#blue eyed white doofus

[contagiousiridescence]

did anyone order a dollop of whipped cream?

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

RATED M

Photo via Rangmang's website

One could equate the ambiance and feel of a Japanese shokudō between a New York street bar and an izakaya. Family friendly and cheap, these quaint-looking nooks and crannies tended to be independently run, smaller, and prioritized their menu on fully prepared entrees, rather than finger food and saké.  

With its retro red and white signage, Rangmang was a cozy little shokudō, located an easy three minute walk from Ebisu station in Roppongi. The establishment was best known for their lightly breaded fried chicken (karaage) and Lemon Sours, where exclusively on Fridays and Saturdays you, and your party, could enjoy a 90 minute all-you-can-eat special, alongside rounds of bottomless beer. 

The air was warm and thick for October. Looking out, Satoru thought this Wednesday night felt a tad busier than most, then again, this part of Roppongi was almost always busy; Tokyoites partaking in a few hours of freedom before work the next day (and the flood of tourists). Jujutsu sorcerers weren’t given such luxuries. There was no such thing as “time off,” evident by the quarter-Dane’s insistence they get together for another debrief. As usual, Utahime and Shoko were invited. Judging from Nanami’s stalwart expression, his intel was not encouraging. 

“The streets are starting to talk,” he began, once they were settled at their table and placed their orders. “They know about Hannah.”

“Not surprising,” Satoru said with a shrug. “We knew they’d catch on eventually.”

“Doesn’t negate the fact she could be at greater risk, doofus,” Utahime bristled. “You should be taking this seriously.”

Satoru turned to issue her a cold stare. “Who said I wasn’t?” 

Uh oh. Best to knock on a stone bridge before crossing it. 

While they were friends, that didn’t make Utahime untouchable in any way, and it was no wonder as to why. She wasn’t blind. Any person with a pair of eyes and an average-sized brain could see he and Hannah had gotten physical. Afterall, no couple made “bedroom” eyes like that unless they were fucking the ever-loving tartersauce out of each other. There was also the fact he genuinely cared for her, and talked about her nonstop. Utahime found Satoru boorish and immature and too powerful for his own good, but Hannah was undoubtedly a central figure in his life. Accost her, cross that stone bridge before knocking, and there’d be hell to pay.

Speaking of which, she should ask Hannah to get tested.

A waitress shortly came with their fried chicken and beer (Satoru substituted for Pepsi). Shoko quietly sipped her IPA, watching her blue-eyed friend with shrewd prudence. She wasn’t much for joining the conversation, merely reading the room, guessing what card he had played. Despite knowing him longer than most, Shoko always found it tricky to gauge which Satoru they were dealing with; the Joker or the Ace. He switched hands on a dime. Made her nervous. 

Kento hadn’t finished.

“That’s not all,” he added. “There’s been some development in the Time Vessel Association’s reemergence. We’ve finally confirmed its new leader. My hunch was correct.” He paused. “It’s him.”

They didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. At this point, the evidence could drown an entire village; The manipulated curse that attacked Hannah back in April; The two armed thugs Nanami detained at the opera (and brutally interrogated); The weird disappearances and murders. 

Obscure religious groups were not strange to Japan. The country was plagued by NRMs (New Religious Movements). Most were quirky and innocuous. Others were downright dangerous and at times posed a sizable threat to the public. Happy Science, a more modern group, had its own political party and proclaimed fervently, without evidence, that China and North Korea were plotting Japan’s nuclear demise and the country should prepare for invasion. Kaeda Juku did not believe in modern medicine and taught that only special prayers recited by their leader could heal an ailing person. This came asunder when two mummified children were found in their headquarters, having died of medical negligence. Then there was Aum Shinri Kyo, a terrorist organization most infamous for the Subway Sarin Attacks, killing fourteen people and injuring over a  thousand. 

Like deadly viruses, these movements preyed on the vulnerable and oftentimes disbanded, before circumventing and reforming into something far worse. The Toki no Utsuwa no Kai, or Time Vessel Association, had slipped off the police’s radar for years, only to rise back from the grave like a dark twisted phoenix, this time with a new Messianic figurehead, a new “vision.”

For months now, jujutsu’s leading investigators had worked around the clock to uncover the new leader’s name. The residuals, disappearances, and suspicious murders pointed to just one.

“So, the rumors are true,” Shoko drawled, setting her beer on the table. “The crazy dude got himself a cult. What’s the prize for joining, I wonder, a lollipop?”

“Shoko,” The Six Eyes wielder sighed, uninterested in her sarcasm. “Stop.”

Damn it all.

Though he’d been craving some decent fried chicken, Satoru found he wasn’t hungry anymore. He knew he was supposed to do his job, that a number of people were counting on him. He was the Six Eyes wielder, the strongest sorcerer on earth, however the truth of the whole prospect made him sick to his stomach, and there was nothing he could do. The higher-ups had made their choice.

It wasn’t an accident he’d chosen Suguru’s favorite restaurant tonight. Rangmang used to be their hang out. They had stumbled upon it one evening after a grueling mission. It was just the two of them then, laughing at something stupid a curse user had said, ordering karaage, talking the proverbial shit. Teenage boys were good at that sort of thing; causing a ruckus. A lot of fond memories here.

There are few friends you make in life, even fewer worthy enough to be your equal; The whole “he’s got your back, you’ve got his” dynamic. Someone who knows you better than you dare know yourself, someone you might open up to. The first person who made you feel like you weren’t alone in the universe, like you weren’t the only one born different. Born crazy. 

A best friend. A partner. A soulmate.

And then they leave you, crush your heart into a million shattered pieces until it’s only a fragment of what it once was, knowing it’ll never be made whole again, that it’ll never trust.  

You’ll just get left behind.

Satoru stifled down a breath. Suguru’s memory was like an oil stain he couldn’t wash out. Fate seemed insistent on stringing them together - and damn - did it piss him off. He just wanted this pernicious cycle to end. His heart had endured enough beatings, his upbringing notwithstanding. How much more would it take? How many more times must he go through this long, tortured dance? He hadn’t told Hannah the full story yet either. He perished the thought.

“You could do it, Satoru…The impossible…”

“Satoru,” Kento said emphatically, as though reading his brooding mind. “You can’t take any - and I mean any chances now. If you see him, he’s to be killed on sight. No more fooling around. That goes for the rest of you.”

“Got it,” Utahime chimed.

“Mmhm,” grunted Shoko.

Satoru remained silent, peering down at his Pepsi. 

“And another thing, Satoru.”

The Six Eyes wielder looked up at his blond colleague.

Nanami’s steel grey eyes were piercing. “When in public, Hannah is to stay with you at all times. Given what we know, we already suspect there’s a bounty on her head.” He gave his friend a rare, pitying look. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you twice.”

Satoru closed his fists. He could still feel his wife’s blood bleeding on his fingers, her horrid screams, scenes of the last time he’d failed to keep her safe.

“No,” he answered stoically. “You don’t.”

His eyes returned to his half-empty can. A part of him wished his old man hadn’t abused alcohol. Maybe then he could go home and muster the wherewithal to drink away his sorrows. 

What an absolute, shit-tastic day.

Hannah was home at her library desk, lost in the sentences of a thickly paged book, writing carefully curated notes as she left stickered tabs on the page numbers. The more she read, the more aggravated she became. She hadn’t known what secrets she’d discover upon opening the book, but this? This was unforgivable, a crime to all things sacred. How had it gone on like this without anyone knowing?

The Gojo library was no Wiblingen Monastery. It was no bigger than her bedroom and the architecture was far more quaint in design, walled with elegantly painted shoji and illuminated solely by sun or lamplight. It conserved a few manuscripts believed to be early writings of Lady Murasaki (though this couldn’t be verified), as well as Buddhist sutras, poems, and diary entries written by Gojo ancestors long before. There also existed ancient incantations handed down from progeny to progeny, but those were kept under strict spell and key. However, none of those fascinations mattered to Hannan. The part she loved most about the Gojo library was its serene solitude, a place one could think alone in peace and quiet. 

“What-cha got there?”

Or not.

Hannah peered up to see the most vivid pair of turquoise blue beaming down at her, the look of complete adoration. She recently noticed he had dimples the other day - but nevermind that. She could admire them later, preferably when they were tangled in his (their) bed with no clothes on.

“You said you tested out of high school English, correct?” she asked candidly.

“Sure did.” Satoru quirked a snowy brow. “Why do you ask?”

Hannah closed her notebook and flipped the bigger book to an earlier page, holding it up to him.

“Read this for me; the first paragraph. Anything look off to you?”

Satoru was reticent in taking the book, but  nonetheless followed her instructions. He found her reasoning almost immediately. The book was laden with spelling and grammar mistakes. “Suzie was exciting to go to the parke.”…“Thomas wants to glow up to be a polizman.”…“English is like a magic.” He couldn’t help laughing. There were so many. But that wasn’t all. 

“What the heck?! Even the Japanese segments have errors.” He was outright cackling.

“This,” Hannah pointed to the book, forcing herself not to smile, “is the English textbook Jujutsu High gives their first years. Shoko found me hers. I guess it explains why the school’s English scores have stayed below average for so long.”

“Unreal.” Satoru flipped another page in total bemusement. “Nobody said anything, so I never thought to... “ He gave the subject more thought and felt his grin widen. “This is kinda sad.” The sheer irony. 

Although, he had to correct himself. Satoru quickly recalled the many times he stood listening to Shoko complain about her English classes. “Adachi-sensei can go jump off a bridge,” she would whine. The future physician wasn’t the greatest at explaining things. Looking back, he simply assumed she was being dramatic - that “time of the month” and what not - but nope. Turns out he’d been wrong.  

“Seems Mr. Adachi was rather inept,” Hannah went on. “Must’ve been exaggerating when he said he graduated from Brown.”

Hannah was still sitting in the chair. Satoru came awfully close, bending low to her ear, “Soooooo, does this mean you’re taking his place? Cause if yes, that would make me very,” and looped his arms around her, “very happy.”

She warmly accepted his embrace, resting her head along his chest. “Oh, would it now?”

Having changed from her dress earlier, she felt his hands snake behind and tug on her obi, loosening the ornate drum knot; a pretty burgundy and pomegranate combination. The kimono parted to unveil milk smooth skin, allowing him the satisfaction of trailing butter-soft kisses down her neck.

“Definitely,” he lavished between kisses. “You’d be…a great…teacher.”

Hannah wished she shared even a fraction of his confidence.

“There’s still a lot I don’t know.”

Satoru halted his kisses, voice tender. “You can’t know everything, sweetheart.” He squeezed her tight. “No one does.”

Hannah closed her eyes as he continued peppering her neck, slightly moving her head a fraction to give him access of the other side. “How was Rangmang?”

Satoru went still, a subtle yet prevalent tension in his hold. 

“It was…okay,” he said, breath tickling her skin. “We talked about work.” 

“Just work?” she prompted, hearing a somber tone to his voice. 

Satoru hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. I won’t bore you on the subject. It’s nothing you have to deal with.” He inhaled her scent and sighed deeply, relaxing his shoulders. “Mmm, feels good to be home.”

That seemed to be the only answer she’d get. Hannah too gave a sigh as he held her close. It had been a productive yet tiring evening. 

“Suppose I’ll have to find a proper textbook now, won’t I?” she said.

Satoru hummed his agreement again, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. He glanced back down at the page she had opened.

“Polizzzzzman.”

They both laughed.

Chapter Contents

[feferipeixes]

Still Alive

After Dipper learns that this whole "being a demon" thing means he's going to live forever, he and Mabel talk about the future, and what he's going to do when everyone he knows dies. It's not until much later that he starts to realize that they'll never truly die -- just like he'll never truly get sick of ice cream.

Thanks to @toothpastecanyon for beta reading!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

“If you could choose one project to do and be guaranteed that you’d finish it eventually, no matter how long it took, what would you do?”

“Hmm....” Mabel replied, itching her scalp with a plastic hand clapping toy. “Oh! I’d get my hands on the Ultimate Magical Shimmering Rainbow-splosion Fluffykins doll! There’s only five hundred in existence -- they’re super duper rare!”

“No no no,” Dipper countered. “That’s too easy, and too short. All you’d need to do is set up some eBay alerts, bribe a few people, maybe sneak into the FluffCorp factory building. Not even -- you could just snap your fingers -” (he snapped his fingers for effect, causing a puff of blue flame to momentarily appear) “and conjure it.”

“I can’t -” Mabel started, but Dipper kept talking over her.

“I’m talking about something really unprecedented. Something that would take a long time, something you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do. Something that would change the world.”

“Oh, I get it now!” Mabel tossed the toy aside and flipped over, letting her head dangle off the end of her bed. “I’d call you a dork a million times.”

Her brother scowled at her and jumped out of his chair and into the air. “Hey!” he yelped over Mabel’s laughter. “I'̼͚̻͓͎̲m̡̖̰̘̣͎ ̖͇̕n̛̻ơ̰t̷̟͇̱ ̝̺̻a̳̦ ̪̟̮͖ḑor̞͓̭k̟̤̖!̛͍ And even if I was, that wouldn’t take you very long! At, uh, a rate of, let’s see, you could probably say ‘you’re a dork’ at least 30 times per minute, and if you didn’t ever sleep…”

Mabel watched the red tinge fade away from his features as he paced around in mid air, doing math in his head. “Yeah. You’re totally not a dork, Sir Maths-a-lot. You sure showed me.”

“- It wouldn’t even take you a month,” Dipper finished. “Besides, how would that change the world?”

“Hmm, well if I call you a dork enough times,” Mabel answered, “maybe my big scary demon brother would decide he doesn’t want to be a dork and instead he’d do something with his cool magic powers that ends up making the world a better place!”

“Mabel?”

“Yeah bro-bro?”

Dipper frowned at her. “Your face is turning purple.”

“Touche,” she replied, rubbing her chin very seriously. She slid the rest of the way off the bed and clutched her throbbing head. “Owww…”

“That's what you get for giving me dumb answers,” Dipper quipped, arms crossed.

“You mean for giving you fun answers,” Mabel corrected, and then winced at another sting of pain. “Why are you asking me these weird questions anyway?”

A panicked look flickered across Dipper's face, and his feet touched the ground. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Mabel, still massaging her temples, pushed herself semi-upright to give her brother a look. “Come on. ‘What would you do if you had all the time in the world?’ ’What movie could you watch a million times and never get sick of it?’ ’Do you think Stancakes have a shelf life longer than 100 years?’ Something is clearly up.”

Dipper giggled awkwardly (was there any other way he could giggle?) and stared at the ceiling. “Nothing. It's nothing!”

“What, are you really not gonna tell me?” Mabel pushed. ”What if I tickle you?”

Her brother recoiled in horror. “You wouldn't.”

There was a tense silence as the two twins considered whose was the stronger will: the expert fighter with a plethora of torture tactics at hand, or the demon. Mabel narrowed her eyes. Dipper sharpened his claws. No words were exchanged. The room was perfectly still.

Mabel jolted forward half a foot and Dipper shrieked.

“Okay, you win, just don't tickle me!” he begged, throwing his hands up. “I'll tell you!”

“Good,” Mabel replied. “Things were about to get ugly. Spill it, bro-bro.”

Dipper sighed. He dusted himself off -- a habit he'd gotten into lately even though he was pretty sure nothing he could do would make his orange shirt and vest look any less weird with his new body.

“Remember… Remember the thing I told you the other day, when I had that infodump and learned more about my powers?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “You found out that your omniscience tells you whenever anyone farts.”

“No!” he squeaked. “Although, you are right, it does do that and it's annoying, especially because now I can smell it from like a mile away.”

He wrinkled his nose, staring off into space for a minute before shaking his head. “But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about… how I'm never going to die.”

It had been about a week since Mabel had walked into the living room to find Dipper writhing and sobbing on the floor. She remembered the way he’d looked right through her, how he hadn’t seemed to even notice her presence when she sat him upright, how he kept muttering “still alive, still alive” over and over again, and it hadn’t made any sense to her then, but when he finally snapped out of it and was able to vocalize what he’d seen…

She shuddered at the memory of it.

“Since then,” Dipper continued, “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to deal with it. And I had this idea that I could come up with things to do to fill the time.”

“What, so you’re going to plan out your whole life?” Mabel asked, incredulous. “Let me guess -- you’re making a checklist? Hah! Can you imagine?”

She giggled, and then he reached into his vest and pulled out oh sweet Moses.

“I’ve already got some good stuff on here,” Dipper said, ignoring or not noticing his sister’s flabbergasted expression. “I’m gonna learn how to make a sword by hand. I’m gonna watch all of Tiger Fist backwards to see if there are any hidden messages. And there’s this spa getaway weekend that the Multibear invited me on -- shoot, wait, he’s gonna be dead by then, umm…”

Mabel raised an eyebrow as her brother started scribbling on the checklist. “Dipper. This is obsessive even for you.”

“What would you know?” he shot back. “You’re not the one who’s immortal.”

“I know how to have this thing called ‘fun’,” she replied. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

He grumbled at her, eyes locked on his checklist. He couldn’t believe he forgot that the Multibear spa trip thing was a limited time offer. That kind of stuff was slipping his mind more and more these days, like the time Mabel asked him to play cards with her and he was so busy alphabetizing his Sibling Brothers books that he neglected to respond to her for three days.

Although, now that he thought about it, that might’ve been before he became a demon.

Something damp and cold hit Dipper in the face, and he spluttered in surprise. “What was that?” he shouted. One of his flailing hands happened to close on the object as it fell, and he held it up to the light.

“It’s a popsicle, doofus!” Mabel said. She’d fetched two from the minifridge in their room while he was distracted, and was busy licking away at her own, which was chocolate. “Remember those?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have ti-”

“I’ll throw another one at you,” Mabel interrupted.

“- I guess I could have some ice cream,” Dipper finished.

He floated over and sat on the floor next to his sister. He removed the paper from the popsicle and gave the object a sniff. The aroma of orange and vanilla caressed his sensitive nose, and he realized how long it’d been since he had any sugar. Without a second moment’s thought, he threw his head back, stretching both his neck and jaw further than they were supposed to go, and placed the entire popsicle -- stick and all -- into his gaping maw.

“See, what’d I tell you?” Mabel said, smirking at the satisfaction on her brother’s face. She reached up with her popsicle to scratch an itch on her nose, and then went right back to eating it. “I always know what to do with my time. I wonder what it’d be like if I lived forever…”

Dipper eyed the glob of chocolate ice cream on the bridge of her nose. “The world would probably be a much more chaotic place.”

“You mean a much BETTER place!” she declared. “Everyone would have fun and ice cream all the time!”

He grinned. “You’re right. It would be a much better place. Because my best friend would be there.” Mabel looked at him, a twinkle in her eye and ice cream all over her face, and his grin fell away. “I guess this is what you felt like when I said I was going to be Grunkle Ford’s apprentice, huh. I’m such a shitty bro-”

Mabel at once had her hands on his face, squishing his cheeks together so he’d stop talking. “Nuh-uh. Bro-bro you’re gonna stop hating on yourself Right. Now.” She was still smiling, but her tone had twisted into something harsh. “Okay, sure, I’m gonna die someday and then you’re gonna have to figure out what to do on your own. But I’m not ready to think about that and neither are you! We’re hecking 13 years old! We should act like it, while we’ve still got the chance. Please don’t make me think about dying yet.”

Dipper winced, and she let go of him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“S’okay.” She patted him on the back, harder than he’d been expecting, and he was so surprised that he coughed up the popsicle stick he’d eaten earlier.

For a minute, neither of them said a word. Dipper lifted a hand to his face, where he felt something sticky.

“You got chocolate on my face.”

“Yeah. On your vest, too.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He looked at his hands, still small and smooth like a child. With a thought, he bathed both hands in a blue flame, searing away the chocolate and leaving them clean, just the way he liked them. Then he cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna chase you around the house,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Smiling ear-to-ear, Mabel jumped up and ran to the wall. “You’re nuts if you think you can catch me, even with demon powers!” Cackling, she threw the door open, which bathed her in a blinding white light.

Dipper thought about his infodump from the other day, thought about the part he hadn’t told Mabel, the tiny glimpse he’d gotten of his sister when she’d been old, pale, and still -- too horribly, horribly still. It was just a glimpse, but it haunted him -- the thought that one day there wouldn’t be a single trace left of Mabel Pines anywhere in the world. She was right -- as always -- that he was obsessing, that he was letting a thought hurt him when it didn’t have to.

He wasn’t ready to think about growing up yet, either. No matter how strong the pull to obsess was, he had to find a way to fight it.

“You can’t get away from me!” Dipper roared, and flew after his sister into the future.

---

"Wahoo! That was a great idea -- getting ice cream -- Dipper! I feel so much better! You always know how to cheer me up."

Dipper, clad in his usual human disguise, collapsed onto the bench with a grunt. "I dunno, this stuff tastes off. You’d think with all the technological advancements since the Transcendence that they’d have found a way to perfect ice cream."

His friend Arin, who was somehow managing to carry five popsicles in two hands, nodded with a serious look on her face. "Yeah. Oh sure a lot of old timey diseases were eradicated and we've got flying cars and stuff. But not one of these ice pops actually tastes like orange!"

She stared at him for a beat longer, then finally broke into snickers. One of the popsicles fell out of her hand, and a stubby arm immediately shot out from under the bench to catch it.

His face twisting in confusion, Dipper bent over to look under the bench. There were two gnomes right beneath him -- one of them hissed when they saw him, making him jump and making Arin laugh even harder.

"Ha-ha, okay," Dipper said, hand on his chest like his heart was racing. Despite this, he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face.

So much had changed in the last five hundred years, and yet so much else had stayed the same. Wars were fought, societies had formed and collapsed, but people were still people, and Dipper was still Dipper. Even though he’d had more than a few incidents where his demonic nature overcame his humanity, he always seemed to land back on his feet again eventually. Sometimes all it took was a friend.

Right now, his friend was a girl named Arin who he’d saved when someone else had tried to sacrifice her to him. He remembered how grateful she’d been, how she gave him a hug despite him being a void black monster splattered with blood, and how she then spent 20 minutes chatting with him about dragons even though she’d just had a very traumatic experience. She seemed, in other words, cool. So he later presented himself to her as fellow undergraduate student Dipper, without revealing that it was him who’d saved her that night, and they’d been good friends ever since.

Arin sat next to him and started taking bites out of her ice pops. "Yknow, the Transcendence-era wasn't that great," she said, although with her mouth busy it sounded like she was drowning.

Dipper's brow creased. "What do you mean?"

She gulped down the hunk of ice in her mouth. "No offense -- I know you're totally obsessed with Transcendence history stuff -- but that was soooo long ago. There's no one left who was alive back then, except like vampires I guess. But vampires don't eat ice cream so it doesn't matter."

Dipper bit back the urge to say "I know a vampire who loves ice cream as long as there's blood in it". What came out instead was "So?"

"So!" Arin shoved an entire popsicle into her mouth, and then had to take a minute to cough up the stick. "S-so," she continued amid gasps, "no one knows for sure what ice cream tasted like in the year 2012. And that includes you, Mr. Argues-With-The-Teacher! For all we know, old timey ice cream tasted like sawdust!"

Dipper considered his chocolate popsicle, which he's barely looked at since the first taste. "I guess you're right." He gave it another wary lick.

It didn't taste like chocolate the way he remembered it, but it was close enough.

"Do you ever think," he asked, unable to meet his friend's eyes, "about all the stuff that used to exist but doesn't anymore? All the ideas and food and... people?"

Arin groaned. "Is that what this is about? My best friend of the past 2 years -- secretly one of those 'I was born in the wrong century' people?"

"No!" he shot back, before taking another lick of the popsicle. "I just think it's sad that stuff goes away and no one's there to remember it."

"Well, maybe no one remembers that stuff, but that doesn't mean it's forgotten."

Dipper looked up. "Huh?"

Arin scarfed down her remaining two popsicles, which had begun melting onto her hand. "People die and ideas change and the world moves on. It happens constantly! But those people influenced their friends and their family and their coworkers. Who in turn influenced other people. Those people might be dead, but they live forever in the words and actions of everyone who came after."

Dipper just stared at her, jaw dropped. "Where did that come from?" he managed to get out. "Five seconds ago you were gagging on frozen sugar! You're not allowed to be this insightful!"

"Sugar rushes always make me super thoughtful," Arin said, patting him on the back. "It's 'cause I'm a genius. I'm probably gonna crash hard later though. Also by the way your ice cream is totally melting."

"Ah, shoot." Dipper hurriedly tried to catch the melting ice cream with his tongue, and Arin giggled again.

"The point is," she said, "if you've always got your head stuck in a history textbook, you're gonna miss out on the present. If you're always thinking about the dead guy who invented ice cream, you won't be around to eat any with me."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He felt an itch on his nose, so he wiggled it. "Thanks, Arin. I feel better- why are you looking at me like that?"

Arin was indeed staring at him with a perplexed look on her face as if she was not the one who'd just swallowed a metric ton of ice cream. "Why do you do that?"

Dipper frowned. "Do what? AGH-"

He yelped as Arin whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of him, blinding him with the flash even though it was a bright, sunny day out. "What was that for?"

She didn't say anything, simply handed him her phone. It certainly was not the best photo ever taken of him. It was blurry, his hair was a mess, and his mouth was contorted in shock.

On the bridge of his nose was a dollop of chocolate ice cream.

"You do it every time we get ice cream," Arin said, taking her phone back. "I mean, you call me weird, but I'm not the one always itching my nose with an ice pop."

"Oh," Dipper said. He paused and looked at his fingers, which were all chocolate-y too now. "I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"Suuure, weirdo," Arin chuckled. She stood up, wobbling a bit as she did so, and steadied herself on the back of the bench. "Listen dude, this was fun but I think the sugar's starting to hit me. I'm gonna head back to the dorm before I collapse. Wanna hang out later?"

"Definitely!" Dipper replied. "You should get some rest! Try not to give psychological counseling to anyone on the way -- you're gonna burn out your brain!"

He waved at his friend as she staggered away, and watched her until she turned a corner around a building. Then he sighed, and wiped his nose with his finger.

"Hey Mabel," he whispered, looking at the chocolate he'd collected. "It’s me, Dipper.”

A passing jogger sent a pointed look at the young man who was talking to his finger, but Dipper ignored them.

“I seem to remember you saying something to me about living forever. You said that one day you’d be gone, and I’d have to find a way to carry on alone.” He thought about Arin’s words, and felt something swell in his chest. “But I guess you’re still alive after all.”

He sniffed, and looked up at the sun as it started to bathe the sky in the pinks and purples of evening. He saw people in flying cars, people rushing through pneumatic tubes, people high fiving on jetpack because it was a wonderful day to be out. And he thought about what Arin said; thought about all of the sicknesses he'd seen friends and family afflicted by that no one ever had to suffer from again. He thought about all the preters he saw walking freely and happily on the campus, without worrying that they'd be attacked.

"And you were right," he said. "The world is a better place."

Dipper licked the remaining chocolate off his fingers, and got up. As he headed back toward his dorm room, he wondered what other legacies his loved ones had left in him.

(AO3 link)

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 2

part two: a comprehensive study of how far you can push a cowboy before he breaks

summary: you continue to try and break jack’s ego, but nothing seems to be working - especially when you have to play a married couple, and his observant tendencies begin to break your confident facade instead 

song for this chapter: my friend by hayley williams

ok so this wasn’t gonna be out until december 1st but someone who donated to my ko-fi asked for part 2 and...i couldn’t resist. this also touches a little more on the reader + eggsy’s relationship and it’s background. enjoy!

- jamie

series masterlist

You had to give to the the Statesmen - the apartment they had leased you was fucking nice. 

It struck the balance between modern and homely, complete with a bath tub big enough for the whole damn agency and a bed to match. You knew that they had money, but not this much. The Kingsmen were wealthy but the Statesman put them to shame. It was a lifestyle you were happy to get used to, especially on the first morning. You’d woken up not long after 6AM - your body was still working on British time, after all - when it was still dark outside. The navy blue of the sky was pouring through the large windows, and paired with the remaining city lights, it lit up the bedroom in a cerulean glow. 

Blinking under the distant blue smoulder, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed. The bedroom itself was about the same size as your apartment back home and man, it was something you could have easily gotten used to. A bathtub the size of a swimming pool? Don’t mind if I do. A bed big enough to roll to your heart's content and not fall out? Fuck yeah. It made you wonder how rich some of your new colleagues were. You had noticed that Tequila drove an unusually expensive sports car. 

You frowned when you noticed that there was something heavy sprawled across your feet. It wasn’t necessarily in the bed, but rather strewn across the duvet. You rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh. 

‘Fuck’s sake, Eggsy!’ you raised your leg, kicking him front under the covers. ‘Why the bloody hell are you in here?’

Your friend suddenly jumped awake, almost falling off the mattress as you kicked him again. ‘Ow! Ribs!’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘You haven’t tried to share a bed with me since we were ten!’ You tossed a pillow at him. ‘So I’ll ask again - why the bloody hell are you in here?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ He grumbled. 

Your frown softened, and you let out a sigh. ‘Have you been having nightmares about Galahad again? Because Merlin said he was making strides towards getting better-’

‘- That day from the church is still ingrained in my head.’ Eggsy cut you off, tucking his knees into his chest and under his chin. ‘It keeps playing over and over.’

It was something you sympathised with. Working as a Kingsman brought good days and bad days, but the latter would stick in your mind a thousand times more. You’d learnt to live with it by that point but then again, you were easier at separating your emotions from your professional life. You had a good rapport with your colleagues - minus the doofus at the foot of your bed, who might as well have been an annoying brother - but you tried not to become attached. It only made it harder when you lost them, 

‘Time, Eggsy.’ You leant over the bed to give his arm a squeeze. ‘You need time.’

‘It’s been almost a year-’

‘- recovery isn’t a race.’ You firmly interrupted. ‘And healing isn’t linear, for you or for Gala - for Harry.’ 

You’d become so accustomed to codenames that they felt personal. Harry was Galahad, and Amish was Merlin. You’d never called Roxy anything other than Lancelot. It just didn’t feel right. 

‘I hate when you make sense-’

Eggy’s rumbling was cut off by the sound of the front door and the fall of footsteps. You immediately leapt out of bed, tearing your gun from the bedside table. Pointing it out in front of you, you slowly kicked open the door and crept out in the hallway, weapon leading the way. 

‘Morning sunshine-’ Whiskey stopped in his tracks when he saw the pistol aimed in his direction. ‘Well that ain’t a very warm welcome is it, Percy?’

