers run over your outfit: an old hoodie that has a few holes in it and a pair of shorts that you can’t even remember buying. It is still warm outside and you think about swapping your hoodie for a t-shirt, but you’re usually out for a couple hours and that’s when it starts to cool down and become a little chilly. Before you can even decide, you hear Eren’s car pull up outside.

The honk sends you flying down the stairs and you almost trip over yourself. You can’t stop how giddy you feel, and you know there’s a big stupid grin on your face. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Just before you open the door, you check yourself over one more time — keys, wallet, phone, lighter. Just in case. With your shoes barely on, you lock the door behind you and rush down the front yard. The cool air of the evening feels wonderful, and you welcome it as it hits your flushed skin. You feel it wash over you and you’re suddenly glad you decided on the hoodie, because you can already feel the goosebumps spreading across your bare legs.

You can see the outline of Eren's profile through the driver's window and you almost gasp. His hair is pulled haphazardly to the back of his head, the loose strands of hair too short to frame his dark face. The light from street lights does a good job at illuminating his strong jaw, and you wonder if it really is just the cold air causing the goosebumps.

You hope the redness in your cheeks disappears before you get in the car. Eren would definitely make fun of you if he noticed.

“Hey.”

He leans forward and grabs the coat that lays across the passenger seat, throwing it into the back before you hop in. “Hey. Merry 4/20 or whatever. You ready to celebrate my favourite holiday of the year?”

His speech comes out a little slurred; if you couldn’t already tell by the overwhelming sweet smell in the car, he’s already high, or at least on the verge. You wonder what your parents would think if they saw you now, in the passenger seat of the campus stoner's car on the way to smoke blunts and drink cheap alcohol. What they don’t know won’t kill them, right?

“It’s not a holiday, Eren. Stop looking for an excuse to smoke.”

You’ve known Eren for quite some time now. You were in the same biology class in high school and now you're both going to the same college. He had come up to you in the library when you were sitting behind your laptop, a pile of textbooks scattered on the desk as you studied for a chemistry paper. It was nothing too major, but you always get stressed and frantic two weeks before any exam. Eren must have noticed this, because he offered some friendly advice — a coping mechanism, if you will.

One thing led to another, and then suddenly you were in his dorm room, a bong in one hand and a lighter in the other. You started visiting him more and more, staying for longer and longer, to the point where you’d have to put your clothes through the washer twice just to get rid of the obvious scent of weed. Yeah, you failed that chem exam two weeks later. But we mustn’t dwell on these things. Life goes on.

“Hey, I’m being good. I decided I’m only gonna smoke on holidays.” What a liar. You would bet everything in your bank account that he wouldn’t last long.

“Eren, if you only smoked on holidays, then that’s means every fucking day is a holiday.” He reaches in between the two of you and turns up the music.

“Yeah, and if I was president, I’d make every day a fucking holiday.” You could only imagine the state America would be in if he was president. At least weed would be legal; that would be his first order of business no doubt.

“Well it’s good you’re not president then, isn’t it?”

He chuckles next to you, taking one hand off the wheel to pass you a little box, nudging it into your shoulder.

“Shut up and open your gift.”

With a confused look on your face, you take it. It’s long but small, and wrapped up in a ribbon which he’s tied into a little bow on the top.

“What is this?” He’s smiling like a toddler.

“If I was gonna tell you then I wouldn’t of fucking wrapped it up now would I? Open it.”

And so you pull at the little bow, the ribbon easily sliding off the box. You lift the lid and inside is a messily rolled up blunt laying nicely on a mini velvet cushion. You roll your eyes.

“Did you really just gift wrap a blunt?”

He looks at you, eyes flitting between you and the box. “Wow, not even a thank you? If you’re that ungrateful then I’ll have it back.” He reaches over to the passenger seat to swipe the blunt from your fingers, but you’re quicker.

“Gotta be quicker than that, loser.” He feigns hurt before returning his attention back to the road.

“I blame it on the weed, makes my reactions a little slow.”

“Don’t tell me that when you’re driving a fucking car,” you exclaimed.

“Hey, out of all the times I’ve driven high, I have never crashed.” Well that’s just a lie. Did he forget that you were in the car with him when he crashed into the back of the car in front of you? Your mom wasn't too happy about that, but you're an adult now; she can’t exactly stop you from seeing him.

“Oh really? What about that time you literally drove into the back of some dude's car who then wanted to beat the shit outta you? Or did you burn that incident out of your memory?” You remind him.

“Hey, that one doesn’t count. He was break-checking me and that asshole had it coming. He’s fucking lucky I wasn’t in the mood to fight. Prick didn’t know what he was getting himself into.”

“Wasn’t in the mood to fight? More like too scared.” You tease Eren all the time about it but to be honest, you always feel safe when he’s driving. Okay, yeah, he drives when he’s high — but he’s smoked so much weed throughout his life that he seems 100% more capable than when he’s sober. You’d trust him with your life, much to your mother’s disgust.

“Did you see him?! He looked 6”4 and was built like a brick-shit house! I never start a fight that I know I’m going to lose. Work smarter not harder, that’s how I’ve survived this long.”

You chuckled a smile spreading across your lips “Well let’s keep it that way. Eyes on the road, buckaroo.”

••••••••••••

Half a blunt, three beers each and a half hour car ride later, you arrive at the beach. It’s just past 3am and the horizon is slightly tinged a light blue, a hint that the sun will soon bring a new day. The salty air is refreshing as it fills your lungs and you can feel your muscles ease as the high kicks in. The heat seems to have left and the cold is now settling in, making you contemplate winding up your window. Eren must’ve noticed the way you shiver because he winds it up for you from the controls on his side.

“Thanks. You looking out for me?”

“Always.” It’s true, he always has.

It must be late, because the last time you heard the presenter on the radio must have been at least five songs ago. Now the faint sounds of 90s classics seep out of the speakers one after the other. Perfect background noise for a spliff session. You lean your head back against the seat and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of your muscles becoming light and airy.

“It’s almost 4:20am, how are we gonna celebrate?” Eren questions over the sound of the radio.

“I dunno, like we always do? Smoke weed, drink beers, talk shit and then get a happy meal on the way home.” You turn your head towards him. “What could be better than that?”

Fucking you in the back seat of his car while smoking a fat joint. That would definitely top a McDonald’s happy meal anyday.

“Sounds fucking phenomenal. Nothing I’d rather do more.” Apart from being balls deep inside of that pretty cunt with one of your tits sucked into his mouth.

He passes you the blunt he’s smoked halfway down and watches you lick your lips before slipping it between them and taking a deep breath in.

Eren always thought you looked your best when high. The weed seemed to plump your skin, creating a certain rose tinted look about you. Your eyes always looked brighter too, dewy and a little glazed. He imagined that’s exactly what you’d look like when you’re horny, and he’s not wrong.

Ever since you first started smoking weed, you’ve noticed it’s made you a little hornier than usual. You don’t know what happens to you; it’s like it flicks a switch inside of you and your senses become heightened. You get a little needy and a little touchy, and you definitely become a little wetter than when you’re sober. Oh boy… when you’re with Eren and smoking? You can barely contain yourself. Just two blunts in and all that man had to do was look at you and you’d be like a bitch in heat.

You had a feeling Eren might feel the same way, but in all this time you’ve been doing this with him, he’s never once made a move. You’re starting to think that maybe he doesn’t feel the same after all, or is he just waiting for you to make the first move?

Well, you’re only half a bunt and three beers in. Maybe you’ll start to become a little bolder after another one and a half blunts and two more beers.

••••••••••••

Time seems to fly. Eren’s telling you a story about some girl he sells weed to on the college campus and how she offered to suck his dick to pay for it. He then told her that he's not being ungrateful, but he actually needs the money to pay for beers for a party he was going to. A blowjob would be great and all, he had explained, but it’s not what he was looking for.

Somewhere in between him mentioning a blowjob, and something about being slapped in the face by the pre-mentioned girl, you stopped listening. The beer and weed has truly kicked in, but is mixed with something more dangerous. You can’t help the way your eyes flit towards his lips, red and plump, watching them form words you’re not listening to and wondering how soft they’d feel on yours. Your gaze then starts to travel lower and you’re only just now noticing that he’s wearing grey sweatpants; you can definitely see the faint outline of his dick from your position in the passenger seat, making your thoughts go racing.

“Hey, you still there?” Eren must’ve noticed that you’ve stopped paying attention.

You don’t know why you say it, but there was no stopping the question falling from your lips.

“Can I suck your dick?” You only realise what you have said when you look back up at Eren. His eyes are wide and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. Fuck.

He kind of just sits there, mouth slightly open as he processes what you’ve just said to him. Did he hear you right? No, must’ve just been the weed messing with him. Still, he’s hopeful and presses on.

“What?”

Oh shit, you really just did say that. You think about ways to recover from this — and fuck, there’s no way your fuzzy brain will be able to come up with something that makes sense. You’re feeling bold, so you decide to roll with it.

“You heard me. So you gonna let me suck it or not?”

You’re staring right at Eren and this must be real. You really did ask to suck his dick, didn’t you? From the look in your eyes, you were deadly serious, and fuck, he loves how forward you are with it. His dick twitches in his sweatpants, although he wants to toy with you first, make you panic a little.

“That’s pretty forward if you, isn’t it?” A smirk spreads across Eren’s face and you feel the boldness fly out of you for nerves to take its place. Somehow you persist. There’s no going back now, so it's time to go big or go home.

“The offer won’t stand for much longer.” A lump starts to form in your throat and your mouth goes dry.

Eren pushes his seat back and lets his red rimmed eyes drink you in, tongue swiping his bottom lip as they work their way up your body before landing on your eyes. You think he doesn’t notice the way your thighs clench together when the hem of his hoodie rises up just a little, but he does, and this motherfucker enjoys the way you’re squirming next to him. He wonders if your wetness is already pooling and if it’s starting to smear all over his passenger seat below.

He wonders how long you’ve been wanting to ask him that question. Was it since he parked at the beach, or while en route? Maybe even before that. Could it have started when he texted you? Or perhaps you’ve had this feeling for a long time now, back when you’d hang together in his dorm sharing blunts and playing board games. Maybe, just maybe.

While Eren thinks it over, he is definitely enjoying seeing you panic. He makes sure you're watching as he brings the blunt to his lips, wetting them before he takes a hit. He breathes in deep, letting the smoke fill his lungs. In the dim light of his car, you can see the end of the blunt glow, burning a deep amber.

When Eren puffs out, he’s veiled in the smoke; he looks a little intimidating, eyes never leaving yours, and you can tell he’s thinking about saying something.

“Alright.”

Alright? That’s all he’s gonna say? He’s not going to question it? Fuck it. Two can play at that game.

Without taking your eyes off of him, your cold fingers dip underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and he hisses through his teeth at the sudden contact. Of course he’s not wearing underwear. Fucking typical.

You pull his dick out from his sweatpants and it’s already hard, twitching ever so slightly at your cool touch. You almost gasp at the sight of it and your thighs clench — it’s fucking pretty. It’s long but girthy and it’s a pretty tanned shade with a blushed pink tip. There’s a prominent vein along the underside of it and you feel it bulge under your fingertips. However, your favourite thing has to be his balls. They are big and plump and full, and you can’t wait to fuck them cupped inside your hand.

With delicate fingers, you wrap them around his shaft and bring it towards your mouth, tongue ghosting over his tip and letting your warm breath fan over him. You’re a fucking tease and he tries his absolute hardest not to buck up towards your tongue, keeping his eyes on yours. He’s not letting you win.

You feel your composure start to falter when you see Eren’s leaking tip, and you can’t help but kitten lick at his head. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do so, and when you look up, he's staring right back at you, urging you on with his eyes.

When you taste Eren on your tongue, you can’t help but suck it into your mouth ever so slightly. He tastes a little tangy and a little sweet, no doubt from the weed that’s running through his veins. Before long, you give in quite easily, so eager to feel his dick fill your throat.

You sink your mouth onto him slowly, hollowing out your cheeks. You can feel the swell of saliva fill your mouth and coat his dick in a thick sheen. He moans at the sensation and his head tilts back, hands balling into fists at his side. His moans encourage you to move, and soon, you’re bobbing up and down on his dick at a nice rhythm.

Eren is thick and long, his tip hitting the back of your throat every now and then. Before long, pull him out of your mouth and catch your breath. A string of saliva hangs from your mouth to his dick and he grunts at the sight, fingers working their way into your hair and guiding your mouth back to his dick.

“Fuck. Don’t stop baby girl, keep going. You’re doing so well for me.”

Your knees tremble at his words and you take him back inside your mouth, one hand coming up to cup his balls.

The noises coming from you are obscene and dirty and Eren can’t quite believe this is fucking happening right now — can’t quite believe that you’re sucking the life out of him in the driver’s seat of his car. He almost thinks he’s dreaming.

Eren’s hips start to buck up into you and he moans at the way you choke around him, his fingers gripping your hair tighter and starting to push down on your head. Your saliva collects at the base of his dick, and the way you massage his balls almost sends him into overdrive; he has to pull you off.

“Ah shit – you need to stop. I’m gonna cum if you don’t.”

You try to catch your breath and you probably look like a mess, hair stuck to your saliva covered face, skin flushed and tears pricking your eyelashes. But he still looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars.

“C’mere.”

Before your brain has time to catch up, Eren is leaning forward and pulling you onto him, arms circling around the small of your back as he pulls you impossibly closer, chest to chest. His mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping at your lips and dipping into your mouth. You can feel the flex of his jaw against your palms.

He’s intoxicating; you can taste the sweet tang of weed that laces his tongue and it leaves you wanting more. It’s just not enough.

As if reading your mind, you feel the faint touch of Eren’s fingers as they toy with the hem of your hoodie. His fingers have always been cold and you hiss at the sudden feeling, moaning into his mouth as lithe fingers work their way up and under the hem running over the warm skin of your torso. His touch causes a shiver of goosebumps to ripple across your skin.

Fuck, you feel like a giddy school girl. You’ve done this before, but never with Eren. The butterflies are soaring around your stomach at the way he touches you, and there’s something about the way he talks to you that fills you with nerves.

You are pulled back from your thoughts when his calloused fingers cup the soft flesh of your breasts. You feel Eren’s breath hitch — and that’s when you remember that you’re not wearing a bra.

Below you, Eren chuckles to himself at his little discovery. His thumbs run over your hardened nipples and, fuck, were you braless this whole time? Sitting next to him, bare breasts rubbing against the material of your hoodie? He wonders if your pretty little cunt is just as bare and his heart races at the thought. His weed filled brain just can’t take it, and he starts to buck up into you to find out.

“No bra?” Eren whispers against your neck, you can feel the curl of his lips on your flesh, a devious smirk spreading across his face. “Was that for me?”

Eren chuckles into your skin when your thighs clench around him at his words. Of course it was for him. Everything you do is.

He briefly removes his mouth from yours to pull your hoodie up and over your head, throwing it behind him where it’ll get lost somewhere in the back seat. Then he pauses and leans further back in his seat taking you all in. His hoodie is pulled up slightly to reveal his toned stomach underneath, and you can’t help but lean closer, placing your hands onto him. You hope it looks like you're just trying to steady yourself and not feel him up — you don’t want to look too eager, like you’ve been desperate to touch him like this. But of course it doesn’t work. Eren is always so observant.

You watch as his eyes, red rimmed and glazed, fall onto your hands as they splay themselves across his flesh, fingers digging into his skin ever so slightly. He definitely notices the goosebumps when your hands meet his hard stomach and if his ego wasn’t big enough already, it definitely is now. You’ve wanted him just as much as he’s wanted you, huh?

Eren meets your eyes then, bringing the half-smoked blunt to his chapped lips and taking a long drag, holding it in as it burns down his throat and into his lungs. You wish you could see his thoughts right now; you’d kill to know what was going on in that clouded brain of his.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases the smoke and blows it over your half naked form, veiling you in a soft glow, eyes still on yours as if waiting for your next move.

Eren’s silence makes you anxious. You can’t tell if he’s enjoying the view or thinking about changing his mind. The mix of the weed running through your veins and the nerves that Eren’s gaze creates has you feeling a little dizzy and nervous, so you ask him.

“Shotgun me?” You have a coy smile spread across your face, a mischievous glint in your eyes as your hand wanders a little further down. How could he possibly say no?

With a smirk of his own, Eren’s words come out slow and a little slurred as they rasp past his lips. You’ve always loved how gravely and hoarse his voice gets when he’s high. It never fails to make your pussy gush.

“Fuck yes.” His hands tighten their hold on your thighs before he brings the joint back to his lips.

He remembers the first time he ever shot-gunned you. He never expected you to say yes but he was so, so glad you did.

It was back when you were quite the light weight. You were both in his dorm, your mind hazy with the high just after a few shotguns from him. It was adorable how giddy you’d get, giggling at anything he’d say or do and making shitty dad jokes that you’d find absolutely hilarious. But you’d start to get bold, hands grabbing at his jaw pulling him in to ask for another. Your lips would inch closer until they were just ghosting his own, practically begging to be kissed; he’d never do it though, not if you weren’t ready. But fuck, you made it hard for him.

You’d get so touchy, so needy as the night went on. You’d grab at Eren’s neck to pull him closer and whisper something in his ear. He could feel your hot breath against his skin, lips pressing into the shell of his ear ever so slightly. Eren bets they’d taste delicious, your cherry chapstick mixed with the sweet tang of weed. It’d be hard for him to stop, so he’d never start, instead waiting for you to make the first move.

Soon your hands would start wandering into Eren’s hair asking if you could braid it, and being the secret softy he is, of course he’d let you. You’d be on top of his bed, feet dangling either side of him as he’d sit in between them, fingers drawing little circles into your calves as you work your fingers into his tendrils of hair.

Eren would never admit it, but he loved it when you played with his hair. His whole body would tingle as your nails would scratch against his scalp, and he’d have to stop himself from moaning at your touch, the delicate scratch of your nails sending him into absolute euphoria.

You had to know what you were doing to him when you’d pull a little harder at his strands, the sting almost causing him to moan out, head tilting further back into your touch and brushing against your inner thighs. It’d take every last ounce of his restraint to not turn his head and press a wet open-mouthed kiss into your flesh, to pull your joggers down and dip his tongue into your sweet folds and make you writhe above him just like he is below you right now.

But over time, you’d come round to his dorm more often, and soon you weren’t so much of a lightweight. You stopped being giddy and needy as you grew into your tolerance, even able to handle a full blunt all by yourself. Eren was almost proud at how far you’d come, but it meant no more shotgun kisses and no more hair braiding. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

So you could only imagine how excited he is right now as you straddle him, clothed pussy rubbing into his bare, throbbing dick and making a mess of your shorts.

Eren’s fingers wrap around your jaw to hold you in place, thumb swiping across your lips and coaxing them open. He just has to dip the tip of his thumb inside and watch as you suck it into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digit. He reels you a little closer, just enough to keep you wanting more as he blows out, basking you in a cloud of his smoke.

You breathe it in and it goes straight to your head, swirling around and making you feel as light as air. Fuck, you’ve missed this. You can’t help the way your hips grind down into him as he does it again, tongue dipping into your mouth this time.

“Look at you. So desperate to have me inside of you, huh?” God, Eren loves it when you’re dying for him, and nothing can ease your hunger except his dick stuffing you full. You’re becoming impatient, but before you can take matters into your own hands, you feel Eren’s wandering fingers dancing over your clothed slit. The fabric of your shorts and underwear act as a barricade, and you feel the ever growing need to feel those fingers deep inside of you. It becomes unbearable, as if you just might combust.

Callused fingers carefully rub circles into the fabric and you can feel your excitement as it dampens your underwear under his fingertips.

“I need you. Fuck, Eren, I need your fingers inside of me.” He smirks at how desperate you are and he loves that he can do this to you, make you a begging, pleading mess.

“You're not gonna say please?” Eren can be such a dick sometimes, but you’re in no mind to come back with something smart, your brain is a muddled mess and all you can think about is Eren and his fingers and his dick and how much you need him, all of him. So you just give in, not even trying to be just a little bit subtle about it.

“Ugh, fuck. Please, pl-please. Fuck me with your fingers, god please.” You moan out, writhing under Eren's touch that’s just not quite enough.

“Okay baby girl, pull your shorts down for me.”

Being ever so obedient, you’re quick to remove your shorts, wishing the stupid piece of material was discarded long ago. The man below you groans at the sight that greets him.

You’re wearing a pair of grey lace underwear, the colour of the material making your wetness visible to Eren, and he can’t help but run his index finger along your clothed slit and up to your clit. The action elicits a delicious moan from you and he has to tear his eyes away from your pussy to look at you.

You’re watching Eren’s every move, watching his finger as it circles your clit, your underwear becoming darker as the wetness grows. Your hips start to buck up, desperate to feel that pressure you desire. If Eren had a clear mind and wasn’t higher than the Empire State, he’d make you beg for it, wait till you're on the verge of tears before he gives you what you want. But Eren is just as desperate as you and his composure is on thin ice.

So with one hand, he pushes your underwear to the side and a guttural moan escapes you when you feel Eren’s rough fingertips slide against the delicate flesh of your pussy. They spread your wetness to your clit, and just as promised, Eren dips them between your folds. You gasp as they push past your ring of muscle, curling up into your spongy walls, and you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Fuck, you’re soaking baby. All this for me?” Yes, yes it was. Everything was for him. It always has been and it always will be.

Your cunt sucks Eren in deep; he feels you pulse around his knuckles, sending a pang of desire straight to his twitching dick. He couldn’t even fathom that his dick would soon replace his fingers, deep inside your warm wet walls, pulling him in and milking him dry. The thought has his knees shaking and chest caving in.

His middle finger joins his ring finger inside of you and he moves his wrist positioning it better so that he can pound into you at a quicker pace and finger fuck you from below. He sets a soul-shattering pace and you have to splay your hands across the window to keep you upright. With every thrust, his fingertips hit that sweet spot inside of you — and just when you think it’s too much, his other hand comes up and his fingers start to rub at your clit relentlessly.

You feel the familiar fireworks start to spark in your core, and before you know it, you’re gushing all over him, a moaning, shaking mess as his fingers continue with the same speed.

“Fuck, Eren! It’s too much, I-I can’t take it!” You whimper.

“That’s it baby, I’ve got you, you’re doing such a good job. Fuck, look at you, squirting all over me.”

Eren feels the way you pulse around his fingers after you cum and he collects your juices before pulling out and sucking them into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

“Fuck. I can’t wait any longer, baby. I’ve got to be inside of you.”

Before you have time to come down from your climax, he’s pushing your underwear to the side and lining his dick up with your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him.

You both moan together as you slowly take him into your warmth inch by inch. You can feel that prominent vein as it bulges against your gummy walls and your pussy quivers at the feeling.

Once Eren is fully sheathed inside the channel of your cunt, your body starts to move of its own accord, desperate to feel the sweet stretch of his dick. You start to grind down into his, but he grips at your hips to stop your movements, keeping you still on top of him. His face is grimaced, eyes screwed shut and he looks like he’s trying to concentrate.

“Ah shit – don’t move. I’ll cum if you do, just let me focus,” Eren hisses through gritted teeth. His confession sends a bolt of electricity straight to your pussy and you clench around him.

“Fuck, don’t do that. Not now, it’s too much.” His grip on you tightens.

“Eren please, I don’t know how much longer I can wait wanna feel you drag inside of me.” Your tiny pleas do little to help his focus. The weed isn’t helping either; it makes him extra sensitive to your warm, wet walls, and he can feel every pulse of your cunt.

You sit above him, cock deep inside of you, cockwarming Eren for what feels like forever. You’re growing a little impatient and almost start moving until you hear him below you.

“Okay baby, ride me.” And that’s all the permission you need as you start to drag your hips across his, the tip of his dick nudging your walls. You moan out when he starts to thrust up into you ever so slightly. He thinks this is the perfect time to reach for his blunt.

One hand is on your hip, swaying back and forth with your movements, while the other holds a blunt between his fingers, offering it to you after he takes a hit every so often and blows it over your body, veiling it in a mist of smoke. Meanwhile, the orange light from the street lights outside basks you in a heavenly glow, softening your skin. Eren catches himself swipe at his bottom lip, pulling the kiss-drunk skin into his mouth ever so slightly. Fuck, you look ethereal. He will forever remember this image; he’ll burn it into the backs of his eyelids and replay it whenever he pleases.

The way your body moves above him has Eren staring in awe. He swears you are a fucking angel sent down to earth just for him. You seem to be basked in a light and it surrounds him and makes his skin hot to the touch. He still can’t believe this is really happening.

Part of Eren wants to flip you over and drive into you from above. He wants to lift your leg over his shoulder and reach just that little bit deeper, tip dragging against that sweet spot inside of you… but why would he when you’re doing a perfectly good job yourself? And he does have the most perfect view from below you; he can see everything from your gushing pussy, from the strings of your cum collecting at the base of his cock which smears all over his thighs, to your perfect tits bouncing so perfectly in front of him. Don’t get him started on that pretty face of yours. If you could personify euphoria, you would be it, eyebrows knitted together, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, all your senses focusing on everything that is him.

Eren can’t help but run his mouth when you look like this above him. Maybe it’s the weed talking, or maybe it’s just his sober thoughts — but fuck, he can’t keep his mouth shut and it makes you go feral.

“What would your mom say if she saw you right now, huh? Her perfect little daughter smoking my weed and fucking me like the dirty slut she is? She’d just about have a heart attack now, wouldn't she?” Eren’s eyes are dark, and they make you feel like you’re doing something you shouldn’t. It gives you butterflies and you feel a wave of desire go straight to your aching cunt.

Eren becomes so talkative when he’s high and he’s definitely had one too many blunts, so there’s no stopping the shit that tumbles out of his mouth. But god, does he sound so fucking good saying it: it’s raspy and whiney and delicious as he praises you, telling you what a good fucking job you’re doing, how you’re taking his dick so well and riding him like a fucking goddess. All the while, his tip throbs and twitches and hits so deep from this angle. It’s almost unbearable.

It’s raw and dirty and so fucking good. It’s everything you could ever imagine and you know you're on the verge of cumming all over him. Not a coherent thought runs through your mind and you can’t seem to form words, yet Eren understands. He can tell by the way your movements have become jerky, hips stuttering with every thrust and your breathing turning fast and shallow. He reaches between where you both connect and presses against your swollen bud, the pressure almost making your knees buckle below you.

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me. You’re doing such a good job.” His words of praise, thick with desire and laced with sweetness, are what tips you over the edge. You’ve had many orgasms in your lifetime but not like this, not when you’re high and above Eren-fucking-Jaeger. It feels blissful, so toe curly and so fucking warm. The orgasm starts from your core, spreading to every inch of you from the inside out. You feel weightless and it’s like you're floating.

Eren is not far behind; in fact, the pulsing of your walls has him spilling everything he’s got into you. When he’s high, Eren’s pull out game is non-existent. You could say it was the weed that makes him this way, that it dulls his senses and makes his muscles feel heavy. In reality? It’s not that at all. He’s just too caught up in the moment to stop himself, to pull out and spurt all over your stomach. And why would he when you’re on the pill and feel this good? He’d be a mad man if he didn’t cum inside you.

When Eren does cum, it’s a lot. He always finds his load when he’s high to be double, if not triple the amount than when he’s sober. It comes in thick ropes that paint your walls white and spill into your womb. Guttural, whiny moans push past his lips with every white rope that spurts from his balls. He has to grip onto your hips, hang on for dear life as his orgasm seems to pull him up into the sky and melt all over him.

When Eren comes crashing back down to earth, it’s like he’s been wrapped up in a warm, cosy blanket. His eyes finally flutter open, and he swears he’s met with a literal angel. He truly believes he has died and gone to heaven.

•••••••••••

It’s now 5:17am and you’re both in your clothes again, lying in the back seat of his car. The sun is slowly peeking over the horizon, and Eren is just now sensing his sobriety creep up on him. He feels the heavy weight of your head on his chest, your eyelashes and shallow breath tickling his skin.

He can’t help but look around and reminisce. Hand prints scatter the windows, and no, he won’t wash them. Instead, he’s chosen to keep them where they are, a gentle reminder of what happened here in the early hours of April 20th. A small smile sneaks its way onto his lips as he remembers, faint memories filling his mind.

Your shallow snores are peaceful and Eren feels his eyelids become heavy. He takes one last look down at you, nestled closely to him, a slight glow to your skin, and he can help but hope this won’t be the last time.

© jeanslilslut 2022 please do not plagiarise, steal, modify or repost any of my works.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[calaofnoldor]

In Your Dreams

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, Garth

Words: 7,393

Summary: In a world where your dreams are your soulmate's memories, a call to Garth for backup changes Sam's life forever. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: heavily implied smut, angst, the slightest allusion to ptsd, flashes of huffy!sam (is this just a thing in all my fics now??), fluff, language as always, also i was deep in my sam girl feels when i wrote this so please proceed with caution.

A/N: written for @idabbleincrazy’s "what do you mean this is classic rock?" 1k follower celebration! my prompt was the song "are you gonna be my girl" by jet and the quote "oh, come on!" which is bolded in the fic. also written for @swiftlymoniquesblog’s 300 followers celebration, for which i chose the song "confident" by demi lovato from her playlist.

congratulations to both you lovely babes!! i am SO sorry that this is incredibly late and probably not what you wanted lol. it really got away from me and i didn't know how to deal with it so here's 7k words that literally no one asked for 😂

Square Filled: Soulmate AU for @spnfluffbingo; Garth for @spnmixedbingo; Mistaken Identity for @girl-next-door-writes’s make me feel bingo; Soulmates for @samwinchesterbingo

MASTERLIST

It played out like a movie scene. Sam’s breath halted the minute the rusty ‘78 Ford Ranchero pulled up to the motel, frozen as he watched the passenger side door open in slow motion, making way for one black booted foot after another to step out onto the pavement. Attached to them was the most beautiful pair of legs he had ever seen, and Sam was only vaguely aware of his continuously drooping jaw as his eyes roamed up the rest of your figure, utterly and unprecedentedly thunderstruck when you flung your hair over your shoulder like a model in a goddamn shampoo commercial.

You oozed confidence, which was sexy as hell, but it was much more than that. Something deep within him startled awake, and it wasn’t just his man parts twitching with interest, though that definitely happened when you adjusted your daisy dukes and caused your top to ride up ever so subtly. God, you must’ve been the most sublime being to ever cross his path. Sam could hear Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” playing in the background, but it was impossible to tell whether the sound was coming from the car speakers or his own head.

Either way, the music was cut short when Garth killed the engine and sauntered around his coupe with a winning smile. “Heeey brothers! I brought backup! Allow me to introduce you,” he offered excitedly, throwing a casual arm around you when he got to your side, a gesture that seemed to send Sam’s heart leaping off a cliff, “Guys, this is Y/N and Y/N, these are the Winchesters, Dean and Sam.”

Sam tried to smile but you seemed so comfortable and content beneath Garth’s touch, he really wasn’t ready for the sour taste of envy that rose inside him, filling his throat like acid reflux.

“Garth, you wily son of a bitch!” called his brother from beside him. Sam didn’t need to look over to picture the smirk of approval Dean was sporting, and the thought alone brought forth more bile, which he desperately tried to swallow down with a couple violent bobs of his Adam’s apple.

“Oh Deano,” Garth shook his tilted head as he genuinely professed, “you always say the nicest things to me.” And as he launched himself towards Dean with puppy-like fervor for a somewhat one-sided hug, Sam felt bad about the groundless feelings of resentment he’d began to harbor for the scrawny yet respectable hunter. Still, he couldn’t help but try to catch your eye during the reprieve, only to find your soft gaze fixed on Garth’s back while the slightest vestige of a smile ghosted across your divine features.

She’s taken, Sam. Soulmates most likely, with the way you’re looking at the guy, his brain augmented bitterly. Damn it, Garth really was one lucky son of a bitch.

“And don’t think you’re not getting one too, Sam!” the oblivious bastard let go of Dean and came at Sam with open arms and nothing but love, so with a forced smile and mind full of warring thoughts, the younger Winchester had no choice but to awkwardly accept.

“So did you get us rooms yet?” Garth asked when he finally pulled away, “You know I’d love to bunk with you guys but ever since Y/N’s gotten used to my snoring, we’ve kinda become a package deal, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, I sure do, buddy!” Dean exclaimed with a lewd grin, “Yours is Room 4B, but we’re right next door in 4A so try and keep that in mind when you’re uh- snoring it up, will ya?”

Having long since grown accustomed to Dean’s base brand of humor, Sam was surprised when he realized his usual reflexive eye roll had been supplanted with a deep breath and forceful clench of his teeth.

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise we’ll be quiet as mice through the night!” Garth’s good-natured retort felt like a twisting blade through Sam’s chest. He pulled his brows together and placed a large palm tentatively above his heart, unable to understand why the involuntary reaction felt so tangible as he watched Garth set off.

Following suit, you grabbed some luggage from the Ranchero’s cargo bed and made for your room. Sam knew he should try to stay away from you, but like a magnetic field, you pulled him in, so when he turned around to see you strutting by, Sam fumbled to help you with your duffle. But the fierce glare you shot him quickly stopped him in his tracks and he only barely managed to stay upright as he backtracked and scurried out of your way, big feet and long legs suddenly forgetting their own size.

“Woah, get it together, little bro,” Dean sniggered as soon as you were out of earshot, “You alright there, kiddo? I’ve never seen you fall so hard so fast… almost literally,” he teased, ignoring the bitch face Sam sent him in response, “Think you can make it through this hunt without jumping Garth’s girl?”

This time Sam did roll his eyes, though he left the question unanswered, feeling a bit skeptical himself.

“You think they’re soulmates?” Dean wondered aloud, turning to look off in the direction you’d gone, “Not sure how else to explain that. But either way, damn, did Fitzgerald hit a home run there!”

Sam was speechless as he stared alongside his brother, choked up on the unshakable yet impossible suspicion that you were somehow… his. But that couldn’t be, could it? Even if you weren’t with Garth, there was no way for him to know for sure. The demon blood Yellow Eyes had fed him as a baby inhibited his soulmate bond so not once could he remember dreaming of their memories, and Sam had never been more disappointed by the fact.

The case was cracked with almost no help from Sam, as his ability to focus on anything other than you proved a hopeless and desolate enterprise. Paired with the way his impetuous attempts to connect with you in any sense were harshly rebuffed by that gorgeous yet venomous get back stare of yours, and Sam was a complete mess of shaky hands and pained smiles. So when you announced you’d be retiring early for the night, claiming to want catch up on some rest before the big monster showdown the next day, Sam was both crestfallen and relieved.

“Have a good night,” Garth gave you a meaningful look that Sam couldn’t begin to decipher, a cruel reminder of the inexplicable nature of soulmate connections.

“So… what’s up with Y/N?” Dean asked whilst Sam was still gazing in vain at the door you’d left through.

“Oh, she’s uh… she’s complicated,” Garth responded slowly, nodding along to himself as an uncharacteristic expression of melancholy replaced the grin on his face, “Most people think she’s outta her mind… I mean, she’s not! …But it’s a pretty common misconception,” he shrugged in a ‘what-can-ya-do’ type of way, but the Winchesters’ frowns prompted him to continue, “She’s just… had it kinda rough, ya know? And the people around her haven’t exactly been empathetic about it all so she’s put up some walls over time and she comes off a bit strong and standoffish to most, but her heart’s in the right place and she really is a fantastic hunter so you don’t have to worry about her having your backs out there tomorrow, eh?”

Dean seemed to subscribe to this explanation, but the hunt wasn’t what Sam was worried about. Now, on top of the need to be close to you, he was also experiencing a compelling urge to hold you, understand you, and comfort you in whatever way you needed. His entire body throbbed with the desire to run to the adjoining room and kick the door in just to breathe the same air as you again, while his fingers itched to touch you – brush the hair from your eyes, caress your cheek, envelope your hand, explore other areas… Maybe in your dreams, Sam... He almost laughed at the ironic mockery of that saying, but instead pushed the corners of his mouth up as sincerely as he could before proceeding to ponder his inner dilemma with his elbows on his knees.

FIVE HOURS LATER

You awoke to your own scream, bolting upright and gasping for air. Shit. That one had been particularly bad; you’d probably made a lot of noise. Glancing over at the other bed in your room, you weren’t surprised to find Garth starfish-ing above the sheets and blissfully unconscious. That was part of why you liked the guy: he could sleep through just about anything, that and he’d never once judged you by the nightmares that plagued you since birth and reflected your soulmate’s preposterous life thus far.

Wait. As you blinked, you realized something felt different. On impulse, your eyes fluttered shut, but the flashing image of a malicious face that appeared behind your eyelids had them flying open in an instant. That was weird. You never remembered the faces from your dreams.

The names and faces always became blurry as soon as you woke up, but it’s said that once you meet and identify your soulmate, it all comes rushing back to you through a mental, movie-like recap of their life story up until that point, although exceptions to this rule weren’t unheard of, and many believed that every soulmate connection was unique.

Regardless, there was one thing you could never forget about your dreams, and that was the way they made you feel. Or was it the way your soulmate had felt? Starting from a tender young age, you’d dreamed nearly every night, so frequently they were beginning to feel like your own memories. You knew the in-depth tale of your soulmate’s existence, shared just about all of his experiences. From waiting alone in crummy motel rooms as a kid, overcome with the fear and anxiety of not knowing when or if his dad and brother would ever return from a hunt, to being physically and emotionally tortured and violated within a magical cage where time and the limits of the human body adhered to no laws, and his abuser wore a smile that could light his veins on fire, as you’d just had the pleasure of envisioning.

More often than not, your dreams were nightmares, and you’d make sounds of protest as you slept. It was why you had chosen to hit the sack early, with the hopes that their drunken hunter rowdiness might help mask your shouts. But it hadn’t been easy to walk away, harder still to fall asleep. Something had been eating at your subconscious since you got here, or rather someone. Most of the time, you avoided people at all costs, so often that it’d become instinct, but you found yourself actually wanting to be around that stupidly tall Winchester, to the point where it almost hurt to pry yourself away from him. And now that you’d recalled a face from your dream for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help but wonder…

No. Don’t get your hopes up, Y/N. There was no way. Sam was far too… normal. Besides, you’d imagined what your soulmate might look like before, and even in your wildest concoctions, he hadn’t looked that good. You’d kept your defences up until now so you weren’t about to let them drop just because you ran into a pretty boy. You really did need to stop thinking about him though, maybe grab a glass of water to soothe your sore throat.

Sam couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing as he laid atop the scratchy covers and stared at the ceiling. If the hunt went well tomorrow, you’d be riding off into the sunset in Garth’s Ranchero without so much as a ‘goodbye’. He couldn’t let that happen, not when every atom of his being was propelling him towards you, screeching at him to get his girl. But you weren’t his. You were with Garth. So why couldn’t he just respect that?

With a sigh, Sam let his eyes fall shut, squeezing them tight in a pointless effort to erase the image of you from the backs of his eyelids, but they shot wide open again when he heard your voice cry out from the next room.

Sam was up before he knew what he was doing. There was only one thing of which he was certain: you didn’t sound like you were in the midst of pleasure. You sounded like you were in pain, and that set every hair on his arm erect.

He noticed his breathing was harder than usual as well when he quietly got to his feet and crept toward the shared wall between your rooms, although he couldn’t seem to constrain it. Pressing his ear against the peeling wallpaper, he listened to your whimpers and wails crescendo until they peaked with a harrowing yell that made his heart feel as if it would burst through his ribcage. Dean grumbled in his sleep and rolled over but Sam was frozen in his spot, despite the erratic pumping of blood through his lengthy vessels.

It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of your bedsprings turn into running water in the communal dining area when Sam finally moved, drawing a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He didn’t know what to say to you, but he knew he had to try, so he made sure to let his footsteps carry sound and make himself appear as small as possible as he opened the back door and walked into the kitchenette.

You were standing by the counter, facing away from him, but before he could take another step, you’d whirled around with a gun in your hands, aimed directly at his heart.

Sam’s hands shot up before he whisper-shouted, “Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s just me! It’s me!”

Advancing toward him without lowering your gun, you produced a flask from out of nowhere and threw its contents on Sam’s face before he could react.

He blinked the wetness away as you finally dropped your weapon, shrugging through a half-hearted apology, “Sorry, you can never be too careful on a demon case,” you explained lowly, flashing him the label that read ‘holy water’ before tucking the silver flask back into your pocket.

You took a moment to examine him, aggrieved that he somehow looked even better when he was wet. Trying to be cool about it, you crossed your arms across your chest and waited as he wiped a huge hand down his face.

The first words to come out of his sinful lips after your unceremonious attack took you by surprise, “Are you OK?”

“What?” It sounded harsher than you’d meant it and you had to remind yourself to stand down. He’d given you no reason to get combative; on the contrary, something about him just screamed… good.

“I- I heard you… it sounded like you were having a pretty bad nightmare.”

You gave him a slight nod, gulping your usual defense mechanisms back down your throat, “Oh, yeah… my soulmate has um… been through some things.” It was impossible not to huff at your own dramatic understatement.

“Right, yeah, I’m sure Garth has seen his fair share of monsters and other ordeals in his life.”

“Wh- what do you mean, Garth?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Sorry, I just assumed that you guys were soulmates with the way you are and… everything,” Sam confessed with an adorable cock of his head.

You nearly laughed out loud, “Garth isn’t my soulmate. I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if he were, but we’ve exchanged dreams before and our souls definitely aren’t tied together.”