‘Percy?’ The words rolled off of your tongue with a tone of disbelief. Admittedly, the new nickname shouldn’t have been your first concern when you were a) wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas and b) pointing a gun at your new colleague, but priorities didn’t apply in this situation.

‘Short for Percival!’ Eggsy called from the bedroom.

‘Oh, I do apologise.’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Was I interrupting something-’

‘- Gross!’ You exclaimed. ‘No!’

‘Hey!’ Another call from the bedroom. ‘You would be lucky-’

You cut your friend off by slamming the bedroom door. ‘What do you want, Whiskey? It’s six in the fucking morning.’

‘And yet you’re up and pointing a gun at my head.’ The cowboy reasoned, complete with a small shrug. ‘Want to put the weapon down, pretty lady?’

Growling at the use of another nickname, you threw the gun onto one of the side-tables. That was when you realised you’d sprinted out the bedroom in cartoon pajamas, only to come face-to-face with Whiskey, who was in his usual leather jacket and hat. Frankly, you should have slapped it right off his head. That would have taught him to come bursting into your apartment at the crack of dawn. 

‘Maybe knock next time?’ You suggested, stalking through to the kitchen. ‘Especially considering that it’s not even light outside. A little bit predatorial, don’t you think?’

‘If you’d checked the schedule I emailed you, you would know that we have to be in the field in forty-five minutes.’ Jack shot back, leaning against the counter. ‘You should check your phone more often. I thought that most of your generation had their cell-phones glued to their hands.’

‘Okay, grandad.’ You snorted. His dark eyes followed you as you darted around the kitchen, piling together a cup of coffee on autopilot. ‘What’re we doing in the field?’

‘Recon.’ He said. ‘One of Calahan’s contacts has been spotted working a jewellery stand down at 30 Rock.’

‘Okay, give me thirty minutes.’ You tossed a piece of bread into the toaster.

‘Dress...touristy.’ 

--

‘That is not touristy.’

Usually, Jack Daniels would have been the last person to object to a woman wearing a dress and heels, but you were supposed to be blending in with crowds, not standing out. He clearly hadn’t got the memo that you didn’t do casual - not in a professional sense, at least. In some way, you were matching, because you too were wearing a leather jacket. It was a staple in your wardrobe. 

‘Would you rather I have stayed in the turtle pajamas?’ You glanced across the table at him, thinning your eyes. 

‘Tourists don’t wear Christian Louboutins.’ The cowboy muttered. 

‘I wear Christian Louboutins.’ You shot back. ‘But points for recognizing the brand.’ 

‘Here.’ Jack swiped a t-shirt off of a cart as they passed by, thrusting a fifty in the vendor’s hand. ‘Wear this.’ 

He shoved a t-shirt into your hand; it was about ten sizes too big for you with ‘I ❤️  NY’ blazoned across the front. For a minute, you thought he was kidding, but Jack’s serious expression barely faltered. You tried to counter the look, quirking your brow as if to say yeah, good one. 

‘I’m serious, Agent. We can’t blow our cover.’ 

‘What cover?’ You frowned. ‘You never said anything about a cover.’ 

‘Our guy works for a jewelry vendor.’ Jack flashed a grin at you, before pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket. ‘We need to get inside and get footage of the shop for the agents coming in tonight. These babies will live stream it right back to Ginger HQ.’

‘So I have to go jewelry shopping?’ 

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘We are going ring shopping, Mrs Daniels.’ 

‘You’re not serious.’ Your eyebrows shot up. 

‘I think we would make a very attractive couple.’ He retorted. ‘A bright-eyed Brit falling in love with a cowboy, their feelings for each other spanning the Pacific-’

‘- Atlantic-’

‘- ocean.’ 

‘Whatever.’ You pulled off your jacket, yanking the t-shirt from his hands and tugging it over your head. The shirt ended up being longer than your dress, and with your tights and heels it worked in a way that it definitely shouldn’t have. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.’

‘Incidentally, that’s something you would also say if you were my wife.’

You responded again with a groan, elongating it slightly when Jack wound an arm around your waist, as though somebody had just yelled action! 

How hard could it be? You’d been undercover as part of a couple before - admittedly, that had been with people you’d already had a rapport with, and ones who didn’t drive you up the wall as much as Whiskey. Eggsy was a close call, but having been your best friend for the better part of twenty years, it was easy to convince people you were a real couple. It had been a little awkward with Merlin and you had almost flat out refused to do it with Galahad, but there hadn’t been so much at risk then. If this recon went well, it could lead to leaps and strides in your bigger mission. Finding Calahan, proving yourself worthy of a promotion and eventual world domination (in a hero kinda way). 

‘Let’s go over the fine details.’ You murmured to him, glancing around as you entered the shopping strip inside 30 Rock. ‘Where did we meet?’

‘London. I was on a business trip.’ Whiskey quickly replied. ‘How did I propose?’

‘In front of the Eiffel Tower.’ You said. ‘And where do we live now?’

‘Kentucky, but we’re in New York because we plan on getting married here.’ He said. ‘You ready?’

‘Let’s go.’ You linked your arms with his, plastering on a fake grin as you entered the jewelry store.  ‘My glasses are recording this straight back to HQ.’

‘Hey there, cowboy!’ Calahan’s contact greeted you immediately. He wasn’t what you’d expected - the man was decked out in a suit and tie, complete with a dodgy looking spray tan and teeth so white they could probably reflect the fucking sun. ‘And pretty lady.’

It had been bad enough when Whiskey called you that. But this guy? Gross - and Jack couldn’t help but notice how you tensed up at the nickname. 

‘Watch it, pal.’ Jack joked. ‘That’s my fiancee you’re talking to.’

‘And I assume that’s what brings you in today?’ He flashed a grin at you. ‘I couldn’t help but notice she doesn’t have a ring.’

‘See if you can move closer to the case by the fire exit.’ Ginger’s voice came over your earpiece. 

‘These ones here look pretty!’ You suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jack by the arm and yanking him in the direction that Ginger had requested. The cowboy let out a surprised yelp as you did, stumbling slightly as you dragged him across the store. 

‘Perfect. Thank you.’ She quietly said over the line. 

‘Any in particular catch your eye, Miss…’

‘It will be Mrs Jones when we get married.’ You plastered on the biggest shit-eating grin that you could muster. ‘And that one in the top corner is very pretty.’

‘That’s one of our most expensive rings.’ The jeweler’s grin was bigger than yours. ‘Is your event going to be as big? You know...price wise?’

‘Oh yeah!’ You chimed in, barely giving Jack a chance to think. ‘We’re renting out the Plaza Hotel. I’m wearing a vintage Emanuel dress inspired by the Princess of Wales and our honeymoon is three weeks in the Bahamas.’

You just had to ramble for a little bit longer whilst Jack looked around to get the footage. Luckily, it was something you were good at. You could talk somebody’s ear off if you had to and bullshit to the next degree; it had saved your ass on missions more times than you’d care to admit. If you ever retired from the Kingsman, you probably had a promising career as an actress. 

‘All this before you’ve chosen a ring?’ He raised his eyebrows at you. You’d been quick on your feet - so much so that you’d tripped and fallen. 

‘My baby’s been planning this thing since was a little girl.’ Whiskey quickly stepped in. ‘And it’s my job to make sure she gets it.’

‘He’s a lawyer.’ You went up on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek. ‘I’m marrying good.’

‘Oh!’ The jeweler glanced between the two of you. ‘This makes more sense now.’

‘Right, we’ve got enough footage.’ Merlin said. ‘You two can get the bloody hell out of there before I puke.’

After making an appointment to return the following day - which neither of you planned on going to, obviously - Jack took your hand and led you out the store. To keep up appearances, you kept your fingers intertwined as you walked back through the shopping mall. The fact you had managed to play a believable couple on such short notice was almost astounding. 

‘Oh my god.’ You murmured, glancing over your shoulder as you exited the mall and turned the corner. You pulled your hand back from Jack’s, stifling a laugh. ‘I can’t believe we actually managed to do it.’

‘Why are you so shocked?’ Whiskey peered down at you, a grin playing on his lips. ‘Like I said - we would make a very attractive couple, sugar.’

‘In your dreams, Daniels.’ You shot back. ‘But if I ever do end up in a relationship like that? Shoot me. I beg you.’

You kept strolling together, slowly heading for the Statesman headquarters - but neither of you were in a rush. Whatever the hell that was had just broken the initial tension between you, and you were actually enjoying one another’s company for the moment. 

‘What’s wrong with it?’ He asked. ‘Ain’t nothing bad about a man looking after his woman.’

‘That’s so outdated.’ You groaned. 

‘It’s not!’ Jack protested. ‘A man looks after his girl and his girl looks after him. Or a husband and husband, or wife and wife-’

‘- how progressive of you.’ You cut him off, rolling your eyes. ‘I don’t rely on anyone. Ever. I look after myself.’

It was probably a cultural difference. Jack had grown up in the south, in a household where his dad worked and his mum looked after the house. It had been the same with his late wife; had things not gone the way they had, he’d probably be the breadwinner whilst she stayed home with the kids. You, meanwhile, had grown up in a working class area of London where a majority of the households were headed by women - and most of the time, single women. If there was some unheard of future where you got married and had kids, like hell would you give up your career. Your job was your baby. 

‘We all need people to look after us sometimes.’ Jack nudged you with his elbow.

You shook your head. ‘Not me.’

‘Well you sound like a real heart-breaker, Miss Independent.’ 

‘It’s my speciality.’ 

--

Once you’d handed over the footage from your glasses to Ginger, you and Whiskey headed to the office. There was a comfortable silence between you - pretending to be a married couple had been one hell of an ice breaker. At least it was proof that you and Jack could work well together. You’d stayed on the same page for the entirety of your little improv love story, and it meant your first mission, however minor, had been a success. If working with him was going to like that for the rest of your time in New York, you might have been able to tolerate him and his ridiculous Southern drawl. 

(Not to mention the nicknames. It left you wondering if Jack had forgotten your actual name and was too afraid to ask.) 

Eggsy was waiting for you in the lobby outside the lift. He was leant against the wall, feet crossed in front of him as he tapped away on his phone. A frown came over your face when you realised that he had a bag beside him. He was scheduled to stay in the city with you until at least the following weekend. You had plans for a few days time to try and use your contacts to sneak into a filming of Saturday Night Live. 

‘Hey!’ Your best friend brightly greeted you. ‘Guess what? Tilde called!’

‘That’s great!’ You forced a smile. ‘So you’re heading back to London tonight?’

‘Yeah.’ His grin didn’t falter. ‘I figured since you two played a married couple successfully, you didn’t need me to stick around to babysit you and make sure you didn’t eat him alive.’

‘It’s still early days.’ You reasoned. ‘Are you sure you don’t wanna stay a couple more days? Adam Driver’s the guest on SNL this weekend.’

‘I gotta get back and fix things, man.’ Eggsy said. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.’

‘Right, of course.’ You held your arms out to him. 

He stepped forward and wrapped his own around you, lifting you off the ground and giving you a tight squeeze. If you had to choose one of your favourite things about Eggsy, it would have to be his hugs. The only reason you’d stopped calling him Hugsy was because he’d threatened to take them away entirely. They were far and few, usually when you were going to spend time apart, but you always appreciated them. 

‘I’ll see you in a few weeks, tops.’ He said, placing you back on the ground. ‘And I promise we’ll get into SNL then.’

‘You better.’ You poked his chest. ‘I’ll miss you, Egghead.’

‘I’ll miss you more.’

You let out a tiny sigh as Eggsy picked up his bags and headed for the lift. You weren’t mad at him for going home early - just disappointed. And not at him, just at the situation, It had been a long time since you’d got to properly spend time together outside of work. Above all, however, you knew you had to respect his relationship. What kind of friend would you be to stand in the way of him and love? 

Once he was out of sight, you regathered yourself and headed to the office. Jack was already inside, his feet propped up on the desk and a glass of his namesake whiskey in hand. It was the first time he’d taken off his hat in front of you, and his hair was a little ruffled from it. 

‘Don’t need anyone my ass’ was the greeting he offered you. 

‘What?’ You furrowed your brow. 

Jack pushed his feet back to the floor, handing you your own glass of...well, Jack.  ‘I saw the way you looked at your boy, Percy.’

‘I told you before!’ You snatched the glass from his hand, dropping into your chair. ‘Eggsy is not my boyfriend.’

‘Doesn’t have to be’.’ He shrugged. ‘You looked like you were losing your brother. Tweedle Dum ain’t nothing without Tweedle Dee.’ 

Eggsy was your brother, by all intents and purposes. Heck, he might as well have been your twin. Your fathers had been best friends when they were in Kingsman, and you and him were reflections of that. You’d gone through every high and low of your teenage years together, and eventually adulthood. As previously established, he often came to you and he often needed you, but you hated to consider how it might have gone the other way. He was the only exception to your needing no one rule. And, considering that not even your own mother had made the cut, it was actually quite complimentary. 

‘I don’t need Eggsy.’ You insisted. 

‘How long have you known each other?’ Jack ignored your statement, instead posing a question. ‘Since school?’

‘No. He’s six months older than me, so...my whole life.’

‘I rest my case.’

‘You know nothing, Whiskey!’ You exclaimed. ‘You can’t make massive assumptions about me when you’ve known me for two days.’

‘I’ve met a woman like you before.’ He replied. He pondered for a moment, and his eyes were almost...vacant. ‘She pretended she didn’t need a damn person either, but she did.’

‘And who was that?’ You thinned your eyes at me. ‘Because I can’t think of a single person who I need.’ 

‘She needed me.’ He casually shrugged. ‘And I needed her.’

‘Right. Naturally.’ You murmured. ‘It’s too early for this, Whiskey.’

‘Got too deep for you, Tea?’

‘The hell did you just call me?’

‘Tea.’ He offered you a shit eat grin. ‘Get it? Because you’re British-’

‘- this face isn’t because I didn’t get it.’ You cut him off. ‘And on that note, I am done here. I shall be working from home this evening and possibly for the rest of eternity.’ 

Swiping your glass up, you poured the entirety of its contents down your throat in one swig, before slamming it back on the table. The whiskey burnt for a split second, but it felt good - and you didn’t need to be skidding down that slippery slope at two in the afternoon. Gathering up your bag, you swung it over your shoulder and stood up. 

‘Oh, c’mon!’ Jack protested. ‘We were just starting to get along, sugar!’

‘We were!’ You shot back, pausing when you were half-way out the door. ‘Then you started therapising me.’

He grinned at you. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You’re contractually obliged!’

‘Fuuuck off!’ 

[caxsthetic]

Through The Storm

Kita Shinsuke x F!Reader

Unfurling: He should have chase whatever dream and things that he wanted. Because it was better to die trying—than keep living in the wonder of another possibility.

Pt. 2 ⇚ Epilogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't dare close your eyes, as what you saw was the light grey strands of hair, with a black tip at the end that reminded you of a vintage pen that was dipped with ink. When darkness engulfed your vision, there was only a pair of brown eyes, staring deep into your soul.

If you turned your back and told him the truth, where would you stand right now? If only you stayed and waited for his response, would it be his name that you carry the last name to? Would you belong to him, instead of your best friend?

You eyed your reflection on the mirror which covered the entire side of the wall. Swallowing a huge lump when your mind wandered once again to another possibility of life that you had abandoned. It made you sick, stomach churned with guilt and shame that was too excruciating for you to bear.

How delightful life would be if you were honest, if everyone could just spill what was exactly inside their mind—or in this case, their heart. Your breath sounded laboured, like you have been running for a thousand miles without taking a break.

But yes, for the past years, you had been running. Running away from the reality about who it was that you actually love. Every time you thought it was enough, he came back, stood right beside you as if you were just running around in place.

Love, who said that this feeling was the greatest invention that humankind had discovered? It was so unpredictable, uncontrolled, you couldn't choose who you ended up falling in love to.

The only thing that you could do was try, to get the love that you wanted. To grasp someone that had your mind, body, and soul—or die trying. Because if not, it would haunt you for the rest of your life.

You gasped a little when the lady's maid tightened the dress, making it a little bit hard for you to breathe. And it didn't help you at all with how you already felt suffocated by your own feelings.

White. A shade of colour that meant purity and innocence, wrapping perfectly around your figure. But with the way you had been lying in front of everyone, nothing in you radiated good news. And you really wanted to just tear the perfect dress into pieces, wanting to show everyone that everything was just a facade.

Sometimes you felt like you were some kind of monster, some kind of storm. The only thing that you could do was either wrecking the once serene life, or turned everything that you passed by into a dust.

But no one noticed that, except maybe him.

"Do you like someone?" You choked on the carton drink that you got from the vending machine, didn't expect your classmate to blurt the question to you. After all, both of you were just hanging out on the rooftop, getting away from all the prying eyes and meddlesome squeal of his fangirl.

He was frantic when you coughed like that, like you could die at any moment. His large hand immediately patted your back to calm you down, with dark grey orbs lingering with worry as he looked at the pained expression on your face.

It was soothing, the warm touch of your best friend. His palms going up and down your back, so gentle as if he had the most fragile creature on his grasp. In his eyes, you were. Since the first time you knocked on the door of his house with a basket of food on your hand, he was sold.

Through his silvery orbs, you were some kind of angel that the deity bestowed upon him. With a gentle smile that you threw for everyone, a witty remark that you jabbed on his brother—from the very first minute he knew you, he was sure that you were the one.

"Osamu..." Your eyes peered on him, sending the poor boy a glare to get some apology or explanation after what he said. But he just raised one of his eyebrows from confusion, "What with the sudden question, you doofus!" You punched his arms playfully, making him winched—dramatizing of course, not too different from his twin brother.

"Jeez, you are abrasive as fuck." He tried to sound so hurt, pouting at you as he caressed his own arms to soothe the 'pain' that you caused.

"And you are one dramatic bitch."

Bantering with Miya Osamu has probably become your daily life. When you were with him, everything felt like your life would be perfect. As if knowing that he would always be there with you boosts your confidence as you tried to be the best version of yourself.

You didn't answer his question and just laid your head on his shoulder. He didn't mind at all, even if Atsumu teased him day by day about how the two of you looked like an old couple, he was actually okay with the mockery that he received.

The breeze touched your exposed skin, making a shiver run down your spine. As much as you love the privacy that you got by escaping here, sometimes you just wanted the wind to dwindle down.

But then again, times go by and every time the wind impaled your skin and made you shivered, someone would take off his blazer and place it on your torso. Even if you just showed the tiniest bit of frostbite, he would make sure that you were not going to feel any kind of cold in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you, Osamu." You smiled at him, fingers fiddling on the sleeve of his blazer.

"You are welcome." He relaxed once again, letting you get closer to him like before.

He noticed this habit of yours. How you always looked down and your digits played with any fabric that first touched your skin; meaning that you were thinking of something—or perhaps you were just nervous.

The opposite hitter always gave you a space. He never demanded anything from you as he just gave, and possibly waiting for you to give back. But never once he pestered you over something that you wouldn't say or you wouldn't do.

He would wait, because he knew when you were ready, words would pour freely from your lips.

"I confessed to someone yesterday." But that was not the statement that he wanted to hear.

Because yesterday, you were only together with him at lunch, teasing each other like usual. Because yesterday, you didn't go home with him and his twin after practice. Because yesterday, you excused yourself to talk with his captain to talk about the club.

Because yesterday, he wasn't the one you confessed your love to.

And he still remembered how your eyes glimmered every time you subconsciously gazed towards the captain of the team.

"Yeah?" But he was your best friend, "How did it go?" So he needed to be supportive towards you, even if it would destroy himself in the process.

He expected you to sound all lovey dovey, maybe being excited for the practice today because you couldn't wait to meet the one that you oh-so-love that much. He prepared himself to see you everyday with his captain, being a power couple. After all, who in their right mind would turn their back on you?

But after seconds filled with silence, the only thing that came out from your lips was just a sob. Started with you biting your lips, heads hanging low with tears dropping to your lap, then you let out a soft cry. One that broke his heart because never once he thought he would see you like this.

You were someone that never let anything get in the way of your happiness. Every problem that you got, you made sure with time you could face it. Every obstacle that came in your way, a smile always slipped on your face as you searched for a way out.

So when you were here beside him, letting out a painful cry with hands clenching on your uniform, he wanted to just rip his heart apart because the sight was too much for him. Someone as beautiful, as lovely, as wonderful as you, shouldn't burn with agony like this.

God, He closed his eyes as he pulled you to his embrace, letting your tears to seep on his shirt, Let Kita-san love her, please. He didn't want to see you like this, so in pain. If it took him heartbreak just to see you smile like usual, it would all be worth it, I promise I would be okay by just being on the sideline.

His fingers slipped in between the strands of your hair, caressing it gently as he wanted to make sure that you know. He wanted you to know that no matter what happened he would always be there for you, even if he never said it out loud.

"I am sorry," His low voice sounded so sincere, "I didn't mean to make you remember." He subconsciously leaned towards the crown of your head, kissing it softly as he could feel himself trembling a little.

"It's not your fault." You pulled away, wiping the tears that kept cascading down your cheek, "I did something stupid anyway." Snorting, you try to coat the pain you had, turning it into a joke instead, "Like, goodness. Confessing? Me, confessing? I should have known that it would ruin everything."

You were just a storm after all, nothing in your way could be great once it involved someone else.

"What do you mean ruin everything?"

"Oh come on, Osamu." You rolled your eyes, chuckling bitterly from his question, "I can't confess right, I ran away before he could say anything. What if he actually said yes? But me being a stupid ass decided to just turn my back on him. What if he-"

"He would have chased you." Your best friend answered your question as if he knew what was right inside the captain's mind, "If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." It was not like he said it out of the blue, because that was the truth.

When you confessed to someone and they liked you back, they would do anything to let you know that the feelings were mutual. It was as simple as that, because if he was in the shoes of his captain, he would grab your hand and smash his lips on yours.

But he was not Kita, and Kita was not him.

Some people could be a coward—sometimes without themselves even realising it.

"If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." You kept reminding yourself with the same statement that your best friend—now fiancé—said to you from all those years ago. Every time you start to think about the possibility of the unknown, you always chant those words like a mantra.

Your voice resonating through the entire room, accompanying you once all the lady's maid left you alone after they were done with your dress. Right now as you walked around to each corner of the room, you didn't know anymore was it the dress that made you feel suffocated, or the jitters that struck your core.

Every now and then, your mind always brought you back to that fateful night. The night where everything changed between you and the light grey haired man that you adore so much.

You always had hope, that one day when he looked at you, he would tell you the one thing that you wanted to hear the most. Every morning since that night, you woke up and you prayed to the universe, begging for him to look at you and gave you a response.

That was what you needed, an answer. An answer from the words that you blurt. But even after days went by, even after your best friend confessed the hidden feelings that were long buried, Kita Shinsuke never turned his face on you.

It was the sense of uncertainty that made you go crazy. Since high school years you never settle your feelings as your mind and heart always roamed upon him. Over and over like a disease that always came back even when you already drank a medicine.

You sat at the crook of the window, letting the sun from the outside hit your skin. Your fingers fix the folds on your dress, wanting to make sure that it wouldn't look crumpled as you walked down the aisle.

Do you really want to, though? It hit you again, Do you really want to walk down the aisle to him? The doubt, the different kind of love that you had for your fiancé.

At this point, you really wanted to cry. Never once in your life you thought you would be such a catastrophe to someone that not under any condition gave you something less. Miya Osamu always presented you with all the finer things in life, putting your happiness on top of him. And you? You could not even give him one thing that he asked from you.

Love. One pure love only for him.

No matter how many times you wanted to forget about the first love of yours, no matter how many kisses that you had shared with anyone else, no matter how many times you intertwined your soul with your fiancé—you always came back, asking the universe about the undiscovered route of your life.

"Hello?" You covered your mouth when the beeping of the call turned into his voice, "(L/n), are you there?" What the fuck are you doing?

Your hands were trembling by now, eyes widened as your body moved by itself. One minute you fixed the folds on your dress, another and you had your phone on your hand, a call connected to the one person that your heart always yearned for, "(L/n)?"

"Kita-san..." You muttered his name, so slowly since you were still hesitant.

"Yes?" His voice sounded so gentle. Even with how low his voice was, you always felt like you were engulfed in a soft blanket, "Are you alright?" What is that? Why did he ask you the question as if he threw it to himself.

You licked your lips, debating to answer him with which scenario. It was easy for you to create a new scenario in your life, ask him where he was, maybe teasing him a little here and there. Having a casual conversation as if every time you talked to him it didn't feel like you swallowed some thorns.

But you were done lying to yourself.

"No," Your palm went up and down your arms, trying to gather some warm, "I am not alright, Kita-san." The rays of sunshine that touched your skin couldn't even save you from the coldness that you felt right now.

"Do you need something?" His voice lingered with worry right now, and somehow you could see how he scrunched up his eyebrows right now, "Should I call Osamu?"

"Don't!" He was a little bit taken aback by your outburst, so he decided to keep silent, waiting for you to calm down, "Where are you, Kita-san? Are you alone?"

You knew that he must have wanted to just hang up the call, because he had feelings about where this conversation would lead to. Then again he was curious, wondering what was your intention by calling him out of the blue like this. Wondering what he could possibly get by continuing this call.

If it was him in the past, he would hang up immediately. Since he could taste the wreckage that might come since his name rolled down from your lips.

"I am at the restroom right now." He wouldn't have any second chance, he knew that, "And yes, I am alone." But he couldn't help but keep hoping, no matter how many times it already crashed and burned in front of his eyes.

"Alright," You breathed out the words and leaned your back on the window, "May I talk to you for a second?" No, he knew where this was going, he wouldn't let the same thing happen again.

"Yes?" But just like all those years ago, his voice betrayed him once again, "You can talk to me." So he decided to succumb on the storm, "Seconds, hours, days. You can talk to me as long as you want." After all, he was a changed man, he was braver now.

You snickered a little from his words. He was a lot more talkative now compared to the high school days that you shared with him, and it made you smile. Because this was a conversation that you wanted to have with him for a long time.

"It wouldn't be long though." You sighed, wondering how he looked right now, "I just wanted to ask and said a couple of things." He must have looked so majestic, maybe wearing a black suit, a contrast to your fiancé's.

"Alright. What is the question?"

He was nervous, as he waited for you to utter any syllable that could make him feel at ease. While you on the other hand, you still hesitate, as you were afraid that this question would reopen some old wound.

"Why do you distance yourself even more after that night?" His breath hitched from the question, "And why you acted like... Like you were disgusted by me, Kita-san?"

You could hear his soft breath through the phone which was being held once you were done blurting the questions.

"Because I am just a coward," He muttered slowly, clenching his hand into a fist, "I never disgusted by you, (L/n). I am the one who felt disgusted with myself from putting you in such predicament."

"What do you mean by a coward?" You stood up, trying to calm yourself down by circling the room, "You were not. From all these years I had known you, you were everything but a coward."

"I am a loser then." After all, he did lose you. "I just wanted you to know that it was all on me." He should have turned around and faced you. "So anything that you had in mind right now—no, you have done nothing wrong."

He sat on the luxurious chair that was being put in the middle of the restroom, one hand tapping on his knee. It was just minutes before the ceremony began, and yet here he was; having a heart to heart conversation with someone that would have the same last name as his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

"Shinsuke, are you there?" He could hear a knock from the outside, the familiar voice of his best friend muffled a little, "Osamu was looking for you."

"You go first, I am fixing my suit." It made him frown, lying, "I will be there in five minutes." But he needed to stall the moment, he had to listen to whatever you wanted to say to him.

It was scary what love could do to him, to the both of you. He didn't know whether you were still there on the other side of the screen, or were you already gone but forgot to hang up the call. There was no voice that he could hear, not even how your breath fanned the microphone like before.

"(L/n), if you still have something that you wanted to say to me, you need to say it now." He didn't mean to do that, to enforce you like this, "Are you still there?" But if he didn't hear anything from you now, he knew you would haunt him evermore, "I-"

"I love you."

You breathed out the words, the one that you were supposed to blurt on that fateful night. It was the three words that could change everything, "I love you, Kita-san." You repeated, again and again like a broken record.

The reflection on the mirror in front of him showed how ghostly he looked, face turned into a whiter shade of pale as he listened to you. It was not fair for him, to hear you confess such things while you were going to walk down the aisle to someone else that was not him.

Tears started to prickle at the corner of his eyes, debating about the words that he should say once you stopped reciting those words that he wanted to hear since years ago. Since that time when he saw how your hands were taken by another.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He swallowed a huge lump, he needed to remember that you were not his. You were just a storm, and a storm only came to wreck and then leave. It wouldn't be forever—at least that was what he wanted to believe.

"I just need to..." You dabbed the tears on the corner of your eyes with a tissue, softly so your makeup wouldn't be ruined, "I need to say it, Kita-san. I am always in love with you, but—"

"I know,"

"You know."

You let out a small chuckle, one that tasted so bitter as you tried to smile in between the wrenching pain that you felt right now. What was it actually that you try to achieve here—by confessing the love that would never bloom?

Kita Shinsuke was your storm, visioned as someone with a cold persona. The first time you saw him, your mind went blank as if it was taken away from you. Even when your face touched the ground, what flickered in your mind that momentous morning was him; wondering who that magnificent being with light silvery hair was.

Silent engulfed the call, as two souls that crave for another knew there was no future for them, "I am sorry, Kita-san. I—"

"Will you call me by my name?"

"What?"

"My first name." It was an unexpected request, "Call me by my name." Please.

He always wondered how his name would sound if it came from your lips. Those delicate lips that shaped into a gentle smile for almost every second passed, as if it was how the deity designed you by default.

"Shinsuke..."

He shouldn't, he should not have asked. Because now it made him crave for more; more of you, more of your time.

"This may sound selfish. But one more time, please—"

"Shinsuke," Your voice wavered a little as tears ruined the makeup on your face, "Shin." But he didn't expect you to call him that, "Shinsuke. Shin." Sounded so beautiful, as if he was in nirvana and an angel whispered his name.

He wanted more, that was what he needed to hear from you since years ago. Regret started to corrupt his soul once again. If it took all the money in this world to get a time machine, he would achieve it.

If back then he turned himself to see you, chasing you down the street and grabbed your hand. Telling you what you were doing to him; all the longing feelings, one that he didn't quite understand that time—he was sure, that you would be his by now.

But what in the past maybe should just stay in the past,

"Thank you,"

Someone knocked on the door of the dressing room, informing you that it was almost time. Ah, having a 'pleasant' conversation with someone surely made the time turn so fast.