“Oh,” he heaved a sigh that seemed to emanate relief, “So the whole uh… ‘snoring’ thing is-”

“A cover. He knows I get loud during nightmares, and we room together because he has the unique ability to sleep through an entire torture sequence being played out in my head, as he just proved again tonight.” Shit. What are you doing, Y/N? Stop talking. “Oh, I should probably apologize for waking you. You can go back to bed though; I’ve gotten enough sleep for the night.”

Sam’s eyes were wide as he shook his head emphatically, “No, you didn’t wake me! I- I couldn’t sleep anyway. But please, don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” he beseeched with soft, imploring eyes that you immediately dreamed of letting yourself melt into. “Y-you said you were being tortured in your dream?”

Forcing a deep breath through your nose, you slowly conceded, “Well yeah, or at least remembering it the way my soulmate does, I guess… if he even exists.” The last four words were added sourly beneath your breath, but Sam caught them right away.

“You don’t think your soulmate exists?”

You looked up to find his eyebrows drawn together, color-changing eyes fraught with genuine concern. You weren’t sure why you were still talking to him but something about the guy made you feel safe, impelled you to open up to him, “I find it hard to believe he’s still out there functioning like a normal human being with all the shit he’s gone through... I mean, if I’ve been ostracized just for telling people about my dreams, I can’t imagine how he’s survived.”

“You’ve been ostracized because of the things your soulmate remembers?!”

The way he seemed almost offended for you buttered you up even more, “Yeah, Garth is pretty much the only friend I have left,” you admitted with a quiet, sardonic laugh.

There was pity in Sam’s eyes now, a reaction that had always irked you virtually just as much as the fear and revulsion, but it was clear that his was forged out of empathy rather than the usual disdain. And it didn’t stand alone among the emotions displayed across his face. His expression seemed to say ‘please, tell me more,’ and you did.

“I was raised in the suburbs by conservative folks who knew nothing about the supernatural… so they thought I was out of my mind the first time I told them about my dreams, took me to a soulmate bond expert and everything, tried to ‘fix’ me. When they couldn’t, they ignored me, soundproofed my bedroom walls while telling everyone I was crazy. Pretty much disowned me as soon I turned eighteen, fearing I might bring home a sociopathic serial killer one day. Word got around and people avoided me like I was a ticking time bomb. When I started hunting and finally made some friends in that community, I thought they’d be more understanding, but it turns out some things aren’t normal or acceptable even on hunter terms. So, I never really told anyone again, never tried to make friends again. Until Garth came along, that is.”

A small smile took hold of your lips, as it always did when you thought about the lanky and lovable dork, “He never judged me by my nightmares, never treated me any differently, never looked at me through a lens of apprehension.”

“Well, I’m glad you found him,” Sam said, a closed-lip smile of his own peeking through the stubble. Then, after a pregnant pause, “I don’t mean to intrude, but h-have you ever considered breaking your bond, you know, just to stop the nightmares?”

“Never.” Your response was instantaneous and adamant. “I couldn’t. If I-… He’s overcome odds of impossible proportions, suffered fates that no one should ever have to endure, despite doing nothing wrong, been blamed for things that were either completely out of his control or that he was manipulated into doing through a kind heart and good intentions-” you had to stop yourself before you got too riled up.

“You talk like you’re already in love with him,” Sam observed.

“Well, it’s hard not to be. It’s also why I stopped giving a fuck about what other people think of him. I used to try and hide it, lie about what I’d dream of, but they’d always find out. And then I realized it didn’t matter to me because I’ll always side with him, and having narrow-minded people in your life is such a chore anyway.”

“But how can you be so sure of someone you’ve never met?” There was no malice in his tone or body language, only earnest curiosity, and it made you wonder how someone so large could be so very cute.

“Because if he exists, he’s a hero.”

“Well if he’s so great, why does everyone in your life run away from the idea of him?” Sam chuckled lightly, but you thought you heard something that resembled envy within his words. Maybe people were right, maybe you really were out of your mind.

“Because he’s done things that most people can’t even begin to imagine, not even a hunter. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you half the things I’ve dreamt of.”

Though you didn’t expect to be rewarded with another glimpse of those splendid dimples, you were nonetheless grateful as they seemed to fill your chest with unfathomable peace and irrefutable joy. “Try me,” he said, with a beckoning grin.

“Well, I mean for starters, he’s been through literal hell.”

Sam’s jaw suddenly hung a littler looser, but you’d encountered far more theatrical receptions.

“Yeah, he’s been dealt some real shitty cards,” you started, “Been tormented by pure evil in more than every imaginable way for longer than any conceivable human lifetime, been stripped of his bodily autonomy and rights more times than I can count, been used and manipulated by a demon since he was a literal baby, and that’s on top of losing nearly everyone he’s ever loved including both parents at a young age… But did I mention he managed to stop the fucking apocalypse?”

The surprise on his face was more palpable now, and you almost laughed at his frozen expression.

“And we haven’t even gotten to the bizarre stuff yet. Would you believe me if I told you he’s died more than once? Or that he’s met a prophet who writes books about he and his brother’s lives? Oh, he also once traveled to an alternate universe where his doppelgänger was the actor who played him on a TV show. And, there was even a period of time, about a year ago, when the dreams got all fuzzy, which I later learned was because he was-“

“Soulless.” Sam finished your sentence with such gravity, it felt like the entire earth lurched beneath your feet.

“H-how did you know th-“ But even as you spoke the words, it dawned on you: that there was a reason you’d felt drawn to him, that he was in fact the answer to everything, the person you’d been dreaming of your entire life. And in that moment, you discovered that the stories were true, because your question was both interrupted and answered by a sudden onslaught of images flashing through your head, a fast-forwarded montage of every memory you’d ever dreamed, in chronological order, with the names and faces all filled in.

You doubled over and closed your eyes as Sam’s life replayed itself in your mind, unaware that you were panting loudly and clutching at your head until his beautiful yet distraught voice faded back into the forefront.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you OK?!”

Sam’s hand instinctively reached out for you, but when it made contact with your arm, his brain was instantly flooded with moving images of a young girl, developing rapidly into the woman standing in front of him through what must have been every momentous memory he’d been denied the privilege of seeing, forcing him to recoil and mirror your startled stance.

So when you finally reopened your eyes, it was to see Sam bent nearly in half, close-eyed and open-mouthed, while big hands grasped at the luscious mane on his head.

“Guess I should be the one asking you that,” you laughed, but the way his chest visibly rose and fell when he straightened back up made you feel breathless again, “Did you just-“

“Yeah,” he exhaled, shutting his eyes once more before blinking repeatedly, as if he could still see the images, “And I’m guessing you also-“

“Yeah,” you parroted, glancing up at Sam with an awestruck expression that unwittingly floored him with its beauty, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

The elaborate fortress you’d built around your heart and soul after an entire lifetime of facing scorn and neglect and repugnance from nearly everyone around you had effortlessly dissolved at his touch, and as you fully came to terms with the giant revelation before you, something within you gave way, letting every emotion you were feeling appear written across your face.

“You’re real?” Your whispered words sounded just as much a statement as they did a question, though in reality, they might have been a plea.

Taking a small, wary step toward him as your eyes flickered between his, your hand – with a mind of its own – slowly reached up to embrace his chiseled jaw, and your lips were incapable of resisting their joyous quirk when his light stubble tickled your palm and the skin beneath it proved warm and solid.

His long fingers wrapped around your wrist reverently, “Yeah, baby, I’m real.”

Your breath hitched at the gorgeous depth of his voice. “How are you real? And so fucking gorgeous?” you breathed, fingers dancing across his cheekbones before reveling in the silky softness of his hair, “And tall? I mean, I kinda guessed you’d be on the above average side with the way most people look up at you in your memories but jeez... You’re perfect.” Your body moved on its own accord as it traveled the short distance to anchor itself against his, wasting no time to pull him down and kiss him with every ounce of ‘you’ you could muster, to which Sam instantly and eagerly responded.

It was easily the best kiss of your life, decades worth of anticipation that balanced a delicate pendulum swaying between hope and desperation, combined with the fierce love you already felt for this impossibly perfect man poured through you until it found its release in Sam’s mouth.

He slid his fingers into the hair behind your neck, cradling the back of your head, while his other massive hand settled in the valley of your waist, pulling you snug into him until you could feel the lines of his abs. “You’re pretty damn perfect yourself. Been dreaming of this since I saw you step outta that damn car.”

“Yeah?” The single, slightly smug word was all you could articulate.

“Fuck yeah, that’s why seeing you with Garth felt like such a cruel joke, especially since I’d never had a single dream of your memories until I touched you just now, so there was no way for me to gauge anything.”

“Right, I guess I should’ve been more alert, but I figured brothers hunting together wasn’t all that uncommon. Can’t believe I couldn’t smell the co-dependency though,” you giggled but Sam shut you up with a swift kiss. “Mm, well now that you have seen some of my memories, what do you think?”

“I think you’re everything I could’ve possibly dreamt up and more.”

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the cheesy type,” you deadpanned.

“I’m just being honest.” Sam’s dimples broke through with a mirthful smile and already you knew they‘d become one of your favorite things in this world and beyond.

Biting your lip, you nodded, “OK, well in the spirit of honesty, I have to tell you that it was way more arousing to see you make those monster kills in that director’s cut in my head than to dream about it from your perspective.”

Sam’s smile turned into a smirk, “Yeah?”

You trailed your hands down his impressive torso, relishing every ridge and groove, mapping out the thick cords of his long neck, grazing the taut nipples beneath his cotton t-shirt, and lingering within the deep trenches of his V-line as you made your way down to the waistband of his jeans. Hooking your fingers into his belt loops, you tugged him toward you with a force that seemed to both surprise and excite him, if his quiet grunt and darkened pupils were any indication. “Fuck yeah,” you echoed before pushing your lips back against his.

Having waited much too long for this, you couldn’t hold back. Sam must’ve felt similarly because he pushed back just as hard, until you were forced to grip him tighter, digging your fingers into his muscled back just to hold on. His own fingers applied a similar pressure to your butt cheeks, squeezing them with a rough hunger that only spurred you on more.

But just as your tongues began to get acquainted – though it felt more like lovers reuniting after an unspeakably long and unbearable period of time – Sam somehow managed to retreat an inch from your hold, hissing through his teeth with crinkled brows and closed eyes. His chest heaved into yours a few times before he spoke, sounding about as regretful as you felt, “Wait… Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I’ve already ruined your life by being your soulmate. I can’t be good for you.”

“Sam, you do realize that our souls are literally bound together, right? And there’s nothing you could say or do that would make me stay away now that I’ve finally found you.”

“Y/N, I started the apocalypse!” Sam swore it took almost as much willpower to untangle himself from you as it had to overpower Lucifer in that godforsaken cemetery. He backed up in fear that your pull was stronger at closer distances, though he still couldn’t look at you, choosing an unfocused spot on the speckled floor to eye instead, as the shame and guilt began to cloud his mind.

“No, you thought you were saving the world!” you countered immediately, feeling the fiery mass of restrained ire you’d been carrying inside you for years blaze alight, as if with the click of a switch, “And then you did! By risking and sacrificing everything! Not to mention there were sixty-five other seals that had nothing to do with you!”

“Well how 'bout the fact that I was addicted to demon blood?” Sam’s voice grew louder. There was nothing like recounting his own sins to get him fired up. “I had a sexual relationship with a demon! Surely, you’re not OK with that?!”

With a scoff, you dismissed him, “You think people don’t have sex before they find their soulmates? I mean, yeah, it was a weird thing to dream about, but I’ve always felt what you felt, remember? So I know it started because you were desperate to save Dean and I know the weight of the grief you were feeling when you were with her. I know how you thought you were helping people by exorcising demons instead of killing their meatsuits. I know all of it. You can’t scare me off, Sam!”

While he was finding it surprisingly hard to dispute your claims, true to his Winchester genes, Sam was much too stubborn to give up. You were brilliant and beautiful and deserved so much more than anything he had to offer. “What about all the things I did when I was soulless?” he tried again.

But you had a retort on the ready for that one as well. “Sam, don’t you get it by now? That was out of your control. The same way you wouldn’t blame someone for all the things they do when they're possessed. Besides, as your soulmate, I’m not too concerned about your douchey behaviour when you were literally missing your soul.”

That seemed to shut him up, but the confliction swirling within his prismatic eyes told you he wasn’t convinced. “Look,” you sighed, “you always think you’ve got this darkness inside you, that you’re not ‘clean’… but you are.”

As you let that sink in, you smiled to yourself, “You know, you and Garth actually have that in common: you’re both good to the core. You’re clean, Sam. You’re the cleanest, purest soul I’ve ever known, but baby, you’re not normal.” Shaking your head apologetically, you resisted the temptation to kiss that disbelieving, forlorn look off his face. “I know you’ve always wanted to be but you’re anything but. I mean, you saved the fucking world, Sam! When the world has done nothing to deserve you. You suffered nearly two centuries of torture by the devil himself to save it, and not only did you never get any acclaim, but the whole thing has left you racked with wrongful blame and unreasonable guilt!? And I know you don’t think you do, but baby you have every goddamn right to be mad, to be furious.”

Your soulmate’s ridiculously puppy-like gaze almost had you leaping to wrap him up in your arms, but you willed yourself to continue, “But in the end, all the bullshit crap you took didn’t make you jaded; it didn’t make you violent or vengeful or bitter. No, you turned it into love, and strength, and empathy. You still care so deeply, still carry on saving everyone you can, still manage to find hope. Fuck, Sam, you’re the only reason I kept fighting. Cause I figured if you could do it, then I had no fucking excuses. You were always my light! There’s gotta be a reason we’re soulmates. I know you never felt the bond but I-”

Sam’s lips cut yours off with a forceful kiss, the first one he’d truly initiated and my god did it feel good. So good that you weren’t even embarrassed when you let out a soft whine as he pulled away tragically soon. At least his hands were still cupping your face.

“I did. I did feel the bond,” he declared, forehead resting on yours so you could feel the truth of his words through his breath on your skin, “I knew you were mine the moment I saw you, but I tried to push it down because I thought you were with Garth and every time I tried to reach out… you shot me down with that look.”

“What look?” Your fingers found their way to his thick and vascular forearms for it seemed unwise not to touch him whenever you were given the chance.

“You know, that get back stare.”

“A get back stare?” You pulled away slightly to shoot him a somewhat amused, questioning glance.

“Yeah, it was really hot but also very off-putting when you’re trying to get to know your soulmate.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you suppressed your laugh into a smile, “Well, it’s not my fault I’ve had to learn to defend myself and my misunderstood soulmate from nearly everyone in the world. And sometimes that means playing offence,” you admitted with a shrug.

Said soulmate’s giant hands glided down your arms to take hold of your significantly smaller hands, and his eyes, teeming with resolve and vivid remorse, were fixed on you as he said, “Well, I hope you know you don’t have to anymore now that you’ve got me.”

Sam was undeniably surprised and frankly a bit hurt when you snorted a chuckle in response, “Yeah, I highly doubt that. If anything, I might become more menacing.”

Though he didn’t pull away, you could tell by his expression that you’d bruised a somewhat masculine part of his ego. Sighing at his misinterpretation, you dropped one of his hands in favor of grasping the other with both of yours, fiddling with his gorgeous fingers as you began, “Hey, just because you’re all big and strong doesn’t mean you can’t also be a victim or ever need protection. You’ve been abused, Sam. And not just by the devil and every other monster. Sometimes the worst of it came from the people in your life, and I swear to god, there were times when I wanted to rip them to pieces!”

You looked down when you felt his free hand land on yours, its thumb running gentle circles along your skin that instantly calmed you and made you aware of how tight your grip had grown around his fingers. When you lifted your gaze again, Sam’s features were alight with awe, staring at you as if he were shocked that anyone could ever love him so much. It brought you back to how adorably sweet he’d been when you first met, not even twenty-four hours ago. That humble and innocent demeanor had led you to assume he couldn’t be your soulmate, the one who’d been through hell and back.

“I still don’t understand how you seem so… well-adjusted. I mean, after everything you’ve been through and never getting a chance to properly recover from or even address all the trauma.”

He raised your conjoined hands and kissed your knuckles while smiling softly at you. “It hasn’t been all that bad… you’re making me sound way more heroic than I really am.”

“Sam, your life was a prophecy from the very beginning, but you changed it. It was your destiny to destroy the world, but instead you saved it. Do you not realize how incredible that is?” Catching the glassy look in his beautiful eyes, you hurried to change the mood. This day would undoubtedly become one of the most important in your lives and you didn’t want to commemorate it with tears, so you released his hands and wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him as you lowered your voice to ask, “Or how sexy?”

Your soulmate closed his eyes and breathed you in, strong arms automatically pulling you closer, until his nose caressed your cheek, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?”

“Do you want me to recap the things I just said, or do you want a comprehensive list of it all? Because that might take a while and I really wanna kiss you again,” you moaned across his jaw.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam exhaled into your skin before your mouths met in a passionate exchange of love and acceptance. This time, it was completely mutual and felt like a dream come true in every sense of the saying. What’s more, kissing your soulmate felt like a big ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the world, it felt like celestial invincibility and dazzling euphoria. But most importantly, it felt like home, and you never wanted to leave.

Though he still found it hard to believe this was really happening, Sam knew he could never let you go now. He just didn’t have it in him. Kissing you felt like rapture, better than any high demon blood could grant him and infinitely more satisfying. There was a healing component as well, as if the simple touch of your lips could cleanse him of his wrongdoings and wipe away his self-contempt. All his life, he questioned what it was he’d fought so hard for, and this was it, right here in his arms.

Even within his boggled mind, one thought rang consistently clear: that you and this bond you shared must be cherished. So Sam kept the kisses slow, deep, and sensual as he backed you up into the wall, pressing a large hand against it to temper your blow. Wet and wanton slurping sounds filled the room, interspersed with muffled moans and shortened breaths. His soft lips and talented tongue wouldn’t release you until his lungs were begging for air, forcing him to pant into your mouth as he gazed down at you with unrestrained wonder.

You stared up at him with an equivalent expression as you caught your breath, that stunning, miniscule trace of a smile he’d first seen you giving Garth, now pointed at him and loaded with a whole other level of fondness.

Wordless communication must’ve been a part of your soulmate connection for the two of you seemed to know exactly how to move together, where to touch, and how to feel, like you’d been doing this since the beginning of time. Sam believed every nerve in his body sparked to life as you hooked a leg behind his knee and pulled him close, so close that each bulging curve of him pressed seamlessly into each gorgeous nook of you.

The loudest harmony of moans yet pierced the air and reverberated through him, and Sam knew right away that he would spend lifetimes chasing that sound. He felt himself respond in ways he never knew possible as your lips moved from his jaw to his collar bone, and your delicate little hands roamed eagerly across his shoulders and back.

“Mmm, it makes sense that you’re so big though,” you mused into his heated skin.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Sam couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice.

“How else would you fit all that bravery-“ you paused to plant a kiss on his upper chest and continued to work your way up his neck after every subsequent word, “compassion… strength… forgiveness… devotion… and love?” This time his lips met yours in a tender kiss. “Not to mention brains.”

Sam was dizzy with joy. He had never felt so loved, so understood, or so appreciated. “You know, I’m starting to think we were made for each other?” Your smile stretched so big against his own, he wanted to drown in this moment forever. “And you know you’re incredible too, right?” Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he chuckled at your suddenly bashful disposition, such a stark contrast to all those glares you’d sent him throughout the day. “Baby, you’re so strong. I mean, at least I almost always had Dean. You were alone practically all your life, thrust into this world you knew nothing about, with no one to teach you or guide you, and yet... Garth tells me you’re one hell of a hunter. And even if I hadn't seen those badass memories, just with the way you pulled that gun and holy water on me earlier, I’d be very inclined to believe him,” Sam joked.

It earned him a subtle roll of your beautiful eyes and a loving peck. “Well that’s not exactly true because I did kind of have someone to teach me… in my dreams. You might even say I learned from the best,” you whispered seductively whilst leaning up on your toes to run your nose across his cheekbone and your fingers through his hair.

Closing his eyes at the feeling of your gentle nails along his scalp, Sam released a content sigh as his hands found their way to your hips, squeezing lightly. “You know, you’re probably gonna get even more shit from all those people for actually being with me?”

“Screw all of them. They don’t understand that my soulmate isn’t just the boy with demon blood; he’s the man who saved the fucking world.” Your words were a low growl in his ear, and he just about jumped when he felt you rubbing up against his crotch to emphasize them.

“Oh fuck! Ungh, you really know how to talk me up, you know that?”

“We’ll see about that,” you answered with a wink.

And that was why when daylight rolled around, bringing with it a chipper Dean and the scent of bacon, both were greeted with the sight of Sam half seated on the table against the wall with you stood before him, chests nearly melded together and legs intermingled, both topless and groaning the other’s name.

“Oh, come on!”

The wafting aroma of breakfast had done nothing to alert you of Dean’s presence and you gave a little yelp at the abrupt outburst while Sam’s bulky arms hastily wrapped themselves more securely around your back, pressing you tighter to his chest in an attempt to hide yours. You huffed a laugh and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and Sam couldn’t help but smile at how right it felt to hold you in his arms, in spite of the awkward circumstances and pending conversation.

Before he could answer his brother, however, Garth walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peered up at the unfolding scene. “What’d I miss?”

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky​​​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​​ @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @peridottea91​​ @allys-creative-bubble @idreamofplaid @samsgirl2020​​ @katwed​​​ @asgoodasdancingqueen @austin-winchester67​​ @nerdyfangirl67 @fangirlxwritesx67​​

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please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed/moved :)

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Ren x Reader x Akechi (angst + comfort ending)

Warnings: Heavily depressed reader, anxiety

Relationship is NOT a polyamorous threesome, just a trio of best friends HOWEVER the ending can be interpreted as a possible polyamorous relationship starting or an implied one in the past. Also can be read as just best friends.

Female pronouns used

Word Count: 7k words

FINALLY: If you didn't play Persona 5 Scramble/strikers you may not get this plot fully.

Why was it so hard? Why was it all so fucking hard these days? It used to be easy: answer emails, find clients, sign contracts, write, never get the credit for it, make bank. Her fingers used to fly across the keyboard, used to scribble in her notepad at the speed of light. Nowadays, it took all the energy she could muster just to write a single paragraph. Or bathe. Or eat. Or… not do something stupid and irrational that she would most definitely regret later.

Was something wrong with her? Was she just being such an irritating little snot? An ungrateful bitch? Her career was lucrative, and this was the best time of the year, not only because she tended to get contracted more around summertime, but because this was when they all came back.

She exhaled deeply, shakily, like it was draining to do even that. It was time to turn that frown upside down, to plaster on a fake smile; they deserved it, and their moods might be ruined if they saw her like this. She would make them worry. She couldn’t do that, that’s what burdens do.

Fuck…

No no no… don’t think like that. This is the best time of the year. Her thoughts screamed at her much like the beeping of her smoke detector, the music through her neighbor’s wall, The ambient buzz of the fridge, the birds outside of her apartment window. It was all too much, too overwhelming, overstimulating. The thing is, she could handle it at first, this all-enveloping sadness. She would get lost in her own words, pages and pages of content. She loved writing. It was her escape when her loved ones could not be. It was something that was always there for her. But now… now she would rather rip the pages out, split her laptop screen in two than write another fucking word for another fucking desperately needed paycheck for another fucking unappreciative client. They always wanted their ideas put on paper, written expertly. They wanted her to make them look good. She ghost-wrote for others’ glory. Her original content, the novels she desperately wanted to be known for, the articles on topics she chose, under her own name were never published, always rejected. Writing just wasn’t fun anymore, nothing was…

Anyway, it was the best time of the year, and she owed them a smile. She stood, closing her laptop, shutting down the part of her that wrote to survive. She should be happy, not only was she seeing her friends for the first time in a year, but she would get to leave this prison of an apartment. It was messy, uncleaned for months, dimly lit, claustrophobic. It was an unhealthy environment for her in her current mental state, and she knew that, but just couldn’t quite force herself to get off her ass and just step outside. Maybe a walk, a dinner at Leblanc instead of just delivery food, or nothing at all, as had been the case a few times this week. Sojiro would be happy to see her, right? He doesn’t call, but that’s just not his style, right?

She considers it, she really does, throwing on her favorite little summer dress - light and airy, pastel yellow with the tie at the waist - but it doesn’t seem like her anymore. It belongs to someone more… pastel yellow aura-wise. She didn’t deserve it. Opting to throw on a hoodie and thin sweatpants (bordering on pajama pants), she walked into her bathroom, avoiding piles of clothes and debris. It was almost routine to avoid eye contact with the mirror at this point, not wanting to scare herself with the pallid reflection that was sure to be looking back. She’d lost weight, which normally would seem like a good thing to most, especially here in Japan where foreigners like her were often considered huge.

She simply ducked under the sink, retrieving her hair brush and doing what she could to salvage the rat’s nest on her head. They should be honored at the effort she put in today to see them! It’s more than she’d done to take care of herself in a while. That reminds her… should she shower…? Nah, by her count she’d just showered a few days ago. Her pocket vibrates, and she allows herself a second of hope, of excitement. She’d been waiting for an email from a publisher for months, and every ding of her phone was a possible fragment of joy.

An exhausted sigh escapes her throat. Of course it was a let down. She couldn’t seem to get enough of those. Woah, where did that one come from? She mentally scolded herself. The notification was a text from her friends in the group chat. She loved her friends, this text was a blessing, not a let down, and on one of the best days of the year!

… Yikes, maybe she was getting a little ungrateful.

They all had lives now: plans, schedules, classes, or jobs. The fact that they had time for the group chat or summer reunions at all should've satisfied her. But…

*

Ryuji - 11:47 am : I’m almost to Leblanc :)))

You guys better not make me be the first one there!!! I hate being alone in there

Fuckin awkward sometimes man

Makoto - 11:48 am: (Y/N) lives closer to Leblanc than any of us. You’re still at that swanky apartment a few blocks away, yeah (Y/N)? You’ll probs be there first.

Save Ryuji from this pain he’s invented lol.

*

She chuckled a bit at this. It was dry, rusty, out of practice. This felt nice. Her friends were home to her, not this prison around her, not Tokyo.

*

(Y/N) - 11:48 am: It’s hardly swanky… but yeah, I’ll probably be a bit early…

idk, no promises.

Ren - 11:50 am: Sojiro will be thrilled to see you, old man likes you more than me. Figures, I’m only like his adopted son or whatever…

*

The message was a joke, sarcasm, lighthearted, but it left her bitter, angry. They always did, Ren’s messages, along with Akechi’s. She’d found herself responding less and less to messages aimed at her from those two men in the group chat, and double ignoring direct, one-on-one texts from them. It hurt, to be honest, it hurt real bad, reading messages or listening to voice mails from those two. They were so rare, something to be savoured, and that’s why she could not savour them. They shouldn’t have been rare, they should be plentiful… they should’ve been something normal in her life, regular and as routine as the passing of time. Considering how close those two in particular were to her - closer than anyone else in her life - two souls she felt bound to for all eternity, the fact that they hardly kept in contact hurt.

I mean, Makoto visited occasionally though her police work kept her busy, Ryuji was never too far, Yusuke - the traveling prodigy turned master artist - made time for her, but not her two closest friends in the entire world? Akechi and Ren seemed to take their diplomas and run as far away from Shibuya as possible, and from her along with it. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Did she really mean that little to them, after everything they’d been through?

So, she ignored Ren’s message, allowing others to chime in and continue talking about meeting up, who was bringing what, and what the plans were after lunch at Leblanc.

_____

Ren sighed, tucking his phone back into his pocket after staring at the group message for what seemed like no less than half an hour, just waiting for her to reply, to say anything directly after he had, as if staring would compel her to move, force words onto the screen. Of course, she didn’t, she never did these days. He wondered what he’d done to earn her scorn, and hated to admit that it bothered him a little more than he usually allowed.

He’d noticed this starting to happen nearly half a year back, about six months after the last summer meet up. Sure, (Y/N) had stopped replying in the group chat as often in general, and certainly never started the conversation anymore, but it seemed different for him in particular, like she was ignore solely him more often. Maybe it was just his ego, his irrational anxieties maybe, and he allowed himself to think that, until it happened one too many times. He tried texting her and her alone, and was always left on read, and then suddenly there was no longer even a left-on-read checkmark anymore. Well, at least she felt guilty enough about ignoring him to turn read receipts off, he thought cynically.

He messaged all of their friends, their little group of Phantom Thieves separately, asking if they were getting the same version of the silent treatment, and they all said the same thing: that they noticed (Y/N) getting a bit quieter over text, but that they just assumed she was busy. Did she ignore them completely like they did him? No, they all answered, save for one: Goro Akechi. He, feeling the exact same worries as Ren but refusing to admit them to anyone, was awash in relief to find that this experience was not exclusive to him, but now the trouble was finding out why?

_____

She felt a bit petty, a bit immature not answering Akechi or Ren, like a spoiled child throwing a fit, but there was a part of her deep inside that simply could not bear to answer their texts or respond to their calls, rare as they might be. She’d find herself in tears, shaking if she even tried. The rational part of her brian told her that this was the chance to patch things up that she needed, that they were texting and calling because they realized she felt abandoned by her two best friends, the two loves of her life. Another part of her said that they were extremely busy, that the Phantom Thieves and their fun, mischief and adventures were in the past, that her existence and being forced to come back to Tokyo every summer were burdens, and that the more she ignored them the sooner they would realize that for themselves. Another part still said that they deserved to be ignored, forgotten like they’d forgotten her, that contacting them would lead to nothing but pain.

_____

Another buzz from her waist area. She’d thought it may be her stomach growling, as she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in at least 48 hours, but it was simply a different type of notification. Her heart beat sped up. The email app icon glowed and pulsated. She clicked it immediately, seeing that the sender was the publishing company she’d sent her latest novel’s manuscript to.

Dear (Y/N) (L/N),

Though your manuscript was excellently written and extremely unique, we regret to inform you that it was not quite a fit for our-

Her hand shook around the phone, gripping it until it hurt. She couldn’t bear to read on.

_____

She dragged her tired ass over to Leblanc, making it there before everyone else as expected. Sojiro gives her a wide grin and a hug, elated to see one of his many children he’d acquired throughout the reign of the Phantom Thieves. Knowing better than to address the stale scent of her clothing or unnatural thinness of her form, he guides her to the usual booth, as if she hadn’t sat there thousands of times, and promised the others would be there soon.

Time began to pass with her picking at her nails and checking her phone, when two women she loves so very much enter with a jingle at the door. The excitable redhead and bubbly blonde hug her tightly and squeeze into the booth.

The state of her body does not go unnoticed.

The artist enters, then the heiress. Then the future police commissioner.

The state of her body does not go unnoticed.

They were all excited to see each other, overjoyed just to be there. The cafe filled with laughter when the loud-mouthed Sakamoto entered next, swinging around a bag that no doubt contained convenience store snacks and liquor.

“Sorry I’m a bit late guys! I know you were all probably cryin’, thinkin’ I wasn’t gonna show, huh?! Ye of little faith! I brought snackies and booze!” He shouted in glee, hopping over the back of the booth and nearly into Yusuke’s lap.

“You literally said you’d be the first one here, how did you still manage to be late…” Futaba snatched the bag of snacks, incredulous.

“Well, I may have been so worried about being too early that I uh… overcorrected a bit and messed around to pass the time…” his words faded off, looking around the room at his beloved friends until his eyes fell onto (Y/N) across the booth from him. “Jeez, you look like shit,” he teased, popping a chip into his mouth with a lighthearted shrug. Embarrassment flooded her visage.

“Ryuji!” Ann slapped the rowdy blonde’s shoulder in reprimand. Of course he, the blunt and outspoken soul he was, managed to mention the elephant in the room that they all had enough tact to gloss over.

“What?! I’m just sayin’! You look ghoulish my dude. And aren’t you roasting in that fit? Black is the new pink I guess!” He laughed, mocking how her usually feminine and cheery wardrobe had been replaced by dark-colored sweats and her rigorous skincare routine had apparently given way to oil and eyebags. Normally she wouldn’t have even blinked at his words, in fact she would’ve laughed. That’s just how Ryuji was, how their group’s humor was. Normally if she looked like this, it would’ve been just a rough day, something to make fun of and laugh off, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case this time.

All of their heads turned at once as the door chimed again, signaling another arrival. Goro Akechi stepped in, hair neatly tied back in a bun and his suit in perfectly un-creased condition. He smiled that familiar charming smirk, greeting everyone politely. She felt her heart lurch. The group of twenty-somethings were all highly intelligent, perceptive after years of Phantom-Thievery, and not a soul missed the way (Y/N) refused to greet Akechi, the way she couldn’t even make eye contact with him. Ryuji, feeling the tense vibe in the air and not able to stomach more awkwardness after his poorly-received remarks and lateness, spoke up, trying to lighten the mood.

“(Y/N), your Japanese sure has gotten better huh?! You lousy foreigner! Remember how shitty it was freshman year?!” He chuckled.

“Ryuji, you haven’t heard me fucking speak in over a year,” she rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone with a dismissive sigh. Her nerves were frayed. She loved her friends so very much, but this was more social contact than she’d had in a year, and Akechi’s addition to the already overwhelming atmosphere was killing her softly.

Everyone paused, some shrinking back a bit at her biting tone. What was up with her? She hardly ever swore, and never spoke so sourly to a loved one. Again, they were an intelligent bunch, intelligent enough to notice the shift in her mood right after Akechi’s appearance.

The group continued conversing, trying to ignore the energy in the room, talking of recent achievements and funny stories, what they’ve been up to. Ann models full time now, getting a degree online on the side just to have one to fall back on. Modeling is going very well for her, she doesn’t see herself ever needing to do anything else to support her income. She works hard, harder than many other models and actresses her age. Futaba also attends online classes, but takes it very seriously, passing with flying colors while maintaining her love of hacking, otaku culture, gaming, and tech. She lives on her own now, more confident and competent than ever. Yusuke travels the world, selling art to private patrons, repeat clients, visiting galleries as an honored guest, never thinking his art is good enough but not as hard on himself as he was years ago. Haru is on the road to earning several degrees and the owner of her own little line of cafes that will surpass Leblanc in her heart someday. She was often at business lectures and meetings internationally, and doing anything to better her skills and not become her father.

Why couldn’t (Y/N) achieve what they had? Why wasn’t she out there thriving, snatching her goals by the throat and manifesting victory?! Why didn’t clients want her original creative works like they wanted Yusuke’s? Why wasn’t she content being an independent homebody like Futaba? Where was her drive like Haru and Ann? Holding back tears, she scrolled through her phone silently with an uninterested farce glazed across her face. Almost emotionless. Did she even give a shit that her friends were here? They were starting to wonder. She was usually the healer of their group, the mother, the mediator, the support. She always had advice, a shoulder to cry on, a wealth of funny anecdotes, something to keep the conversation going. Maybe shit was just changing… Maybe the saying that people change after high school was true. But… they were supposed to be the Phantom Thieves! Thick as thieves! What had gotten into her? Some of them were starting to feel a bit guilty for not checking up on her in person more often.

Akechi, ever the practical, analytical mind, fought hard to bite back his irrational jealousy, his negative thoughts. He’d been trying to change, to grow, but something was telling him that she was only here to see Ren, that she was in a foul mood because he wasn’t here yet. They’d both had her heart for years, a bit of a rivalry, and his immature feelings of possessiveness and ugly envy reared their head subconsciously at times. He had to take a breath, remind himself that Ren as well as himself had been getting the cold shoulder from her, Ren had confirmed as much. His jealousy was unnecessary… but man, did he want her attention, to hug her, feel her-

The door burst open, a messy mop of black hair and glasses rushing in, dripping sweat.

“Sorry I’m late! Lots of little delays and-” The group spared no time swarming him, Futaba scooping Morgana from his large backpack. They missed their esteemed leader, the one who recruited and united them the most it seemed. Well, he always did seem to be the main character of his own story. They all barraged him with questions and warm embraces, Sojiro taking his things silently with a smile to prepare his old room upstairs for his summer stay. Akechi fell back, noticing the way (Y/N)’s fists shook, the way she stood, bypassing the group and sneaking out the front door.

So he was right after all, her issue was with her seemingly-former two best friends, not the entire group, and now just with him. His presence disturbed her, and Ren’s pushed her over the edge.

Once the fuss has calmed down a bit, The detective pulls his long-time rival aside, a discussion blooming quietly in the corner. Ren half scoffs, half chuckles at how predictable his tawny-haired friend could be. Straight to the point, comparing her behaviors toward the both of them, theorizing why she seems to hate the two men she once loved the most, deciding to confront her and no Joker you don’t have a choice you’re coming with him.

The two men make their way outside, one with steeled nerves, a level head and a plan should a conflict or argument arise, one just wanting his best friend back to her normal self, and the detective pales to see the streets around Leblanc void of her completely. He didn’t like carefully thought out plans going to waste, or not getting his way.

“Where’d she go?” Ren shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thought she just stepped out for air?” He sighed, dreading everything he foresaw in his near future. Something was up, and he was feeling like he was going to have an awkward and miserable summer vacation or lose a best friend forever… maybe both.

“Well I don’t know, she’s obviously not here. You scared her off it seems,” Goro’s arms crossed over his chest impatiently with a false calm tone to his voice.

“Now now, you said she was already peeved before I got here… ‘cause of you.” The raven-haired male, seasoned to Akechi’s little jabs, replied in kind, never thrown off of his game by something so simple anymore.

“Well, she didn’t leave until you showed up,” Akechi seethed.

“I think we both know her issue’s with both of us…” Ren snaked his hand into his pocket, pulling his phone out before grunting in frustration. “Well, no, I guess I can’t just call her, can I?” he mumbled, hand coming up to scratch his neck in stress.

“Well, we’ll just have to go retrieve her, now won’t we!” Akechi brushed a hair up and out of his face, walking off in the direction of her apartment.

“Where are you- ?”

“We going, old friend! She still lives in that same old place,” he gestured vaguely through the air, “ - oh! Or don’t you remember even that?! Some best friend you are… Anyway, I assume she just headed home, she doesn’t talk to me anymore - as you well know - but the others said she never really leaves her apartment these days.” The judgemental tone was not lost on Ren, and he stumbled, trying to catch up to the other male who was already so far ahead.

“Do you… do you think that’s it?” Ren spoke up pensively.

“What’s it?” Akechi replied as the other fell in step.

“ ‘ Some best friend you are’... that’s what you said…” Akechi’s ears perked at this. Was there really a possibility that Ren was coming to a realization before him?!

The two men, never ones to get mushy with each other of all people - one far too proud and the other just not one to share his heart’s contents with many - engaged in a conversation far more genuine and emotional than any they’d had in years.

Was she really that miserable that she’d skip her favorite day of the year, seeing her best friends? Just slip out without a word? Was she planning to come back?

When did you last fly back to Japan to see her?

When did you?

How was her writing going?

Was she even still doing that?

Was she dating anyone?

Did she still have a crush on the both of them?

Did they still both have a crush on her?

When did you last text…

When did you last call…

By the time they arrived in front of her apartment building, they’d come to the conclusion that they were horrible friends.

Ren braced himself, preparing to step into the lobby of the building and head up the stairs to the second level where she resided, when his world went black.

_____

Swirling colors, inky blackness and red splotches surrounded Akechi and himself. The feeling would’ve tripped out anyone else, but it seemed all too familiar, and he felt at peace. Their vision swam, and they reached out for each other in a moment of weakness as they seemed to float, feet swept out from under them. When they were finally able to regain their footing, their mouths fell agasp, looking each other over with a sense of both nostalgia and horror.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” Akechi grasped at Joker’s black coat, eyeing his red mask and gloves.

“Back at you,” Ren… Joker replied, looking around at their surroundings.

“No… it can’t be. We haven’t - it’s been years!” Akechi marvelled at his Phantom Thief regalia, the same as he remembered it. He huffed. “I can’t believe we wore this, that my cognition has not altered this awful garment since the last time I visited the Metaverse.”

“Yeah… what a blast from the past, huh?” Joker held out his hands, wondering where all the time went. The memories stored in those gloves, the things that mask had seen. That was the best era of his life… and she was there for all of it, right beside him. With that thought, his goal was shaken back to the front of his mind. “Akechi… is this…?” The men both looked around once again at their surroundings. Shadow-like beings skulked around dark corners, chains clung to the ankles of their slithering forms, barred cells lined the walls, greater shadows dressed like demonic police-men stomped around with their chests’ puffed out.

“A palace…? Yes, it would seem so.”

They snuck about, not wanting to rush into a fight after years out of practice. What persona would even pop up? Would that, like their outfits, stay the same? The walls around them seemed to shift, to morph around the shadows, trapping them like inmates behind the bars. They phased in and out like ghosts, the pair avoiding them like the plague. Gathering intelligence about their surroundings - the who, what, when, where, and why - seemed like the best choice for now. They didn’t have to wait long, however, as the nightmare around them quickly started to reveal itself.

They spotted a shadow that looked uncannily like their old gym teacher, Kamoshida stalking by, shouting to every other minor shadow that would listen. That was him alright, they could tell by his voice, though his form was more monstrous looking and spooky than it’s real-life counterpart. He spat venomous gossip, something about a “stupid American” student, some ugly foreigner who talked funny. His shadow approached ones that took the forms of young girls, pretty peppy things wearing Shujin uniforms. They ran from him, and before he could give chase, one of those superior demons, the ones wearing police uniforms, guided him forcefully into a cell.