In one way or another, telling him what was inside your heart for years made you feel lighter. Like finally, after unlocking the love that you clutch deep inside your heart, letting it go seems like the best decision in life.

"You are welcome," You draw in the deep air around you, "I love you. Goodbye." And for the first time in forever, you could breathe without a knife in your heart.

"Goodbye," He whispered softly, letting the tears cascading down his cheek one more time. He could see your smile on the other line—pleased even if you never got a proper answer for all of your confession. Then you hung up; leaving him there with words that better left unsaid, "I love you."

You clutched your phone in your hand, orbs never left the screen as his name still displayed on the tiny surface. Shaking your head, you decided to open up your gallery, scrolling through hundreds of pictures of you and your fiancé.

Then you stopped when you reached one particular photograph.

With one last smile, scrutinizing every little detail that the old picture portrayed, you muttered a little farewell—and erased the portrait that you always came back to before.

Because it's time; to let go of the past.

"Samu, why did you have this?" You helped your fiancé to clean up some of his stuff from his childhood house. And in the middle of it, you found some old photographs from his high school days. Lots of them were just a group picture with the entire team, some were memories of you and him that you two shared, but one random picture popped out.

That one picture you thought you wouldn't see anymore.

"Oh, that's Kita-san," The black haired man popped behind you. His answer made you roll your eyes.

"I know who the heck is that, Samu." You really wanted to just flick his forehead at the moment, somehow you wonder how could you end up with someone as oblivious as him, "I am the one who captured it after all."

"Oh, sorry," He snickered when he saw how annoyed you looked, "I think it was from when you gave it to 'Tsumu and Suna, guess it slipped on my box."

You nodded at this and gazed back to the photograph in your hand. His smile was soft, the smile that you wished you saw a lot when he was still the captain of Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club. Your finger traced the printed picture softly, as if you really touched his skin, "Take your time."

Getting lost in some old memoir, you didn't realise as Osamu never once left your side. His dark grey orbs scanned your face, and he could see how you were still longing for the light grey haired man. The pain inside your eyes, the yearning, even if it overlapped with your feelings towards himself—the love that you had for his old captain, was still there.

"What do you mean?"

"I can wait forever, take your time."

Your fiancé leaned his body close to you, resting his velvety lips on your forehead. He knew too well how much it torture you too, to had one chapter in your life that was still unfinished. To know that it was still incomplete, and yet you continued to live.

And just like what he promised himself to, he would always be there for you. Even if he was just on the sideline, then by all means he would wait for you to bring him to your main path of life. Maybe someday, it would be just him that you needed.

Classics, pieces of music notes were gently intertwined to become such a masterpiece. The pianist started to move their bewitched fingers once the bride stood on the starting runway, ready to walk to an astonishing future that may come.

You looked so beautiful in his eyes, just like any other time in his life he had seen you. The same messy hair that flowed by the wind all those years ago, was now brushed gently as the sleek white veil rested on the crown of your head, down to cover all the strands in your hair.

Every time you move your feet, it feels like it brought you closer to a lighter life that you had been wanting to have. Your gaze filled with wonder, belief, and a little bit of nervousness. He couldn't blame you, since there was no practice wedding, it was not something that humans could prepare for.

If it was him, maybe he would ask if you wanted a Japanese Traditional Wedding, that would feel so perfect. But then again as he saw you walking down the aisle, he didn't care what kind of wedding, who were all the guests, or where the two of you shared the vow—as long as it was you, then he could call it perfect.

He sat beside his grandmother who always had a smile on her face. It pained him, as he remembered how she said she looked forward to his wedding already; worse because she had been wanting it since he was still a high schooler.

But then again, he didn't know if he wanted to have a wedding anymore. For whom the only person who he wanted to have their hand on marriage with, was now standing in front of him, with his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

He couldn't hear any of the words that spilled from the marriage officiant as it sounded like a murmur. When happiness was supposed to fill the entire space, he felt like all of his senses were being taken away from him.

But when your lips parted to shared the vow that you had prepared, when your ring finger now adorned with the delicate platinum band, he could feel his heart beats a thousand times faster,

"Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

His lips were dry by now, sweats trickling down his back even though the temperature was low. He wanted to stand up, to speak, to let out the words that were left unsaid before.

But then a gentle, wrinkled palm rested on top of his hand, and the gesture was enough to make him calm down in an instance.

He looked down towards his grandmother. A reassurance smile emerged on her face, as if after all this time, she knew what exactly battling inside his soul. It would be alright, Shin. Her soft voice could be heard, even if she never actually parted her lips.

It would be alright. Maybe someday, it would be alright for him.

After hours his lips only shaped into a thin line, now he could finally have the power to change it into a smile. With a little nod that he gave towards the figure who knew him like the back of her hand, he looked back towards you.

Your gaze met his, for a split second he knew you were saying one last farewell. And unlike that one time he first saw you with your perfect man, it was now real. Today, this second, it would be the last time you gave him a gaze filled with love.

"Maybe in another life." "Another lifetime."

And in this exact moment as you shared a kiss with the man that always had his eyes on you, the one man that somehow he knew would be the person you spend forever with. He promised that in another lifetime, when the two of you crosspath once again—

He would turned back towards your direction and chase you,

The storm that he wished he never ran away from.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*     ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶     *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@muffins-puffins​​ @vlovers-world​​ @blacckdiamondposts​​ @for-ests​​ @atsunflower​​ @miyatsunami​​ @iwaixiumi​​ @hihiq​​ @the-fandom-ness​​ @quirksandbreaths​​ @rintarhoe​​ @verbluehte​​ @simp4tsukkii​​ @ladyalicevii​​ @evermorehaikyuu​​ @clowninfortodoroki​​ @koutaroulovebot​​ @fitriiaw​​ @mistypoison​​ @aquariarose​​ @greenleaf-fantasy​​ @t-amajiki​​ @kuraomi​​ @haikyuuwithadashofart​​ @starbybokuto​​ @shiningstar-byulxx​​ @nerdyphantomlady​​ @raequii​​ @sugawsites​

[damianwaynerocks]

Zuko & the Waynes - Chapter 3

Batfam/ATLA au

Description:  Prince Zuko, pre-finding Aang, falls into Gotham City. After being adopted by Bruce Wayne, Zuko finds himself enjoying life in this strange world. Zuko Wayne has a family who loves him unconditionally. Zuko Wayne is a hero, saving the innocents of Gotham City every night. But Zuko soon finds himself at the center of a plot that threatens to destroy not only this new world he's come to love, but also the world he's trying to leave behind.

A/N: okay, so the members of the titans and young justice team are different in this au.

Young Justice: Tim Drake (Red Robin); Cassie Sandsmark (Wondergirl); Kon/Conner Kent (Superboy); Bart Allen (Impulse)

Titans: Dick Grayson (Nightwing); Koriand'r (Starfire); Garfield Logan (Beast Boy); Rachel Roth (Raven); Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle); M'Gann M'orris (Miss Martian)

Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Chapter 3:

"So, you remember the plan?"

"Yeah, we got it," said Cassie into her earpiece, having to raise her voice to be heard over the pouring rain outside. "Don't worry about us, we're fine."

"Good to know," Tim responded into the comlink.

It was the night of the auction. Zuko was wearing a black suit while Cassie was wearing a red dress. Both had their masks on. Kon, also known as Superboy, was sitting in the driver's seat. He was acting as their chauffeur, and was there as backup in case anything went wrong. Zuko rolled his eyes as he heard a slurping sound in his com link, presumably from Tim taking a sip of coffee.

 "That was gross," Kon sighed. "Don't do that." 

Tim ignored him. "Proud of you both. Remember, if the wrong person gets their hands on the magyntite, not even Superman will be able to stop them." He paused. "No pressure, though.”

"Wow, you're great at pep talks." Zuko adjusted the mask on his face, making sure it hid his scar. "You ready, Cassie?"

"I was born ready," Cassie responded with a grin. "Now, let's go, Henry."

"After you, Larissa." Zuko grabbed an umbrella and stepped out of the  self-driving black limousine they'd borrowed from Bruce. He went around to her side of the vehicle and opened her door for her. Cassie looped her arm through his, muttering a thank you as Zuko raised the umbrella above both of them. They walked into the casino.

 Just inside, a bouncer stepped in front of them. "How tall is the eagle's wingspan?"

"That means do magic," Tim said through the coms.

 "Uh," Zuko's mind raced as he tried to think of a spell on the spot. "Fire Dragon Iron Fist!" he finally said, and a ball of fire appeared over his closed fist. The bouncer nodded, and unhooked the red rope, allowing them to step inside.It was bright and loud and flashy, and Zuko had to stop for a moment to get his bearings.

 "You good?" Cassie whispered, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. "It's okay. Let's just go downstairs, follow me." She gently led him towards the back of this casino. Tim had told them that there was a staircase behind the bathrooms, and the basement was where the auction was taking place.They walked past the doors that said 'men' and 'woman' and opened the third door, revealing stairs going down to a concrete basement. "You okay now?" Cassie asked as they began to descend. 

 "Yeah," Zuko grunted. "I'm fine." They walked down a dark and damp hallway, a stark contrast to the bright lights and clean floors of the upper floor. The reached a huge room with a wrap around balcony overlooking the bottom floor. Many people, all wearing masks, were crowded together. 

"It's about to start, Mr. Henry," Cassie said. "Let's go sign in." The pair walked through the people until they reached the stairs leading to the bottom floor. Arms still linked, they walked down the stairs. 

"There's a ton of people here," Zuko mused. "I wonder what they all want to buy." 

Cassie shrugged. "Drugs. Artifacts. Who knows." 

They made their way to the middle of the throng of people and sat down in two of the chairs. The auction started soon after, and the words the auctioneer was saying sounded like white noise to Zuko. Finally, twenty minutes in, Tim's voice in his ear made Zuko flinch. "Magyntite is next," he said. "Be ready."

Sure enough, the man held up a silver briefcase. "Magyntite!" he yelled. "This drug is like Kobra Venom! Bulk up your muscles, lady and gentlemen. Do I hear... two million?" Zuko raised his hand and the same time another man did. The man glared at Zuko, who did the same.Back and forth this happened, Zuko and this man trying to get the magyntite. In the end, though, Zuko and Cassie got it for $45,000,000.

 "Holy crap," Cassie breathed as they walked back up the stairs. "That man wanted to kill you." 

Zuko hummed. "He isn't the only one." 

Cassie gave him an amused look."Is that so, Sir Henry?"

"Indeed it is, Lady Larissa."

Golden eyes gazed into blue for a second, both having small smiles on their faces.

  "Yo, you guys get it?"

"Uh, yeah," Cassie replied, breaking eye contact. "Yeah, we're heading back now." 

Zuko's face reddened. He hadn't felt any feeling similar to that since Mai, when he was thirteen. He shook his head to clear it. Don't be stupid, he told himself. Don't even go there. No chance of that happening.

"You good?" Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow under her mask. Zuko cleared his throat and nodded a little too quickly.

"Me? I'm great. Splendid. Never been better!" he babbled. "Oh Agni, I bet Kon is going crazy! Uh, let's go see him!" He linked his arm with Cassie's and half-led half-drug her through the club and out the door.

"And the lovely couple returns!" Kon cheered as Zuko opened the door for Cassie. "I missed you! Tim told me I couldn't listen to my podcast because I had to stay alert so I've been bored out of my mind."

"Oh, poor baby!" Cassie mocked. "Do you need a massage and a nice cup of tea?"

"I do, actually."

"Too bad, Superbrat."

 Zuko looked out the window. He missed his uncle's tea.

 Only 11 more months. 

___

The next morning, Zuko, Duke and Damian were at the table eating breakfast. Zuko was about to put a piece of bacon in his mouth when he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he frowned as he met Duke's eyes. "What?

Duke's eyebrows were furrowed in disbelief. "Dude, it's 7:00 in the morning. Why are you already dressed?" 

Zuko blinked. While the others were in their pajamas- Duke in an old t-shirt and shorts and Damian in his silk robe -Zuko was in jeans and a Ralph Lauren button-up, his hair in a topknot. He would've put shoes on, if it weren't for Alfred's no-shoes-in-the-house rule. "I'm used to getting up at dawn and getting ready. It's what I've done for three years."

Duke shook his head. "You're making me feel like a slob, Zu."

 "You will not feel that way for long," Damian spoke up. "For I hear Drake coming down the stairs." 

Sure enough, Tim walked around the corner, staggering to the table. He was in an over sized black Superman shirt and his boxers with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His long hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes made it look as though he had been punched in the face.  Alfred pulled out a chair beside Zuko, a cup of coffee already in his hand. Tim stumbled towards the chair, looking as though he was about to pass out. He sat down in the chair slowly, and Alfred immediately put the cup of coffee in front of him. Tim blinked slowly, before picking up the coffee and bringing it to his lips. 

"Well," Duke chuckled. "I no longer feel like a slob." 

Damian wrinkled his nose, scoffing at Tim. "You are a disgrace, Drake. Have some self respect." Tim stared at him owl-eyed in response.

 "Just give him like ten minutes," Duke said. "Anyways! So I heard you went on a mission last ni-"

"Master Duke!" Alfred interrupted him sharply. "Might I remind you the rules of breakfast?" 

Duke seemed to shrink into himself as he answered in a small voice, "No vigilante talk at the breakfast table." Alfred nodded in approval before going back into the kitchen. Duke turned back to Zuko. "Later."

Zuko hummed in response. 

--

As soon as breakfast was over, Duke ran to Zuko excitedly. "So!? How'd it go?"

"It went fine," Zuko replied. "I mean, we went in, got the stuff and got back in the car."

"That's it? No fights?"

"No fights."

"What about Cassie? Any emotions?" 

Zuko coughed, his eyes widening. "What!? No! Don't be stupid!"

Duke laughed. "Dude, you're gonna have to get better at lying if you want to join the business."

"Which could start right now, if you want." Zuko and Duke whirled around to see Bruce holding a cup of coffee. "You've been here for a month. You can fight and you're smart. You're welcome to start training today, if you want."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "Uh, yeah! That'd be great!" 

Bruce smiled."Fantastic. Go get changed into something comfortable and we'll start."

Zuko practically sprinted to his room, but before he could change, his phone chimed.

Cassie Sandsmark: good morning doofus

.Zuko grinned in spite of himself.

Zuko Wayne: good morning!

Cassie Sandsmark: how'd you sleep?

Zuko Wayne: great but i don't know if tim slept at all he's barely alive right now

Cassie Sandsmark: sounds like tim

Cassie Sandsmark: so when u joining the hero business

Zuko Wayne: right now,, I'm about to start training

Cassie Sandsmark: YAY TELL ME HOW IT GOES

Zuko Wayne: of course

__

Training, Zuko decided, was difficult. It'd been a month since he'd started, and while he was improving, he was sore and sick of computers. 

"If I have to break another one of Tim's codes, I'll kill myself," he groaned, flopping on to the couch beside Damian, who nodded. 

"Every time Drake speaks, I want to kill myself." Zuko eyed him wearily.

"That's harsh."

"Such is reality." Damian flipped to the next page of the book he was reading. "So, your first patrol is tomorrow?" 

Zuko grinned."Yeah. I'm so excited." He sat up, cracking his knuckles. "Gonna be a blast."

"Are you finally adequate at lying?" 

Zuko winced. "It took me a while but yeah, I got it."

 "Good. We cannot have you exposing our secret." He looked up from his book. "Christmas is next month. Pennyworth instructed me to inform you that he needs a list of what you wish."

Zuko groaned. "I have no idea what I want."

"Well, figure it out," Damian replied. "Because if you do not, I'll have to listen to the complaining."

__

It was the night of his first patrol. Zuko turned to the mirror. His suit was a black kevlar lined jumpsuit with an obsidian utility belt and combat boots of the same color. There was a blue bat symbol across the chest, and a demon-type stage mask of the same color on his face. He looked at the blue gauntlet on his wrist and flexed his arm.

Dick whistled lowly. "Lookin' sharp, Zu."

Zuko grunted in response, but he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards.

"Good to see you suited up," Bruce said as he saw his son. He turned to the Bat Computer and typed something in. "Alright. Nightwing and Robin, you take the east side. Red Hood and Black Bat, you take the west. Red Robin, you take south. Blue Spirit and I will take north."

"You got it, boss man," said Jason with a mock salute. At that, the vigilantes headed out.

"Remember," Bruce began as he and Zuko got into the Batmobile. "Code names in the field." Zuko nodded.

"I won't forget, Batman."

"Good to hear, Blue Spirit." 

After a few minutes if driving, Oracle spoke. "Croc is robbing a store on the corner of North and Order," she said. "Blue Spirit and Batman are closest."

"We're on it," Bruce said, and sped up. 

They reached the corner in five minutes, and jumped out of the car. "Croc!" Bruce yelled.

A huge reptilian humanoid turned toward the voice, and smiled. "Batman!" he chirped. "And who's this?"

"Blue Spirit," Zuko said stiffly. 

Killer Croc chuckled."New kid to destroy? I love that." 

Croc rushed him, snapping his jaws viciously. Zuko jumped into the air, doing a flip over the creature. Fire blasted out of his elbow and he punched Croc in the snout as he turned. 

Croc stumbled back. "Igniting your elbow to increase the force of your punch? Smart. Not smart enough." He ran towards Zuko again, claws outstretched, moving at inhuman speeds. Zuko ducked under his claws and gave an uppercut with the same advantage into his stomach. Croc was thrown into the air by the force. Before he could land, Zuko sent a blast of fire at him, engulfing him in flames. Croc screamed and fell to the ground, charred and smoking.

 "He's still alive," Bruce said gruffly. "Not bad. I'll call Gordon." Zuko's chest swelled with pride, but he simply nodded. 

"There's a robbery at the R&D center of Enterprises," Oracle said suddenly.

"Blue Spirit and I are going to check it out," Bruce answered.

"10-4," Dick replied. "Call if you need backup." Bruce grunted in response and, gesturing for Zuko to follow, jumped back into the Batmobile before speeding off.

"R&D?" Zuko echoed what Oracle had said earlier. "What's that?"

"It's the Research and Development Center," Bruce replied. "It's where we store Batman Inc. tech that's still in production."

"Oh."

“That's right. If anyone succeeds in getting their hands on what's in there-"

"-They'll get their hands on everything." Zuko bit the inside of his cheek. "It's fine. We can do this."

A hint of a smile ghosted across Bruce's lips, so small that Zuko wasn't sure if it'd even been there in the first place.

__

The Research and Development Center of Wayne Enterprises was primarily used to develop advancements in technology. These advancements ranged from more effective cancer treatments to new engines for vehicles.The blueprints listed the building as being eight stories. Unbeknownst to the majority of WE's employees, there was a basement. A basement hidden far below the actual building, so far below than an express elevator was needed. This basement was where the technology for Batman Inc. was developed.

Unlike the secret basement of Falcone's club, this basement was in pristine condition. It had a hospital feel to it, with white flooring, walls, and ceiling. 

Bruce and Zuko had just grappled down the elevator shaft was landed at the end of one of the basement's hallways."The only alarm that's been triggered was the entry alarm," said Bruce. "The rooms where the... merchandise are kept have separate alarm systems. Can you tell me what this means, Blue Spirit?"

"The intruder either doesn't know what exactly is down here, or they just haven't managed to get into the rooms yet." Zuko frowned. "Wait, if they figured out this place was here then that means they definitely know what's down here. So then they haven't found the location of the 'merchandise.'"

"And you believe that to be the most probable scenario?"

"Well... yeah. I mean, unless they managed to bypass the alarm system. But that's impossible, this place is un-hackable ever since that incident with Ra's al Ghul. The security system is invincible. Right?"

"Rule of thumb, Blue Spirit," Bruce grunted, raising his arm closer to his face to he could activate his gauntlet. "Nothing is invincible. Everything has a weakness. Some are harder to find than others, but the only thing that is truly invincible is God Himself. And I don't think He would have any reason to break into Wayne Enterprises."

"Okay, but they tripped the alarm when they came in," Zuko pointed out. "So they must not have been able to hack the system."

"Unless they want us here."

Zuko sucked in his teeth. "So that's what you think? This is a trap?"

"It isn't a trap if we know about it," Bruce countered. "Here, I'm pulling up the motion sensors." Sure enough, the holographic screen coming from the gauntlet showed motion in room 121.

"Is that one of the rooms?" Zuko asked. 

Bruce nodded."Yes." He and Zuko started to run in the direction of the before mentioned room. "There's very dangerous technology in there. We need to stop this intruder now." The two were sprinting, taking twists and turns through the winding hallways until Bruce stuck his arm out, signaling for Zuko to stop. In front of them was room 121, the door ajar.

"Holy crap," Zuko whispered. "They hacked us."

"They hacked us," Bruce echoed. "And now they're going to pay. Manuever 13. Be cautious." Bruce rolled a metal ball into the room, and it exploded into smoke Using the smoke as cover, Zuko and Bruce dashed into the room. 

Using the heat signatures to see through the smoke, Zuko jumped forward, swinging down his broadswords in arc. His eyes widened as they hit air; the person had disappeared."What-" he broke off as someone landed a hit to his spine. Zuko whirled around, kicking out at his attacker, yet his foot hit air as the assailant dodged again.

"A teleporter?" he muttered. A laugh hit his ears, and the assailant landed another hit to the back of his head. Zuko tried to return the hit with one of his own but, of course, he missed.So far, Zuko noticed, they were teleporting closely around him. They were staying in close proximity with him. It would be hard to deduce where exactly they would strike, unless he limited their options.

Zuko stomped on the ground, and a ring of fire flared up around him. The attacker led out a gut wrenching scream as they were caught in the flames.He caught a glimpse of a person in a black suit clutching their arm before they teleported above his head, aiming a dropkick above him.

 But Zuko had anticipated this. He grabbed their leg from above and slammed them on the ground. They landed with a crack and coughed.

"You just broke my spine, you asshole," the person wheezed. They were still now, and Zuko could see she was a girl with long brown hair in a wine-colored robe. 

Zuko gulped, forcing down the rising panic at the girl's words. "Maybe you shouldn't have tried to break my skull."

The girl shrugged. "Just following orders."

"Who are you!?" Zuko snarled. "Tell me! Who are you and what do you want with this technology!?"

"Well, if you must know," the girl said, pain evident in her voice despite her calm tone. "I am but a servant of The Lady of the Dual Skies."

"The Lady of the Dual Skies?" Zuko echoed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing's taken," Bruce said as he crossed his arms from where he stood behind Zuko. "Nothing has even been tampered with. You clearly weren't looking for anything here. So what did you want?"

"The Lady does not permit me speaking with anybody but you." The girl was speaking directly to Zuko, not sparing Bruce a glance. "She has something she wishes you to know."

Zuko narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "And what would that be?"

The girl grinned wickedly. "She says she'll see you soon."

With that, a portal opened up under the girl and she disappeared in a flash of purple light.

[slimy-vore-bog]

Misunderstandings

Last story was my attempt at an April Fool’s prank... It wasn’t a very good one, but I translated the entire thing and here it is.  (took me 3 days, because I kept procrastinating)

It’s not a joke story btw. The joke was posting it in Danish

Anyways...

Contains: Pred Luz (pov character) prey Amity and Willow, mentions of fatal vore, slightly weird grammar because of translation and out of character actions and dialogue

The last part is because I view Saga (Amity in the Danish dub) differently than Amity. Voice actress makes her feel really different, dub Amity is a nervous soft girl who is clumsy and stutters after episode 7... I don’t like it, but I had to keep it somewhat canon... The second reason is that... I only watched the dub once and that this was really rushed. They all talk a bit too formal

Also I made a slightly inappropiate joke at the end. But it’s (hence the title) out of another misunderstanding. And it’s not like I actually even say what they were thinking. I thought it was funny so I’m keeping it.

Original Danish Version: Misforståelser

Word Count: 2.1k

***

“Amity, stop running away!” yelled Luz as the green haired witch ran away from her at a shocking speed. “I’m just trying to help you!”

The young witch didn’t stop. “No! I saw what you did to Willow; you ate her!” she screamed.

That… was true enough. The small witch was in her inside her stomach, but there was a good reason for it. “If you just let me explain, it’ll all make sense; I swear!” There was a kick from inside her stomach. “Willow isn’t dead!”

Amity stumbled in her run. Maybe Luz could get her to listen?

She turned around to look up at Luz. “What?” The witch stared up at her in confusion, but her confused stare quickly turned into a rage filled glare. “Luz are you complete out of your mind?! You ate your best friend! She might not be dead yet, but she sure as hell won’t be living long!”

Luz took a moment, before she could figure out what to say that would calm Amity down. “No, it’s a misunderstanding! For both of you!” She held her hand over her stomach. “Willow, you are okay, aren’t you? You can breathe just fine, and it doesn’t even sting, does it?”

There was no answer from her stomach, but the kicks stopped immediately. Luz could feel that Willow still had her feet firmly pressed into her stomach wall. A couple seconds passed, before her friend responded. “… no, I’m actually feeling fine.”

“She just answered that she’s feeling fine.” Luz did know that it could sound like a lie, but there wasn’t really any other ways to say it. “The reason I chose to eat her…” She looked up at the sky. “Well, just look up there for yourself, Amity.” She pointed up in the air to where a giant bird of prey was circling.

Amity turned her back to Luz with a distrustful glare. “I can’t see what you’re pointing at.” She spun around fast enough to nearly trip herself. “Don’t try to distract me! Throw Willow up right now, before you regret it!” She clenched her fists. “She is-or was- you friend!”

Luz was getting lightly irritated. “First, Willow is completely fine, and second, if you let me pick you up, then I can show you what you’re running towards.” She had a feeling Amity would run, but it wouldn’t be hard to catch her.

The moment the words left her mouth, Amity bared her teeth. “As if I’d do that!” She took a step backwards. “You… You’re just going to eat me as soon as you have me in your hands!”

Luz sighed. “Amity, if you really don’t want me to eat you, then I won’t do-” She suddenly felt a strong kick to a sensitive part of her stomach. “Ouch!” She curled around her stomach. It was mostly out of shock, but there was still a pinching pain. “Willow!”

“Why didn’t you give me a choice?!” she yelled, clearly insulted. “Are Amity feelings about this more important than mine?”

“No, of course not!” Luz could hear how dumb it all sounded. “I just didn’t want to… I just hadn’t thought it entirely through!” Luz could just have held them in her hoodie or in her pant pocket. “I don’t really think things through as well when turn into… you know, a giant.” To her it had seemed like the most logical choice to eat her friends.

She took in a deep breath, before she looked back down at Amity. She placed her hand down with her palm upwards so the green haired witch could climb up on her own. “Come on now, I promise you if you don’t want me to swallow you then I won’t.”

Amity eyed her suspiciously. “What was it that you pointed at earlier?”

Luz pulled her hand back. “A giant bird of prey.”

Amity nodded slowly. “Okay, what color is it?”

Luz realized that she was trying to figure out if she was lying. She looked back up at the big bird. “Blue with orange spots. No, wait, it’s a pattern, and its wings are white on the inside.”

Amity suddenly seemed more relaxed. “Are you sure Willow is okay?”

Luz nodded. “Completely sure.”

“Okay then.” She glared at her again. “But I’m still not letting you eat me.”

Luz smiled. “alright, Amity.” She placed her hand down on the ground again. “Are you going to climb on now?”

Amity eyed her nervously, before she nodded. She took a careful step forwards towards her hand. “And you’re not going to eat me unless I’m okay with it?”

Luz shook her head. “No, you have my word.”

Amity crawled up onto her hand. “Can you please hold me up to your stomach?” She pulled her legs up to her chest. “I want to talk with Willow, without you needing to eat me.”

“Of course, Amity.” She lifted her hand up to the lowest part of her chest. “Talk your head off.”

Amity cleared her throat. “uh, Willow?”

Willow’s voice was a bit cross. “What?” There were a couple seconds of silence. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you.” She gave Luz another kick. “I just don’t get that Luz is giving you special treatment! She ate me without giving me a choice!”

Amity shuffled a bit. “I just wanted to hear if you were doing alright.”

“Oh. Yes, I’m doing fine. Even if it’s awfully slimy in here…”

Luz felt a little embarrassed. It wasn’t because she had been giving Amity special treatment on purpose. “If you want me to, I can easily throw you up again.”

“No, it’s fine, Luz, I would just get cold.” But after she said that, she gave Luz tiny kick again.

Luz used her empty right hand to scratch her neck. “So, Amity, hoodie or pocket?”

Amity flinched. “Let me think for a moment.”

Luz waited. She had trouble keeping her hands still. She wasn’t trying to disturb Amity in the middle of her thinking, but she couldn’t stop moving her fingers slightly.

Amity sighed. “I don’t think it’s okay that you only ate Willow… It would only be fair, if you swallowed me too.” A chill clearly ran through Amity. “As gross as it is.” She took a deep breath, before she shook her head. “Willow, you wouldn’t mind company, would you?”

“No, I don’t.”

Luz cautiously lifted Amity up to her face. “are you completely sure? You’re first coming back out when we’re back in Bonesborough.”

Amity nodded. “I’m sure.” She moved her legs towards Luz’s mouth. “Besides, if I don’t let you do it, then Willow would be alone in there the entire time… I think this is better.” She gulped anxiously. “I can’t believe I’m about to let myself get eaten…” She mumbled.

“I promise nothing’s going to happen to you,” said Luz with a kind smile. “You two both mean so much to me.” So much was true. Willow was her best female friend and Amity… There was just something about the little witch that caught her. “But I can understand that you think this is gross.” Luz smiled nervously. “I would never had thought that I could think of this as anything other than totally disgusting.”

Amity rolled her eyes. “You’re such an idiot, Luz.” But Luz could see the small smile on Amity’s lips. “Just get this over with.”

Luz carefully opened her mouth. Amity wouldn’t fight against her, but the feeling of Willow that punched and kicking around herself in a startled panic still scratched in her throat.

Luz gently lifted Amity into her mouth.

She started slowly with her legs, before she thought about how Amity would slide down the easiest. Maybe it was better if she was lying on her stomach. Luz opened her mouth again. “I’m just turning you, so you’re lying on your stomach,” explained Luz when she saw Amity’s confused expression.

She pushed Amity’s legs into her mouth as gently as she could. She could feel Amity jolt, when her tongue pulled her farther in.

When Amity was completely in Luz’s mouth, she could taste her perfume, that burnt lightly on her tongue. She felt a bit embarrassed, when she needed to pull Amity out of her mouth again. “Sorry I keep doing this, but your perfume isn’t poisonous, is it?”

Amity writhed around to glare at her angrily at her friend, before she shook her head irritably. “No, Luz, it’s not poisonous.” She kicked out after Luz’s lips, but she missed. “Just get it over with!”