It was then that Ren recalled to Akechi that Kamoshida tortured (Y/N) mercilessly about being a foreigner all the way up until the Phantom Thieves stole his heart and he resigned from his position. The men searched every corridor, years of Phantom Thievery boosting their stealth abilities, and took in the not-so-subtle clues. There were random items scattered about a prison yard: a Japanese III: Advanced Course textbook with the pages torn and strewn about, notebooks, journals, a stuffed animal Ren won for (Y/N) at a festival with its stuffing ripped out, coffee pots, bowls of curry, and most tellingly, on the far wall, a display case that held what seemed to be (Y/N)’s Phantom Thief costume, proudly adorning a mannequin with her weapons behind it. The men came to the realization that this was not just a palace, but (Y/N)’s palace. They shared a look of disappointment, and they were disappointed in her. How could she have fallen this far? How could she become something that they spent years fighting against, something they all hated so very much? What corrupted desire had taken her heart, so much so that it had turned her against her friends?

Ren and Akechi circled back around to find the group of shadow Shujin students looking for more context and followed them up a rusted, bloody staircase to a second, seemingly higher-security part of the prison. Two things had become immediately clear:

Those giggling Shujin shadows knew they were being followed and

They had led the men directly into an ambush.

Waiting for them at the top of the staircase was a large shadow, a demon standing nearly ten feet tall, and he laughed dramatically as the Shujin students dispersed to reveal him.

“...Yusuke…?” Ren’s brow furrowed. Akechi, with the same look of disbelief, manifested his weaponry, preparing his body mentally and physically to use his very rusty magical skill. An altercation seemed inevitable. The demonous form of Yusuke Kitagawa before them flourished grandly, blood-like paint sticking to his hair and dripping down his chest. His skin was tinted blue, standing nude save for a sash around his middle like some statue of David wannabe draped into a pretentious pose. He pulled a weapon from thin air, a long spear shaped like some sort of deadly paint brush. He seemed to, in fact, be a very caricatured and theatrical imitation of their dear friend. “Akechi, why is he-?”

“Doesn’t matter, prepare yourself for a fight. He clearly means to give us one.” Joker summoned that old familiar flame of battle inside, joining Akechi by his side.

“Ha!” Yusuke spoke up, “you really mean to fight me?! You have no hope of winning, no matter what! You’ll be either slain by my brush here and now, or subjected to a life of slavery and servitude, just as I am, should my Monarch show you mercy… not that it’s much of a mercy at all...” he mumbled that last bit, and his sash dragged across the ground, revealing a ball and chain around his ankle.

“Monarch…?!” Akechi turned to his friend, waiting for his input. Ren shook his head, now only feeling disappointed in himself. How could he have not realized? The scenery literally screamed the truth at him.

“This isn’t a palace… it’s a jail.” He sighed, removing his trusty dagger from its familiar sheath.

“I used to be a Phantom Thief, and when it no longer brought me joy, she took my heart, forced me to stay chained to the past. She will not let me thrive, will not let me become who I want to be! Every year, thrust back into this hell, this reunion like Persephone called to the underworld come winter. A pact with Hades.” Yep, that was definitely Yusuke.

They slowly but surely dispatched with the shadow, gaining back their skills like muscle memory, and without a moment to rest, were greeted by another, one that floated down from the sky like an angel defying gravity.

A shadow with blush-pink skin kneeled on the ground before them, demure and shy. A veil hid her face, and as her dainty hand came up to remove it, a ball and chain appeared, fusing her to the ground. She called out to the men with a screech like a banshee, mascara running down her soft cheeks from her eyes. The veil now removed, it was clear who sat before them.

Haru Okumura.

“Please spare me! I don’t want to fight you! She forces me to! The Monarch owns my soul, she chains me here, to defend her to the death.”

Ren and Akechi stood in shocked silence, hesitant for a moment before drawing their weapons. Haru’s innocent, scared expression faded to anger.

“I gave up my precious life and dreams to be here! She takes everything from me!” She screamed, before swirling balls of psychic magic formed on either side of her, and she attacked.

_____

With the body of Haru’s shadow crumpled on the floor behind them, the pair approached the opposite side of the large landing at the top of the stairs, where a gate had opened, allowing them access to the next room.

“Is this… really what she thinks we think of her?” Ren felt his heart breaking, and it showed plainly on his face. Akechi, having reined in his temper quite a bit over the years and never one to wear his weakness on his sleeve, simply placed his hand on Joker’s shoulder, pressing him to continue on. “How long has she been struggling with these thoughts? Why weren’t we there? Did the others know?”

“I don't know. At least we know these are just figments of her cognition, what she thinks her friends feel like, not their actual-” Akechi’s thought is cut short when a large woman, like an greek goddess, phases up through the floor, materializing in the center of the room with a golden glow to her skin, much of which is showing. Her muscles, curves, and ethereal beauty are on display as her chest rumbles with a hearty, cocky laugh.

Ann’s shadow.

“It seems that we will be fighting off each and every one of our Phantom Thief comrades. Perhaps we should go back for backup after this one is dealt with,” Akechi stretches his arm out, an ache in his shoulders forming.

“No, (Y/N)’s shadow is here somewhere. We can’t just leave her like this. She needs us now. We weren’t there before. We can do this, just you and me. We’ve been in Mementos alone together before. We’ve got this,” Ren nods to his friend, hoping to bolster his confidence and endurance the way (Y/N) always bolstered their party.

“Bold of you to assume I would even let you leave for reinforcements!” Ann’s voice boomed, the walls shaking with its volume. “I’m the most competent slave here!”

“Is that so?” Akechi stalls for time, giving Joker an opening to attack with at least some element of surprise. This demon seemed arrogant, and getting her to talk about herself might just have been the trick.

“Why do you think she keeps me chained up here?! She’s jealous of me! I’m out there, gorgeous body, powerful mind, thriving! She can’t even publish a measly book, and I’m on the cover of magazines!” She laughed wickedly, thoroughly distracted. “The bitch makes me protect her because I’m the only one who can do it competently. She’s positively envious, the useless thing.”

_____

Every battle was much the same after that: shadows trapped in this jail fought to defend it because they were burdened with that duty.

Futaba’s shadow judged the Monarch’s inability to live alone, to be satisfied with solitude and for being so clingy and needy.

Morgana’s shadow spat at the Monarch’s ungrateful and self-pitying attitude. She was a human and could go anywhere she wanted but allowed herself to remain stagnant.

Ryuji mocked the Monarch’s depression, her sunken cheeks, her loss of appetite and weight loss.

Makoto was disgusted with her Monarch’s lack of drive as of late, that she wasn’t trying harder for her dreams, not as determined as Makoto herself. If Makoto wanted a novel published or her article on a prestigious website, it already would be.

Of all of the different viewpoints and woes, there was one thing the shadows had in common:

They did not want to be in the Monarch’s life. They wanted to branch out, grow up, leave high school and the Phantom Thieves behind, and she was keeping them there.

_____

As the two approached what was clearly the throne room, the worst thing they could’ve imagined, but unfortunately were expecting awaited them.

Straddling a broken down, oversized office chair was the warden of this prison. (Y/N) sat with her head in her hands, not acknowledging their presence, tears streaming down her face.

“(Y/N)!” Joker called out, and she cringed backwards on her dilapidated throne. She twitched, shrinking into herself, and shifted, her chest shaking as a sob rolled forth from the depth of her heart. She cried aloud, still paying them no mind, as if they weren’t even there. A crown sat lopsided on her head, and adorning her waifish body was her Phantom Thief uniform, except unlike the one in the display case on the first level, this one was poorly maintained, ripped in areas, shredded, stained.

“(Y/N)! Please listen to us!” Akechi reached forth, and his hand immediately snapped back as two vaguely human-shaped figures materialized before them like smoke. (Y/N) sat up, taking notice of these two new figures, but not her real, living, breathing best friends before her. Chains formed around these figures’ necks, and (Y/N) held the other end of them, one in each hand, controlling them. The figures solidified, becoming completely corporeal, and Akechi and Ren were now staring up at massive shadows of themselves, leashed and armed, ready to protect (Y/N). The final bosses.

“This can’t be real. She can’t truly feel this way!” Ren was shaking, looking up at himself in disgust. The two guards, the shadow-selves blocking their view of her, spoke in unison:

“We tried to move on, we tried to forget her. She saw us escaping, and reeled us back into this toxic prison. She can not let go of the past. It was our fault for showing her so much love and kindness for years. Now she can not live without it. She leeches off of us. She will not let us go. She. will. not. let. us. go.” They chanted, in a trance like drones.

_____

(Y/N) awoke with a start, immediately realizing she was not in her apartment, where she last remembered crying herself to sleep. The air was clean, sterile, the walls cream-colored, and the room extremely bright. She tried to sit up, immediately meeting resistance when a hand on her chest lowered her back onto the stiff hospital bed below her.

“Woah, woah, slow down. You can’t just move all fast like that after you’ve been out for four days.” She looked to her right, where Ren sat, calm and casual in his summer polo shirt, Morgana peeking out of his bag.

“Three days… I don’t even remember coming here. How did you guys find me? I think I was in my apartment… How did you two get in...?” She looked to her left, where Goro clasped a warm hand around her feeble one. Her mind was dizzy, probably half from only having what an IV could give her in the way of life sustaining nutrients and fluids for the past four days, and half from having her jail destroyed and her heart altered. “Four days…? How-”

“We can explain everything later,” Akechi looked to Ren for confirmation of their plans. He nodded back. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell her she had become the very embodiment of all the things she hated and formed a jail around her twisted cognition. There would be time to ease her into that. For now, there were other things she needed to hear more.

“Jeez… four days… I’m so sorry,” she shook her head in shame. “Everyone must be worried sick. I probably ruined the summer vacation… I’m sorry.” Great, another thing she’s burdened them with.

“Funny you should say that-” Akechi’s lip twitched, a bit irritated.

“Akechi…” Ren warned, letting him know to go easy on her.

“You think they’d be worried sick? Really? Considering you think we all don’t give a shit about you, huh?” Her eyes widened, suddenly very nervous.

“You haven’t been eating right, your apartment’s a dump, your journal looks like the ravings of a mad man, you don’t bathe, you ignore our messages, and you won’t let any of us help you because you think you’re a burden. Do you know how infuriating that is, that our best friend is wasting away and thinks we don’t want to help… or don’t care?!”

“Akechi!” Ren speaks sternly, a final warning as tears begin to form in her eyes. His intense stare softens as he turns to look at (Y/N) instead. “Everyone has been to visit throughout the past four days, even Sojiro. You should’ve told us you were this depressed. I know it isn’t always easy, but to let it get this bad...”

“I-” Her voice shook, unable to form words. She’d been keeping this in for so long, and now… Akechi was mad, her friends were worried… she didn’t know how to feel.

Akechi’s anger was tamed by the guilt pulling at his heart strings as he took in her terrified expression, the trembling of her hands. He sighed, taking her shaking hand in his own.

“This is our fault as well. We should’ve checked in more. We should be here more. For nearly six years you’ve been there for us, all of us, all of the Phantom Thieves. You’ve supported us through thick and thin, and none of us noticed you suffering, crumbling away in your prison of an apartment. We all are at fault, but none of us more than Ren and I.” She shook her head at that, not wanting them to feel the guilt of her own childish feelings, not wanting that pressure to gnaw away at them like it had her. “Yes, it’s true and you know it. All of the Phantom Thieves are close, but none have the bond we three had. There was a period in time where we could tell you anything, things we would never dare say to someone else, sides of ourselves we would never dare show the world. Hell, Ren and I fought over our love for you like two jealous, bull-headed children. For years we refused to share your attention until your love forced all three of us into a trio that couldn’t be shaken. And then we abandoned you. We said ‘fuck it’ and moved on with our lives and never gave you back the love and effort and time you gave us. We weren’t even keeping up with the most basic things in your life until recently, like what you’ve been up to career-wise or how you were doing mentally. We’ve failed you.”

“Goro, please-”

“And about you ‘ruining our vacation,’ don’t worry about that,” Ren interrupted her before she could throw herself into another fit of self blame. “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of us very soon.”

“W-what?” Her heart stopped at that, a sentence she’d yearned to hear for so long.

“Yep. After I finish up my culinary degree this coming spring, I’m taking over Leblanc and moving back here to help Haru with her restaurant and cafe business. I may even be a co-partner and part owner. I’ll be living right down the street from you again, just like old times.” Ren smiled softly, standing to reach for her other hand.

“And I’m going to take up work as a private investigator here in Tokyo. Working overseas was fun and all, but here at home, I’ve already got a name for myself. I’ll be making substantially more, and I can always be hired to go overseas temporarily for a case. I want to be here, close to home, close to you. It’s time we repaid your love in kind.”akechi

[ifeellikeameowster]

Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic

Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.

Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)

Pairings: None!

Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)

Author's Note:

I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)

Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.

The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.

Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.

It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.

Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.

He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.

"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"

He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?

"…"

Well, what else was there to do?

He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.

He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.

He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.

He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.

Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.

"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.

Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"

Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"

"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"

Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"

Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.

Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.

"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.

"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."

"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"

Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.

"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"

"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"

"Wha- I- I asked you first!"

"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.

"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"

Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."

"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"

"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"

"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"

"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."

"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."

"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"

"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."

"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.

"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"

"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."

"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."

"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"

"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."

Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."

"Mhmm, sure it is."

A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.

"Just answer my question!!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"

"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"

"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."

"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"

"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"

"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"

He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.

Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.

"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"

"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"

"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"

"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"

"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"

"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."

He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."

"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...

Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.

Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.

"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."

Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.

"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.

Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."

"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"

Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.

"What?"

Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"

Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"

"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."

Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.

"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"

"..."

"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"

Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-

"Ow! What the hell are you-"

-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.

"You-You're hugging me?"

"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."

Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.

Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.

"...But I thought you hated me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"

He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."

"You do it first!"

"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"

"With medieval weapons?!"

"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.

"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"

"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"

"And there's the name calling again."

"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"

"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"

"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"

"You're completely unreasonable!"

"And you're too stuck up!"

Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.

They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.

"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"

"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"

"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"

"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"

"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"

"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"

"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"

Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"

Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"

"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.

"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"

"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.

The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.

His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.

"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.

"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"

"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.

Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.

Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.

Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.

Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"

Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."

Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."

"Wait, the same castle…?"

Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."

"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"

Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*

"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, bitch!"

"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"

Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"

"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"

"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.

Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "

"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"

Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.

"I have the best idea!"

"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."

" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.

"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"

Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.

"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"

"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"

Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"

"......what?"

"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"

Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"

"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"

"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"

Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"

Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.

The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.

"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."

He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…

Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.

Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"

"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"

Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"

Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."

Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…

"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."

Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

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

The next morning, in Thomas' living room.

"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.

"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.

Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"

"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"

"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.

"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"

"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"

"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"

The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.

"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"

"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"

"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"

The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.

Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"

They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.

"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"

Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.

"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"

Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.

"Me!"

"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.

"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.

Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.

Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"

"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.

"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"

"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"

Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"

At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.

The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.

"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.

Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"

"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"

"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.

Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.

"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.

Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."

Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.

"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."

"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.

"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.

"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.

Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"

In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"

The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.

Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.

The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.

"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.

"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.

"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"

Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"

Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"

"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"

"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"

"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.

"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.

"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"

"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"

"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"

"I'm hallucinating?!"

"Yes, that is what I just said."

A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.

Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"

"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."

"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"

"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"

"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"

Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.

"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"

"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."

"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.

Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"

"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.

Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.

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

Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!

"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.

"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.

Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"

"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."

Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.

"...What? Where am I?"

"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."

"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."

"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"

The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.

"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"

He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.

Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"

"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"

"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"

"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."

Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"

The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"

"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."

"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.

"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"

"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.

The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.

[heymacy]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by: the lovely caitlin (ilysm) 💞 @sweetcresta

Name: macy, very creatively named macymacymacy on ao3

Fandoms: just Shameless at present, but i (embarrassingly 🤦🏻‍♀️) wrote Twilight fanfiction when i was a teenager, which has long been deleted from the whole internet, so don’t even ask lmao. and yes it was Alice/Bella fanfic, shut up

Two-shot: of vodka?

Most popular multi-chapter: my only multi-chapter as of now lol, the appropriately titled “teenage dirtbag” (TD)

Actual worst part of writing: motivating myself to write at all. sometimes i’ll go long stretches of time, weeks even, without writing a single word, not even opening the document or anything. i’ve struggled with motivation and time management my entire life (turns out it’s because of adhd, who’d’a thunk it?) and it’s what hinders me the most, as a human and a writer, even to this day.

How do you choose your titles: it varies! the idea for TD came to me when @prettyboy-ian made a post about a “teenage dirtbag” inspired fic, so of course that became the title. the name of the song and the song lyrics themselves largely inspired the plot of the story, so they’re pretty synonymous. for my one shots i either use song lyrics or like, some sort of pun/pop culture reference.

Do you outline: yes, but i was also cursed with an incredibly scattered brain. i always outline the story as a whole, and then each individual chapter, and i make a fuck load of lists alllll the time, but things will change at a moment’s notice. i’ll get an idea, or see a photo, or hear a song, and something will click in my head and the story will shift. the overall trajectory is usually pretty consistent, but certain elements can change.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: i’m absolutely dying to write a “The Good Place” au with Ian and Mickey as Chidi and Eleanor, respectively, where Mickey winds up in The Good Place despite not being a super great person on earth lmao. and Ian, of course (being some sort of do-gooder on earth) decides to help him out, so he can avoid being sent to The Bad Place. oh! and also, they’re soul mates. whoops! i WILL write this fic, i just don’t know when. my plan was to follow up TD with the first update of my next multi-chapter, but now i sorta wanna write this as a little ✨treat✨ to myself. the only thing is that idk if it would work better as a long ass one shot or a short multi-chapter with relatively small sections, like 3-7k words per chapter at most. idk. we’ll see!

Callouts @ me: learn when to shut the fuck up. self-control is self-care. comparison is the thief of joy. your friends aren’t lying to you. take your meds, bitch! oh, and stop waiting until the last second to do important shit. and eat a fucking vegetable once in a while. and take a tolerance break. also, the door dash fees aren’t worth it.

Best writing traits: oh boy. okay macy, you can do this. alright, for starters, i think i have a pretty decent handle on descriptive language and scene settings. it’s wordy the way i write those parts, i know, but i think (hope) they’re still easy to understand and visualize. i think i write decent dialogue (i read everything i write out loud, with the inflections on the italicizations and everything). and one time someone told me that my writing was “cinematic”, and it’s the best compliment i’ve ever received. i think about it every single day 🥺

Spicy tangential opinion: okay i’m interpreting this as controversial (spicy) random (tangential) opinion, so like, an unpopular opinion. i have many, but i’ll just pick a few that aren’t too terribly polarizing: only talking about things that you hate is boring as fuck, pineapple does not belong on pizza, and “the L word” is positively insufferable 💀 and i know that i can have my lesbian card revoked for saying that, but it’s the truth. i wish i was sorry i really do.

I'm tagging @arrowflier @gardenerian & @iansfreckles (if you guys already did this i’m sorry, i feel like i missed a lot on my dash the last few days 😭)

[imjustmarcy]

My Ao3 review of the year??

So, because I have nothing better to do, here: have a list of every fic (mainly bnha, oops) that I posted this year, sorted by different AUs and plot bc holy shit I made like 4 series this year-

Endeavor-centric:

The day that wasn't (x) (5k) Gonna be honest, not a big fan of Endeavor, but my pal Platypus mentioned their dream they had and well, this was born. Basically Endeavor getting hit with a Quirk that turns him into a ghost and makes so he's forced to follow his children around and hear what they really think of him. With a sprinkle of DabiHawks

Hawks-centric:

The Discovery (x) (1k) so my brain decided to write aromatic bisexual Hawks bc self project much and this is just a small piece of him finding out he's aro.

Very self indulgent DabiHawks plus Mar projecting onto Hawks again:

The bird that forgot how to fly (x) (2k) just some hurt/comfort that I wrote to vent

Dabihawks as parents:

Yes I am indeed that bitch. Now prepare yourself bc I wrote A LOT about this...

Phoenix (x) (20k) basically the introduction to the story of Ryu, the DabiHawks kid, and chapter two goes more in depth about him and his best friends. Chapter one is more DabiHawks centric, and chapter 3 is just a mister dump of extra info.

A (not really) spooky Halloween (x) (3k) Halloween special of Ryu trying to sneak out to a haunted house with his friends. Spoiler: his dads know and just decide to fuck with him.

Ryu's little time travel adventure (x) (6k) Ryu gets hit with a Quirk that sends him to the past, before his idiotic dads were even together. There will be a next part to this but at this rate it will have to be posted sometime in January so...