Luz was still careful, but she tried to hurry up a little more. She quickly got Amity completely inside her mouth, and began to try and soak through her clothes with her drool.

It was strange not to feel her fight against her, but it was alright with Luz. It made everything a bit easier.

She pushed her legs all the way back in her mouth. It wouldn’t be hard to swallow her. Just a single gulp would probably send her pretty far down.

She turned her head up to the sky, before she swallowed the low part of Amity. She had no trouble with quickly swallowing down the rest of her. It only took to fast gulps, and then Amity was already on her way down through her esophagus.

She swallowed a couple more times just to get Amity faster down. Finally Amity could be safe… Luz breathed out a sigh of relief. Now nothing could reach her friends…

There sounded a startled shout from her stomach after a few seconds. “Sorry, Willow!” yelled Amity, while Luz could feel them trying to find room in her stomach. “I didn’t know there would be so little room in here!”

Luz couldn’t stop herself from smiling at her. Her friends were amazing… She loved both the two so much.

“Amity, you doofus, of course there wouldn’t be a lot of room in here.” Willow talked loudly, but she was clearly just teasing. “Now move over a bit, so I can cast a new light spell.”

Luz giggled at them. “You two are so cute!” She let a lovestruck sigh slip out. “I love both of you so much…”

Willow laughed, while Amity froze completely silent. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Luz? Tell me did you didn’t get a crush on us, did you?”

Luz felt her heart skip a beat. “uh…” Did she have a crush on her friends? Oh no… She did. She laughed nervously. “No, no, of course not! I meant as friend! You two are really good friends!”

Luz could hear the sarcasm in Willow’s voice. “I so believe in that.” There was a quiet moment, before Willow continued. “But, Luz, I’m not really into anybody in that way… Boy, girl or anything in between, nobody at all.”

Luz felt a pang of pain in her heart. “That’s… That’s okay…” Her eyes went wide, when she realized what Willow had just said. “Wait, Willow, you’re asexual? That’s so cool!” She wasn’t heterosexual, just like Luz wasn’t! “Wow, nobody has ever come out to me before! Just think, you have two dads AND you’re ace! Are you also aromantic? Or are you only aro? Sorry, this is just so exciting! Have I ever told you that I’m bisexual?”

Willow chuckled. “No, you haven’t, and I’m both, but I think Amity has something she wants to say.”

Amity fell as soon as Willow said that. “I have a crush on you.”

Luz blushed, “you do?” That seemed a bit sudden for her to confess.

Amity sat back up again. “Yes, I… I can’t almost think of anything or anything other than you.”

Luz smiled. “Well then, would you say yes to a date tomorrow?”

“Yes! Absolutely yes!” A joyful screech sounded from her stomach. “I have a date with Luz…” Amity exclaimed slowly, yet just as excitedly. She squealed again, before she continued. “Where at? In the town? No, there will be too many people… In the forest?” She grumbled. “No, that’s probably not the best idea with Birdie out there on the loose… What do you think, Luz?”

Luz obviously wasn’t much of a local. “Where you think is best! I would say the Owl House for the privacy, but Eda is home…” It became dead quiet after she finished speaking. A few seconds passed, before Luz’s face flared up in a dark red blush. “No! Not in that way privacy! I just meant so we could talk without being interrupt, and Eda wouldn’t pry. Not… you know.”

Amity sighed with relief. “Okay… That’s good.”

Luz stared down into the ground, her face still burning in embarrassment. “Yep… Well, I should probably get you two home.”

“Yeah.” It sounded quickly from Amity.

“That would be nice…” mumbled Willow.

***

That was it! It was a fun project to translate, but not my proudest work... Also this is the creature that Amity called Birdie (Piphans in the original) I designed him, but there’s no reason he’s in here.. I just decided to keep him in... Anyways it’s my man here:

His head and neck is based on Hooty, obviously.

Fun fact: he was the creature I initially wanted to use for... Hold on, I don’t remember the title... Going Through Lots of Denial! There we are! Though... that was only because my friend liked him more... I personally always wanted to use a groundbound creature... I didn’t want the bird to fly off with Amity. (also part of the reason I didn’t actually used him in here. The second is that he would have crushed her. Look at those meaty murder feet)

This was all the creatures I made for it:

Anyways, that was all and it’s pretty unrelated.

Thanks for reading, don’t fall for any pranks, and have an amazing day! <3

[speedybooksandcreativeheaven]

Only Sinners are Repentance Series

Chapter 12 - Unleash the Truth

Story Summary: The gangs in New York have not been getting along as the control of the city is falling apart. Here we follow the story of Viper and Vemon as these girl’s experience heartbreak, drama and death.  

Chapter Summary: Joe get rudely awakened by Mika to notice her fear they run into Kayla and Sam fighting. He knew that this day was coming, so he was going to be prepared for anything. Sam finally realizes that he can’t be the hero anymore, so he tries to convince Joe with a sneaky deal. He refuses and now Sam is left broken while the sisters prepare for the battle of a lifetime.  

Word Count: 1,706

Joe’s POV

I woke up to someone frankly pushing me awake as I slowly open my eyes to see Mika standing before me with a nervous expression. If I wasn’t wide awake I am now as I could hear distance shouting in Kayla’s office. I look at her as we bolt towards her office as the shouting is getting louder and more aggressive. Without any warning, I slam open the door to see my older daughter nose to nose with Sam as none of them were holding back. They haven’t even noticed that we are in the room as the fight went on. It was like we were not even there.

“Why won’t you accept my help, Doofus! You clearly need it and you need me here!” Sam’s hands turn into a fist as he glares into her soft scared brown eyes.

“Sam,” Kayla takes a deep breath before she heard the door slam open and whipped her head to notice myself who is standing tall and proud with my arms crossed and my blue eyes scanning the situation. and a confused Mika.  

“I need you to go back to work and to forget that this has ever happened.” She tries to calm Sam down but that just sent him into a panic.

“What! Why!? You need to be protected!” He bolts back as he scans his green eyes to my blue ones.  

“What do you mean I ‘need to be protected’ what does that mean Sam?” Kayla questions him as she starts to cross her arms.

I see Sam’s green eyes of rage turn into a look of regret as he looks towards me with an ‘oh shit face’

“I-uh-didn’t mean- “he started but Kayla already uncrossed her arms as she ambushed him with her spit fire attitude. You think that I need a prince in shinning armor to come in on a white fucking horse to protect me! I have spent my whole life protecting myself that I don’t know what it feels like to be protected!” She screams at him as she backs him up into a corner. “I have people to protect me Samuel” She points to us around the room as she mentions our names, “I have my father, Joe, my loving sister Mika and every man and women I employ here. They would gladly die for me if we finally stop the King Jacks gang!”  Sam’s face finally turns to me with a confused gaze.

“But he’s not even your father! I mean come on it has to be adoption! You look nothing alike!” He points out as Mika is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“Don’t you think I know that dumb ass Our parents died in a car crash when I was four! Vicino told Joe to be our parent since he was the one that Vic trusted with his life. Joe gave us a better life than our dead parents could! My real father didn’t like what Vic was doing so we never got to see him.” She sighs as a quick memory rushes back, but she turns it away as she has a situation to handle. “Out of all the ‘father’ figures in my life, Joe and Vicino were always there for us! “She stalks up to Sam as he backs up to have his body pressed against the clear widows.

“I don’t need your help!” she spites back, as she turns around for a split second before she grabs his shirt and pins him against the same widow, “You have no right to come in here and order me around like some cop! This line of work is very dangerous.” She leans right in his ear to whisper something that made his green eyes dull as she smirks and stands back up. We all see Sam slide down the window with his hands over his face.

“I’m perfectly able to take care of this myself and my team to back me up.” She gloats as she turns to meet her sisters gaze, “Well, I would love to stay and chat, but I have some men I need to train. Come on, Mika lets go!” She walks up and grabs her wrist as they walk out. Before they leave completely she turns to whisper in my ear. “Take care of him, would you Joe?” she winks at me as she leaves the room.

I know what she is planning, and she needs Sam to go back to work since knowing William he might be bugged. I think as the door slowly closes. As soon as I hear the doors click I smirk as I stalk right up to Sam bundled up in the corner. As I slowly make my way towards him he tries to attack me.

‘Children’ I muse as I dodged his incoming attack to hold him without causing any more damages. A couple of minutes went by, so I released my hold to allow him to stand as he stood his ground eyeing the new threat.

“What the hell man! What was that for!” he shouts at me as his eyebrows narrow in confusion.

“Look, I understand that you may be hurt about this boy, but you don’t need to understand why my daughter is giving you the boot-and thank god not in a body bag.” I mummer the last part to myself.

“Boy? Daughter?” he turns his head looking at the nickname before his green eyes narrow back, “I don’t give a shit about any of this!  I’m here to protect her! From him, from you! My men are coming to put you all in jail for your crimes against the city” he smirked as he walked closer, “You should just all surrender now, and I’ll make sure that your sentence is less painful. I know you want to save the girls from that mess right?” he rubs his hands together before holding out a hand to shake on.

I turn around to see his outreached hand and sigh as rub my eyebrows in irritation. “Boy, do you know that you are starting to become your boss. I’d be worried if I were you, he has more demons than you would ever know “If I know your boss right, which I do. We are not your enemy, he is. You don’t understand. Look at yourself in the mirror next time and tell me what you see. Cause I see William right in front of me.”

I hear Sam scoff at my words as he gives them no attention. I’m finally fed up at this situation, besides I have a job to do. I ignore his outburst as I turned to throw him some stuff that I picked up around the complex. He catches it as he looks up at me like a lost child.

I point to the door as I spoke, “There is the door. Put yourself together and then leave. Don’t you say anything to your boss about our plans. You can still be a use to me yet boy.” I hear him grumble at the nickname as he shoves past me towards the door.

TIME SKIP

It’s been two months since Kayla kicked my ass out of the Royal Serpents Headquarters. It was embarrassing when I arrived home, carrying my items back and Joe’s death glare still fresh in my memory. I took a deep breath before I knocked on the door to see James give me a wide-eyed look of concern as I pushed through to stumble in the lobby. I was still fuming as I dropped my stuff on the ground as you could hear a loud thud throughout the house. My fists were still balled up as my breathing got rapid and I didn’t have time to think before I had James pinned towards the back of the door.

“Sam! What has gotten into you!” James shrieked as his golden eyes narrowed into my blazing ones to see some tears threatening to spill. My jaw tightened as I thought about my conversation with Joe a couple of hours ago.  

James POV

After I have gotten those words out at Sam I found myself pinned towards the back of our door with Sam yelling at me.

“How dare you tell me that I’m slowly turning into my corrupt boss! Who does that guy think he is! All I did was to make their sentence less painful, but he turns this shit on me! I know, he’s scared because we are getting closer to them and he wants to protect his family. How sweet! Barf.” keep I should have known about what’s going on! You don’t get to hide in the shadows and then pretend that everything is okay.”

As he was yelling at me I could tell that this was serious as I could see that he had a look that could kill. Sam had some pent-up anger from whatever he saw, and with him being gone for two months I was prepared for the worse. After he spoke aloud he turned around to see Erik, Matthew, and Damien coming down to hear the commotion. His whole face went blank as he stared into my collective form. I gave him a look of sadness but before he broke his grip completely I pulled him in for a hug.

“Ah- James, let me go!” I heard him protest but I only pressed harder around him as he needed comfort in this moment.

“Sam,” I gave him a half smile as he looked up at me, “Even the strongest people need help once in a while.”

I let go of Sam as he turned around to meet Matthew with a sad smile. “Sam,” he started, “What the hell has happened to you.” He squeaked out as he silently walked past pushing him aside I nodded to my brothers to leave Sam alone as they filed out towards the living room. Before I left I put my hand on Sam’s shoulder as he glared at me.

“When you are ready, I’m here to listen.” Sam brushed off my arm as he saw me leave the room. I shook my head sighing as I went back towards the library to finish reading.

[ceruleanmusings]

hope floats | stiles x perrie

Of course I can’t have Tessa without Perrie so here’s a gift for @sgtbuckyybarnes​! I love seeing your edits on my dash (you’re hella talented!) and I love your writing and your OCs and you so I hope this puts a smile on your face!

-----

“You know, when you invited me over, I thought we were actually going to hang out,” Perrie commented, placing a hand on her hip.

Stiles blinked at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows crinkling. “We are hanging out.”

“Yeah, but I thought that meant playing Mario Kart or watching Star Wars. Not painting a room.” She waved her arm around the room in question, careful not to touch the wall she’d laid a layer of primer over. Sniffing, she brushed the sleeve of the blue flannel shirt hanging off her frame. The scent of Stiles wafted off the arm of the shirt, kicking out the pungent scent of fresh primer. It was a nice change from the burning in her nostrils; soothing and warm and woodsy.

“If I had asked you to help me paint, you wouldn’t have come.”

Scoffing, Perrie crossed her arms. “Yes I would.”

“Sure Pear.” Stiles rolled his eyes and turned away from the wall he had been working on. Perrie stepped back as he lowered and shifted the large roller in his hands, pressing the foam tip against the paint tray by his feet. Reaching back, he messed with the bill on his ball cap by his neck; the band across his forehead shifted from side to side. “Look, my dad’s been working long hours lately. He keeps saying that he’s going to get this done but then something comes up and…” he blew out a breath. His freckled cheeks bulged at the effort behind it.

Perrie licked her lower lip, dropping her hand from her hips. “Papa Stilinski still eating badly?”

Stiles snorted. “I found a package of hostess cupcakes in the back of his closet.”

“What were you doing in his closet?”

Stiles’s eyes shifted for a second. “Well…well I wasn’t snooping!” At the incredulous look on Perrie’s face, he continued, “I was looking for something.”

“For what?”

“The cupcakes.” Perrie laughed and Stiles rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Perrie, I’m leaving in a few months. Dad hasn’t been alone and…” His long, slim fingers drummed against the shaft of the paint roller and the tip of his tongue swiped against his lower lip. When she spoke again, his words were so soft she almost missed it, “I just want to make sure he’s here when I come back.”

Clicking her tongue, Perrie stepped forward, making sure to lift her feet so as not to trip over the tarp covering the carpeted floor. Once close, her hand clapped down on his shoulder and she gave it a squeeze, smiling up at him as he looked at her beneath his unfairly thick lashes. “I’m sure he wouldn’t dream of anything else, Frecklebutt.”

Stiles let out a little sarcastic laugh and, before she could move, he lifted the paint roller and dabbed it against her nose. Stepping backward, she let out a noise of indignant shock but the smile curling on her lips and the sparkle nestling in her eye let her amusement shine through.

“Cheap shot, Stilinski!” she said, wiping the paint off her nose. It smeared a bright white streak against the sleeve of the flannel. For a second her nose wrinkled and she felt guilty for soiling it but then she shrugged. Stiles had yanked it out of his closet and thrown it at her to use it and she was sure more paint than that would end up on it anyway. She didn’t let herself think too long about the fact that he let her wear one of his most prized flannel shirts without a second thought. There was nothing to unpack there. Really. Clearing her throat, she looked around the empty room.

It was bare of everything that used to fill the office, leaving the very dark gray color behind. Even the bright shaft of sunlight from the blind-less windows didn’t seem to help brighten the place up. It still felt cold and drab; boring and unexciting.

“I got this powder blue color. Think it might be a bit too bright but, uh, the people at the store said it would be fine,” he replied. He lifted his chin, jerking it towards the four cans stacked in the corner closest to the door. A wireless speaker docking station sat atop of it, waiting to be put to use.

“Powder blue, huh?” Perrie lifted her eyebrows. “Any particular reason for that?”

“It’s…uh…it’s a nice color?”

“Do you want to make sure your dad doesn’t forget you or are you planning on haunting him while you’re at college?” She had to ask; he wouldn’t be that forthcoming with his feelings otherwise. And she knew, deep in her gut, that it wasn’t a coincidence he picked the same color as his jeep for the color of his dad’s office. She’d spent so much time in that jeep, riding around town with Scott and Stiles and sometimes just Stiles that she could recognize the color down to the smallest bit of pigment.

Talk about them leaving, about graduation coming around the corner came in small bursts. He’d always bring it up during a comfortable lull, when they were laying on the floor of his room after stuffing their faces with pizza, when they were sitting in his jeep when he’d dropped her off, taking her time to get inside. Because moments like these, when it was just her and Stiles, were few and far between.

Not that she particularly noticed. It’s just, well, it had always been the three of them: Scott, Perrie, and Stiles. And soon it wouldn’t be. Scott would cart off to UC Davis, Stiles was going across the country, and Perrie was shooting for University of Georgia (they had a good criminal justice track). And, sure, maybe she and Stiles would be closer, mere states away, but…it was states away. If she wanted to see him, she could just hop on her bike and take a ten-minute ride to see what he was up to. In a few short months she’d have to plan meetups in advance. Who does that?

Beacon Hills spoiled her, that’s for sure.

Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but it was…nice. Being able to talk to him was nice. Being able to see him every damn day since kindergarten was nice. Cracking jokes and staying up conducting research and trying to study as he rambled on about something new he learned about reptile copulation when he got distracted by Wikipedia was the best! If she didn’t even want to think about leaving, she couldn’t imagine how Papa Stilinski was feeling.

And they were friends.

Just friends.

“Well, let’s hope with how calm things have been lately that it’s not the latter,” Stiles said.

Perrie squinted at him, focusing in on the weight to his words. “You sound disappointed,” she ventured.

“I’m not.” Right. And I’m the next in line for the throne. Her sarcastic thought must have read on her face because he sighed and continued, “I mean, it’s nice to not have to worry about what’s going to try and kill me when I wake up in the morning but….”

“But?”

“I don’t know. It’s…like…sometimes I don’t know what to do. To help or be useful if…there’s nothing to be useful for. It’s dumb, I know.”

“Hey, you’re not dumb. I get it. C’mon, I’m not like Scott and the others. I’m just human, like you, and I’m not some gunslinger like Braeden or an archery master like Allison. We just…gotta do the best with what we can. And you’re the best at figuring things out.”

“S’not that hard, not when people leave such obvious clues…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you help and you matter. Just because you’re leaving Beacon Hills doesn’t mean you don’t. You’re going onto bigger and better things. You’re going to Quantico for fuck’s sake. People from here don’t do that unless they’re meant to do big things.”

“Well, gee, Pear, don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not, doofus.” She made a show of lightly punching him on the shoulder, knocking it backwards. “I’m just trying to make you be less stupid. I should be getting paid for that overtime work. In fact, I should be getting paid for this too. I’m giving up some much needed girl time due to your lies.”

“I’m planning on feeding you. Is that not enough?”

“No. I may get lung damage from these fumes.”

“Can’t make things easy for me, can you?”

“Of course not. Where’s the fun in that?”

“You know it’s rude to have it at someone else’s expense.”

“Do you ever listen to yourself when you talk?”

Exasperation radiated off Stiles in waves. “Shut up and help me paint, okay? I’m definitely not going to pay you to stand around and rag on me all day.”

“You’re lucky I’m available for that for free,” she said and flashed a cheeky grin. He shot a mocking smile back at her and shook his head.

Still grinning, she turned and approached the speaker system. She picked up his abandoned phone on the ground and swiped her thumb against the screen, quickly completing his lock pattern. Clicking her tongue, she brought up the music player and flicked her thumb through artists until she settled on something with a happy hum. She set the phone into the docking station, turned up the volume, and bobbed her head to the beat of the music, a nice fuse between retro surf-rock and ska with a touch of punk thrown ontop.

“These guys are good,” she said over the undulating guitars; she could almost see the ebbing and flowing waves in her mind. The blue paint Stiles was pouring helped.

“Yeah? I think so too. Just found ‘em online. Scott pointed me in their direction. They’re called Slow Kids at Play.”

Whipping out her phone, Perrie quickly typed the band’s name in google. “They’ve been around since 2009…call themselves musical geniuses…huh.” She brought her phone closer to her face, nearly going cross-eyed as she examined the screen. “Drummer’s pretty cute.”

“Let me see.” She barely had time to react when Stiles all but snatched the phone out of her hand. Her cry of protest was buried beneath the flourishing chorus. And so she stood back and waited, studying the side of his face, the furrow to his brows, the purse of his lips followed quickly by the clench of his jaw, sharpening the strong outline and…

Hmmm!

Her lips all but curled like a Cheshire cat. She briefly ran her tongue against her lower lip and crossed her arms. “You know, it’s interesting. I didn’t think your eyes could change color like that.”

“What?” Stiles’s head whipped up. “Change color, waddya…? Oh no. No. No no no, this can’t be happening to me. I knew I should have looked into that damn dog biting me but Scott said it was just scared. Because who wouldn’t be scared at having a needle shoved in their ass? Okay, okay…” he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, his shoulders all but hovering by his ears. “Just…just rip off the bandage. What color are they? Gold? Red? Orange?”

“Green,” Perrie replied.

Silence. Then—

“Oh, god!”

“Stiles!” Her utterance of his name was wrapped up in a laugh that had him looking at her in a way only he could muster: half apprehension, half confusion, with one eye squinted and the other widened to owlish levels. “They’re…they’re green!” she wheezed. “Like envy.”

“I…what?” Stiles shook his head, looked at the phone in his hand, back to her, back to the phone, and then to her again. “I’m not…no way. I’m not jealous.”

“Envious,” she corrected and at his hard look she shrugged and said, “blame Lydia; you know how she gets about vocabulary.”

“This isn’t about vocabulary.”

“You’re right. It’s about you being envious.” She snatched his phone out of his hand and locked the screen with a press of her thumb to the side.

“I’m not.”

“Right, because it’s normal for your face to do that…that thing.” She poked his cheek and he swatted her away.

It was, actually, but once upon a time it used to be directed at Lydia and at any guy that dared to breathe in her direction. And Jackson. Dear god, Jackson. Stiles could have set the poor bastard on fire with the hatred in his eyes whenever he spotted Jackson grabbing Lydia, pulling her into a kiss, nuzzling his nose against her hair, holding her around the waist.

She knew that look on Stiles’s face because it was frequent, because it was so stark, because it was a look she worked hard to keep off her face lest he finally figured it all out.

“Just help me paint.”

Perrie flashed finger-guns at him and turned to her wall, ready and waiting to be painted. She picked up her abandoned roller, waited for him to roll his in the blue paint before she took a turn, turned back to her wall, and rolled one big, wet, spongy striped against the white. No turning back now.

They worked in silence, the music pouring out of the speakers jumping from one to the next as the genres shuffled. The mirth that once danced on her lips died a little every time she peeked a glance at Stiles over her shoulder and at some point she knew she was frowning and that Stiles would catch on and try to figure it out—because he always figures it out. Until he doesn’t.

Perrie sighed. Was it that terrible? Being envious or jealous or whatever over the fact that she could be interested in someone else? Was it such a joke to be dismissed without even giving it a second thought? Giving her a second thought? Just this once? It was supposed to be a joke but…well, the joke must be on her. Her mouth twisted to the side. Maybe it was all for the best, leaving. Graduating. Maybe then she’d finally give up the excruciating hope that, someday, things would be different. Not change, Stiles didn’t react well to that, but…different.

“Pear?”

Perrie turned, lips pressed together, eyebrows lifting in a silent question that was broken by a messy, sticky, swatch of blue pressing up against her cheek and across an eye. The pungent, sharp odor of paint shot up her nostrils and, when she spluttered, it lay thick across her tongue.

“Oh man, that’s the oldest trick in the book!” Stiles’s eyes sparkled, like the glitter-dotted surface of a wave.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight—kinda didn’t help that she was breathing in some harsh chemicals, thanks—and her fingers tightened on the shaft of her roller, wishing they were digging into the collar of his own flannel shirt as she yanked him towards her, getting up close and personal, smashing through that boundary that read just friends in big neon letters.

Instead, she twisted her hips, grounded herself, and pushed forward, running her own roller up his face. “Ha! Gotcha back!” she crowed, watching in satisfaction as he dragged a sleeve against his shirt; the red and black squares now marred with blue.

It was an all-out fight after that; running around the small room, tagging each other with their extended reach as much as they could. Footsteps dotted the tarp covered floor and odd paint splotches covered the primer and, if it were possible for the sky to melt, it would’ve been nestled within Perrie’s hair.

Their breaths, heavy with jubilant exhaustion, were stuttered by leftover laughter as they knelt on the floor. The remnants of their fight stared back at them. When they locked eyes their laughter started all over again, underlined by the bouncy pop song crooning that it’d make them lose their minds.

“Oh man, I’m hungry,” Perrie said, putting a hand to her grumbling stomach.

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles held his hand out to her. She grasped it and, in one swift and smooth yank, she was pulled to her feet. He swatted at his dark jeans, grimacing at the bright blue streak. Then he shrugged. “Want to go to Ruby’s?”

She looked down at her paint splattered shirt and jeans. “Like this?”

“Of all places, I don’t think Ruby’s cares much about dress code.” He swung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Beneath the heavy weight, with the collar of the patterned fabric brushing up against her neck, her cheeks blazed and a. Their hips bumped as they walked together, Stiles steering her towards the door. “My treat.”

Reaching up, Perrie grasped his hand. He laced their fingers together. “My two favorite words.”

Her? Perrie Simmons, give up hope?

Now that was a joke.

[ughyoongis]

We Both Know Hearts Can Change

a slytherin!calum au

chapter 1

dedicated to the #1 slytherin!calum stan @notoriouslyhood

A/N: I tried to make this a one shot but it's gonna be a multi-shot

word count: 8.3k (grab a snack & relax lol)

warnings: mentions of violence

The first years of Valerie's life were spent side by side with her family, and even more than that, her best friend Calum. A boy with a lisp and big brown eyes and crooked teeth who taught her nearly everything she could possibly know about quidditch and muggles. They were inseparable. Their parents laughed and praised the bond they had formed, swore they were the cutest little kids to roam the wizarding world.

She remembers when they were finally given letters to attend Hogwarts, how she heard him burst through the door out of breath and climb up the stairs and then heave his way into her cluttered room.  

"I've got one!" He exclaimed, waving the letter triumphantly. Valerie peered up from the book in her hands and felt the blood in her veins pump faster and faster, she threw the covers off of her body and jumped across the room, feeling like she was on cloud nine, and plucked her letter off of the dresser she kept it on.

"Me too!" Her eyes lit up at the idea of going to Hogwarts with her best friend, giddily jumping up and down as he flung his weight onto her mattress to exclaim for the whole house to hear.

"It's gonna be terrific." He pumped a fist into the air, and Valerie felt her grin widen some more (if that was even possible).

They had giddily spoke all day, in hushed, childish whispers behind her closed door. The excitement in the room was palpable, and they had a week to exult it before they get to 9 and 3/4, then it's off to classes every day.

"I wanna be a gryffindor." She had daydreamed out loud, "Mama thinks I'll be one. What about you?"

She can remember the intensity of his locked gaze, wide, naive eyes that were so uncanny to his mothers it should be criminal. The uncanny resemblance of his parents at such a young age made it hard to not tell who he is. The Hood household, known for their unstoppable generations of fierce, determined-

"Slytherin, for sure." Calum whispered, fingers going to trace the quilted patterns on Valerie's duvet. He had no doubt in his mind his family's long line of green and silver would justifiably suit him.

Valerie was only eleven at the time, but she could see the resilience prodding through his tone, he had a lovely family, but she knew for a fact he would be different from them. Slytherin, yes, but not the kind that can still keep civil around others. He was austere, already, and he hadn't even enrolled yet.

There was also another worry in her mind, something unspoken between them that needed to be discussed.

"What if we're not in the same house?" Her eyes trained on his finger still tracing the delicate stitchings of her covers. Watching his fingertip dance across the outline of an owl.

"We'll still be friends." He answered within a heartbeat.

"Good." She had hoped he would say that, and her worries vanished just like that. They had stayed up late once he was given the right to sleepover, their adolescent imaginations running haywire as they created lists of supplies they'd need and drew out what wands they hoped to get. Valerie even let him take the good pillow that night, having to keep fluffing her own to try and get comfy. He slept right beside her, passed out and snoring as she lied on her side, gazing out her cracked open window. The subtle breeze fluttering the curtains as the stars twinkled behind wisps of clouds.

That was their last night spent together as friends.

The second they had boarded the Hogwarts Express Valerie was ditched for two boys and found herself her own cubby to retreat to. Alone in solitude, spare for her cat, Dinah, who curled up in her lap for the ride ahead. She had felt betrayed, scoffing to herself at how he jumped so feverishly at the opportunity to make new, better friends. Was she that embarrassing?

"Is this seat taken?" A girl had entered bashfully, owl in it's cage practically covering half of her figure. Her faint greyish blue eyes were inviting and near enchanting, wavy auburn hair unlike Valerie's chestnut brown. Voice meek but showed her nerves of the day ahead, Valerie liked her. Thought of her as, honestly, a potential friend.

"No." She smiled softly, a gentle curve of her lips.

The girl got herself situated after a minute or two and huffed when she sat across from her.

"I'm Josephine," She introduces herself with an outstretched hand. Valerie jolts hers into it. "You can call me Josie."

"I'm Valerie." Her eyes glance across to let the girl sink into her memory, knowing this won't be the last time they speak. "Val, for short."

Things with the trip to Hogwarts were as nervewracking yet adrenaline pumping as one may expect. An uneasiness brought upon her as she waved her family goodbye through the window, as did Josie, and the reality of it all sunk in. There would be no more goodnight kisses, let alone her favorite dinners of homemade soup and biscuits.

She had nervously twirled her aspen-wood, white-river-monster-spine-cored wand as they approached the glorious school, tall towers and intricate architecture in the afternoon sun that shone down upon the castle like a blinding spotlight. She had never been there before, and the descriptions of it did not do it justice in the slightest. That was when the anxiety had bubbled into excitement.

Josie had walked beside her the entire time they were entering the school, each student lugging suitcases and creatures in cages, she had just nearly forgotten about Calum until the school's opening banquet had begun. The four houses all sat at their designated tables as first year students huddled up for the sorting ceremony. It was beyond riveting to see strangers get sorted, and as she heard a familiar name, she grew all too interested at the results.

"Calum Hood," Dumbledore had called out, and up the boy went, the sorting hat placed upon his head of unruly, raven brown curls, it had spoke softly to itself for a moment. And in that split second of a pause, time stood still, and Valerie even stiller.

"Slytherin!" It had chosen, nay declared, and the table erupted into whoops and hollers as he trotted his way over to take a seat.