The new League of Villains (x) (7k) so Mar's monkey brain wanted to make a part with Ryu becoming a villain so... He's vry badass and formes the Dragon Alliance, aka the new LOV, with the help of his best friends and with the purpose of destroying the Hero Commission :D

Dabihawks has Ryu, but it's crack:

There's a lot more crack works for the Dragon Verse than there is for the 'Canon' story... Oh well

Sneaky is my middle name (or not) (x) (4k) Hawks has a big ass mouth and lets it slip he has a son and is married. Dabi is not amused.

Who's the dad? (x) (4k) follow-up to that disaster and poor attempt at a social media fic. The internet is smart and everyone already suspects that #DabiIsTheDad

Should've keep it in your pants (x) (4k) inspired by the amazing fic 'Stolen Fried Chicken'. Where Hawks discovers that his son's dad is very much not dead. Ft Natsuo and Hawks being the best bros and having one braincell between the two of them.

Dabi's Biggest Secret(s) (x) (3k) the Todorokis find a bunch of old flash drives with their older brother's videos and discover he used to date Hawks and had a kid with him before they even graduated high school :D

Hawks makes a scene (x) (2k) complementary to the previous part, with Hawks finding out Touya is not dead and proceeding to scream at his face in front of the entire League because he left Hawks and his son to belive he was dead.

Dabi the waking cryptid (x) (1k) modern college AU with no quirks?? I guess. So the league is all curious about why does Dabi never hangs out with them. Guy's just busy with his model and actor fiancé, his studies, and their son.

Again very self indulgent DabiHawks but it's Angel and demon AU.

Angel wings and demon instincts (x) (6k) Dabi is a demon and gets sent to earth to cause havoc, Hawks is an angel sent to find Dabi and keep him from causing havoc. They gay for each other. That's it.

An angel's first time (x) (1k) the first smut I write in the past 4 years or so, still demon and angel AU.

Shiggy, Hawks and Dabi being childhood friends <3

The Terror Trio (x) (2k) those three as childhood friends + their reunion, with a sprinkle or Shiggy/Natsuo and DabiHawks at the end.

The de-aged Terror Trio (or the little menaces, according to Aizawa Shota) (x) (5k) the Terror Trio get de-aged and found by Aizawa, who takes them to UA. They almost make class 1A have a heart attack.

Converting Eri to chaos, a guide by the Terror Trio (x) (5k) the de-aged Terror Trio bonds with Eri and they cause havoc at UA. A fourth and maybe last part on the works.

Yay for even more self indulgent DabiHawks:

The mysterious case of Hawks' boyfriend (x) (2k) Hawks is already dating Dabi, everyone at his agency are snoopy bitches and want to know the tea.

FINALLY, SOMETHING THAT'S NOT BNHA! My vld rewrite:

My Blood (x) (800) Lance is Altean and Allura is his cousing. Lotor is his half-brother. Klance and Lotura. The og version (the Spanish version, being published in my wattpad) is currently about halfway through the story, with 30 chapters. I'm working on translating this one and posting it on AO3, hence the low word count.

Aaaaand that's it. I just started writing in English this year, and that sort of really boosted my creativity, since I started posting stuff on AO3 just this past September, so to post this much fics in that amount of time... Damn. Will update the post if I manage to finish this I'm writing for Christmas/Ryu's birthday/Hawks' birthday.

[13dead-ends]

Chapter 7 - Halloween

Chapter 7 of Blood Bound

Henry Cavill x Named OC

Summary: Nina has a lot to think about since her birthday and there’s a company Halloween party coming up.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lots of kissing (YAY), mention wooden stakes, alcohol

A/N: So sorry this took me forever, but it’s here and just in time for Halloween! I’m pretty sure this was edited at some point but there still might be hiccups. (Also this is the outfit Nina’s costume is based on) @hellcaster901​ thanks for reading all my stuff first Ilysm. I hope you like it!

Henry walked me up to my door. He took me home, since he had to leave early tomorrow morning. I didn’t want to leave, though. “Nice ruse by the way.” I chuckled. “Luring me with your dog.”

“I knew it would work.” He nudged me. My doorway came closer and closer and we were in front of it way sooner than I would’ve liked. We stood in front of it face to face.

“Thank you so much for dinner.” I smiled up at him. “It was really nice.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wish I could’ve done more for your birthday though.” I shook my head.

“No this was perfect. Seriously.” I stood on my tip toes to give him a big hug. He hugged me back so tightly, I almost couldn’t breath. As I pulled back, I looked at him. His hands were holding my waist so I couldn’t step back. His blue eyes were filled with something I didn’t recognize. I blinked and he was looking at my lips. My chest brushed against his as he looked back up. Something like electricity ran through me and I pushed myself up on my toes and kissed him. He only paused for a moment and then he pulled me in, his grip on my waist tighter. I held his cheeks in my hands and felt a little stubble. Henry leaned in more and I ran my fingers through his hair. I was tingling all over and goosebumps rose on my skin. I smiled into him, but he pulled away, my chin following him for a second.  He stared at me for a second and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I love it when you blush.” He whispered; I hadn’t even noticed how hot my cheeks had gotten. I giggled and let my feet drop to the ground again. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” My voice wouldn’t raise louder than a whisper.

“Goodnight, Nina.” Henry kissed my forehead. “And happy birthday.” He walked away and I went inside. I shut the door and a giant grin spread on my face. I listened for the elevator, part of me wanting to go back out there and drag him back. I still felt the pressure of his lips on mine. My heart was racing a mile a minute as I walked to my bedroom to squeal into my pillow. I flipped over and grabbed my phone, dialing Irene’s number to FaceTime.

“Nina, isn’t it late there?”

“Irene! I have to tell you something.” She furrowed her brows.

“What?”

“I kissed Henry.”

“YOU WHAT?” She screeched. I laughed out loud. “Tell me everything right now.”

“Well first, he surprised me for my birthday. He cooked me dinner!” She sighed.

“Oh, that’s so cute. So romantic.” I grinned, feeling like a teenager.

“And it was great except when my mom called.” She shook her head, eyes big.

“Wait what? If that bitch said something- “

“I think she just wanted to say happy birthday.” I rubbed my temple. “So, it wasn’t bad at first.”

“Just out of the blue calls you? Did she last year?”

“Nope. I don��t know why.” I huffed. “She just shut me down as soon as I brought up my job.” Irene rolled her eyes.

“Fuck her, anyways, get to the kiss!” I laughed. “Seriously do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head.

“It wasn’t anything different from what I used to. Besides I had someone to cheer me up.” She giggled. “So, we ate and talked, and it was just amazing, and you know he’s a bigger dork than I thought. He told me- “

“Not that I don’t care about the dinner, but I really need to hear about you kissing Henry fucking Cavill.” I laughed.

“Alright fine!” I took a breath. “He took me home and walked me to my door.” She moved the phone closer to her face. “He hugged me, and I just kissed him!”

“You did?” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes! Is that so hard to believe?” Irene shrugged. “Anyway, afterwards he told me he likes when I blush and then he had to go.” I sighed like a middle school girl. “Irene, I haven’t been this excited about a guy since college.” She laughed.

“Haha remember when you tried to date that film student?”

“Oh, shut up.” We talked all night. I think I fell asleep on the phone. I woke up around ten the next day. Despite it being fall, the sun shone in my window and brightened my room. I inhaled a deep breath in and smiled. I did my normal routine with more pep than usual, I had nothing planned today, but my cheerful mood made me want to get up and do something. I should work on my article since I had all this energy. I got my laptop and set up on my kitchen island.

Hours later and I was nodding my head to the music playing in my speaker and typing sentence after sentence. I was in a groove and it was always the best time to write. Though when I wrote real accounts from donors I had interviewed over DMs and phone calls it damped the mood. People were scared. People just like me. A poor college freshman wouldn’t even talk to me even though I promised she’d remain anonymous. She was terrified of someone finding her out. I shook my head as I typed an interview with a donor from my own company.

Of course, I was scared. I’m still scared. I feel like I’m next or something.

I shuddered knowing the feeling all too well. I felt like I was just waiting for Positive to get hit of something. I sighed and continued to write, copying things from my research. I don’t know how long it had been, but soon I was sending in my draft to my editor. It was in her hands for a while at least. I leaned back, shutting my laptop down, then my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Nina? Hey are you busy?” It was Penny.

“No, I’m not. What’s up?” I sat up again, wondering why she was calling me.

“Well, you see, Henry had a hard day on set today.” I furrowed my brows. “Lots more retakes than expected and he’s a bit…” we hadn’t fed last night, or the time I saw him before that. I stood.

“Is he okay? I can come down there.” I went to my room to change into warmer clothes.

“He’s sleeping now, but would it be okay if I come get you? I’m worried about him.” I chewed on my cheek.

“Of course. I’ll be ready when you get here.”

 It was dark in Henry’s trailer, curtains shut and barely any light shone inside. I stepped in as quietly as I can, but he’d wake up anyways. I shut the door and set my bag down. He wasn’t on the couch, so I went to the door to the bedroom, opening it a little.

“Henry?” I whispered. He was a lump on the bed, not moving at all.

“Nina? What are you doing here?” He sounded tired. I’ve never really seen him get this way.

“Penny came and got me.” I sat down next to his legs, his eyes were still closed and without my brain telling them to, my fingers brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Why didn’t you feed last night?” I kept my hand in his hair when he smiled a little.

“It was your birthday.” He just mumbled.

“I know, but now look at you.” I sighed. “Come on, take some blood and then you can finish your nap.” His eyes opened and they were duller than normal.

“Do you want to stay with me after?”

“Sure,” I smiled at him. He sat up and took my wrist, quicker and tighter than before.

“You’ve eaten enough today?” I nodded but he was already pulling my wrist up to his mouth. He didn’t ease into it this time and I sucked in air as he pierced my skin. I relaxed at the familiar feeling. My body got hot and I gripped the blankets. I chewed on my lip to hold in any noises I could make. He took more than usual, and I felt fuzzy and tingly all of a sudden. Then as his fangs left my skin, he trailed kissed up my arm, making me giggle.

“You’re so warm.” He mumbled as he got up to my shoulder. “You were warm last night when I dropped you off too.” My cheeks were hot as his lip met my bare neck. “I liked kissing you.”

“Henry,” it sounded breathless and before I could get another word out, he kissed my lips. My eyes shut and I let my hands wrap around his shoulders. His lips were just as delicious as last night, this time with a taste of my blood on them. He grabbed my waist and leaned back, taking me with him. I couldn’t breath as he straddled my legs over his stomach, my hair curtained over our faces. He kissed me again and I put my hands on his hard chest. This was better than any dream, but the extra blood he took was making me sleepy and I knew he’d still need time to rest. He wasn’t showing any sign of stopping and I really didn’t want to, but I pulled back a little. Our lips barely apart. “Henry, you need to rest.” He held my face in both of his hands and pulled me back for one more kiss and then pulled away. I looked at him with a small smile. It was nice to know that this affected him like it affect me. My cheeks were still flushed so I pressed my face into his neck. He looped his arms around my back and forced me to lay on top of him completely.

“Thank you for coming.” He sighed.

“Of course, just don’t wait so long in between.” I mumbled. It was quiet and I almost fell asleep like that, but he moved us, so I was laying beside him on the bed, I pushed my legs under the blankets, and he pulled me to his chest.

“I won’t.” He sighed and held me tight. I relaxed and let my eyes shut. I don’t know how long we were asleep when I woke up, still feeling the effects of blood loss so it can’t be that long, but Henry was mumbling incoherently. I sat up on my elbows, and watched as his brow scrunched and relaxed, then again. Was he having a nightmare? Do vampires even dream? I reached out to wake him, but he stopped suddenly, relaxing into a deeper sleep. I waited for him to start getting restless, but he didn’t so I just scooter closer to him, throwing and arm over his waist.

 “Wake up dear,” I open my eyes and Henry was smiling over me. “How did you sleep?” He trailed his fingers over my cheek.

“Good.” I smiled, stretching my arms. Henry had a hand over my stomach, his pinky right where my shirt had moved up to expose skin. “What about you?” I asked, thinking about his dream or whatever that was.

“Great, really great.” He shifted so we could sit up. I was surprised by the answer, but glad. Maybe he forgot his dreams. “It’s time to get you home.”

“What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes and tried running a hand through my messy hair.

“It’s almost five.” He brushed some hair back as it fell into my face again and sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you so sleepy.”

“It’s okay, it was nice to nap with you.” He chuckled, giving me a side hug.

“You too.” He helped me out of bed and kept my hand in his as we walked back out. “I’ll take you home.”

“Do you have any more filming?” He got my bag and I took it slinging it over my shoulder.

“No, I’m going home for the night. I’m still pretty worn out.” I frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep it off tonight. That’s why I’m not taking you home with me.” My stomach filled with butterflies.

“Why? You think we’d be up all night?” I cocked an eyebrow and he smirked at me.

“Careful, love.” He left it at that and opened the trailer door. I chewed on my lip and followed him out. He took my hand again as I stepped down and we walked to his car. We drove to my place, his hand on my thigh and I leaned towards him instead of towards the window. When we walked to my door, we said goodbye, but when I waited for a kiss Henry started to walk away. I almost accepted it, but instead I cleared my throat. He stopped and turned around, cute smirk on his face. “What?” He slowly stepped back towards me and I shrugged, pout on my lips.

“I don’t know, I just thought-“He laughed.

“Don’t be shy, now. Say it.” I looked down as he stood in front of me.

“I wanted a kiss goodbye.” He lifted my chin up as I said, and he kissed my lips. It was softer this time and I grabbed his wrist, wanting more.

“There.” He smiled against my lips. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.” He walked away and I opened my door in a warm haze. I felt light and fluttery. Like I was about to lift of the earth like a leaf off a tree. I floated to my couch and flopped on to it. I sighed and checked it. It was from my editor.

Nina,

The article so far is amazing. I want to call you as soon as possible to work out some kinks. With all the riots going on this is really going to shed some light on the situation. It got me thinking about doing a weekly segment about the donor life with you. I know you’re one of our freelancers, but I really think it would be a good opportunity for the both of us.

Email me back during my office hours!

I smiled. That sounded like a fantastic idea. It also gave me a chance to write about something more lighthearted than all these riots. It was nice to know she liked my work enough to ask. Maybe I should interview Abbey and James for an article. I could even do a series of interviews with different donors. I grinned; I hadn’t felt this inspired in a while. One date with Henry and I’m-

Wait a second.

Did he ever say it was a date? It was dinner and he took me home, and he kissed me goodnight. That ticks all the boxes. Except the one where he told me it was a date. I dropped my phone on my stomach and stared at the ceiling. It had to be a date. This is just my brain’s stupid need for verbal confirmation. He never said anything today either. I huffed.

“For fuck’s sake.” I muttered, pressing the heels of my hands in my eyes. My brain was turning over the conversations we had in the last 24 hours. No dates were mentioned. There was a lot more kissing than usual, at least if it wasn’t a date, I had that. It had to be a date, right?

I groaned and sat up. Id make something to eat, watch a show until I fall asleep. I’d worry about it tomorrow. I was aggressively stabbing pasta as a crime documentary played on my TV in half an hour and I still hadn’t stopped thinking about Henry. I almost felt mad at my anxiety. It wouldn’t shut up. I don’t think I’d get any sleep tonight.

 I tossed and turned all night. It was next to impossible to fall asleep and even if I did, I got a an hour in at the most and that wasn’t even worth it. I woke up feeling groggy and tired. Even a small headache in my temples pulsed when I thought about Henry too much. I did text him a good morning though, which he hasn’t replied to. I rolled my eyes and ignored my twitching fingers instead of checking my phone again. I emailed my editor back and we chatted back and forth brainstorming some ideas for the article. It was exciting and kept my mind off my predicament, but as soon as she logged off, I was back to worrying. I drummed my fingers on my closed laptop as I stared at the wall in front of me. I decided to call Abbey to see if she wanted to hang out. She’d keep my mind off it. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

“Nina, hi! What’s up?”

“Hey, Abbey! Are you busy today?”

“I was going to look for a Halloween costume for the company party, actually.” I furrowed my brows.

“The company has a Halloween party?” I hadn’t heard about any party. If there was a party, I’d need a costume too.

“Yeah? Don’t you check your emails?” She laughed. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes, I’d love too!” Thank god. That’ll keep my occupied. She told me what time to be ready and I hung up and started getting my things together. Soon enough I was at a Halloween store staring at a slutty nurse costume.

“Please don’t be that.” Abbey laughed and I dropped the costume back on the rack.

“I won’t,” We moved onto the next isle. She had caught me up on all her shenanigans. She had picked up another client. How she handled more than one, I had no idea. It was quiet now; I’m waiting for her to ask-

“How’s Henry?” She didn’t look up at me, just looked over a Maleficent costume. My brain on the other hand was searching for an answer.

“He’s good. Still filming so I don’t see him quite as much.” He replied to my text from earlier, but that was it for today.

“That’s the issue with actors, but I’m sure Henry treats you really well.” I nodded.

“He does.” I picked up a witch hat, maybe I could just be a witch this year. “Abbey have you dated a client before?” She turned around; perfect brown raised.

“Once, why? Are you trying to date Henry?” She nudged me and my cheeks flared up.

“I don’t know.” Yes. “I just don’t know what to do, I guess.”

“Well, what happened? You have to give me something else.”

“He made me dinner for my birthday.” She smiled. “And we’ve been kissing.”

“Kissing?” She laughed.

“A little.”

“I fucking knew you couldn’t resist. Tell me everything.” I explained the night to her, and she ate it up. “That sounds amazing! He sounds amazing. What’s the issue?”

“He never said it was a date or anything. We’ve just kissed, been a little flirtier.” I shrugged and she sighed.

“I would just ask him if you’re not sure, but I’m pretty sure he’s trying to woo you.” She linked her arm with mine. “Don’t worry about it until you see him next. You both should take a second to figure out what kissing means for you both.” I nodded. “Come on, I’m not finding anything here.” We went to another store Abbey knew of and she found a cute fairy costume that she looked adorable in. I still didn’t think of anything, so we had lunch and we went home.

At home I was back to turning conversations over in my head and trying not to worry that Henry still hadn’t texted me. I rolled my eyes just worry when you see him next. Just like Abbey said. This was a problem for future Nina, present Nina still needs to think of a costume. I went to my TV and decided to flip through channels. Maybe I could get ideas there. I caught the end of one of the Harry Potter movies and thought of the witch idea again. Maybe a specific witch like Hermione or Bellatrix even. I huffed as the credits rolled. I went back to channel surfing until I saw that a Buffy the Vampire Slayer was on. I immediately put it on. One of my all-time favorite shows. As the familiar characters appeared on the TV, I got an idea.

The next time I saw Henry it was early one morning a few days later. Penny had taken me to the studio again, it was a big day for shooting, and he wanted to be sure he won’t end up like last time. As we got to the trailer, I felt all the anxiety bubble up again and I almost didn’t want to go in. It was going to be quick. Penny was waiting for me since Henry would have to go straight to makeup afterwards. I took a deep breath as I opened the door. He was standing in the middle of the floor, holding a script.

“Hi,” I smiled at him as he looked over at me.

“Hey, Nina.” His brow was furrowed as he looked at his script. “Good morning, sorry it’s so early by the way.” He looked up at me for a second, giving me a smile.

“It’s fine. How’s it going?” I went over to the couch to sit down and chewed on my lip.

“Okay, I’ve been having trouble with my lines.” I sighed, wishing he’d look away from the script again.

“I’m sorry, that’s never good.” Part of me wanted to run away from the anxiety, another wanted to smooth the crease in his forehead.

“It’s okay.” He set the papers down and came over to me. “How are you?” I shrugged.

“Good, my new articles doing well.” He sat next to me. Picking up my hand. I wish I could stay with him, that we weren’t doing this so quick today.

“I’m not surprised. It’s really good writing.”

“Thanks, I’m glad people are liking it.” He held my wrist up and I held my breath. He drank and I still felt all the same feelings, but they were dampened by my anxious mood and how distracted Henry seemed.

“Thank you, dear.” He kissed the back of my hand and I remembered how he kissed up my arm last time I was in here.

“You’re welcome.” We stood and he led me back out.

“I hate kicking you out so fast.” He opened the door.

“It’s okay, I have to finish my costume today.” I shrugged, but didn’t look at him, as I stepped out

“Oh? What are you going be?”

“You’ll see, at the company party.” He shook his head.

“Alright, I’ll see you then?” I nodded.

“See you Henry.” As the trailer door shut my fists clenched and I tried to avoid thinking about the awkwardness of that. God, he was probably having a normal day until I came and made it weird. I scratched my head as I sat next to Penny.

“You okay?” Penny titled her head at me.

“Yeah, just tired.” She didn’t press the issue as we went back to the car. She filled the silence with a little rant about a Love Island contestant. She had been trying to convince me to watch it for a while now. When I got home, I texted Abbey to come over. She had the perfect white heels for my costume. After that I’d have the entire outfit. I had hyper-fixated on the Buffy ensemble to keep my mind off the anxiety over Henry. Not that it really worked.