She spent the rest of the ceremony digging her nails into the palms of her hands, the fists she had balled them into formed crescents into her skin. Hiding her disapproval in a pity smile he shot her way when passing by, she merely twirled a strand of her brown hair and pretended not to notice.

"Valerie Scott." Her name echoed down the grand hall and she made her way up to the center with a bashful grin, two excited thumbs up from Josephine, who sat as a new, proud Ravenclaw.

She took a glance at Calum, who was already befriended by an upperclassman, not even looking at her. And the hat on her head had been placed, murmuring wickedly.

"I'm sensing some apprehension against a house- Slytherin?"

She had burned red in the cheeks, praying nobody could hear the hat speak.

"Perhaps it's because of the cowardice you radiate. Or the lack of, hm, ill intentions." The gruff voice mutters before taking a moment to gather it's thoughts.

Valerie's heart was pounding in her chest, watching the way Calum looked up at her, silently apologizing in advance, because they both know she isn't a slytherin.

"Ravenclaw!" The hat announced at the same time Josie bounced out of her seat to victoriously celebrate her placement. And her eyes shifted off of Calum and to her new table, her new life, no longer attached at the hip to Calum Hood.

-

That was six years ago, from where Valerie currently resides. Comfortably relaxing in her shared dorm with Josie. They have books open on their desks, abandoned for now, as they find themselves reminiscing on their many years at this school, now in their final one.

They cut the discussion short and head down to lunch for the third time this school year, only in their first week of classes. All too giddy to be the eldest of their class. Eighteen years old and now superior to the lower class kids.

Not that they're barbaric enough to tease those underneath them, unlike others they've seen.

"First quidditch match tomorrow, you excited?" Josie peeps her head up from the plate in front of her. The blue eyes she has are still shining bright, and her red hair is slicked back in two tight french braids.

"Maybe if our house was playing I would be." Valerie quirks her lips into an unamused expression. Her eyebrows furrowing as her pout falls at the remembrance of who's playing. she absentmindedly stirs her hot cocoa.

"Yeah, but Gryffindor versus Slytherin is as legendary as one could expect, you can't miss it."

"I won't, I won't." Her words soothe the girl across from her, extinguishing any doubt in her mind that she'd stay in her room rather than miss something so revolutionary. Two head to head rival houses.

"Not to mention Luke requested me to be there." Josie grinned childishly, a little shimmy in her seat as the thought of that doofus makes her heart swoop and soar.

Valerie adores Josie, she's her closest friend, but she does not approve of the fling she has going on with Luke Hemmings. A fairly new concept, only a month or two, but they keep things strictly private due to her being muggle-born and his parents being strictly pureblood. Not to mention this school's blatant judgment for odd couples such as that.

Not that Josie can't choose who to be with, but the fact she had chosen someone who's very close to Calum- practically clings to him- is a little agitating. Josie runs off every now and then to sneak kisses with the blonde boy, then burrows under her covers late that night gushing to a half asleep Val about how cute yet sexy the blue eyed boy can be. It's kind of sickening, how in love she is.

"Luke, huh?" She has no other words to say. Just skims the premises around her to find the Slytherin table beside them, to the right. Her view near exact with Luke's posse of certified jocks. There's Michael Clifford, an astonishingly ignorant and loud character to say the least, who finds joy in messing with the younger students and some of the gullible instructors. Luke Hemmings himself, star keeper with criminally blue eyes and all too charming features that he uses to his advantage when need be.

And last, but certainly not least, Calum Hood.

A much, much different Calum from who she once knew.  His dark curls once a mop on top of his pudgy face have been shaved on the underside and styled on the top in a messy fashion. His bone structure somehow sharper and sharper with each passing year, jaw set in a permanent chiseled position, cheekbones defined and drop dead gorgeous. Calum's eyes are devilish and so, so cunning. They bring most girls to their knees, without him even caring, since he spends most of his time either on the quidditch field as a seeker, or hiding out somewhere unbeknownst to others. He's private, isolated, but purposely keeps himself hidden despite all the attention he gets from those around him. He is infamous, enigmatic, and unfairly handsome.

Valerie doesn't recognize him from the boy she once knew. He's a proper man now, with stoic features and a persona unlike any other. He's a mystery that many people fail to solve, and he walks these halls like the champion he truly is.

"Who are you staring at?" Josie turns around entirely to try and pinpoint who she's been ogling for the past minute or two. Her lips part in a silent gasp, hands flying across the table to grab Valerie by the wrists. "Are you staring at Calum Hood?"

"No, I just- I zoned out." Lie. Just one fat lie to try and act like she wasn't viewing the guy across from her as the sexiest man alive. His body is slouched but tense as he talks to his friends in low, but elated, conversation.

"Merlin's beard, you were looking at him." She shrieks, all too excited to hear her friend fancies a boy for once instead of slumping in the library.

"I can tell Luke to talk to him about you, he'd do it, you know."

"Please don't." Valerie huffs, standing with a new proposition in mind, "I'm gonna go study, I'm not that hungry."

She wasn't staring at Calum in a way that was obvious, or so she hopes, because when her body rose from her seat she could have sworn he lifted his head up to look at her. Even if that was for a split second, she felt goosebumps prickle at her skin and a sharp chill run up her spine.

"You're going to that game tomorrow, Val, whether you want to or not."

The words resonate with her the rest of her stroll out of the dining hall, busying herself with the urge to scream at what just happened. Out of nowhere Calum seems to be all her mind can focus on. Maybe it's the fact they actually share most classes this year, or possibly the newfound buzz of popularity he has in these halls after carrying the quidditch team all last year. He's the man to be, the one girls swoon over, and she's not blind- she can see why they all fall for him- his charm and laidback 'I don't care' reputation is as accurate as it gets. Not to mention how easy he is on the eyes.

Valerie catches herself in the tangent of Calum Hood and huffs out loud, the corridor she's in is empty, thank Merlin, but she feels paranoid that people might see her going so insane. Over a boy, too.

A boy who left her in the dust after ten years of camaraderie, they had been best friends, and now he's taken a different path of life full of social celebrations and sports, and she's a bookworm with a heart of gold.

Sometimes she wonders what would've happened if she was put in Slytherin, if he had stuck by her side, if he would've ever befriended Luke and Michael instead. She knows she wasn't unimportant to him, but she felt used, like a stepping stone to get to where he is now.

"Hey," A voice speaks up alongside her, and she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of Michael Clifford, holding something out to her. "You dropped this in the cafeteria."

She trails her gaze away from his emerald eyes and pale features, all the way down to his palm that grasps her wand.  

The breath she didn't realize she was holding in falls out in a sigh, "Oh, thanks."

"You're Josephine's friend, yeah?"

Great, more conversation, she groans internally. Her eyes set on the wand she's taking from his hand oh so delicately. As if touching him will result in a curse of some sort.

"Mhm." She decides to bite, "Why?"

"Just, uh, heard a lot about you." He gives a tight lipped smile, his eyes flicker away from her to the left and juts his chin out to point at something. His subtle actions worry her, and when her gaze follows his, she feels her throat grow dry and nearly collapse on the spot.

Calum. He pointed out Calum. Who leans against the entrance of the cafeteria, one hand loosening his school's uniformed tie, the green and silver glimmering against the chandelier above him. His eyebrows thread together in frustration as he rolls his eyes at what Luke can't stop babbling on about.

"Oh," Her voice is a whisper, and she didn't mean to sound so feeble but her eyes are glued on the raven haired boy across the corridor, seemingly miles away as her blood runs cold. He talks about her? Good things or bad things? How often? She should've never found out this information because now it will drive her mad.

"Valerie, right?"

"Yeah." She feels frozen. Despair in her tone as he drops his hand at his side, robes flowing with his motions.

He swings his body sideways and shrugs, "I'll, uh, see you in potions class."

"O-Okay." She utters, now in disbelief.

Because she never noticed him in potions class, she didn't even go there today. So, why did he notice her on the first day?

Michael strides away with his hands in his pockets, and she stands dumbfounded, wand clutched in her clammy hand as Calum stares up at her for the faintest of moments. His brow arches up, and his lips purse in deep thought, almost studies her from afar. Then he does something so infinitesimal, yet so overwhelming she wants to scream.

His right eye falls, and he winks at her before turning back to his friends with a smug, knowing look on his stupidly handsome face.

-

Valerie finds Michael in her potions class the next morning, and she's not surprised to see him in the far back, half asleep as the book on his desk lies untouched. A guy partnered with him, Ashton Irwin, seems a little too awake to be in school, he's nice, from what she can remember from their few limited encounters.

And it seems that suddenly, her days are filled with signs of Calum, whether it's hearing girls whisper and giggle about him in the halls, or just the occasional glance she gets of him walking past her in the halls. It's as if, out of the blue, Calum's silence the past six years has erupted into a deafening uproar.

"It's gonna be cold, wear some layers." Josie tosses a Ravenclaw scarf to her friend across the room, letting her borrow it for tonights game. Her body bundled up for the cold autumnal afternoon ahead, she walks side by side with her trusty sidekick, their blue and silver attire mixes with the other students in their house, everyone bustling out to the field to sit in their designated seating area for the game.

Her hands clutch a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, sips from it every now and then to keep herself warm.

She never hated the sport, despite Josie's obvious taunting, she just doesn't quite understand the significance of these games. Why do students go nuts at such a barbaric sport? Why do girls find the Slytherin seeker attractive despite his blatant egotistical tendencies and shameless flirting he does with any girl? Ugh.

So yeah, quidditch is a bore to her. Not exactly what she wants to spend her afternoon doing. She'd much rather be under her covers with Dinah curled up on her lap while she eats some candy and writes letters to her family back home.

So it's no surprise she zones out a good ten minutes into the game, quidditch players zoom by on their broomsticks and nearly give her a nosebleed when one ventures far too close for her liking, and then she's in her own little world.

Josie jumps up and down whenever Luke breathes, and it's cute at first, and she watches her best friend fondly, but by the fifth swoon she's at the brink of losing her mind.

That's why she decides to focus on something else– or someone else.

He's focused and intent, only takes a break to search for the golden snitch before taking off again with a determined look on his stoic face. Brown eyes near black with focus as he whirs through other players, dodges any hits, and takes down opponents in the process.

Her eyes can only follow him for so long before she feels dizzy, he's fast, definitely too fast for Gryffindor. She smiles a little bit, remembering how he used to idolize star quidditch players when they were young, he always wanted to be a quidditch player, and now he's one of the best at Hogwarts. She wouldn't be surprised if he set school records.

"Close your mouth, or you'll catch flies." Josie teases, and snaps her back into reality, eyes rolling back at her friends antics. She's just interested in the game, that's all. She wasn't drooling over Calum, just waiting to see if he'll catch the golden snitch.

Right as she stares at Josie there's a strong wave of wind that surges them back, her gaze dead set on the broomstick a few feet from her face as a Slytherin player leans over the field to meet Josie's awestruck expression.

Luke. She watches in utter surprise. The blonde's golden curls ruffling through the breeze as he tilts a gloved hand under Josie's wind-bitten rosy cheek and brings his lips to hers in an Earth shattering kiss.

"Lu," She whispers, startled at his PDA, especially because their relationship was strictly private.

He smirks, "See you after the game."

He goes back to the main purpose of the game and plays with ease, almost too casual about the spectacle he just caused. Josie still sits, fingertips grazing her lips in shock, reminiscing in the tingle she feels across them.

Valerie sits beside her, mouth agape, as she lets what just happened sink in. The crowd around them is already bombarding Josie with rapid fire questions on what that was and what it means. She knows. Luke just put their relationship in the public eye. The whole school will know by morning, and she's still red in the face at the mere thought.

"Wow." Is all Valerie can say.

"Yeah." Josie mutters back, speechless.

The game around them feels underwhelming after that, but Luke is as much of a star as before, scoring some points, meanwhile his other teammates seem just as flustered and confused at what they saw him do. Since when was he with a ravenclaw?

The only person who's unfazed by this is Calum, who uses this spectacle to his advantage and relentlessly chases the snitch now that the Gryffindor seeker is backtracking.

"Slytherin's seeker, Calum Hood, has caught the golden snitch!" The young announcer exclaims as the man being praised with roaring applause and celebratory whoops and hollers sends a victorious fist in the arm that holds the snitch in all it's glory. His fellow teammates swarm around him and do the same, some send encouraging back pats his way, others ruffle his curly hair.

"Come on," Josie pulls Valerie out of her seat once the game is officially over, and races her down the stairs until they reach the side of the field.

"Why are we-"

"Lu!" Josie shrieks when the boy comes walking out of the stadium with his broom in hand, now in his regular school uniform of a robe, button down, sweater, and tie. She latches onto his front in a hug that lasts far too long.

"You did great out there." Valerie tenses at the awkwardness in her voice, feeling uncomfortable at the blatant PDA these two are in the midst of. Kissing each other with silly giggles and whispers in between, she feels like she's intruding.

Luke eventually pulls away, a goofy, crooked smile on his lips. "Thanks, didn't think you'd actually show up."

She burns vermillion, her lips in a tight line as she hugs her own body for warmth. The sun is a sliver on the horizon as the subtle warmth of the day decreases and is replaced by cool winds. She really wants to go back to her room.

"Gonna join us for the celebration? The lads and I wanna have a bottle or two."

"No, I'm good. Tired." She takes a few slow steps back, "I have homework to do, classes to study for and-"

She stops her sentence when her back juts into something behind her, a low humph falling from her lips as she spins around in surprise. A very unimpressed Calum stands in her wake, taller than she remembers, eyes giving a quick skim of her body before assessing who she is. Her heart that thuds with chagrin only amplifies. She bets others can hear it if they listen closely.

"Y'alright?" His voice. She never really heard it, not since year one when he actually spoke up in classes. Not since they were actual comrades. Not since he actually acknowledged her existence. It's darker, full of a thick rasp and yet still smooth like honey. She drinks in the sight of his jawline, how his adam's apple bobs when he asks her if she's alright. Y'alright? That's what he has to say after years of silence?

"Yeah," She whispers, a little too meek in her tone, feet wobbling as she steps back and tries to fix her appearance, wants to drown in the knitted scarf that feels like it's suffocating her neck all of a sudden. "I'm great, actually."

He piques an amused brow to question her not-so believing tone, but doesn't say anything about how polar opposite her words are to her actual physical expression. Something in between terrified and ashamed.

"Congrats on the win." She stammers out in one hearty breath, slowly gaining her composure. Still captivated on the way he seems so unfazed with his victory.

She despises the way her heart turns and twists at the sound of him humming to reply. Hates the way she missed the brown in his eyes.

"Not my best game, to be fair, I was kind of distracted."

At that she's confused. He seemed pretty focused, if not entirely focused on the snitch the whole game. Not that she watched him like a hawk or anything.

"Oh?" She inquired for more explaining. "Why's that?"

"Nice joke, Val."

She feels herself bristle at the nickname. She never gave him the right to call her that, he can't just waltz his way back into her life as if the past six years haven't happened. As if he didn't leave her in the dust– and for what? A group of mediocre idiots who find nothing better to do other than mess around in class and in the halls. He used to have so much more potential before them.

"Am I supposed to know what's bothering you?" She muses, a little smug in her sarcasm, hands hugging her torso as another especially harsh wind blows by and tosses her waves of brown hair around.

He gives her a look, concerned, eyes falling to hers to try and read if she's joking or not. "You really don't know?"

She shakes her head, because as much as she hates him, she wouldn't bother herself with his life in her spare time. When girls giggled about him in the halls she zoned out and focused on the book in her hands or the test she's about to take, never bat an eyelash at the boy who somehow sat in her classes, always to the far left of her, back corner if not assigned somewhere else. She refused to take a minute to think of how he might be doing. Since he never bothered to do the same with her.

Luke and Josie burst through their space, breaking them apart as the blonde tugs Calum away from her. "C'mon, they'll be pissed if we aren't there soon."

She wants to stay here, even though it's windy and cold, but she needs to find out what Calum's talking about. What has him distracted? Is it bad? Good? Anything to do with her? She knows it's not the last one but she can't help but worry he has an issue with her.

"I'll see you around, alright?" Calum doesn't turn around to look her way as they wander back to the school halls. Her eyes longingly watch him leave her in the dust, anticipating an explanation that will never come.

"But what's wrong?" She asks, desperate to talk to him.

Now he looks over his shoulder, eyes dropping to her for a split second before he shakes his head.

"I can't tell you." His voice is low, "Not right now."

And what the actual hell is she supposed to do until he can tell her? After giving her something to stress about, one would think he should resolve her worries as soon as possible.

-

He doesn't even associate himself with her for the next four days, avoids her stare in the hallway, busies himself in the dining hall by constantly reading the same chapter on potions making. She feels tempted enough to cast the legilimency spell to read his mind, to delve into his thoughts and just get the answers herself, but knows she'd get caught for using it outside of the classroom. Besides, she's not that skilled in legilimens. She probably wouldn't be able to pull it off.

It takes all the strength within her to confide in Josie for help. Sitting criss cross on her bed as Josie lies on her stomach beside her, the two of them are studying together.

"Do you know anything about Calum?" Her eyes refuse to stare at her, glued on the pages of the book, as if Herbology is the most interesting subject in the world. Her lips mouth the words to herself as Josie's stare burns holes into her skin.

"Not much, why?"

"He just–" Merlin's sake, she despises boy talk yet here she is. "He's confusing."

"What else is new?"

"No, but, he and I were talking after the game and he said he was distracted during it then got all offended when I asked why– as if I should know. Now he won't even look at me but said he'd tell me later."

"And you think I know anything about the most mysterious man in Hogwarts?" Josie smirks, "I mean, I'd say ask Luke, but you don't like him."

Valerie tilts her head, "I never said I don't like him." They just have absolutely nothing and common therefore fall short on every conversation, ending it on simple farewells and forced smiles. She doesn't understand how Josie and him somehow have chemistry.

"He thinks you do, so,"

Now with another burden on her shoulders, her newfound tension with Luke, she huffs. This conversation is just tiptoeing around what she wants to her. Who is Calum Hood? Why won't he talk to her in public? Or glance at her, as a matter of fact, why does he act like he's better than anyone else when he's just an enigma wrapped up in a stone cold personality?

"I like him, he's nice." She can't say much else, only ever talks about the weather with him, or to ask him where Josie is. Now that she thinks of it, her and Luke have only conversed a handful of times.

"We can go ask him then, they're friends. He'll know what's going on with Calum more than anyone else."

Which, yeah, that makes sense. But wouldn't it be a betrayal of trust if someone tells her without Calum's permission. He said he'd tell her, he wouldn't lie to her. Maybe he's waiting for a specific time to stop her in the hall and ask her if they can talk. Maybe he wants to make sure she's alone when he says it. Or maybe he's just toying with her in some sort of sick game. Either way she's annoyed.

"Let's go. I know where he is." Josie throws her legs over the bed and tightens her auburn ponytail.

They're outside. After curfew. Having snuck through corridors in order to slip through the doors and into the quidditch field where distant conversation grows closer with each nervous, slow step. She can feel paranoia claw at the nape of her neck, keeps whipping her head over her shoulder to check that nobody is following them. But each time it's just the foggy gloom that circles the school and dewy grass below their stumbling feet. She's a decent student, she doesn't sneak out, hasn't done it since year three when she nearly got caught. Scared her straight, and now she's repeating old tricks.

Josie swishes her wand to the quidditch stadium gate, taps the lock, and proudly states, "Alohomora."

There's a subtle click before she grips the handle and opens the door for Valerie to enter first. She declines, pointing for Josie.

"You go first." Valerie insists, hushed in a whisper.

"You're the one who needs to talk to Luke."

"You're the one dating him." Her words make Josie relentlessly sigh, done with their childish antics and enters the stadium so Valerie can follow.

The quidditch field feels bigger when it's empty, the stadium seats abandoned, the flags for each house wave ever so slightly, almost lifeless. In the center of the field, Luke sits. One leg propped up, the other straight out as he uses his knee to rest his arm on. Michael is lying on his back beside him, casting harmless charms to amuse himself as he sips from a beer every minute or so. It's just them, and she thanks Merlin that Calum's not here.

"Look who decided to show up," Luke smirks, twirling his wand in between his fingers nonchalantly. He has a curl to his lips, effortless and charming. His robes abandoned to sit in jeans and his button down. The tie is loose, buttons undone. He seems so relaxed compared to the cold, shuddering Valerie who stomps in.

"I've brought Val, if that's alright, she's just got a question for you."

"I've got an answer." He coolly replies. His bright blue eyes drink in the sight of Josie and pats his thigh when she approaches. Let's her accompany him on her lap.

"I need to know more about Calum." She stands, too anxious to sit down and stay awhile. She just wants an explanation and then she can leave.

Luke barks out a laugh, shoulders bouncing as he glances to Michael. Almost to say 'do you hear this?' like she just asked him to kill someone for her.

"I get it. I sound crazy." She crosses her arms, "I'm just worried about him."

"Should be." Michael voices his opinion, swirling fire on the end of his wand, watches it flutter in the air before flicking his wand and extinguishing it. She pretends she's not impressed at his ability to cast spells without reciting an incantation. Now is not the time to applaud him. "Guy's getting into some bad shit."

"Like what?"

Michael hesitates. Even looks to Luke to see if it's okay to say it, the blonde shrugs. They both seem worried.

"I won't tell anyone, I swear." She has no one to tell, only Josie, who's here right now.

That seems to open Michael up a bit more, he heaves his body up to sit, knees bent as he cracks his neck then continues.

"He's he put his name in the Goblet of Fire to enter the Triwizard tournament."

Her blood runs cold, stills all of a sudden. She never went to that assembly, she was bedridden in the nurse's quarters trying to recover from a stomach bug.

"He said he talked his parents into letting him." Michael frowns, sighs as if there's nothing they can do about it. He can only hope things don't end horribly.

"Fuck." Josie breathes out, the silence too still for their liking. They stand there for what feels like hours but is only mere seconds, Luke's eyes peer up at Valerie and instantly worries they've said too much. Her eyes drill into Michael.

"Why didn't you try to stop him?" Her voice is stern, the ravenclaw within her jumps at the opportunity to be right. She could've prevented it, she knows for a fact she could've sat him down and told him it's not meant for him. He's intelligent but the tournament is deadly. "He's your friend, you can't just- he can't do that. He could die."

Valerie can't wrap her mind around the mere idea of it– Calum's not one to throw himself in the spotlight, but he does love a good competition. He's strong and hench, he has tons of support from friends and just about any girl with eyes, maybe he wants the attention.

"He could win, too." Luke mutters under his breath in spite of her concern.

Valerie finds feeling in her legs again, then turns around, "I'm gonna be sick." Her head spins, and she bolts to leave, clutching her stomach as she feels the ground turn underneath her heavy feet. She doesn't know why she sprints into the corridors, can't fathom the rational choice of quietly tiptoeing back to her room. Because this isn't good. Far from it. Why would he put himself in something that could end with him dead? What is he supposed to gain from this other than pride? His parents would never let him put his life on the line for a trophy.

She hears heels click down a hallway near her, her feet pick up their pace, moving in time to the frantic thud of her heart. Her hands clam up, her robe flies behind her as the dim halls provide barely any light to guide her. She feels like she's going in circles, because since when did it take this long to find her dorm?

"Hey, you there!"

She's about to turn around and face the consequences when she feels a hand grasp her wrist and pull her into a pitch black room. Valerie yelps at the feeling of a body being smushed up against her chest. She can hear their irregular breathing, feels it fan across her forehead. It's a guy, she can tell, the strong chest up against hers and the broadness of their body helps her decide.

The clicking comes closer and she squeezes her eyes shut when it nears the door, holds her breath, and prays she doesn't get caught.

When the clicking fades in the distance, her hands unclench from the fists she hadn't even realized they formed.

There's silence, and then he utters.

"Lumos."

A ball of light glows in between them. Her frantic eyes peel open and trail down the wand to find a hand, then the classic uniform robes, all the way up to their face. She's stunned into an inaudible gasp. Calum.

"Why are you shaking?" He whispers, low and concerned. His hand finds the back of hers but she flinches at the contact. A little startled to see him here, after just talking about him and his issues.

"Are you insane?" She barks out, still speaking in a whisper, but presses her hand to his chest so he moves back. Her bitter tone only proves how mad she is, but her face is pouty and her eyebrows are strung together while whisper-yelling to him. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

She tries to assess where they are, and it seems like they've crammed themselves into a storage closet full of potion bottles and old cauldrons, they must be near the potions class.

It's one thing to find her obvious fear concerning, it's another to watch his worries morph into amusement at the way the color washed away from her face and a pout formed on her lips. Calum brings his wand to her face and smirks.

"Stop acting like I just threatened to kill you." He laughs, quiet and low, he sounds even hotter when he's murmuring to not get caught. She feels her skin flush at the thought. "Why are you roaming the halls after curfew?"

"I could say the same to you." The wand between them illuminates and reflects in his dark brown eyes, makes them glow a sweet caramel color instead. Softer than his usual burning stare. She interrogates him with her glimmering green eyes.

He smells like pine and mint, his lips full as he bites down on his bottom lip to rack up a legitimate answer.

"Couldn't sleep." He answers, "Needed some fresh air."

"And you'd risk getting caught for some fresh air?" She grins a little, happy to find a flaw in his stance as her hand goes to the doorknob. "I need to go, so excuse me."

She flings the door open with a huff, ready to head back to bed and just sleep. Her eyes are only met with Professor McGonagall, her glasses on the brim of her nose, her wand held up for possible defense only to jut out to the side with a stern, professional tone.

"You two are in big trouble." She gestures for Valerie and Calum to step out and when they do she clicks her tongue in disapproval. "These halls are not a vacation spot, once curfew strikes you are meant to stay in your rooms until classes the next morning. Although, I can tell you two are old enough to know the rules around here."

Calum doesn't speak, just cringes as he tries to ruffle a hand through his hair out of embarrassment.

"Mr. Hood, I'll be notifying Professor Snape of your antics with this girl of yours."

"We're not-"

"Don't make excuses." She quips up, leading them down to his common room, the click of heels and pursed lips as she comes to a conclusion. "I believe we'll be deducting points for each of your houses."

She gives Valerie an especially pointed look, checks the color of her robes then tsks. "Miss Norwood, I find it hard to believe you are such a delinquent."

Calum approaches the Slytherin common room and gives Valerie one last glance before he heads to bed, an unspoken farewell on his lips as he sluggishly makes his way back to his dorm for an even more restless night.

She feels a little guilty, having caused this, but McGonagall is nice to Valerie, she respects her professors and Calum's not exactly the best at speaking to them with inferiority as opposed to his usual laidback, snarky responses. She just has intelligence and poise here, and professors seem to admire that in her.

They walk down the halls alone, a quiet night in the castle, and Professor McGonagall sighs. "Boys like him will only get you in trouble, dear."

"We're just friends, promise." She hopes that can clear the air for gossip that will surely rise with sun in the morning.

Besides, saying they're friends is already a long shot. No one would be stupid enough to believe they were fooling around in the potions closet.

-

"Does he kiss like a God?" A girl squeezed her way through the halls to nearly tackle Valerie in a spine crushing hold of her shoulders. The girl had to be a year five or four, too young to be in her classes. Her hufflepuff robes shine as bright as the naïveté in her eyes.

"What?"

"Calum Hood," She giggles, "You two snogged in the potions closet."

Valerie laughs hysterically, suddenly unable to feel any bit normal when the girl stares at her wounded, confused. She can't help herself and brushes the girl aside to carry on with her day.

"Snogged in the potions closet..." She giggles to herself. "As if." Her feet rush through the corridors as her mind runs wild. Who could've said anything? Nobody else was there.

Her body weaves through the crowded corridors and tries to find Josephine for the ceremony about to take place. Her eyes skim from student to student and once she catches a glimpse of deep red hair she grins.

And then that grin falls upon seeing the hoard of slytherin boys around her with laughter bubbling out as she entertains them with a story. Calum Hood stands amongst the group, attracting attention from most as his broad posture with his arms across his chest cast a spotlight through the many lackluster students. He's far from mundane, he stands out in crowds like this. Despite the uniforms, he manages to catch anyone’s eye once they walk into the room.

Does he know his magnetic pull is so strong?

Valerie slips into the circle with her eyes trained on anything besides the brown eyed boy.

"-trying to write an essay while this idiot," Josie points to Luke, "Is throwing things across the room to prevent me from getting my actual work done. And not just crumpled up pieces of papers, no he managed to levitate a book and nearly hit me right in the head." She exclaims, as Michael bursts into laughter and Luke shrugs while she smiles. She may be irritated while ranting, but she knows Luke's just bored whenever they try to study together.

Valerie feels goosebumps rise over her skin, and a chill trails up her spine ever so slowly when someone decides to lean into her ear.

"Can I steal you for a second?"

The other three have been laughing too much to notice the fact Calum just invaded her personal bubble with no care in the world. She jumps a little at the warmth of his body, how his cologne invades her senses, the once cold room now flooded with heat.

She nods, softly, and follows him out of the dining hall, a few paces behind as her feet stumble down the corridors where every student walks in the opposite direction, sending odd glances her way. She ignores it, focuses on settling the nerves that unravel in the pit of her stomach at the conversation ahead. She knows exactly what this is about. And still the knowledge of what's to come does not soothe her rampant mind.

He finds an empty hall to discuss important matters in. Although, this doesn't ensure much privacy since people can still walk down and stumble upon this mess.

"Y'gonna explain yourself?" He starts.

"Me?" Valerie gapes. "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

"That's funny, Val. Cut the bullshit." He waves a nonchalant hand away, his eyes land on her for the first time. Dark, unwavering. She challenges his look with a just as intense, fiery stare.

"You're the one who said we snogged in the potions closet." Her finger juts into his chest, "That's sick, Calum. Why would you make up something so preposterous? Does it fuel your ego, huh? Get you some 'cred' in the halls with the guys?"

"Snogging, huh? That's what people said we did?" He chuckles, lowly, worrying her a little bit. "That's far better than what people said to me."

Her eyes widen, less powerful, but maintains her composure through a tense jaw, "What did you hear?"

"Apparently we did far more than kiss, sweetheart." His tone is sickening, clearly upset with the rumors spreading like wildfire throughout the castle. This school can turn into such a dingy place when students open their mouths and say such insulting things.

Valerie grimaces in disgust, eyes rolling back as the anger residing in her starts to settle at a rather peculiar sight. His hands. And the very prominent redness to his raw knuckles.

"You hit someone, who?" Her gaze flickers to his within seconds of asking, strictness in her tone as she jumps at him for doing for something so juvenile. His brown eyes merely observe the concern in her wary expression.

"Doesn't matter."

"When?" She picks up his hand without thinking, feels him flinch at the contact and retract his hand immediately. Her heart sinks at the look of confusion on his face, she just wanted to check his fingers, they could get infected if he leaves them split open like that.

"After practice." He mumbles, dismissing her from treating any of his cuts. "M'fine, you don't have to-"

"Just let me look, okay?" She holds an upturned palm out, a part of her wants to slap him for being so irresponsible. Another part of her cares about his wellbeing for some unknown reason.

He scans her, like he can read her true motives through her expression, and when he finally deems her as safe, his right hand lands on top of hers.

It's warm to the touch, yet calloused. He even rolls his eyes to show how dumb he thinks this is, he always has to be the ignorant one in every situation.

She brings his hand closer, studies the raw splits in each knuckle, the deep purple and mossy green bruises that creep around the wounds.

"Did you get in trouble?" She whispers, because who knows who's listening right now. The paranoia creeps around the corner at the thought of last nights events repeating.

"No, he swore not to tell after I threatened to knock his teeth out."

And now it's her turn to roll her eyes in disapproval.

"I know a spell, if you want them healed now. That way no one will know." She already slips her wand from the inside of her robe, let's the delicate wood land in her hand and points it his bruised hand.

"Go for it." Is all he mutters.

Her wand strikes down on the back of his hand, "Episkey." Her voice stays diligent, strong as ever. He envies her confidence in spell-casting, but would never admit it.

His hand flushes with heat all of a sudden, then turns cold just as fast. He flexes his hand to test it, splays his fingers out before clenching a fist, there's no pang of pain anymore.

"Thanks." His eyes trail to her hand, still delicately holding his wrist, she hasn't let go yet. Calum can feel her thumb run along his skin. Part of him doesn't want her to let go.

"Don't do this again," She releases her grip, then turns around to find Josie. They have classes to go to and things to discuss. Before she can turn the corner, she pivots to look at Calum. "Beat someone up to defend me, I mean."

The dumbfounded look on his face, the way his eyes widen a little bit but relax soon after. His hands that smooth his robe and run through his curls, that's answer enough. 

A/N: pop into my ask or message me to be put on the taglist for this or any of my other fics! xx

[inazumafocus]

A sanctuary of eternal love

AFUHIRU MONTH

DAY THREE: In the language of flowers RATING: Green TAGS: major character death (i’m sorry), fae!afuro, human!hiruma, secret crush AO3 LINK: HERE

Once upon a time, just outside the city's walls, was a forest. Local people used to tell stories about the creatures living inside, dangerous and alluring, deadly and beautiful. Creatures no one could resist. Then there was a man in the local market, smiling at everyone who passed by his shop and offering free sample of his sweets. You were not to eat them if you wanted to live, or so they whispered to young children in the streets. The man was a fae, one of the creature of the forest, who gained human form in order to steal kids away and eat them for dinner, but no one could chase him away. Every once in a while somebody tried, but the man just smiled and all the will of that person would vanish, making them feel weak and accept the fae's sweets. Those were never seen again.

"Beware of the enchanted forest, younglings, for there is no coming back once a fae lays its eyes on you"

That was what every teacher, adult or grown up would say again and again to scare kids away from the city's walls. And it was what Hiruma Yoichi had grown up to as well. Little did everyone know, that the blue eyed child had a different destiny wrote in the stars.

He must've been around the age of ten when he first ventured in the market on his own, the voice of the orphanage caregiver now lost somewhere far behind him. It was already closing hour, the sun was setting, painting everything with its warm orange light before disappearing completely behind the walls and all the shops were now closed, letting him run around freely with no adult to stop him by his slender arm. He loved it. Everything was quiet and mysterious, casting shadows on the walls that looked like strange creatures to his curious eyes. He chased down a beautiful red cat down some alleys, lifting up puffs of dust with his consumed leather shoes and finding himself on the main street. The cat was gone, the road deserted. He was about to turn around and find the screaming caregiver, since the light was almost out, when a rich chocolate smell tickled his nostrils. Hiruma followed the smell, mouth already watering and tummy aching in anticipation and when he looked up there was an abandoned cake on a bare table on the side of the road. There was no one in sight. Strange. A part of brain tried to remind him that it was unadvised to eat things we don't know the origin of, it was like taking candy from a stranger. Also, who was the idiot who left freshly baked cakes around? ... But no one ever let him had chocolate back at the orphanage, and surely just a quick bite wouldn't hurt him, right? His tummy agreed. But by the time he got his first small bite, the taste of it made his eyes shine and hunger grew stronger, he couldn't help but eat it all. He looked around, scared someone might have seen him eating a whole cake by himself in a matter of seconds and as he brushed some crumbles away from his cheeks, he could've sworn there was a shadow smiling just outside his field of view. Very strange. That night his stomatch did not ache, so he simply forgot about the suspiscious looking cake and began to live his life as if faint voices didn't suddenly bagan to speak wherever he went. It was probably just his imagination.

At the age of fourteen the townspeople sent him away. Bringer of misfortune, that's how they had called him for the past four years, because everywhere he went, soemthing bad happened. May it be a vase shattering right after he touched it, kids falling and breaking their legs if they bumped into him or just about anything even remotely bad, everythig had been tied down to him. They had nothing against him to burn him down for witchcraft, but when he tried desperately to tell them it was the small voice's fault and not his, everyone knew there was the faeries curse at work. He was marked and could no longer stay there. So they abandoned him, closing the door shut to never open it again. There was nothing but forest in front of him and not even a path to follow and maybe reach another city. He had no other choice but to venture inside, eyes shifting and adjusting to the dark as the sun was setting low and the trees let no light filter between their ancient branches. The voices were still there, higher, closer than ever before and for the first time he was scared. They were laughing, snickering when he flinched for a broken twig or a rustling of leaves. As time went by, he grew scared and lonlier, walking in the dark with no idea of where he was going as he kept moving forward, testing the ground for solid footing. He surely didn't want to fall into a bottomless pit and he really hoped there weren't snakes out there... By the time his legs had started to feel numb his heart had sank into despair, he was ready to fall to his knees and ask the faeries to just eat him up quickly, for he was tired of the voices all around him and in the back of his head speaking without him being able to understand. It was in that moment, when he had leaned on a trunk, that the melody started. Soothing, Alluring, It made his heart flutter. He had to follow it. The voices sounded angry, they tried to talk louder but Hiruma's ears were only for that gentle chant. He didn't even know how lucky he was, for the trunk were he intended to rest upon was home to a poisonus spider... Only when dawn came, the voice stopped and he woke up from the enchantment that gave him enough strength to walk all night long. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, weak and tired, body shaking with fatigue and shadows of fears clutched on his heart. With heavy eyelids he looked around, wondering where the sweet voice went and why did it left him alone again. There were flowers all over him, he could barely see their shapes but they looked like small cushions and he so desperately needed a bed.

"Sleep, lost child, and have plenty of rest. For no harm will reach you here"

And so he did, heartened by that voice speaking to him in a tender whisper against his ear. He fell face on the ground with a faint smile, hidden by the white field of carrot's flowers.

A melody woke him up and for a second he thought he was still sleeping. Right there, standing on top of his nose, was a very tiny person, but instead of jumping up with fear and disbelief, his heart felt safer than ever. He blinked twice, making sure he wasn't actually hallucinating because of some poison hidden in the flower buds.

"You finally decided to woke up, child, I was starting to worry"

Definitely not an hallucination. Hiruma cleared his throat, trying to look at the tiny creature without hurting his eyes too much in the process.

"Uhm, not to be rude but, are you a fae?"

The thing crooked its head, letting tiny long blonde hair fall over as he looked at him with a small smile.

"Do I look like a troll?"

"NO! No that was... that was not what I meant but- then why did you... help me" he paused, looking around at the flower field from below "it was you, wasn't it?"

A small chuckle like tiny cheerful bells filled the fresh morning air and he blushed as the fae rose up with its thin wings

"Not all fae are ill willed, I'm a Queen Anne's Lace solitary fae, or a carrot one for short, and wherever there's a carrot flower there's a sanctuary for the needy. You looked like you needed a helping hand, was I wrong?"

It was now far too close to his face and Hiruma could clearly see its shiny red eyes and its curved up lips. He smiled as well, a bit awkwardly as he sat up legs crossed, cleaning himself from the dirt.

"I was, well, I still am I think? I have nowhere to go and... I have been hearing voices for the past four years, but now they only grow stronger in the forest"

The fae smile wavered as it kept flying in front of him

"You ate some of our food outside our kingdom and the others got interested in you, now you can hear them more as you stepped into it like they wanted you to-"

Silence fell upon them as Hiruma remembered of that strange chocolate cake. He felt like an idiot. So that was it? He was going to be taunt by faeries wherever he went? He would've been marked as a bringer of misfortune for the rest of his life?

"You could stay here, if you wanted"

He looked up, eyes wide with disbelief. No words left his slighly parted lips. What?

"I'm offering you a safe place to live, you big doofus. I can bring you the human food you need and you can tell me stories about the outside world. Deal?"

There was no hesitation in Hiruma's eyes, for some strnge reason he firmely believed whatthe fae was saying was true and the feeling of safety he had before falling asleep still lingered in his heart, reassuring it with a tender caress. He held his index finger, a bright smile on his lips

"Deal!"

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

Two year had passed and Hiruma never once had missed his old home among other humans. Everything was mesmerising in the enchanted forest and with the small fae as his guide and protector, he really had nothing to fear. The magic creature had taught him everthing about the flowers, the medical herbs and how to treat wounds. He had learnt more about the world when casted aside than when he was actually living in it and the stories, oh the stories were his favourite part of it all. Trolls, giants, witches, shapeshifter, they were all real not only a cautionary tale to set children straight! The only thing it was never revealed to him was the fae's name, but he didn't pry. It was a bit disappointing to not be able to call it by that though...

One day as he sat in the sanctuary field tending a hurt rabbit, the fae approached him looking gloom. His heart flinched at that, it was something new and he definitely didn't like it. It stopped its sad flying only to sit on his shoulder like it was now used to do. Hiruma was uncomfortable for the first time in two ears, and he had seen the fae gut a squirrel for him, just saying.

"What's wrong pixie?"

It didn't react to the dumb nickname telling him to stop calling it by that as would usually happen. There must've been something really big bothering it and in his heart he began to feel restless to know, so that he could put an end to whatever it was and get it to smile again. The fae sighed, kicking air with its tiny feet while looking at the ground to hide his pained expression.

"You have to go"

"Wha-"

"You can't keep living here in this small field, you're a human, you need to live a human life"

Hiruma frowned. Where did that came from? Him? A human life? He didn't even want one at that point!

"Humans casted me aside as if I was a plague, you were the one who saved and took me in, why should I go back to that?!"

He saw it biting its lip, struggling with words as a fae never did.

"Well, you could go to another city, start a new life, get an occupation. Now you know how to use herbs to cure and treat wounds-"

"They'd think I'm a witch and you know it. What's up with all this urge for me to leave? Did I do anything to make you hate me?"

The tiny creature flinched and looked up with teary red eyes and Hiruma's heart cracked a bit.

"I do not hate you, you stupid kid, but how selfish would I be to keep you here forever with me?"

He was taken aback

"Selfish? What exactly would make you selfish if I stay here with you forever?"

The fae sighed again, looking up at the clear blue sky

"You're hundreds years too young to understand it, kid"

Something moved inside him, making him gently take it in his hands to better fix his burning blue gaze on its wet cheeks.

"Then let's live hundreds of years together so I'll understand and be able to never make you cry again!"

He tought he did good, that his words were right, but he only managed to make it cry even harder while it shook its head with a small smile. It spread its arms, beckoning him to hug his face like he rarely ever did. Hiruma's heart fluttered as the fae hid against his cheekbone.

"Ok then"

A soft whisper against his ear that made his heart ease like that night of two years ago. He could stay, he wasn't going to be alone ever again.

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

He didn't live hundreds years to finally understand what had bothered so much his little fae. A disease no magical herbs nor heartfelt tears could heal made him lay on that field for three days and three night, unable to move anything if not his eyes. But before he withered away, the creature finally stopped crying and got closer to his ear to reveal him its last secret. Its name was Terumi and by knowing a fae's name one had complete power over it, so if he wanted, Hiruma could make it say what had bothered it for so many years. Yet the human smiled and closed his eyes, slowly parting his dry lips.

"I don't need to, if I can ask you anything now that I know your name, I ask you to find me again in another life, Terumi. Find me and tell me your secret yourself, this is my final wish and request for you."

Once upon a time just outside the city's walls, was a forest. Now there are buildings as high as trees and the townspeople know nothing about faeries and magic. But there's a park and in that park a larg white spot. A field of Queen Anne's Lace, a sanctuary for the weary. And in the middle of the field, a small spot of red Globe Amaranth. It is said that a heartbroken maiden died there, for those red flowers were the symbol of an "unfading eternal love" and anyone who passed by could still hear a sorrowful melody whispering at their hearts. No one could know that was the mourning voice of a fae waiting patiently to fade from existence. Waiting for its time to come and for the breeze to bring it to where its forbidden love now was.

After all, Terumi had something really important to say to him...

[abra-ka-dammit]

AU That Should Never Happen Pt. 3

:-)))

(pre-warning for some horny scenes, but that’s just par for the course in this AU)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

“And who might this be?”

The Grand Warlock was strewn lazily across his gilded stone throne, one leg hanging off the side and kicking back and forth idly as he eyed his surprise guests.

General Catfeetz grinned wide, his sharp white teeth shining from behind dark lips.

“I’ll tell ya who it is,” he said, pride obvious in his voice. “This here’s the Steelknuckle boy.”

“Oh?” Gremix’s brows rose and he flipped himself upright, landing softly on his feet and striding down the steps to take a closer look at the prize.

This “Steelknuckle boy” was, at best, pathetic. The son of a trade princess? No way. Short but beefy, one would think the guy tough; but there he stood, sobbing loudly, hardly coming off as an adult with tears and snot streaming down his face. Gremix grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged it down to reveal the characteristic Steelknuckle family flower tattoo emblazoned on his chest. Yep, he was the real deal. Somehow.

“How did you get him?” Gremix asked in fascination.

“Scouts caught him tryin’ to steal a boat, probably meanin’ t’ escape th’ harbor.” Catfeetz snickered. “Easy catch, too. This guy’s a joke. Didn’t even fight back.”

“Hm,” Gremix muttered, scooping the prisoner’s chin with his fingertips to lean his face up to his own. “Identify yourself.”

With a loud, disgusting sniffle, the crybaby choked out “Zubert, sir.”

Gremix smiled ever so slightly. Not often they came in pre-respectful.

“He should be a good bargaining chip for taking down Zippa. If I remember anything about that bitch, it’s that she only has one family member, and it’s this bozo.”

“Seriously?” Catfeetz scoffed. “She should’a had another after this loser popped outta her cooch. Li’l “Zubert” here ain’t fit to lead a cartel; can’t even escape from an island in the dead ‘a night, shit.”

“Please,” Zubert muttered, giving another sniff and peering with frightened, watery eyes between the two overlords, “I don’t have any money, Ma cut me off. There’s no point to keepin’ me.”

“Money?” Gremix barked a laugh, Catfeetz in turn grinning his nefarious grin. “Please; I melted down all the gold I owned to gild my palace.” He raised his arms, gesturing to the room around them, where not only his throne but all the pillars and even the stairs had intricate golden designs decorating the stone. “Money means nothing to us anymore.”

“Who needs money when ya rule th’ world, eh?” Catfeetz said with a chuckle. “Nah, we don’t want yer momma’s dough, kid, we want her dead.”

“Wh-what?!” Zubert’s eyes widened. “Don’t kill my mom! There’s gotta be—I mean, can’t ya jus’ negotiate, or, or…” He swallowed hard, the tears welling up again in an instant.

Gremix rolled his eyes. “What’re we doin’ with him for now?” Gremix asked.

Catfeetz tugged the ropes that bound Zubert’s hands in front of him, leading him closer to the warlock. “Don’t ask me, Boss figured I should give ‘im to you. You got a much less, uh,” Catfeetz squinted one lichlight eye in thought, “open floorplan at your base.”

“I see.” Gremix considered Zubert for a moment. What was he supposed to do with the bawling young man? There was plenty of dungeon space, of course, but if he wanted to use Zubert to negotiate with Madame Steelknuckle, he’d need to stay in decent condition—at first, at least. More could come if she refused to cooperate; but for now…

“Drixzy,” Gremix said flatly. “Come to me.”

The fel-infused rogue was nowhere to be seen in the throne room, but within moments the fast clicking of boots echoed from one of the stone halls and she entered.

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, stopping at Gremix’s side and kneeling into a bow. He patted her gently on the blonde head and Catfeetz gave a sharp whistle.

“Well how’d you train her t’ do that? You psychic now too?”

“Hardly,” Gremix laughed, motioning for Drixzy to stand, which she immediately obeyed. Gremix took her hand in one of his own, lifting it to display the golden cuffs that decorated her wrists. “I’ve been working on some fun toys, however.”

Catfeetz gave a vaguely impressed nod. “You’re weird as fuck, brother,” he said. “But whatever floats yer boat. Now take this idiot so I can get back t’ important stuff.”

Gremix turned his head ever so slightly, peering at his faithful servant. “I have a pet for you, my Drixzy.”

Drixzy’s light brows could be seen rising just above the cloth tied over her fel-glow eyes. “For me?” she asked.

“Yup,” Gremix said, Catfeetz handing the confused woman the rope that bound Zubert. She rolled the rope around in her hands, face tilting as she looked at the young man through the unnatural sight granted by her Master. He seemed pretty cute for a guy that had all sorts of gross fluids running down his face.

Gremix raised a hand, placing it gently on one of Zubert’s cheeks—Zubert flinched, but stayed in place, squeezing his eyes shut in fear of whatever the hell was going on. But to his surprise, the hand was warm and inviting… perhaps almost supernaturally so. His body relaxed, his mind emptying of all those worries that had plagued it merely moments before, a warm bliss expanding through his body from his cheek. The longer it stayed there the more unfocused he became, until he felt almost as entranced as he would during a really good fuck. There was a snap in the back of his mind and his focus returned, Zubert finding suddenly that he had been so lost in pleasure he’d almost forgotten where he was. Gremix’s hand had lowered, which he determined to be the cause of the abrupt end to that bizarrely wonderful feeling.

“Wh… what?” he asked, blinking slowly. He wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; but at the same time, he did. The faces around his blurred and came back into focus repeatedly until finally settling into normalcy and he focused on something concrete—Drixzy. She was staring straight at him, Gremix having already left to return to his throne and the general already out the great stone doors. Or, he thought she might have been staring, but surely she couldn’t see him from under that blindfold.

“Take good care of Zubert, child,” Gremix said. A sly smirk sneaked onto his lips as fel-tinged magenta eyes watched the silent exchange. “He’s yours; do as you wish with him in your idle hours. But keep him in okay condition for me, alright?”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, giving a curt nod. “I am ever grateful for your gifts.”

Zubert could do nothing more than blink in puzzlement, his mind still trying to reconnect the dots that all fell apart the moment Gremix touched him. The rope around his wrists tugged him forward and still in a minor daze, he plodded along behind Drixzy as she led him away.

Gremix watched them leave, then casually flipped himself around to lay upon his lavish throne once again. Maybe this will be good for Drixzy, he thought. She’d gotten so moody since his own little “pet” had shown up, after all. Maybe having a little boytoy of her own would keep her quiet, considering how little interest he found in “playing with” her these days. Oh, forget the smooth curves and soft skin—all he could think about was the dark path of tummy hair leading down to the unmentionables of the ex-rebel Rusco; who since leaving, permanently collared, had not shown hide nor hair around the palace. But Gremix knew he’d be back. He bobbed his foot up and down once more, humming a tune to himself as he stared up at high ceilings, lost in pleasantly distracted thought.

Drixzy had brought Zubert to her quarters, but she puzzled over what exactly to do with him. Gremix had never left her a charge, after all. Zubert quietly peered around the room. It had stone walls like the rest of the palace, lit by torches that displayed floating, glowing green crystals instead of fire, a soft blue carpet on the marble floor and an impressively large, luxurious looking bed draped over with sheer canopy… but very little sign of character. There were no wall decorations, no furniture aside from the bed and a dark wooden wardrobe, no knick-knacks, nothing. Was she just a really boring person? Oh, no, it was probably because she was blind, right? Zubert shrugged, turning his attention to his captor.

“Uh, Miss…. Miss Drixzy?” he asked quietly.

Drixzy glanced at him, frowning.

“What?” she snapped.

Zubert flinched at the cold, careless tone of her voice, swallowing.

“Uh, I won’t…. I promise I won’t try nothin’, I swear; so could you untie me?” He raised his bound hands in front of him to emphasize. “My shoulders are crampin’ somethin’ awful an’ I’d love t’ get a good stretch in.”

Drixzy considered him with distrust. “I’m not an idiot,” she hissed. “Now be silent. I need t’ think.”

Zubert wilted a little. “But I—okay…” he muttered. He looked around again but finding no furniture had magically appeared since last time, he just flopped down onto the ground, folding his legs and staring down at his lap miserably.

Drixzy paced the room, her demonic hoof-design heels not issuing their characteristic clicking steps in the downy carpet of the room, leaving the two in an eerie silence as she thought.

What was Gremix expecting her to do? Was this some sort of test? Or was he really just letting her have a person? But why? She was naught but a servant herself, surely she didn’t deserve such a thing. There had to be something else…

A sniffle interrupted her thoughts, Zubert still suffering mild sinus drainage from his earlier cry. She sighed in annoyance.

“Alright,” she said, conceding and striding over to him as she pulled a large dagger from her hip. Zubert perked instantly, holding up his hands with grateful eagerness so she could saw through the rope. As the bindings fell to the ground, he stretched his arms out to his sides with a huge sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Miss Drixzy!” Zubert said with a big smile, continuing to sit. She watched him, but he just… sat there, smiling like a doofus.

“If you so much as raise a hand to me—” she started, but she was cut off quickly by a startled “goodness, no!”

She cocked her head questioningly.

“I’m sorry, that was rude a’ me t’ interrupt, but I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you, miss. I mean, I know I’m like, a prisoner a’ war or whatever right now, an’ most people would try an’ get away, but, uh…” He chewed his lip a little bit before continuing. “Ma kicked me out, so I wasn’t livin’ nowhere anyways. I don’t got anywhere to run away to, so I think I oughta jus’ comply an’ make it easier for both of us. You don’t gotta worry about me pullin’ nothin’, I’ll jus’ do whatever you tell me to, an’ get to sleep under a roof again.”

Drixzy’s face screwed up in befuddlement. “What? You’re just… acceptin’ your capture?”

“Yup, pretty much,” Zubert said. “If I try ‘an run for it, I’ll definitely get attacked an’ maybe even killed, but if I listen t’ you, I don’t, right? I’m not the best thinker, but even I can see what my best option here is.”

Drixzy nodded slowly, re-sheathing her knife. “Yes. But I don’t trust you, nevertheless.”

“Fair,” Zubert said almost understandingly. “You jus’ met me, after all. But I’ll show you, I’ll be a real good, uh…” he squinted. “D-did that warlock guy say pet?”

Drixzy pursed her lips. “That warlock guy is my master—and by extension, yours as well—The Grand Warlock Gremix Rivensoul, and you will address him with proper respect.”

Zubert hunkered down a little in shame. “Oh, sorry. But th’ question remains… what exactly am I?”

Drixzy let the question bump around in her head for a while. What was he, indeed?

“We’ll see what you prove yourself to be,” Drixzy decided. “It’ll be up to yourself to determine how you are treated, so act mindfully.”

Zubert nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll do my very best!” he said with a big, stupid smile. Why did he keep smiling? It was almost annoying Drixzy; yet at the same time, there was something about the dopey face and big kind eyes that she couldn’t help but find kind of cute.

“Can I ask you some stuff?” Zubert inquired. “T’ get used t’ the way things are here an’ whatever.”

Drixzy sighed. She had nothing to do right now anyways; the family was between ambushes and waiting on something she wasn’t told of (upper management info only, after all). “Fine,” she said, crawling onto her bed until she could plop backwards into the lush pillows. “Ask what you will.”

“Cool!” Zubert chimed. “So firs’ thing’s firs’… uh, can you…. see?”

“Yes, and no,” Drixzy said. “I can see normally, but blindfolded I hold a special form of sight much more intricate than what your own eyes will show you; yet it also conceals some things from me that you can see.” She shrugged slightly. “It’s hard to explain, but for all intents and purposes, just keep in mind I am watchin’ you.”

“Oh!” Zubert exclaimed. “That’s pretty cool. So what do I look like under there?”

Drixzy scoffed. “If you aren’t gonna ask relevant questions, then just keep yer mouth shut.”

Zubert wilted a little again. “I’m sorry, I was jus’ curious.” He pondered a moment. “So what was, uh—” he squinted, trying to find the right words—"what th’ heck happened t’ me out there? Th’ Grand Warlock guy touched my face an’ I got real dizzy an’ weird feelin’.”

“That was a gift,” Drixzy said, her voice softening as though the words were a happy sigh. “The Master’s Blessing is the promise of sheer bliss as reward for obedience. All who follow him melt at his tender touch.” Drixzy’s voice wandered off dreamily, the goblin seeming to zone out for a second. Coming back to herself, she continued, “when you do good, he rewards you with more. If you do poorly…” Drixzy frowned. “Well, just don’t anger the Grand Warlock and you’ll never need to find out the rest of that sentence.”

Zubert gave a curt nod. “Noted,” he said. He thought for another moment, then posed his next question. “Who’s that guy that brought me here?”

“General Catfeetz leads the military side of the family,” Drixzy said, crossing her legs comfortably. It was strange, but she was finding herself enjoying talking to Zubert—she couldn’t remember the last time she just had a conversation with someone that wasn’t instructions, commands or other work issues.

Zubert stifled a laugh but a pfffft escaped his lips anyways. “C-catfeetz? That’s the dude’s name? Really?”

Drixzy scowled. “He’s no laughing matter.” Her face dropped once more into a stern serious look. “General Catfeetz is powerful, ruthless, and cruel. He leads through fear—his soldiers know that dyin’ in battle is a merciful end compared to what he’ll do to them if they fail or betray him.”

“Yikes,” Zubert muttered. “Okay. He was pretty buff so I didn’t wanna mess with him anyways, but that’s probably good to know.”

Drixzy breathed a laugh, then tilting her head back such that she would be looking at him down her nose, she said “come up here,” patting the bed beside her with one leisurely hand.

Zubert’s ears flicked upwards, the tips noticeably reddening along with his cheeks. “Oh! Uh. Are you sure? I mean, that’s your bed and—”

“NOW.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Zubert leapt to his feet, almost falling over in his haste before scrambling over and onto the bed. Crawling over, he warily laid beside her–not because he was scared, but rather, uncertain of her boundaries.

“Do you have any more questions?” she asked him.

“Lots!” he said with another dumb smile. And those… cute dumb… biceps. A thought crept into the back of her mind. Did Gremix hand over this tiny beefcake to preoccupy her? She wasn’t sure if she should be hurt or happy for the gesture if that were so; sure, maybe he was trying to make her feel better about his own lack of attention, but shoving another man at her to do it for him? She rolled onto her side, leaning her head into a hand to look at the guy as he went on with another question about the palace. There was something so nice about just talking, though—she would worry about that all later.

To Drixzy’s surprise, the young Steelknuckle heir did in fact stick to his word. She left him untied in her bedroom for hours at a time and when she would return, he was sitting there waiting patiently for her. Sure, she’d left a guard at the door just in case, but it became clear in short time there was no need. For some reason, Zubert was genuinely just going along with it all. She was baffled, having seen so much resistance against Gremix’s rule from those who were brought in since the uprising. But here was this guy, brought in against his will, just cheerily doing as she said without batting an eyelash over it.

Oh, and she told him to do things. Before long, he was following her around the palace to do her bidding at a whim—lift this, move that, and for the love of the Light, please take off your shirt first. Over time she chose to decorate him: clasping a sparkling gemmed leather collar tight around his throat, combing his hair up however she liked, painting his nails, and dressing him in tight pants and minimal other clothing. Slowly but surely, she became accustomed to the idea… he was hers. Her pet. Her toy. Hers to do with whatever she pleased. And she wanted to do some things, admittedly. But a thought nagged at her.

She was Gremix’s.

And so it came, an awkward conversation she was about two convincing words away from not going through with:

“May I have sex with him?”

Gremix stared blankly at the blindfolded blonde from behind the war table, where maps and notes and other miscellaneous papers were spread out and pinned with meticulous planning.

“What?” Gremix asked. “What do you think I gave him to ya for?”

Drixzy’s shoulders rose in embarrassment, her ears pinning. “O-oh!” she said quietly. “It’s just that, Master, my body is yours, an’…”

Gremix strode around the table, approaching her and laying his hands on her cheeks, drawing her face close to his own, his touch enough to make her hitch a breath.

“You are, and always will be mine,” he agreed in a low voice. “And since you are mine, you are mine to treat; and the Steelknuckle boy is your treat. I care not what you do with him. Sleep with him or hang him upside-down from the ceiling with a burning candle shoved in his ass for 12 hours, it don’t matter to me.”

Drixzy swallowed, giving a tiny nod.

“After it all, you will still be mine,” Gremix said, dropping his hands to her waist and moving his face in closer until their cheeks brushed together and he could speak directly into her ear in a near-whisper that sent a shiver down her spine, “because I do it better.”

Drixzy gave a nervous laugh—the closeness had her heating up in an almost pavlovian response to his physical attention. Oh, why Zubert? Why Zubert when her master was here, so warm, so gentle, so full of that delicious power that seeped in through her skin and made her sigh in pleasure and press her body into his. Gentle kisses on her neck were enough to drive her crazy normally, but oh, when he put his Fel into it… She simply wanted to dissolve into him where they stood.

“Master,” she said breathily, “please…”

A quiet chuckle in her ear denied her request, and Gremix backed away, to her massive disappointment. She felt so hot and her heart was pounding, and she wanted him so badly—but he shook his head.

“I’m very busy, silly girl. You’re hot an’ bothered now, ain’tcha? Go use it on your little pet. I bet he’ll appreciate it.” He gave her a smile that almost seemed kind, and in that moment, she thought of the doofusy grin of the foolish loyal man set away in her boudoir, no doubt cheerily awaiting her return. She gave a quick nod.

“Thank you, Master,” she said quietly, and left him to his planning.