I opened my door and saw the long white dress hanging over by the window. I was going be Buffy before her first fight with The Master. I’d have to rewatch that episode sometime. I had the perfect leather jacket to wear over it, and a wooden stake I got at a Halloween store. I smiled and went to my room. A little while later Abbey was walking in my door and running toward the dress.

“Oh my god, the heels are going to be perfect with this. Remind me who Buffy is again?” She felt the fabric in her fingers as I shut my door.

“She’s a vampire slayer. She has superpowers and is destined to protect the world from evil.” She chuckled.

“I’m going to have to watch this show.” She set her bag down and pulled out the white heels, with a rounded toe and modestly high heel.

“It’s one of the best shows I’ve ever watched.” I went over to her and grabbed the shoes. “Thank you for letting me borrow these.”

“Of course, as long as you hold up your end of the deal.” I had told her that the heels were the only thing I needed, and she wanted to see the whole outfit together when she came here.

“I will, pass me the dress.” She clapped her hands and then gave me the dress. I changed quickly in my room. “Abbey come zip me up.” She came in and gasped.

“Nina! You look so pretty!” I rolled my eyes.

“You haven’t even seen the front.” She came zipped the back closed and I turned around.

“No, you’re still pretty.” I sat on the bed and put on the heels. It gave me just enough height to pick the dress up off the ground. I threw on the jacket and Abbey squealed. “I love it! You look so good!”

“Thanks.” I picked up the stake of my bed. “You don’t think it’s too much to come to the party as a vampire slayer?” She laughed, adjusting the jacket for me.

“No, I’m pretty sure there were two Dracula’s last year and one of them was an actual vampire.” I burst out laughing.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I think people will love it. Plus, you’ll probably be the only one who’s dressed like Buffy.” I went over to the mirror and looked at myself. It was really close to the original. People who’ve seen the show will definitely recognize it. “Do you think those stakes work?” We laughed at each other.

 I stepped onto the concrete after James. He was dressed as the devil, which for him meant a blood red suit and little horns glued to his forehead. He looked amazing. Abbey was in front of him, flowery skirt flowing behind her, wings shimmering on her back. I adjusted my jacket and followed them to the same hotel the previous party was at. This time it was covered in skeletons and spiderwebs. Very spooky and not as elegant as before. I grinned as I followed my friends to the ballroom. Inside it was open, just a bar and a dance floor.

“This is more of a rave kind of party.” Abbey linked our arms, a little of her glitter getting on me. “You can get way drunker at the Halloween party than anniversary dinners.” I laughed.

“If you say so, but you may have to take the pointy piece of wood from me after a few drinks.” They both laughed.

“Come on were starting with shots.” James grabbed my wrist and pulled us along. We went so fast I couldn’t search the crowd for those blue eyes. The bar was decorated like a witch’s kitchen, bubbling cauldrons and spiders hiding in corners. James picked out some green Halloween themed shot and we all drank. It was sweet as it hit my tongue. “Abbey you look too innocent to be drinking.” I laughed and Abbey adjusted her flower crown.

“Well you know I’m not, Nina’s the one in all white.” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m a character in a show. I didn’t have a choice in the color.” I nudged her. “Besides we all look great either way.”

“Speaking of, let’s take some pictures.” Abbey pulled us over to one of the little decorated walls. She caught one of her friends, dressed as Cinderella, to take some for us. As we tried different poses, I felt someone watching. As James and Abbey planned a new position I looked around, seeing Henry leaning on the bar watching us. He was just in a rugby jersey and jeans. Effortlessly handsome somehow.

“Nina, pretend to stab James with your stake.” I chuckled but did as they said and then finally, they were satisfied with the photos. I made sure they sent them to me and excused myself to go to Henry.

“So, you just show up with one of my only weaknesses?” I stood in front of him with the piece of wood at my side.

“I’m Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s kind of her signature weapon.” I held it up. “Why? You scared I’m gonna use it?” He smirked at me, with one eyebrow raised.

“Should I be?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, tapping his chest with the blunt end of the stake. “What are you supposed to be?” I leaned back crossing my arms.

“A rugby player!” He pointed to the jersey. “I didn’t have a lot of time to find a proper costume.” I laughed

“It’s okay, you get to dress up for a living anyways.” He shrugged.

“Would you like a drink?” I nodded. As the bartender handed us our drinks Abbey called us over. We went to a tall table where my friends and few others stood.

“Henry, this is Abbey and James.” I introduced them.

“Yes, I saw you both at the anniversary dinner.” Henry shook James hand, and then Abbeys. “You both look great.” He smiled, and Abbey looked like she was going to faint.

“Thank you!” James nudged her and I giggled.

“Yes, thank you!” Abbey snapped out of her. I sipped my drink, feeling warmer already. “Nina,” Abbey pulled over a blonde girl dressed as Alice from Alice in Wonderland. “This is my friend…” We got some introductions out of the way and soon we were listening to James tell a story about last years party. I was invested until I caught a flash of red hair coming through the doors. I gritted my teeth. I knew Henry and I were on the same page when it came to her, but she would always rub me the wrong way now. Maybe after her last attempt at getting him as a client would put her off for tonight.

“So here I am, dressed as a Ken doll in the middle of the hotel hallway-“Lila unfortunately walked up to the table, and just happened to take the spot on the other side of Henry. She was dressed as Ariel, the scene at the end with her light purple dress. She really took advantage of the red hair.

“Okay, we have the devil, a fairy,” she listed off costumes and I knew what was coming. “A very handsome rugby player, and- “

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Abbey and Henry both said. I couldn’t help but smile, squeezing Abbeys arm under the table.

“Oh, never heard of her.” I didn’t hold back the eye roll. James finished his story, making us laugh even more. “So, Henry I heard you’re filming again.” She turned to him and touched his arm. I groaned internally. She had heard that from me.

“Yeah, I am. It’s been good to get back to work.” I felt my phone buzz as they continue their conversation. It was a text from Abbey.

I’ll tell her to fuck off. Just say the word.

No, it’s fine.

I chewed on my lip as Henry told a story about Kal, making everyone laugh. Lilas was the loudest. A little obnoxious too. “He’s just so big and has no idea.”

“Every time I see him, he almost knocks me over.” I added and Abbey and James chuckle, and unsurprisingly Lila didn’t.

“Kal loves you too much to hold back.” Henry stepped closer to me and away from her.

“It’s good you have him to keep you company.” Lila tried moving the focus off me, but Henry had other plans.

“Nina comes and visits me a lot too.” Henry grabbed my waist and pulled me to his side. Lilas lips dropped out of the smirk. “It’s nice filming so close by.”

“I’m sure it is.” Lila smiled again but it was forced.

“I got to repay her with dinner the other night as well.” He squeezed me even tighter.

“Yeah, he surprised me for my birthday. It was really sweet.” I hugged his waist.

“Well aren’t you two adorable.” She covered it well, but there was a sneer in there. I felt a little pride as Henry rubbed my back.

“Nina, come on we’re dancing.” Abbey interrupted.

“Henry?” I grabbed his wrist as Abbey started pulling me away. He sighed but let me pull him with me. We made it to the middle of the floor with everyone. It had gotten crowded as we spoke. When we found a spot open enough for all of us, Henry grabbed my waist and pulled my back to his chest.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” He said in my ear over the music. He wrapped his arms over me and I swayed us to the beat a little. “I just didn’t want to be alone with the Little Mermaid.”

“More like sea witch.” James rolled his eyes. “But as long as your all over each other she’ll back off.” James winked at us and then pulled me over to dance with him. We danced for a few songs and then Abbey decided it was time for more shots. I was getting a little buzz now and I wanted to dance with Henry some more.

“Nina,” His voice sent tingles down my spine. “I’ll be right back okay. Go dance, I’ll find you soon.” He kissed my cheek as he walked from the bar.

“Nina, Nina, Nina.” James clicked his tongue when Henry was out of sight. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“James they’re making out like teenagers when they’re alone.” Abbey, now a tipsy fairy, jumped up and down.

“Wait you know this? Why haven’t you told me?” James held his chest and I laughed.

“I haven’t even seen you since it happened, and both of you shut up, he might still hear you.” They both shook their heads.

“I don’t even care if he hears. That is one fine specimen of the male species.” James leaned back on the bar. My neck and cheeks felt hot. “You’re telling me every detail.”

“Fine I will, but just not now.” He huffed but nodded. We went back out to dance and I got another drink. I knew I was getting tipsy as I started dancing with more feeling. Abbey and I danced together, laughing at our ridiculous moves. I felt those same pair of eyes watching again and I turned around, finding Henry leaning against our table, watching from afar again. I moved my hips a little more smirking at him. Feeling more confident than normal.  Henry didn’t come back to dance, but his eyes stayed on me.

“Girl, you are most definitely getting railed tonight if you want.” Abbey whispered in my ear and I almost choked on air. Instead we burst out laughing, our drunk giggles mixing with the music.

“Shut up, Abbey.” She bumped our hips together.

“Ugh stop being so modest. You know you want to.” I was laughing again, but I wanted to strangle her.

“I never said I didn’t, but-“James and Abbey screamed with smiles on their faces. “You guys are acting like you’re sixteen.”

“Uh, you can’t hold me responsible for how I act after shots.” James said and pulled be over to him to dance. They finally gave me a chance to pull away, my feet throbbing. The heels were killing me. I went straight to Henry, tripping a little, but he caught me, keeping his hands on my waist.

“Hi,” I smiled up at him.

“Hi,” He smiled back. “Looks like You’re having fun.”

“Yeah, are you?” I poked his chest and let my hand rest flat on it.

“Yes, I am.”

“I can feel you staring from over there.” I leaned in closer, my jacket brushing against him.

“Can you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re something else in this dress.” He squeezed my waist, and it felt like electricity was coming from his hands. “I could just- “

“Nina, there you are.” Abbeys voice came from behind me. I rolled my eyes for only Henry to see and he smirked, turning me around to face my friend. “Come to the bathroom with me, please?” She grabbed my hand and I let her pull me away from Henry.

“Oh my god, Henry has googly eyes for you.” Abbey and I both were in a stall, the only two girls in here for now.

“I’m the one with googly eyes. He didn’t even try and I’m drooling.” She snorted.

“He does look good in that jersey.” We heard the door open and we held back giggles to try and keep quiet. We went back out and checked our makeup in the mirrors. “Do I need more glitter?” Abbey touched her glittery cheek.

“No, you definitely don’t.” I laughed.

“Are you going home with Henry?” She turned to me as I fixed a piece of hair. I swallowed, the thought making me nervous.

“I don’t know. I’m too tipsy to think that far a head.” She nodded.

“Yeah true, but it’s totally obvious he wants you to go home with him.”

“God, he just makes me so nervous.” I shook my hands. “It’s so embarrassing! He’s so hot he’s hurting my feelings.” Abbey burst out laughing as the other girl in here came out. She gave us a weird look as we laughed together. We finally came back out and I almost bee lined for Henry. He was chatting with James at the table.

“You bitches left me.” James crossed his arms. “Come back and dance!” Abbey nodded smiling, but I leaned into Henry’s side.

“I need a break you guys go.” They sighed but didn’t push it. When they were gone, I turned to face Henry completely. “What were you saying before? You could just what?” I smirked.

“What has gotten into you?” Henry raised an eyebrow at me.

“Shots.” I giggled. “And being Buffy really gives me confidence.” He chuckled.

“Have you always liked the show?”

“Yeah, my grandma loved it and we’d watch together.” I grinned. “It’s feminist and bad ass and so 90s.” I rambled. “I think everyone should watch it.”

“I’ll have to watch it sometime.”

“Please do! And tell me what you think.” He nodded, smiling at me. “How do you play rugby?” I tugged on his jersey.

“Well, that’s a long answer.” I laughed and he tried to explain the basics, but it was more complicated than I thought.

“Okay, I’m not going to lie. I don’t think I processed any of that properly.” He shook his head.

“Maybe one of these days we can watch a game together.” I nodded.

“Sure!” Henry decided to get more drinks, leaving me at the table. I rested my elbows on it and my chin on my hands. I was debating taking my heels off when James and Abbey came back.

“Hey, how’s dancing?” I smiled at them.

“Fun, except James stepped on my toe.” Abbey’s cheeks were pink. I laughed as they teased each other. “Where’s Henry?”

“Getting drinks.”

“Oh fuck,” James looked passed me, over my shoulder. “Does that bitch not know when to stop?” I turned around and saw Henry standing at the bar, Lila standing next to him. I turned to face my friends; my lips pressed together.

“She’s infuriating.” My eyes went into the back of my head. “Do stakes kill mermaids too?” I stared at the abandoned wood on the table. I looked over my shoulder again just in time to see her rub his back. He stepped away, but that was it. “I’ll be right back.” James and Abbey were cheering for me as I walked over there, heels clicking. She picked the wrong night to act like this. I was drunk and jealous. When I reached them, the bartender was setting drinks down in front of Henry.

“Lila, I appreciate the offer, but I’m- speak of the devil.” Without looking Henry pulled me the rest of the way to him. “I’m Nina’s client and I’m not looking for more than one donor.”

“Besides Lila, you could probably have any client here.” I smiled at her as Henry slotted me in between them. “Don’t make it so hard on yourself going for someone who already has a donor.” I grabbed my drink and Henry grabbed his. “See you around.” I grabbed Henry’s hand and pulled him away from the bar.

“What happened to my timid Nina?” Henry teased. “Jealously changed you.”

“Shut up.” He laughed out loud at me as we walked. “I just don’t like her.”