Probably needless to say, Zubert had no complaint when the woman returned, her calm steps devolving into a near sprint when she had the door closed behind her, then becoming a leap that resulted in her tackling him onto the mattress. He only blinked up at her and gave one of those stupid, cute smiles of his. Damn that smile! She would be rid of it, by pressing her mouth to his.

And oh, what a kiss—at least, for Zubert. There was that feeling again. That dizzy, almost orgasmic fuzziness that Gremix’s touch had caused. There was no need to convince the more-than-willing young man, but had he been resistant before, he surely would have caved in to her desires as the wave of pure, unadulterated, unnatural bliss came over him.

She pulled her face away only barely, and without bothering to catch her breath as his eyes dazedly cracked open, she panted out a simple command:

“Fuck me.”

“H’okay.”

Didn’t need to tell him twice.

And so things continued; Drixzy freely indulging herself for satisfaction from the frustration that Gremix’s continued general absence caused, with whom she decided to call her “attendant”. After all, he did attend to her every need, there seemed no better term. Zubert liked it better than “slave”, anyways.

But it wasn’t just his servitude, sexual or otherwise, that kept her interest. For some reason, he liked to just talk. And it continued to seem so strange to her, just talking, about anything. Zubert talked to her about ships, about Steelknuckle isles in their heyday, about the ocean and fish and food he liked and something funny his friend said once… She herself kept quieter, content to just listen to him and interject when he asked her something. She would openly answer most things about the family but wouldn’t speak of her past. He’d only brought it up once, but her sharp, instant demand that he never inquire again ended that line of curiosity right quick.

Months passed by as such. Zubert became a palace-wide spectacle: guards would snicker at his slutty outfits as he passed by, plodding along behind Drixzy as she went about her daily business. Others whispered rumors of who he might be or where he came from—perhaps simply a hapless commoner Drixzy found attractive? A relative of one of the generals? One such rumor that wasn’t held by many as true said he was in fact the heir to an entire cartel. Nobody asked, however. After all, nobody dared talk to Drixzy about anything besides work.

“New batch of prisoners, here!”

Catfeetz’s lieutenant arrived with a posse of guards to the castle, a string of captured rebels in tow to be offered up to Gremix’s forces. As per the usual routine, they were brought to a dungeon and stripped to their underthings, chains around their necks hooked to the stone floor ahead of them, keeping them kneeling uncomfortably as a pair of shackles attached to their wrist from another short chain behind them kept them forced upright. It was a pretty typical bunch of rebels, some jeering and spitting when their gags and blindfolds were removed, the others solemn and quiet. One by one, Gremix offered his “Blessing”, and they either accepted it or were killed. Drixzy stood by—and as she did, so did Zubert—much to his horror, as he watched those who rejected the Grand Warlock quickly offed by a skilled slice of Drixzy’s poisoned blades across their throats. Luckily, it seemed the more common answer to “do you want to die or live in heavenly bliss serving me” tended to lean to the latter, but the blood oozing over the stone floors from the first who’d denied the gift was enough to make him feel ill.

The Grand Warlock was halfway through the set of rebels when the next one he approached was a rather tall, fluffy-white-haired goblin who was sobbing hopelessly into his gag, hiccupping and rocking himself back and forth the little amount the chains would allow. Gremix rolled his eyes, and removing the gag and blindfold from this one, was met with what was probably the most terrified face he’d ever encountered during a conversion.

The goblin didn’t jeer or spit; in fact, he said nothing, only making a tiny throat squeak as he tried uselessly to liquify into the floor and away from the green glow that pulsed within the warlock’s pupils.

“Don’t be afraid,” Gremix started, gently, as usual, but he didn’t get very far before the captive broke into full bawling again. He gave an agitated sigh, standing and patting dust off the robe at his knees.

“This one’s defective,” he said, waving a hand at the crying mess to signal Drixzy to end him as he stepped over to the next goblin.

Drixzy drew her blade and started towards the young man, who was all but balled up now. But she only made it one loud-clicking step before she felt a tug—a hand on her arm. She looked back to see Zubert with a panicked expression. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, and even if he did he didn’t think he could get words out without puking at the moment anyways, so he just shook his head over and over, beseeching her with pleading eyes.

Gremix, noticing the uncharacteristic hesitation, looked back at the two with a scowl. “What’s keepin’ ya? Get to it, Drixzy." Drixzy glanced at Gremix briefly before inspecting Zubert’s desperate head-shaking once more.

“Yes, Master,” she said, brushing Zubert’s hand from her arm, the musclebound servant wilting in hopelessness as she left his side to do the deed.

The crying captive lifted his head only slightly to see his oncoming killer, and for just a moment, his eyes met what would have been Drixzy’s, were they uncovered—but the moment was the same regardless. The tearstains streaking his cheeks, face and eyes red and puffy, afraid… Drixzy suddenly understood why Zubert wanted to stop her. He was just another Zubert.

“Master,” Drixzy said, tentatively. “I’m sorry if I am oversteppin’, but…”

Gremix’s eyes narrowed as he eyed her with suspicion.

“May I have this one?”

The suspicious look fell to make way for one of surprise instead.

“What?” Gremix peered down at the chained goblin, who was still apparently attempting to burrow into his own being, head once more tucked down into his chest. Gremix made a disgusted face at the wretch before letting his gaze return to Drixzy. “You… want that pathetic thing?”

Drixzy fidgeted with her dagger. “Do you… remember when your Rusco was here?”

Gremix remained silent, so she continued; “He was defiant, but you didn’t have me kill him, because you looked at him and saw something you liked, right?”

The sobbing continued, but tear and terror-filled eyes were once again barely peering up at the people openly discussing his fate. His gaze wandered the room, where it then met that of a person the bound goblin hadn’t noticed before—Zubert stood back in the shadows, wringing his hands anxiously and giving the guy a forced hopeful smile before he burrowed into himself again.

“So you’re saying you see somethin’ in this trash heap that you like?”

Drixzy’s mind buzzed as she flipped through every explanation she could think of, trying to find the one that was truest.

“I have a thing for beta males,” she decided on, pointing behind herself with a thumb directed at Zubert—the comment said so flatly that Gremix couldn’t help but bark a laugh in return.

“Fine, fine.” Gremix said, shaking his head in bemusement. “You’re not getting another until one of these ones die, though, got it?”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, glancing back at Zubert who had perked up significantly, and was now eagerly bouncing in wait for her word.

“Take him to my room,” she said to Zubert. “Chain him and return to me here.”

Zubert stood up straight, puffing out his chest and giving a firm salute. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, then hopping over to the person whose life he had just saved to unlock the chains.

“Wh-what?!” came the first words from the mouth of the crying but otherwise until now silent prisoner.

“Gag him,” Gremix said with an apathetic wave of his hand, and Zubert paused, picking up the cloth that had been dropped to the floor and re-tying it around the head of a now somewhat struggling goblin.

It took some doing, but he got it on, trying to reassure the frightened goblin that he would be safe and shouldn’t worry… but panic set in, and the captive was having none of it anymore, now desperately pulling against the chains he had no chance of escaping from. Zubert held the chain key tightly, giving an uncertain glance to the others.

“Oh, for the love a’…” Gremix sighed. “Hold him still.”

Zubert nodded, obediently moving behind and holding firmly the shoulders of the soon-to-be “blessed” man. Wide eyes watched in abject horror as hands rose to his face—he tried to jerk his head away but a strong grip from behind turned it back to the Grand Warlock and his warm hands cupped sharp cheeks.

The prisoner choked some sort of noise from behind the gag as green flames burst from the hands on his face, squeezing his eyes shut just to reopen them in confusion a moment later when he felt no burning.

Zubert watched in fascination—he’d never seen the Blessing from a third-party perspective, only having experienced it himself. The flickering flames looked terrifying, but no sound of pain came from the unwitting convert; of course not. After all, it didn’t hurt when it happened to him, either.

“It’s alright, see?” Zubert said quietly, a slight flick of ear the only indication he had been heard.

The flames seemed to be sucked into the held skull, a bright green erupting from behind tear-filled eyes as the convert stiffened—muscles in his shoulders and back twitched feverishly, but it was as though he could not move. The flames gone, Gremix lowered his hands, and the guy slumped forward into himself once again; but this time from sudden wooziness. Heavy, deep breaths came from him like convulsions and with one last horrified glance up, the Fel glow faded from his eyes. A calm seemed to come over him, the shaky anxiety and fear all but nullified.

“I don’t like blessing unwillin’ parties,” Gremix said, rising once more. “You will repay me for havin’ t’ do that later.”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said. “Anything, any time. I thank you for allowin’ me this gift.” Her attention turned to Zubert.

“Take him now. And be back quickly,” she said, “you will need to remove the bodies of these insolent rebels when Master finishes the conversion.”

Zubert swallowed hard, not entirely enthusiastic about that specific task, but ever faithful, he unlocked the chains and led the dazed and confused stumbling beanpole of a goblin out of the chamber.

It was quite a while before Zubert returned to Drixzy's room again. When he did, however, he came with a tall glass of water in one hand and a crumbly buttered biscuit in the other.

“Hey!” he chimed as he closed the door behind him with one stubby leg's foot.

Chained to the stone wall in the corner of the room, pressing himself as far into the joint of two walls as he possibly could, the goblin Drixzy had spared eyed him warily.

“Don’t worry,” Zubert said, approaching slowly such as not to startle him. “I’m not gonna hurt you or take you away anywhere. This is where you’ll be staying now.”

The bound goblin shook his head indignantly. Zubert shrugged.

“I mean, you don’t have much choice, y’know? If ya just behave an' listen to Drixzy and the Grand Warlock's every command, you’ll be perfectly fine, like me! Drixzy might even unchain you if you prove you won’t pull any tricks.”

The other man did not look convinced, but Zubert, a few feet away, placed the water and biscuit onto the soft carpet and raised his hands slowly in front of himself.

“Look, don’t kick me or nothin', okay? I’m gonna ungag you, Drixzy said I could. I also snuck you some water an' food, an' it’s the cold water I’m not supposed t' take, too. Figured it might be nice after havin' that thing in your mouth so long.”

A wary nod signaled that Zubert could come closer, though there was still a untrustful stiffening of his shoulders in preparation for some sort of trick… but the cloth loosened and Zubert pulled it away like he said he would, then backed up a few steps and gave him a goofy smile.

Zubert looked him over—the guy was scrawny, and not entirely impressive sitting there in threadbare boxers, but Zubert had to admit he had a thing for tall, lithe people. But more importantly, this dude clearly couldn’t feed himself, arms bound behind his body, so Zubert concluded he had to assist. Well, that was his job, according to Drixzy, right? Helper.

It was a clumsy event, Zubert tilting the glass to a very dry, desperate and eager mouth, such that between the two of their efforts a notable amount of water ran down his chin and onto the carpet; but with a relieved sigh and smacking of finally moistened lips, it was obvious that he’d had enough to satisfy, at least.

Zubert sat beside him, taking the biscuit and breaking off a piece to offer up. The captive sighed, but opened his mouth such that the crumbly bread could be popped into it.

“I’m Zubert, by the way,” Zubert said. “Zubert Steelknuckle.”

Swallowing, his companion simply said “Stix.”

“Nice t' meetcha, Stix!” Zubert said, breaking off another bite-size piece of biscuit. “We’re roommates now, so I hope you’ll stop lookin' so scared of me soon.”

“I don’t wanna stay here,” muttered Stix. “I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know who any of these people are n' I wanna get outta here!”

He looked the muscley and… tightly panted goblin over pleadingly.

“Y’ have the key, don't'cher? Let me outta here, c’mon.”

Zubert frowned. “No, Drixzy has it. And even if I did, I’m not allowed t' let you leave. If you try to run, I’m just gonna have to escort you back.”

Stix made an agitated sound, opening his mouth for another bite of biscuit, which he chewed in thought for a silent moment.

“Sho then, yer jusht one of ‘em, choo,” he decided, food still in mouth.

“No,” Zubert said with a chuckle. “I’m being held for ransom!” He paused, the cheeky smile on his face slowly dropping until he sort of just looked distressed. “Y’know, t' get my ma out of hidin', so they can kill her.”

Stix balked. “Why do they wanna kill yer mum? And who are they?” He really did seem genuinely confused about everything going on.

Zubert scrutinized the tone of Stix's voice, brows lowering in concern. “You mean, you have no idea about th' Gutshot Takeover?”

“Th’ what? No!” Stix looked appalled.

“Where the heck have you been?”

Stix nodded upwards. “Zeppelin. In fact, I was riding one jus' yesterday for a delivery, and then…” He scowled. “We we’re just passing by th' harbor when a ton of flyin' machines showed up outta nowhere and shot us down!” The goblin's ears lowered slowly. “I… I don’t even know if anyone else…”

Zubert perked; oh no, was Stix about to cry again?

“Hey, hey! Don’t worry. They uh, they like taking prisoners more than jus' killin' folks, cuz they make them join the troops, an' then there’s more of 'em.”

Stix looked horrified. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he groaned.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Silence befell them for a few minutes as Zubert fed Stix the rest of the biscuit. As he finished the last bite, licking crumbs from his lips, Stix decided to speak again.

“So, er… explain this whole takeover thing?”

“Oh, sure,” Zubert said, sitting and leaning back against the wall nearby Stix. “I don’t know all the details from their side, but, uh… I guess there was this mafia my ma was makin' deals with, an' they got a little weird an' started talkin' about takin' over Bilgewater's whole thing. Ma cut ties with 'em cuz she thought they were bonkers! But she was a big financial investor, so I think they got mad at her.” He scratched at the side of his face with a ponderous look. “Guess they were serious about takin' over, cuz the Grand Warlock and General Catfeetz are somehow ridiculously powerful, an' all the Bilgewater guys started following 'em because they were toutin' that they would slay Gallywix an' make things better for goblins everywhere. But then it just twisted more 'til they straight up decided they were jus' gonna take over th' whole world, an' now everything’s a big, scary mess. They’ve taken basically all of Azshara, killed Gallywix, an’ I’ve heard some of the followers say there’s a big plan coming to fruition soon.”

Stix looked as though the blood had completely drained from his face. “What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

Zubert shrugged. “I dunno, man, but I didn’t get too bum a deal outta it, so I’m jus' mindin' my own business here, y’know?”

Stix looked pensive for a moment, squinting down at the soft blue carpeting beneath him. “So… if I stay here, I’ll be safe?”

“Yeah!” Zubert said. “Miss Drixzy’s real good to me, an' I know she’ll treat you just as nice. Just you wait.”

Stix nodded, then gave a sigh and sunk into the corner.

“My shoulders hurt,” he grumbled.

Zubert tilted his head, peering at Stix. “Want me t' give 'em a rub?”

“No.” The reply was instant, and Zubert got the feeling Stix wanted minimal contact, so he shrugged it off.

“When's she get in?”

“Miss Drixzy?” Zubert pursed his lips in thought. “Heck, I don’t know. I haven’t seen a clock in so long, I don’t even know what month it is anymore. She don’t have a regular schedule though anyways. Jus’ kinda shows up when she shows up.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell once more, and Stix zoned out, staring at nothing on the ground, probably lost in thought. Zubert figured so, anyways. He certainly didn’t seem to want to talk though, so Zubert just sat there with him quietly.

“You. Up.”

Zubert snapped awake suddenly, blearily blinking and looking around as he lifted a head that had drooped to one side as he unintentionally dozed off. As he came to, he realized the speaker had been Drixzy, and he scrambled to his feet.

“Yes, ma’a—”

He didn’t get to finish his word, as warm lips pressed into his own. He didn’t mind, though, his eyes closing as he happily reciprocated the surprise. Drixzy pulled away and, as though only now remembering the guy, turned her head to Stix, who was staring wide-eyed at the two in what could only be described as pure confusion.

Zubert gestured to Stix with one hand, stepping back to introduce the two.

“Miss Drixzy, this is Stix. He’s a’right.”

“Stix.” Drixzy stared quietly for several moments before Stix leaned closer to Zubert and whispered, “Can she see us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Zubert said.

“How?!”

“Um… magic?”

Stix scowled at the unsatisfactory explanation, peering nervously back at the demonic woman. He couldn’t see half her face, but the tight, thin purple leather of the odd but sexy leotard she wore accentuated all the right things. Maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

Drixzy, seeming to have satisfied her staring, once more faced Zubert.

“Unbind his arms.”

“Yes ma’am!” Zubert said, approaching Stix, who cautiously scooched around to face his back to Zubert. The knot took a moment, but soon enough Stix’s sore arms were released, and he pulled them around to his front to rub the ache from his shoulders.

“Th’nks” he muttered, backing into the corner again and glowering his distrust.

“I expect Zubert has caught you up with your current situation?”

Stix glanced to Zubert, who only smiled. Looking back at Drixzy, he gave a single nod.

“Good. Now, I ask if you plan t’ be compliant. You will live well cared-for, and The Master’s blessing will bring you joy. If you choose not to comply, then I will revoke my decision to spare you.”

Stix frowned, giving no answer for several moments.

“Stix,” Zubert said in a gentle, hushed voice, “please answer Miss Drixzy.”

A dirty look was tossed his way, but with a deep breath, Stix finally answered.

“I guess so.”

Drixzy’s stern face gave way to just the faintest hint of a smile. “Prove so and I will let you roam the room freely as Zubert does.”

Stix sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, where eerie shadows were cast by the fel-light gems that lit the room. He watched with fascination as one of the shadows seemed to flicker and shift a little despite the still nature of the light. His brows creased, and he decided not to look there anymore.

Drixzy, in a contradictory motion, elegantly flopped onto her soft bed, giving a gentle sigh as she sank into it. Zubert glanced between her and Stix, unsure who he should be near at the time. That was answered for him soon enough, as one of Drixzy’s arms rose and gave a come-hither finger wave.

Zubert shuffled over, crawling up into the bed with her, where she rolled onto her belly and said into the blankets “massage.” Like a good doggie, Zubert obeyed, shifting over to straddle her lower back to get a good angle to start working her shoulders with firm, strong hands.

There wasn’t much else to do but watch, so that’s what Stix did. Watched. Watched as Zubert kneaded at the back of a sexy woman, the cut muscles in his bulky arms flexing noticeably with each movement. Stix was pretty sure this was how one of the smut books he’d read started.

Zubert scooted back a little on top of Drixzy as he moved down to work on her upper back, then eventually moved a little further to work on the mid-back… By then he was straddling her butt, and Stix squinted as he noticed Zubert’s crotch moved against it as he rubbed her. Now he wasn’t “pretty” sure; Stix was 100% sure he’d read this one.

Pleased little “mmm”s escaped Drixzy here and there as Zubert worked, and she squirmed beneath him ever so slightly—Zubert flinched, trying to choke a gasp as a soft, barely-clad behind pressed against his accidental excitement. The woman’s head turned away from the face-smothering position she’d been resting in, and a sly smile could be seen on her lips.

“Pleasure me.”

Stix balked; these two were seriously about to do it in front of him? He glanced around frantically. Was this weird? Should he look away and pretend nothing was happening? Should he watch?

Zubert gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, y-yes ma’am, but, it’s just…”

Drixzy’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Zubert glanced behind to Stix, who looked startled at the sudden attention.

“I mean, someone’s here.”

Drixzy scoffed. “Then pull around the curtains, you baby.”

“That’s not…” Zubert took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright.”

Stix cleared his throat, mumbling a half-hearted “I mean, it’s, uhm, it’s fine.”

Zubert’s ears perked, one brow lowering in consternation. The gears in his head took a moment, but finally he barked a single laugh, turning back to Drixzy.

“Never mind,” Zubert said, fingers trailing up her back to the small zipper tag at the top of the neck of her leotard.

Stix swallowed. Yup. Zubert was just gonna let him watch. He wasn’t sure if he was excited or mortified, but all things considered, it was hardly torture to watch two very attractive people have sex. Just like the books; except instead of words, it was—he choked on a bit of spit as Zubert tugged down his pants. But… he supposed now the tiny goblin had to have something going on to compensate in some way for his unimpressive stature, and that was it.

The act was certainly something. Drixzy, despite being “bottom”, stayed entirely in control, guiding Zubert’s every action. He was fast to catch on any time she changed what she wanted; Stix, trying to ignore other feelings, thought about how strangely in-tune they were with each other. Did they just have good sexual chemistry?

By the time it was over, Stix was hugging his legs as tightly to himself as possible; his hot, red face nestled into his own knees.

Breathing heavily, the very much naked Drixzy—well, naked but for the blindfold and the golden cuffs on her wrists which glowed faintly with fel runes—sat up and turned her attention to the man in the corner, who swallowed hard, his eyes very much unable to meet her unseen gaze, as they were lost on so many other things.

She ran a hand down the front of her body, tilting her head to the side, curtains of long blonde hair cascading down off her shoulders.

Stix couldn’t say a damn thing. A pathetic sort of squeaking whimper was all he managed, burrowing his head further into his knees, though he simply couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Zubert, who had flopped down and not moved even a little bit since they finished up, finally shifted around, pushing himself up onto his elbows to peer over at Stix as well.

“Good show, buddy?” Zubert gave a cheeky grin.

Stix’s hands finally rose to cover his burning face and he curled into himself like a dead shrimp.

“If you behave yourself,” Drixzy said, leaning back into her pillows with her arms folded behind her head, “perhaps I will let you have some fun as well someday.”

A hopeless breathed laugh came from the center of the Stix-ball. “A’right,” his muffled voice could be heard saying. “A’right, a’right. This can’t be real. This is a weird wet dream. Wake up. Wake up.”

Zubert pouted. “You ain’t dreamin’, Stix. Well…” He glanced to Drixzy with a sideward smirk, “…not yet.”

A slight smile crept onto Drixzy’s lips. “Oh, you little ham,” she muttered.

Zubert winked at her, and Stix pulled his head out from the depths of his body to give them both a disbelieving look.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Zubert said with a content sigh.

Something told Stix that wasn’t true.

Well, he had sort of been wrong. Not entirely, but he became more relaxed over time, though internally terrified still; something about Zubert’s ever-present smiling mug perhaps? Or maybe he was just coming to terms and accepting his fate. Drixzy began to dress him about as strangely as Zubert, and was slowly but surely chipping away at his defensive shell with coos of adoration and compliments. He wasn’t comfortable around her, but she was always a looming figure in this caged life he couldn’t avoid.

He stayed silent, mostly. Zubert would press him for conversation, but more often than not was harshly denied. Sure, he may have been settling in, but he wasn’t gonna be happy about it. He would barely let either Zubert or Drixzy touch him willingly, either—Drixzy would lay a farewell kiss on his angular cheek every time she left for an extended period of time, which required a gentle but firm Zubert to hold him still as he tried to squirm away from it. There was always something about those kisses. They were so, so warm. And for several moments after she pulled away, he would think, maybe this isn’t all so bad. And that thought horrified him more than anything.

The chains stayed. He was too twitchy—Drixzy was hesitant to trust him. Not because she was worried he’d get away, obviously; they’d find him before he even escaped the palace, and that would only be a death sentence. But as he had at least complied as much as to not attempt to claw Zubert’s eyes out when he approached with food and drink, Drixzy decided to offer him a modicum of freedom, via a classic combination of ankle shackle, chain, and an immensely heavy metal ball that couldn’t have been anything as simple as iron or steel. Zubert, shocking nobody, was able to lift the ball without too much struggle, but much as he tugged, Stix couldn’t make it so much as budge, only managing to cut up his ankle trying to pull away from it when the others weren’t around.

This new form of bondage was at least better than before—he was now allowed to be led around the palace by Zubert, who would tote the ball so they could sit in the gardens for fresh air, or to the mess hall where they’d try to haggle the actual good food away from Gremix’s followers, who generally just regarded the two with befuddlement before ignoring them.

One garden trip resulted in, to Zubert’s surprise, the lanky goblin whipping out a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter, which he seemed very excited about.

“Where’d ya get that?” Zubert asked.

Stix wiggled his fingers as he said “cafeteria,” his other hand already popping a cig between his lips.

“You stole it?”

“Duh.”

Zubert looked displeased, but he said nothing more, deciding he would keep quiet about the contraband to Drixzy. At the very least, Stix seemed more relaxed as he smoked than Zubert had seen him in all the time he’d been there.

How long was that now? Weeks? Months?

Zubert’s eyes rose to the sky above the towering garden walls: grey and smoggy as the harbor always was. He had no idea what the date or time was, every day blurring into the next and becoming one conglomerate concept. With a twinge of concern, he realized that he had almost forgotten he hadn’t always been there, there were times before the palace; the memories of which were faint and fading. Steelknuckle Casino, the isles, his mom… Large ears lowered, and his brows knit. Zubert wasn’t often very critical of his current living situation, but sometimes, a creeping realization like that would sneak up and…

“You, uh, ready t’ go back in, ‘r what?”

Zubert seemed to snap out of a daze, blinking over at the floofy-haired thief, who was snubbing the last nub of his cigarette out against the delicate marble seat of the bench they sat on.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Zubert hesitated for a second, squinting one eye. What… what had he just been thinking about, again?

Zubert slipped off the bench, and grabbing the chain just above the ball, hefted it up and they headed back inside.

How much time had it been?

Stix stared at the bottom of the bed’s canopy in the dark. He didn’t like it, but what choice did he have when Drixzy wanted him to sleep in the bed? Zubert would haul his ball onto it, the short chain not giving way for escape to the floor.

How much time had it been?

Drixzy rolled over in her sleep, a soft arm coming down atop Stix’s chest and he hitched a breath—but it was nothing, as usual. His eyes dropped to her arm. Slowly, carefully, he pulled one of his own from under the blankets, hovering it just over her green skin in a hesitant moment before gently laying his fingertips upon it. She didn’t react, so he let his palm slide down onto her arm as well; yellow eyes watched her through the dark to be sure she didn’t wake. But then, he stopped.

He had meant to carefully lift and move her arm away, but as his hand rested there, a warming calm came over him and he opted to just leave it resting there. What an odd feeling. What a nice feeling.

His eyelids began to droop, sleep overtaking him.

How much time had it been?

Who cared?

“So what color are your eyes, Miss Drixzy?”

Zubert lay on his belly, his feet kicking back and forth behind him, face perched in two hands as he leaned onto his elbows.

Stix was there, too, his ball and chain keeping him stuck on the bed with them. But he was starting to think he didn’t mind it so much anymore. He’d started talking a bit more, and though he was still uncomfortable with touch, he was much more willing to be within a handful of inches of both Drixzy and Zubert.

“Green,” Stix said. “You can see it through her mask, can’t’cha?”

Drixzy chuckled softly, petting a hand through Zubert’s hair as she relaxed. “You’re right, they are green, now.”

Zubert pursed his lips.

“What color were they before?”

Drixzy frowned. “Before what?”

“You said “now”, didn’t you?”

Drixzy was silent for a few rough moments.

“I don’t… recall.”

“Bet’cha they’re still that color, but just glowy, right?” Stix offered. “Like th’ Grand Dickhead’s, his’re pink but th’ green shit comes from inside, yeah?”

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Zubert. “We could jus’ look an’ tell you!”

Stix sat up in interest. He had no idea how long he’d been there anymore, but in all that time, he’d always wondered what was beneath the blindfold—and Zubert did too.

“You can’t,” Drixzy said, defensively. “I mustn’t show my eyes to anyone but The Master.”

Stix scoffed. “How’s he gonna know?”

“Yeah, jus’ for a second! It can’t hurt, right?”

Drixzy’s hand paused its petting motion. Admittedly, she had been desperately curious to see what the two boys looked like in the real world; what she saw through the blindfold was vague, forms and shadows of depth, the concept of facial expressions, but not true to life. She chewed her bottom lip for a second.

“Fine, but just for a moment,” she said quietly, sitting up and raising her hands to the back of her head.

Zubert and Stix leaned in, eagerly awaiting the answer to their burning question.

Untied, the strip of dark cloth fell to Drixzy’s lap, and long-lashed eyes slowly opened.

“Holy fuck,” Stix yelped, backing away quickly.

“What?” Drixzy asked, glancing between the two of them. Her eyes were adjusting to the light she so rarely saw, but they tried to take in her people-pets’ forms anyways.

“Your eyes,” Zubert said, his tone low and serious, “they’re so bright with the Fel that I can’t tell.”

Drixzy rubbed at her eyes, blinking away the stars. “Really?” Finally, her eyes focused and landed on Zubert. Oh. He had such a cute baby face… but then from the neck down, was hot. She had not seen that disconnect before. Charming. Her gaze turned to Stix, who swallowed and leaned away as much as he could without falling over. Stix, unlike Zubert, was skinny, tall, and seemed, in a way, slightly worn out; like an old letter from a friend, or a well-loved paperback.

“Your hair is white,” Drixzy stated.

“Y-yeah,” Stix said.

“I could never tell,” she said softly. “I can’t figure out colors very well with this—”

A loud bang interrupted her, and she froze in terror. She was facing the opposite direction, but she was more than aware that that sound was the door being slammed open. Two guards with sharp polearms entered, followed by none other than the Grand Warlock, who walked in calmly, hands folded behind his back.

She had never felt so afraid in her life. The dread was almost tangible; her breath seemed caught in her chest, as though she were choking on the very air. Zubert and Stix could feel it too.

They done fucked up.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, my dear Drixzy?” came Gremix’s voice from behind her back.

Zubert looked frantically between the glowing-eyed woman and the eerily collected warlock, interjecting; “W-I mean, I convinced her t’ take it off! Please don’t be mad at her, it’s my fault.”

“What’re y’ doing, idiot?” Stix hissed under his breath. “You’re gonna get yerself killed!”

“Silence, both of you.”

Zubert’s ears drooped; the command had come from Drixzy.

“Come here,” Gremix said flatly.

Drixzy, swallowing a lump in her throat formed of sheer fear, obliged. Gradually, she backed up to the edge of the bed closer to the door, only turning to face her master as her feet found the floor.

She’d only met his gaze for a split second when she gasped in sudden, sharp pain, stumbling back a step and shooting a hand to her cheek—which was now red and stinging from an unexpected backhand.

“Hey!” Zubert shouted, making a move as though meaning to go defend Drixzy, but Stix grabbed his shoulder and tugged him back.

Tears welled in Drixzy’s eyes and she regarded Gremix fearfully. Despite literally having just slapped her, the warlock seemed just as cool as the moment before, his stern expressionless gaze locked on her.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said quietly, her voice barely a squeak.

“You certainly are.” Gremix looked over his shoulder, nodding a head to one of the guards. “Take the slaves.”