“Neither do I.” I grinned at that, but before I could take him back to the table, he pulled me back, turning me around into his chest. “In fact, I don’t want to be in the same room as her.” I furrowed my brows. “Let’s leave.” My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him.

~~~

Taglist:

@xxxkatxo​ @omgkatinka​ @thereisa8ella​ @lamthetwickster​ @thatgirly81​ @vikingsbifrost​

[jackoshadows]

@currentlyconfused16

So I didn’t want to reblog this post:

https://currentlyconfused16.tumblr.com/post/618980963706355712/jackoshadows-reganx2

you commented on since it had other reblogs and comments and I thought I would make a separate post on this since I have received similar comments on other posts, namely that:

I actually do think and hope that Sansa will end up as the Lady of Winterfell in the books (maybe Queen of the North, idk) but she’ll be much more prepared, as her current arc in the books is about learning how to play the game of thrones and being in charge of her own destiny, surrounded by her family.  Which is why her show ending is so disappointing. Yes, she ends up on a throne in Winterfell, but she’s alone, with no family or true friends around her, surrounded by bannermen who hardly know her. The books have always put emphasis on the Starks being and working together in the end, and they all end up alone.

So let me address why I think that Sansa is not going to end up in charge of Winterfell at the end of the books. This is just my interpretation and speculation based on the books and the author’s thoughts and opinions.

I am coming at this from the perspective of a book reader. If you have not read the books, then just skip to the tl;dr version at the end 😁

First, note that the only ending on the show confirmed to be from the books/GRRM is Bran being King on the Iron Throne/7K. D&D have variously explained the badly written other endings of the show as being there to ‘subvert expectations’ and because ‘it would be different’ and ‘it would be unexpected’ and to ‘surprise the audience’ etc.

Second, playing the game ≠ ruling a kingdom. The show equated the two in order to push their Queen Sansa narrative. But that has never been a thing in the books.  GRRM has clearly shown this with the narratives of the actual rulers and entire books on what it actually takes to rule city states. What Littlefinger does in the books and what Dany, Stannis and Jon do are entirely different things. The one has no connection to another. Do you think that Littlefinger or Varys would be good rulers?

Sansa’s ending  has been particularly criticized because it makes no sense - it’s like fitting a round peg into a square hole. D&D knew the book endings from GRRM before they wrote season 3 - if Sansa is going to end up in charge of Winterfell, he would have have given them a path to queen Sansa and they could have figured out a way to do it on the show.

In contrast to Bran/Isaac Hempstead who sat out an entire season, was sidelined and basically given nothing much to do on the show other than exposition, D&D have admitted in interviews that they wanted MORE Sophie Turner on the show and therefore gave her the plot of another book character.

Their exact words:

“And it’s because of Turner’s strength, Benioff continued, that it made sense to give Sansa a dramatic storyline this season and to use Ramsay’s engagement for that very purpose. In fact, the showrunners first thought about putting Sansa and Ramsay together back when they were writing season 2. “We really wanted Sansa to play a major part this season,” Benioff said. “If we were going to stay absolutely faithful to the book, it was going to be very hard to do that. There was a subplot we loved from the books, but it used a character that’s not in the show.” 

https://ew.com/article/2015/04/26/game-thrones-sansa-ramsay-interview/

To re-iterate, Sansa will have nothing to do with the battle of the bastards or retaking Winterfell in the books. She is stuck in the Vale and will not be going North anytime soon. Ramsay Bolton is Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow’s nemesis. They are going to be the ones taking him down along with Stannis Baratheon.

Out of all the Starks, Sansa has the least connection to the North in the books.  She grew up revering the south and learned from a Septa.  Every other Stark (Other than Rickon) knows more about the North and how it works than Sansa Stark. We can read it in their POV chapters.  Every other Stark has a living Direwolf - the symbol of house Stark. Sansa lost hers after siding against her family and with the Lannisters.

The show just put the Starks into boxes: Sansa - politician, Jon - warrior, Arya - fighter/Killer, Bran - warg. This is not true in the books. Arya and Jon are also strong wargs and connected to Rickon and Bran through warging via their direwolves. Something that Sansa cannot do because Lady is dead. 

Jon Snow is planning Stannis’ entire Northern campaign, advising him on the finer details of Northern politics and battle. He has learned the same as Robb from the same people. So has Bran. Bran Stark has actually ruled Winterfell as the prince of Winterfell. Arya Stark sat by her father Ned Stark and learned from him as he worked with the people of the North. She is currently  learning manipulation, reading emotion, languages and courtly manners from the Faceless Men.

There is no way that Sansa is going to be in charge of Winterfell over these other Starks who have actual experience and knowledge in how the North works as opposed to her. Does Sansa know how to attack Deepwood Motte? Does Sansa know how to approach the Mountain clans? These are things that Jon has learned from Ned Stark - the man that Sansa calls stupid on the show.

Then there is the fact that GRRM has put a couple of obstacles in the story to prevent Sansa from getting Winterfell as Ned’s eldest daughter.

She is still married to Tyrion in the books - a marriage that cannot be easily annulled. There has to be a friendly regime in KL before this marriage can be undone. Until then she is disinherited by Robb Stark’s will and no ruler friendly to the North will want to see a Lannister get Winterfell.The show ignored this marriage.

Jon Snow has been legitimized as Jon Stark by Robb Stark’s will. That makes him the eldest living Stark child and his age, experience and knowledge of the North makes him a strong contender to be Lord of Winterfell as opposed to LF’s protégé in the south. If he becomes KITN by Robb’s will in the books, he will also be the Lord of Winterfell. The show ignored all this to make Sansa Lady of Winterfell.

Robb’s will is binding. Meaning that once Jon is legitimized, there is no going back on this. Catelyn makes it a point to warn Robb about this  - which indicates that it will be important later on in the books.

Bran and Rickon are still alive and well in the North. GRRM reminded everyone on his blog that Rickon was still alive in the books after the show killed him off to make Sansa the Lady of Winterfell on the show. Bran randomly tells Sansa that he cannot be lord of anything, only to go on to become King on the show. Garbage writing to once again justify Sansa in charge of WF even if it makes no sense.

Now, one can make the argument that if Rickon dies in the books as he does on the show, Bran is king of the 7K at the end and Jon is exiled as in the show,  then Sansa can end up in charge of Winterfell. I disagree. Why? The answer is Arya.

Arya is arguably GRRM’s central female character in the books. She is the female character with the most POV chapters in the books after Jon and Tyrion. She was one of the first characters he created and other characters like Sansa were created around her. Sansa was created as a foil to Arya and because he wanted that one Stark family member who did not get along with the rest of them like for all the other houses.

Because of D&D’s open preference for Sansa over Arya - they have said as much in interviews - they gave over many of book Arya’s narrative themes, plot significance and relationships to show Sansa. The entire reason for why Sansa ended up in the North on the show is plot borrowed from the books for another character that is all about Arya’s importance to the North and several characters and houses fighting over Arya Stark to hold the North. The North is rising up for Arya in the books.  They basically erased Arya from her story to put Sansa in there. Thematic words like - ‘The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives’ belong in Arya’s story in the books, not Sansa’s.

So basically the show had to co-opt Arya’s story and hand it over to Sansa to give her a path to QITN/Lady of Winterfell on the show. It could not be any more clearer here which character is headed towards being Lady of Winterfell and possible Warden of the North in the books. Hint: It’s not Sansa.

Arya still has a strong connection to her Direwolf Nymeria described thus:

“She says there's this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell."

"Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man."

“Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars." He'd lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. "Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay."

And as per GRRM, Nymeria and her pack of wolves will have a major role to play in the North where they are headed. We already know that direwolves are going to be taking on Ramsay’s dogs in the battle of the bastards from GRRM’s notes. Which direwolves? Ghost? Shaggydog? A Bitch from the seventh Hell with her pack of wolves? All of them?

Arya is symbolic of the North. The other daughters of the North - Lyanna Mormont, Wylla Manderly, Alys Karstark etc. - are all Arya types in terms of personality and looks. The Arya/Lyanna comparisons have been strongly made in the books for a reason.

And finally Arya is the only Stark to have the Stark look. The only one. Think about this for a second - who would GRRM have end up as the last Stark in charge of Winterfell if Bran, Rickon and Jon are out of contention for the position? The Stark with the traditional long face and grey eyes of House Stark or the Stark with the red hair and blue eyes of house Tully?

Who will be Lady of Winterfell? The Stark with the Direwolf or the Stark without one? The Stark who has learned how the North works from her father or the Stark who has not learned this? The Stark who is still following her father’s words - ‘The man who passes the sentence should wield the sword’ while far away in Braavos or the Stark who is complicit in her little cousin’s slow poisoning in the Vale?

And lastly Arya has a lot of foreshadowing/hints of becoming a leader in the books. She is one of the rare nobles in the books who is friendly with the small folk, sympathizes with them and actively helps them - hallmarks of GRRM’s leaders like Dany and Jon. Varys’ description of a perfect ruler fits Arya to a tee:

Aegon has been shaped for rule before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them"

Of course Varys is describing Aegon here, but everything he says holds true for Arya as well and is basically GRRM laying the groundwork for leader Arya. Arya’s ability to connect with the common folk, to identify with them, to work with them, to know them personally, to sympathize with them, is all leading to a path towards her becoming a leader of all the people.

And finally why am I saying that this Queen Sansa is D&D giving Sophie Turner her desired ending? Because that’s very evident from all their interviews. Sophie has wanted Sansa to be Queen and has been pushing this narrative since season 6 - talking about how every other character was useless except for Sansa - something that Sophie seems to actually believe in.

D&D have openly stated in interviews that at a certain point they stopped adapting Sansa and Arya from the books and based these characters on what Sophie and Maisie wanted for them. And Maisie clearly takes her lead from Sophie. That’s why the show versions resemble a self insert Mary sue propped up at the expense of other characters.

Queen Sansa at the end makes absolutely no sense when her brother, a Stark, just became King of the 7K. You mentioned as much in your post. So why was it there?   In an interview they gave in Japan after the show ended D&D talked about being most interested in the Stark sisters and their endings because they had known them as child actors and seen them grow into adults from tiny children. (Isaac for some reason gets no such consideration from them even though he was an even younger child actor).

So it was not really about the characters at that point but more about the actors. It’s not that hard to put two and two together and come up with four here. It was a completely nonsensical ending for Sansa in a long list of other nonsensical endings on the show that they just put in there to make Sophie happy. That’s all. It’s clear they had just given up on making a well written show for the final season with shit like ‘Well Dany just forgot about the Iron fleet’ . So what’s one more garbage writing in there to make their child actress happy?

And to be clear, I am not blaming Sophie here. I am blaming the adults, the supposed expert writers of a big budget HBO TV show adapting a popular book series. Who, instead of adapting the book characters, decided to let a couple of teenagers dictate the writing for their characters on this show.

TL;DR: The show reduced and took away Jon, Arya, Bran and Rickon’s important roles in the North in the books and replaced it with Sansa from season 5 onwards in order to give Sophie Turner more to do on the show. They gave away book Arya’s narrative themes, plot significance and importance to show Sansa, then kicked Arya out and gave the North to the least deserving Stark on the show. The only logical conclusion that can be made from all this is that Sansa will not end up Lady of Winterfell/QITN in the books.

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

Fanfic Author Meme

Tagged by @diligent-thunder and @rockmarina​ =)

Okay, so I’m me, and I talked way too much, so I’m putting this under a cut to save your dashes. You’re welcome 😘

Please do not reblog this post.

Author Name: 

Fleetofshippyships + Knowyourincantations + Legendaryroar

Fandoms You Write For: 

(in order of decreasing # of fics) Harry Potter, Voltron, Merlin, Yuri on Ice, Star Trek, Star Wars and then a few one-offs that aren’t really worth mentioning.

Where You Post: 

AO3 primarily, Tumblr, trying to post more on Pillowfort, I also post on a couple of sites for knowyourincantations

Most Popular One-Shot: 

Fleetofshippyships: Potter’s Insatiable Cock (Drarry, Explicit (duh XD), 20k (viewable only for logged-in AO3 users)).

Knowyourincantations: A Decent Start to Things (Pansmione, Teen, 7k)

Legendaryroar: Finding Time for Rest (Sheith (Voltron), Teen, 3k)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: 

RestraintNone of my old multi-chapter fics are available to read at this time and I don’t really write multi-chapter fics anymore.

If oneshot/drabble collections or two-shots count, then:

Fleetofshippyships: Vanilla and Sweet Spices (Drarry, Explicit, 2 chapters, 20k)

and this really doesn’t count, but technically it has multiple ‘chapters’ soooooooooo

Legendaryroar: Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships (Voltron), Explicit (duh), 31 ‘chapters’, 26k)

Favourite Story You Wrote: 

I don’t think I ever have a static favourite, I’ve just written too many things, I too quickly move on to the next (and frequently forget some of my own fics exist XD), but recently I re-read In Pursuit of Red Wine (Dreville, Teen, 29k) and really enjoyed that again, and I am really attached to it cos it was my first longish rarepair fic, kind of proving to myself that I can write longer rarepair stuff. 

I also recently re-read Unburdened (Merthur (BBC Merlin), Explicit, 2k) and really enjoyed that too, had a total disconnect from having written it since it’s been so long, so I was able to read it without self-judging, and oh boy that was nice. 

I’m also quite proud of Healing What’s Left (Parkgrass, Teen, 2k) for some reason, I dunno, maybe the dark political backdrop of the fic, or maybe just cos it’s the first time I’ve written Daphne as the main character and I’m happy with the result and now have some headcanons about her rather than her being an unknown blank character to me. 

I also binge read a lot of my Voltron stuff recently and had big feels over that so....I also specifically enjoyed re-reading The Perks of Skincare (Klance (Voltron), Explicit, 3k) again cos I dunno, I like how I wrote Lance XD and also the Sheith fic I linked earlier is a fav for sure. Shiro/Rest is the ultimate OTP.

It really depends how soon after I write something or when I go back to re-read it as to what my fav is at any given time (or people commenting on it and hyping me up for it again).

Story You Were Nervous to Post: 

Everything. But most recently I was terrified out of my mind before posting: 

Friday Night by the Fire (Harry/Neville, Teen, 583 words) because I have a lot of fears about screwing up trying to write ace characters and somehow not even making that a focal point of the drabble made it even more terrifying,  No More Waiting (TianShan (19 Days), Teen, 2k) because it was a new fandom to write in, Harry Potter and the Maudlin Merman series (Drarry, Teen+ Mature, 3k +6k) due to my feelings of inadequacy because it would be better as long fic but I struggle too much with writing these days to write long fics and can only manage short things. I’d rather write this as a long fic, but then I’d never finish it so connected oneshots are the best I can do right now, but I still feel it’s not good enough and have a meltdown whenever I post one. And speaking of which, I’ve been sitting on the next one for months and should probably just fucking post it already.

Actually, most recently: Minding One’s Limits (Cho/Ginny, G rated, 1.5k), because I gave Cho a disability modeled off my fibromyalgia and wrote a scenario similar to something I’d dealt with myself, it was incredibly uncomfortable to write in the first place, and then terrifying to post, even though it’s so short. But in the end I’m proud I finally wrote about it a bit? I dunno, might take me a while to work up the nerve again though XD (also was my first time writing that ship, so there was a lot of nervousness over that too)

Oh, and I was a super ball of anxiety posting  Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships, Explicit, 31 ‘chapters’, 26k) because for almost all of those it was the first time I was writing those kinks (and some were kind of squicks for me but I wanted to see if I could write them anyway cos I’m dumb like that) and in a lot of cases those ships were completely new for me to write too, in addition to trying to write and post 1 a day, so...yeah. Also that was my first time writing tentacle and human/werewolf smut so...yeah. I was an absolute mess that month and not in a fun way. But I’m still really glad I did it, it was fun =D

In summary, I’m always an anxious mess posting anything, but most especially if it’s something I’ve not written before or is personal to me XD

How Do You Choose Your Titles: 

Most of the time I’m staring down the empty title field in AO3 cursing like a fucking sailor when I choose titles XD Sometimes it’s a line/theme/feeling from the fic. Sometimes it’s totally random and just comes to me. Sometimes I just grasp the first thing that I can no matter how stupid it sounds cos it’s been three days and I still don’t have a title and I’m over it and ready to post before I lose my nerve.

And tbh, it’s only getting harder to think of titles as my number of fics increases, and I’ve now started thinking of the perfect titles only to realise I already have a published fic by that title so....TITLES CAN DIE A FIERY DEATH

Sometimes, not so much anymore, it would turn out that I would give a wip doc a name just so I’d know what it was, sometimes as a joke with whoever was reading it and cheerleading while I wrote it, and then I would refer to it by that and think of it as that so much that when it came time to actually give the fic a title, it was too late and I could not think past that stupid file name, and that’s how Potter’s Insatiable Cock happened, and how I very nearly called a Merthur fic Arthur’s Wanking Tower (saved that one at the last moment thank god cos the tone of that fic is actually really serious and emotional and wtf was I even thinking with that file name and actually I linked to that fic above XD it ended up being called Unburdened). 

Potter’s Insatiable Cock slipped through cos it’s actually relevant to the fic content and I could live with it.

But needless to say, I don’t give my wip docs joke names anymore XD

Do You Outline: 

Only if I never want to actually write the idea...once I outline, it’s over. I can’t write to a detailed plan. It stifles me. I’ll always get stuck having to try and think ahead to the plan, and then I lose the flow and nothing works because I’m a pantser/intuitive/instinctive writer not a planner. Sometimes I jot down ideas but in like, the vaguest of ways, usually more focused on emotional development than actual scenes or events or anything because then I won’t be able to write it (and I rarely stick to those vague ideas anyway). 

I can really only write when I’m staring down a blank doc with no idea where it’s going and discover it as I go (which is why writing is so fun for me). I can only finish a fic if I don’t think too hard about what’s going to happen next and just let it happen as I write. 

This of course means that editing is a fucking bitch when I finish anything, beginnings often get totally re-written, but if I plan, it just doesn't happen at all, so I’ll take the extra editing if it means I manage to write something.

I do have a lot of detailed plotty fic idea outlines...and I mourn them cos I’m never going to write them now, but they’re so goooooooooood XD

Complete: 

Online (across all 3 accounts): 381 (incl. my hidden drarry fics as they are technically online just hidden, not incl. individual oneshots/drabbles in collection ‘fics’, of which there are ridiculously many). Offline: 20 (I have the worst habit of just sitting on completed fics and I really need to stop)

In-Progress: 

Too many to name, last time I counted it was ~60 but that wasn’t even including my vld wips so...I don’t actually know. I hoard wips and just switch up what I work on all the time depending on mood/interest levels/effort required. 

Current main focuses are a 50k+ plotty Drarry (*fingerscrossed* cos this is my first time seriously attempting something long (will probably reach 80k at least) in a very long time and I put it down for a few months and thought that was it but then I picked it up again recently, yay!), and re-writing some hidden fics I can’t put them back up in the quality they’re in, I just can’t guys, they’re awful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about working on the longish 8th year Pansmione fic I started for the wlw big bang before I had to pull out of cos stupid life stuff. I might pick that up again for a bit too, couldn’t be more different from the Drarry one so it’d make a nice focus break =)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: 

I don’t even plan fics I’m writing, I sure don’t plan ahead to stuff I haven’t even started XD The only think I can think of for this category would be me re-writing my hidden long Drarry fics.

Oh, and there will be a Merthur oneshot coming (hopefully) soon, because @april-thelightfury115​ won my custom fic giveaway with a merthur idea. Just waiting for my brain to cooperate so I can start that and not suck XD but I’m so fucking excited to write some Merthur again, you have no idea.

Oh, and lots more Sapphic September drabbles coming too, I’m way behind and only just posted day 11 cos this month is literal hell for me, but I am still planning on finishing the prompt list, no matter how long it takes, but no plan for those, not even which ships, I just sit down with the next prompt and a blank doc and see what happens.

Do You Accept Prompts: 

Yes, I love writing to prompts, I’m take them via google form here, but I’m in such a bad space with my health I’ve been really struggling with writing lately, managed to do a bit of editing (fuck knows how), but writing new stuff is so hard, so there’s a long wait while I wait for my fibro fog to ease off to the point I can write new stuff with more regularity (and less stupid errors I have to edit out later).

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: 

Again, I so don’t plan. But I really want to be making more progress on the long plotty drarry wip I’m trying to write. I’m still not sure I’ll have the guts to post it even if I do finish it, given its subject matter (it would make a great careers or consent fest fic tbh), but damn I’m really excited by it. Not sure I can maintain it being plotty and not revert to focusing on the relationship (which is easier for me), but I can only try and see what happens. (trying to write a non-relationship plot without planning is a nightmare but I don’t have a choice if I want to write it at all XD)

I’m also now excited for my longish pansmione wip too actually, just because it’s already longer than my Dreville long-ish fic and it’s exciting and scary to do longer rarepair stuff. I’m way out of my comfort zone with the fic itself, but I dunno, I re-read some recently and fell in love with it all over again, like, flustered lesbian-awakening, disaster for Pansy (but sure she still hates her) Hermione? YES PLEASE! and also, I am guilty of not writing female characters as much as I should because, well, canonically, they don’t have much depth and I’m very meh about them, but in this there’s a huge focus on them because they’re all determined to band together for 8th year and Hermione is making friends with them (Parvati is like, dragging her along all the time XD) where she once dismissed them so it’s scary but exciting =D I’m getting more practice with all the sapphic I do over on knowyourincantations, so I feel more confident working on this wip now =D

I’m also kind of excited about re-writing my old long fics, because they’re all 3 years old now, and my writing tastes (and skill, yikes) have totally changed, so it’s like I’m writing the story again but how I would write it now while maintaining the overall same plot, so it’s really interesting, like discovering the story all over again. Like in one (Making Malfoy Blush) I’ve gone as far as introducing a new side character to replace another’s parts because I no longer feel those parts are in character for them. It’s super terrifying, but it’s fun at the same time =) it’ll take me forever to do these though, so I dunno about ‘upcoming’ really, I only chip away every now and then when I’m unable to write new stuff but am still coherent enough to do something.

Eh, it is what it is, I can’t write like I used to, hence me being inactive more than active these days, but I’m trying to work within my new limitations instead of getting frustrated with them and just giving up entirely =)

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Now, who to tag....I think anyone I would tag has already done it, and if not..I blame the fog if I’m forgetting someone obvious, if you wanna do it just say I tagged you so I can be nosy and take a look =)

Again, please do not reblog this post

[bereft-of-frogs]

Fanfic Author Asks

Thanks for tagging @veliseraptor ! Drinking red wine, wrote 1.5k words, ready to answer some questions!

Author Name: bereft of frogs

Fandoms You Write For: I’ve really gotten onto an MCU streak. I’ve never been this productive in my life. And churning out like...actual completed fics. MCU is apparently my current home. I also sometimes write for Les Misérables, and, despite my griping earlier today, I do still have my ‘Death Gods magnum opus’ planned for Supernatural. As far as ‘fandoms I write for and never publish’ that list is much, much longer. ;-)

Where You Post: now I only post to Ao3. I have a fanfiction.net account, but I haven’t crossposted anything in years. I still have some bookmarks saved there that I’d like to keep, but it’s unlikely I’ll start regularly posting to fanfiction.net ever again.

Most Popular One-Shot: My most kudo-ed one-shot (defining ‘one-shot’ as self-contained story in one chapter, not part of a serialized narrative’ so I excluded ‘hard road’), is ‘hurts like ghosts’. (If I was counting ‘hard road’ which I maybe should because this one was, technically, a one-shot when I posted it, the answer would be ‘bone and broth.’)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Easy-peasy answer. ‘pain and other human sensations.’

Favourite Story You Wrote: I honestly, absolutely am super proud of ‘dark underground//violent sky’. It’s pretty fucked up, and I multiple times in the notes said it was “the worst fandom thing I’d ever done” but that was just to cover how much it delighted me. I’m real proud of it.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: I’m nervous for a couple upcoming works, right now, but of what I’ve already posted, probably the third chapter of ‘bound at the end of the world’. Oh no, I remember, it was definitely the chapter ‘Betrayal’ in ‘pain and other human sensations.’ I was rambling in the notes, I was nervous to check for comments. It was not the most Tony Stark friendly chapter, very anti-Sokovia Accords, and introduced a female OC...I was hella stressed. It worked out well though, and really was probably one of my best chapters of that fic.

(I’m frequently nervous posting fics so this question had a lot of possible answers.)

How Do You Pick Your Titles: Honestly it’s mostly ‘how dramatic does this sound’? Rarely it’s song titles (Like ‘spare me over’ from ‘O Death’ and ‘hurts like ghosts’ adapted from Lord Huron’s ‘Love Like Ghosts’.)

Do You Outline: Yes and no. Sometimes fics just pour out of me in a slightly horrifying word-vomit. Bigger projects often have a rough outline of scenes in brackets (example: [background info here] [conversation about X]). The Biggest Project (the Endgame AU) has a very, very detailed outline.

How Many of Your Stories are complete: So far all of them, because I’m terrified of repeating my youthful mistakes. I don’t start posting until I’m 100% sure I can complete it in a reasonable amount of time. Right now I have two in-progress series (the nine in the tree and hard road) but all of my individual fics are technically complete on Ao3.

In-Progress: Um. Well...I guess I have like 10 currently in some state of existing?

Coming Soon:  Been mostly concentrating on the big bangs, but here’s what’s coming:

Marvel Big Bang: ‘of the stern agony and shroud’ (Part I of ‘the dead reign there alone’. Part II ‘his chambers in the silent halls of death’ is also coming along quite nicely, so should be ready by the time the big bangs posts!). Hela reigns in Asgard. Thor and Loki struggle with this.

Thorki Big Bang: (very nervous to post, first foray into the ship) ‘water all around’ A young Thor and Loki go off by themselves and find themselves investigating a mysterious set of disappearances in a small village. (Hundreds of years later, aboard a refugee festival with the last remnants of their people, they’re circling each other again.)

Grandthorki Day: (also so, so nervous to post. It’s really fucking dark. Real dark. I’m sorry. But hey, it’s over 7k words and has a title now.) ‘actors without props//beasts without names’. The Grandmaster likes to put on a show.

Whumptober 2019 Project: (thus far untitled). I picked 8 prompts, a totally reasonable number. Totally. Reasonable. My goal is to start posting on October 24, to culminate on October 31, which is Halloween but also my fandom-versary! I can’t believe I was smart enough a year ago to make my first day actively posting fanfiction Halloween. I truly am, That Spooky Bitch.

I know people are looking for the ‘Endgame AU’ (alone amidst the ruins) to appear on this. But I decided that, personally, feeling satisfied with the narrative is more important to me than rushing it out. The Worst Draft is about 2/3 done, then I’ll start rewriting, I’m really hoping to hit a groove and get it done soon, but I don’t want to make any promises about how soon that will actually be.

Do You Accept Prompts: Sure why not! I’ve asked for prompts before for ‘hard road’, but I’d be happy to take general prompts, or prompts for other series (like ‘the nine in the tree’) or whatever! I had a lot, a lot of fun answering all those AU headcanon asks, so I’m always thrilled when I get asks/questions/prompts! (Can’t always promise that how quickly I’ll get things done, but I’ll do my best!)

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: As much as I’m nervous to post the Thorki big bang, because it does feel a bit like tipping over a cliff, not just taking on a challenge to cover a really popular pairing but also opening myself up to possible intense criticism, or future scrutiny*, I’m honestly really, really satisfied with the narrative and the quality. I’m proud of it. I’m excited to get to share it.

*Even though yes, I am the one who, just hours ago, when faced with the rumors that VE Schwab was an incest shipper/supported incest shipping (accusations thrown around by the Supernatural fandom of all people) did say that if it turned out to be true I’d actually probably respect her more. I’m still a bit nervous.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions: Ahhh you all know how bad I am at tagging people. I’m going to try, just a couple, but you’re under no obligation and I’m sorry if you’ve already been tagged: @kiwimeringue @adhd-loki

Okay I tagged two actual humans, other than that, please do consider this an open tag! If you want to go for it!