Drixzy’s ears whipped upwards. “What? Why—they didn’t do anythin’, Master, please!” Despite her objections, the guards headed deeper into the room, seizing Zubert and Stix; the latter trying to make some sort of resistant effort, but Zubert, as ever, allowing himself to be directed without a fight.

“You will put that blindfold back on immediately and wait here for my decision about what happens next,” Gremix said, glancing aside to the guards as they escorted the two young men away. “You will not leave this room; d’you understand me?”

Drixzy wrung the cloth in her hands for a second, but gave a slight nod, and lifted it to her face to tie on once again.

“Do make sure to actually obey my instructions this time,” Gremix concluded with a note of venom as he turned on his heel and strode out after the guards.

Drixzy watched as more guards outside saluted him, then closing her door and, assumedly, guarding it.

Her knees seemed to give out, and she sat on the edge of her bed, trembling.

What had she done?

They stood still, eyes lowered. They didn’t look but they could tell he was staring them down. The warlock’s gaze felt like needles on their skin; Stix, for the first time in quite a while, had begun to shiver.

“It’ll be okay,” Zubert said. “We’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

“Is that what you think?” Gremix asked from where he lounged upon his throne. The guards held the two goblins before him at the bottom of the lordly steps for his consideration, and he’d been picking his brain for the best way to go about his intentions.

Zubert swallowed, not responding. A shaky breath shuddered from beside him. Every instinct told Zubert to pat Stix’s shoulder, or hug him, or anything… but Stix probably wouldn’t have wanted it, anyways.

Gremix observed the two for a few moments, deep in thought. Then, fel-tinged magenta eyes flicked to Zubert.

“Steelknuckle.”

Zubert flinched, but raised his eyes to meet the warlock’s gaze.

“Punch him.”

Both Zubert and Stix looked taken aback.

“Stix? W-why?”

“Jus’ do it. Hard as you can. Straight in the face.”

Stix whimpered, a fearful look tossed Zubert’s way. Zubert shook his head incredulously.

“I can’t punch him… he didn’t do nothin’ to me.”

“Are you defying me?” Gremix asked, one brow raised.

“Uh…” A chill ran down Zubert’s back. “No, no of course not, but, it’s jus’…”

Gremix gave a disappointed click of his tongue.

“And here I thought Drixzy would have done a better job on you.” He slumped back in his throne, stroking his jawline in thought.

“Ah!” Gremix sat up straight suddenly, snapping his fingers before pointing at the guard holding Stix’s ball. “I’ve got jus’ the thing. Why don’t we playtest that lovely new whip I was given last week?”

“Excellent choice, master,” the guard said.

“I will retrieve it for you, Master,” piped up a follower who was coincidentally walking down a hall to the side of the throne room.

“Thank you, child,” Gremix said with a head nod towards the follower, who saluted and jogged off in the direction from which they had originally came.

Stix looked like he might faint.

Zubert raised his eyes, giving Gremix a pleading look. “D-don’t hurt him…! Please.”

Gremix simply stared at him, blinking slowly.

Zubert’s eyes welled with tears. “Please! I—I told him he’d be safe! I told him he’d be okay if he stayed here!” Zubert swallowed back a desperate sob. “Please, he didn’t do anything.”

Stix peered aside at the pleading goblin.

“Don’t… don’t make me a liar.” The tears, having no room left to well, began running down the soft curves of Zubert’s cheeks.

“How odd,” Gremix said. “His face is leaking.” His gaze drifted to the guard holding Zubert. “He should see the doctor to get that looked at, I think.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Master,” said the guard. “I will deliver him.”

Zubert’s brows knit in confusion. “Huh? Doctor?” He got no explanation, however, and was tugged away down a hallway, glancing back at Stix as he turned the corner—their eyes met for just a moment, and Zubert could only feel his stomach sink to his feet. He looked… betrayed.

“No, please,” Zubert sobbed one last time, but the guard jerked him forward and he disappeared from sight.

“Here it is, Master,” said the follower from before, now toting what could only be described as several strands of rusty barbed wire braided together on one end to form a crude steel whip.

“Ah, lovely,” Gremix said with a pleased smile. “Guard, will you do the honors, please?”

“Of course, Master,” the guard behind Stix said. He placed down the heavy ball, stepping away to take the “whip” from the other follower, who then giddily approached Gremix, bowed, and received a gentle brush of his hand on their cheek; a blissful sigh was the last thing from them before they returned to whatever business they had been tending to before.

There was no forewarning, and no words for the feeling, Stix yelping loudly as the steel wires lashed across his back unexpectedly. Fabric and flesh tore, and his eyes overflowed with tears of pain as he tried to gasp his breath back. Suddenly dizzy from the shock, he fell forward to his hands and knees, shaking and huddling into himself. Hateful eyes rose to see the Grand Warlock lounging upon his seat, looking nothing more than bored.

“Why?!” Stix whined. “What’d I do t’ deserve this!?”

“Oh, silly boy: nothing, I’m sure. I’m punishing you…” Gremix said, leaning his cheek into a hand, elbow propped onto the arm of his golden chair, “…but the punishment is not for you.”

Stix’s ears pinned, but he had no time to parse that as the wires struck his back once more, cutting and gouging at already tender, bleeding flesh and causing him to cry out in pain.

Gremix smirked. “Let’s do twenty, shall we?”

“Yes, Master.”

Somewhere deep within the mazes of stone hallways that led underground, Zubert trudged along with his guard. It was creepy enough in the dank, empty halls, but even worse, he kept hearing an eerie screeching sound echoing from somewhere distantly behind.

It seemed they’d walked forever. There was no way Zubert was going to remember the route back… though a nagging voice in the back of his head said that might not be a concern soon. Finally, the guard stopped him, creaking open a heavy metal door plastered with warning and hazard signs, revealing a large room full of whirring medical equipment, steel tables with long sheets of tissue paper spread over them, and…

“Oh, a doctor. I got it.” Zubert said.

“Well, they don’t call me that much anymore,” came a smooth voice from the corner. “No respect, these lot.”

Zubert whipped his head around to identify the speaker. Behind a cluttered desk sat a goblin man with long, fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was chewing on something and leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk, clearly comfortable in this odd, chemical-smelling, machine-riddled room.

“What’s this, then?” asked the supposed doctor.

“Test subject.”

The doctor’s brows rose, and his eyes shone excitedly. He kicked off from his desk, chair rolling back enough for him to hop to his feet.

“Can I—?!”

“Non-fatal only.”

The doctor’s cheery face dropped into a disappointed scowl.

“Fine… but I’m never gonna get anywhere on Serum K if you guys don’t give me some expendables!”

“Yeah, yeah,” groaned the guard, shoving Zubert forward into the room. “I’ll let the Master know your concerns.”

The doctor crinkled his nose. “Yeah, sure ya will.”

The guard gave a final wave and a sarcastic “have fun!” as he left, sealing the door behind him.

The doctor turned and gave the tied-up Zubert a strange smile.

“How d’you feel about needles, little man?”

Drixzy hadn’t moved an inch from where she sat. Hours had passed, but she felt frozen. What was going to happen to her? She had spent so long following Gremix faithfully, catering to his every demand for years, and in one foolish moment had thrown that all away. What was she thinking? Why would she do something so stupid?! She rubbed at her temples, mind racing. It was Zubert and Stix—something about them. She was becoming weak for them, forgetting her place… and theirs.

Drixzy gasped, startled from her thoughts as her bedroom door opened once again. A guard’s head popped in.

“The Master calls you. He wishes you to clean up an unsightly mess in the throne room.”

Drixzy, puzzled, stood from her bed to follow the guard out. A mess? Was he making her do chores as punishment?

As soon as she crossed into sight of the throne room, she found herself wishing that true.

She cried out in despair, running into the room with loud, fast CLICK CLICK CLICKs of her boots on the stone. Reaching the center below the throneward stairs, she fell to her knees, hands shaky and unsure of what to do to what she found there… an unsightly mess, indeed. Stix was unconscious, his shirt shred to pieces and his back all but mutilated and losing him significant amounts of blood. She turned her head to the throne to see Gremix seated there, staring down at her, expressionless and cold.

“Master--!”

He raised a hand, flicking his wrist to toss something down at her. Drixzy caught it skillfully, whatever it was, and she brought it close to herself to see it. Small, green, and lightly glowing, it appeared to be a minor healthstone.

“Embed that into his back, an’ clean him up; you might have a chance to keep him alive yet, my pet.”

Drixzy swallowed back tears, brushing one hand’s fingers through bloodstained hair—hair she now knew was white. And this is what he got for her knowing.

“Oh, Stix, I’m so sorry,” she muttered into his ear as she stooped down to lift his limp body. Plenty of guards and other followers were around, and they watched her quietly, some whispering to one another, but not a one offering to help as she hurriedly part-carried, part-dragged the significantly taller, bloodied goblin away.

His eyes didn’t open right away when his consciousness returned to him. Stix pondered in the darkness of his mind if he was dead. Was he in the afterlife? The afterlife felt like a very comfy bed. But slowly his senses returned to him, and he could make out quiet noises. Little subtle sounds that signaled that another person was around. Well, he certainly couldn’t be dead, then; his happiest afterlife, he thought, would be free from dealing with other people ever again. He was already not keen on most people, and recent events were really only setting the roots of that feeling even deeper.

Recent events?

His eyes finally cracked open, just to see nothing but darkness. Wait, was he dead? He lifted his head—no, he just had his face in a pillow, after all. Damn.

He regretted the movement instantly.

“Nnngh--!!” Stix groaned as he winced, plummeting his face back into soft feathery pillows.

“Don’t move!” came a concerned voice from somewhere nearby. Drixzy’s voice.

He only groaned again.

“You’re injured, just lay still and rest,” she said. Her voice was soft, delicate… sad.

He didn’t want to feel bad for her—he was the one who suffered for her! And yet, the tone of her voice seemed to tug at his heart. What annoying, confusing, conflicting feelings he’d had since entering this palace.

“Stix,” Drixzy said, walking over to the side of the bed where he laid, “do you know where Zubert is?”

Stix thought about it. His memories of what happened before he passed out were fuzzy… what was that word again? It had seemed such an odd thing that Gremix said. Oh--

“Doc’r,” came his pillow-muffled response.

Drixzy stumbled backwards as though she had been shoved by the invisible force of his voice.

“D-doctor?!”

“M’hmm.”

“Stay here!” Drixzy said, turning to make a dash out her door, but she paused. “I mean, you probably can’t go anywhere right now if you’d wanted to, but…” Oh, what was she saying? She was in a rush!

The clacking of her boots as she sprinted down halls and around corners echoed throughout the lower chambers. One might have thought that cacophonous sound would be enough for people to keep an eye open, but Drixzy still nearly mowed someone over in her rush. She didn’t stop to apologize. Did she ever stop to apologize? She didn’t remember being polite to followers ever. Why wasn’t she polite to them?

The warning-adorned door smashed open with a loud BANG!, Drixzy immediately yelling, “BAZLEE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?”

The doctor, this Bazlee, blinked at her, apparently having been in the middle of an experiment; syringe in hand, surgical mask over nose and mouth, and someone green and struggling bound to the metal table before him. Her heart sank. It wasn’t Zubert.

“Hello to you too, Drixzy. Why yes, I’ve been lovely, thanks for asking!”

“Where is he?”

Bazlee looked puzzled. “Whom?”

“Zubert!” Drixzy shouted, fear straining her voice. “He’s—he’s short, an’ has black hair, an’ tattoos, an’ really sexy arms!”

From somewhere deeper in the room came a weak chuckle. Her ears perked and she dashed towards the sound.

She went around a large, humming machine of some sort to find Zubert sprawled out on a stained bedroll on the floor.

“You really think my arms are sexy?” he asked. His voice was but a scratchy wisp of strained breath, his face pale and eyelids drooping.

Drixzy knelt beside him, placing a hand on his cheek. He was cold as ice. She swallowed hard, ears pinning.

“Are you in pain? Can you move?” she asked.

Zubert took a bit to respond, seeming to have to gather the energy to over time.

“Badly. Can’t move.” He gave a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Drixzy. I failed you.”

“No, no, of course you didn’t, don’t say that,” she murmured, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

“He ain’t gonna die, you can chill. Probably, at least. …Maybe.”

Drixzy turned, scrutinizing Bazlee, who had snuck up behind her at some point.

“How do I help him?”

The doctor pursed his lips to one side, giving an exaggerated “hmmmmmmmm…”

“Bazlee! This is no time for your crap!” Drixzy snapped.

He snickered and shrugged.

“I dunno, honestly. Warm him up? I design the poisons, not the antidotes.”

Drixzy huffed. She scooped her arms under Zubert’s back and tried to lift, but with a groan of strained effort, she realized that while the bottom half of Zubert was within her limits, his upper body bulk was far too heavy for her to heft all the way back to her bedroom.

Zubert gave another weak chuckle. “Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” Drixzy said, rubbing her hands down her face. What was she going to do?

She scanned her surroundings, seeking anything that could give her an idea—and her eyes landed on Bazlee, who was no longer paying attention to her, instead pulling bloodied rubber gloves from his hands to dispose of.

“Bazlee,” Drixzy started, her voice softer than it had been any time she’d addressed him before, “please, will you help me?”

The doctor eyed her.

“Please—we used to be friends!”

This puzzled the red-haired man, whose brows lowered in concern. “What? When?”

Drixzy paused. When? She could have sworn… her head pounded as she tried to dig up where that thought had come from.

“I… I don’t know.”

Bazlee gave her an incredulous look, but shrugged it off.

“I guess. That useless idiot they just gave me died before I could get anythin’ done, so I could take a break…”

Stix had dozed off, pain wearing him down into sleep again and again, but a clattering awoke him. The sound of the door opening, and what sounded like squeaky wheels…

“Thank you,” Drixzy said, taking one of Bazlee’s hands in her own with a grateful squeeze after they had moved Zubert from the wheeled stretcher they transported him with to the bed.

“Yeah, well,” Bazlee mumbled, pulling his hand away from hers and shaking it off like she’d gotten water or cooties on it. “Next time one of your dudes ends up in my lab, I’m not doin’ this again. Jus’ for the record.”

“You will never see them in there again.”

Bazlee laughed, and taking the stretcher, wheeled it out of the room. A few moments after he closed the door, fast wheel-squeaking could be heard from the halls, along with a “YEEEEAHHHHH!”—then very soon a “WAIT, NO—” and a crashing sound.

Drixzy pursed her lips—she had no time to go attend to the doofus doctor who she could only assume just tried to ride his stretcher down the halls.

“J’fnd’m?” came a muffled voice from pillowed face.

“Yeah,” Drixzy said. “I found him.” She placed a hand tenderly on Zubert’s chest. His breathing was slow and weak.

She tried piling blankets upon blankets upon blankets over him, but nothing she did seemed to warm him, and it seemed the color was completely draining from his body—she’d never seen a green so white. She searched her mind desperately, staring down at her hands. Useless hands! They couldn’t even save her… pets? No, they weren’t pets to her. An ache in her chest denied that term, and she longed for something else. Her eyes drifted from palms to the golden cuffs around her wrists. The fel runes on them flickered and glowed, seeming to move and shift around the surface. She hadn’t quite figured out what these were, but she knew that Gremix had created them, and somehow had been summoning her through them—not by sound, but a strange feeling that emanated from them and crept into her mind when he called her name. Perhaps there was more to the shackles than that. Maybe it was a two-way thing.

“Master,” she whispered. “Please… let me save them.” Zubert watched her, pretty sure he was dying and thus slipping away from reality because Drixzy was definitely talking to her own hands.

Nothing happened—until something did. The runes’ glows shone brighter in a burst of sudden green energy, then faded, the color turning into a vapor that dissipated in the air. What did that mean? What kind of help was that?

But then she felt it. A tug in the back of her mind—like when Gremix called for her, but ever so slightly different. This feeling was not saying “come here.” Instead, it simply said “kiss”.

She was too desperate to question, so she leaned in, and laid a kiss upon Zubert's cold, pallid lips. It was then she understood.

A warmth came from her hands, rising up her arms and into her body. It was the touch of her Master—but not being given to her. It was siphoning through her, and as it rose to her head, she heard a gentle inhale from the near-frozen goblin.

Stix, curious of the quiet shuffling, turned his head just enough that he could peek over with one yellow eye. What he saw, he couldn’t quite explain. Well, he could explain the part that was Drixzy smooching Zubert like she tended to, but the fel glow overflowing from beneath her blindfold and bursting in waves from her wristbands was another thing. The lights seemed to materialize into a green fog, which then drifted around Zubert, where it seemed to then be sucked into him. Miraculously, color was rapidly reappearing in his skin, starting with a golden red in the cheeks and ears signifying not just life but that he was quite enjoying what slowly but surely became a much deeper kiss. Regaining his ability to move, Zubert sat up—hands met faces, silent pleased noises escaped them, and the fel clouds continued until finally Drixzy pulled away. Zubert, half lidded eyes making him seem entranced, tried to lean to follow her, but Drixzy put her hand on his face and for a few seconds they just sat like that. With a twitch of an ear, Zubert seemed to find himself again, though looking confused, and Drixzy lowered her hand.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Zubert looked down at his hands, turning them around, then moved his arms around a bit. “Yeah! I’m kinda achey, but way better now!” He gave her a perplexed look. “What did you do?”

“I d'no, but I don’t like it,” came a muffled voice to the side.

Drixzy frowned. “Stix, let me heal you too.”

“Hell no!” Stix said, wincing as the slight chest movement only served to reopen barely-scabbed gashes, gushing hot blood into the bandages wrapped over practically his entire torso. “Keep that demon stuff away from me.”

“You’re bleeding profusely and in so much pain, though,” Drixzy said, voice low and concerned.

“Don’t care.”

Drixzy sighed. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I failed to take proper care of you both but just ended up hurting you.”

“That’s not true!” argued Zubert.

“Yeah,” Stix agreed, brows lowering into a look of disgust. “You didn’t hurt us, that monster out there on his shiny chair did!”

“Do not speak that way of The Master,” Drixzy said disapprovingly.

“Seriously? How c’n yer stand up for that guy?! Don’t y’ see he’s terrible?” Stix asked indignantly.

“He isn’t,” Drixzy disagreed, slipping off the bed and walking around it to Stix's side. “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know how he is when we’re alone.”

Stix blinked in disbelief. “Are you even hearin' yerself?”

“Stix,” chided Zubert. “Jus’ stop.”

“No! This is insane, this—nnh!”

He had started to try to push himself up, forgetting until too late that every single movement stung like a razor down his back.

He felt hands on his face, which gently turned his head in the opposite direction, towards Drixzy.

“Don’t,” Stix said. “C-c’mon…”

“It really works, Stix, I feel way better now,” Zubert said, trying to offer some reassurance.

“I’m only helping,” Drixzy insisted.

“I don’t want yer help.”

Drixzy scowled.

“Well, I don’t care what you want. You’re mine, and I’ll do as I will.”

Stix couldn’t exactly back away or fight her off, so he just squeezed his eyes shut as she leaned in, twisting to meet his pillow bound face, and pressed her soft lips onto his.

She hadn’t kissed his lips even once; Stix figured she just had Zubert for that kind of stuff. He certainly didn’t think she’d kiss him, and he certainly didn’t think he would have enjoyed it so much. There was a strange warmth that seemed to seep from her lips, tapping into his own body. His mind became vague; were they using tongue? It was as though his consciousness had left his body to float in a liminal space. It was a painless place, an anxiety-free place. So nice. So heavenly.

He blinked, suddenly finding himself once more in his broken body, strewn across Drixzy’s bed. He felt dazed, yet renewed. Shakily, he pushed himself up to sitting, and Zubert gave an excited applause.

Stix still looked worse for the wear, having lost significant amounts of blood, but as shown by Zubert carefully peeling bloody bandages off the skinny goblin, the horrendous mutilated flesh had closed up quite a bit, thick scabbing holding the cuts closed as though it’d had several days to heal already. Stix shuddered as the cold hit his now-bare torso, then hissed sharply through his teeth—“fuck, it still hurts.”

“Still as much?” Zubert asked concernedly.

Stix considered himself carefully before answering.

“Nah. Less, but it still hurts.”

Drixzy peered down at her bracers, but the runes had died down to their usual faint flickering glow. “I don’t think I can do any more. I’m sorry.”

Stix grumbled, but Zubert, much more enthusiastic about not feeling like he was freezing to death, chimed in with a “you’ve done plenty! More than we could have asked for.”

Drixzy gave him a weak smile, and the door creaked open behind her. She glanced over to see a guard simply holding it open. For a moment she was puzzled, but then she realized why he was there as the back of her mind prickled: come here.

She peered at her boys, both better but tired.

“I’m being called for. Try to get more rest, you two.”

Zubert nodded, Stix giving no acknowledgement of her even having spoken.

Drixzy turned and strode out the door. The call wasn’t coming from the throne room this time. She could sense his power even from afar. He was in his chambers.

With a deep breath, she started down the halls.

She entered slowly, warily. The dim, fel-lit room was same as it always was: cold, slightly spooky, and containing the one thing she was truly afraid of…

Gremix.

“You called for me, Master?”

“Yes,” he answered from where he lay, casually leaned against the strikingly carved and engraved headboard of his luxurious bed, arms crossed behind his head. As usual, he wore a delicate, fancy robe, which spread from his crossed legs like a fish tail.

“Join me.” He pulled his arms from behind to pat the mattress beside him. “You’ll be sleeping with me tonight.”

Her heart skipped a beat—it’d been so long since Gremix had let her sleep with him. She wanted to be excited, but a pit in her stomach warned her that Gremix was probably still very displeased with her. Cautiously, she came forth, hefting herself into the soft bedding and crawling over to lay beside her master. An uncertain hand lifted towards his chest, but she hesitated to touch him.

“It’s fine, dear,” he said with a smile that didn’t look quite genuine.

She laid her hand softly on his chest, scooting in close to him and nuzzling into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Master,” she nearly whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Bygones, bygones,” Gremix said, combing clawed fingers through her nearly-white blonde locks. “What’s up with you lately, huh? Of everyone, I never would have thought you would disobey my direct command.”

She burrowed further into his shoulder in shame.

“I’ve been feelin’ so strange,” Drixzy said. “I keep getting confused. I told Bazlee we used to be friends”—Gremix’s brows furrowed immediately—”but that can’t be true… I don’t remember that, nor did he. I don’t know why I said it.”

“I see,” Gremix said, no note of concern in his tone despite the betrayal of a distressed face. “That’s very silly of you. You never met Bazlee until the Palace.”

“I know… but for a moment, I was so sure.” She frowned and shifted back to look entreatingly at the warlock. “What’s wrong with me, Master? I feel like I’m losing grip on myself.”

Gremix pursed his lips, scrutinizing the woman’s face a moment. Reaching up slowly, he lifted her blindfold up and off her head. She opened her eyes, and as usual, they glowed with unholy intensity.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Gremix said, a soft tone to his voice that Drixzy hadn’t heard in so long. “I am going to fix you.”

“Thank you, Boss.”

Gremix froze, and the abrupt stiffening of his muscles indicated to Drixzy that something she said was wrong. Her eyes widened, and her hand shot to her mouth, covering it in confused horror.

“Wh… why did I…”

Gremix's ears pinned, slight movements in his jaw a sign of clenched teeth.

“Never. Call me that. Again,” he said, some sort of powerfully serious frustration seeming to bubble inside of him.

“I-I'm sorry, Master—oh!”

Drixzy found herself suddenly flipped onto her back, the warlock hovering above her on his hands and knees. She couldn’t remember the last time Gremix had looked so upset. Or had he ever looked upset?

“Master,” Drixzy started softly, swallowing a lump in her throat, “how… long have we been here?”

The Grand Warlock’s hand slid up the front of her body and he leaned in to her ear, his warm breath giving her goosebumps.

“Always.”

Zubert and Stix had waited a while for her, but Drixzy did not return that night, and they fell asleep sprawled out in the spaciousness of the bed. When they awoke, she still had not returned. It wasn’t until a while after the door guard brought them dinner that the blindfolded young woman came back.

There was something about the way she was walking—hips swaying, each heeled bootstep like a step down the catwalk. Her lips were tight and straight, her posture immaculate. Expressionless.

“Welcome back, Mi—” started Zubert, practically a dog wagging its tail at its owner’s return.

“Silence.”

Zubert paused. Her voice was flat, cold. He glanced aside at Stix, who returned his troubled look.

“On the floor, pets. Where you belong.”

Both guys seemed to wilt a little, scooching themselves off the comfy linens in disappointment. What happened? Drixzy seemed to have completely changed overnight. Zubert thought it felt familiar… Like how she was when he first arrived.

“Drixzy—”

“I said silence.” Drixzy sneered at them, her voice carrying a malice that chilled them to their cores. “I have failed my Master by being too soft on you both. You will learn your places, or else be destroyed.”

Stix paled. Killed, sure; but “destroyed” sounded—somehow—worse.

“Do you understand me?”

Stix and Zubert both nodded fervently.

A smile crept onto her lips, but not the soft, tender smiles from before. It seemed, in a way, sinister. As though merely watching them fear her was a pleasant joke. A horrible realization crept up on both of the guys.

She was smiling just like him.

[uas-fics]

Title: Thanks For The Tea

Summary: Kenny goes to cheer with this cute goth boy brooding in the corner of City Wok.

Rating: G

Ships: Stenny

Content Warnings: N/A

Others: Read on Ao3

~~~~

The boy had sat in the corner booth of the restaurant for about an hour. In all that time, he had gotten up only once to grab some crab rangoon from the buffet. When he sulked by Kenny, he heard him mutter about how he couldn't believe City Wok didn't serve coffee past noon.

Kenny rested against his mop, trying not to stare at the other boy. He knew him from school, but for the life of him couldn't remember his name. Something with an S, or maybe an M. He had a short name, too. Sam or Mark or Steven, maybe.

The mystery boy pulled apart the fried dough wrapping of his crab rangoon. He tentatively stabbed at the cream cheese, the white a stark contrast to his black nails. Now that Kenny thought about it, everything about him seemed out of place to be at a cheap Chinese restaurant.

Black eyeliner, black lipstick, black shirt, even a black stocking cap. Everything but his skin looked like it had been dumped into a pot of ink. He looked like someone who should be sipping coffee at the Denny's outside of town, not forcing down crab rangoon at City Wok.

He's a goth, Kenny remembered abruptly. That explained all the black and the sulking, at least, but Kenny couldn't help but wonder why he was here by himself. As much as the goths like to preach about not being ‘a puppet to the clique machine of society,’ they tended to stick around each other. Seeing one of them alone without an obvious reason was a rarity. Usually, when a goth got dragged into City Wok, they were with their families.

"What some tea?" A voice took him from his thoughts. Kenny turned to see one of his coworkers standing beside him, a tray in her hands.

"What?" Kenny blinked, hoping she hadn't noticed him staring.

"Tea." She repeated, holding the tray closer. "Table four didn't know hot green tea costs extra and sent it back." A small, metal teapot and two white mugs sat on the tray. Steam wafted up from the spout.

Kenny wrinkled his nose up at the offer. He'd tasted that tea before. It was bitter, and he could only stomach it after five sugar packs had been dumped in the cup. His coworker shrugged at his reaction, about to take the tea to the back, when an idea hit Kenny. He grabbed the tray from her hands.

"Actually, I changed my mind." He told her, carefully kicking his mop bucket behind a fake plant. "Tell Mr. Kim I'm taking my last break." Before she could reply, Kenny walked off.

He took a breath as he neared the goth boy's table. The goth looked up at him, and Kenny stiffen, feeling a blush start to creep up his cheeks. Everything about the goth monochrome black and white, except for his sapphire blue eyes.

Those eyes bore into Kenny before he snapped in that distinct goth drawl, "Can I help you?"

Kenny swallowed his embarrassment before setting the tray down. "I, uh, I heard you, earlier, say you wish we served coffee. It's not coffee, but it's like it. Bitter, hot water, but green not brown..."

He wanted to kick himself. He sounded like a total doofus. 'But green, not brown'? What was he even trying to say?

The goth eyed him critically before reaching for the handle of the teapot. He touched it then froze.

"Am I going to be charged for this?"

"Oh, no, no, no! It's on the house, from--it's on the house." He caught himself. The last thing he wanted was this, admittedly cute, goth boy thinking Kenny was trying to flirt with him or anything. He wasn't going to make any advances until he was sure he was available.

The goth nodded and poured the green tea into the coffee mug. Mr. Kim claimed he did have more traditional cups for the hot tea at one point, but over time they had all been lost or broken, and he didn’t bother to replace them.

The goth took a drink before his face twisted in disgust. "Wow. Bitter, hot water, like you said."

"Sorry, I can get you some extra sugar if you want." Kenny offered, trying not to glance at the sugar packets already on the table next to the soy sauce. He couldn't afford to look like any more of a dingus.

"No." The goth took another drink. "It's like my soul, only not as dark and tormented."

Kenny laughed, but quickly covered it with a cough when the goth fixed him with a puzzled look. He rested his hand on the table.

"So, I think we're in the same grade. I know I've seen you before. What's your name? I'm Kenny." He smiled with as much friendliness as he could put into it.

The goth sipped before replying, "Raven."

'Raven.' So Kenny had been way off in his name guesses.

"That's a cool name, dude." Kenny complimented. Raven didn't reply, instead he shrugged.

They lapsed into silence after a few heartbeats. As they did, Kenny couldn't help but admire him. Normally, he avoided the dark and broody types for more upbeat people, but something about Raven made him put his predisposition aside. Raven was cute, had a strong jaw, a nice face. Now that he was close enough, Kenny could tell Raven's skin wasn't natural that pale. Instead he wore a very light foundation. Accented with the dark eyeliner and lipstick, he looked almost ghostly.

"--here?"

"What?" Kenny blinked.

"I said, how long are you going to stand here?" Raven asked irritably. "Don't you have orders to take or something?"

"Naaaah," Kenny chuckled. "No waiting for me. I'm on my break for the next couple of minutes." Raven opened his mouth, but Kenny quickly went on before he could shoo him away. "What are you doing here by yourself? Where are your friends?"

Raven scowled into his tea. "I don't have friends. I walk this mortal coil as alone as when I was born."

A flirt about taking some of that loneliness away pressed against Kenny's teeth, and it took everything he had not to let it slip out.

"Oh, that sucks." Kenny said instead. "I hate being alone. I used to keep all sorts of strays as pets when I was little, so I'd always have someone around. It was all going great, until Mom found the baby raccoons I kept in my closet."

Some of the irritation in Raven's face lefts, and he perked up with something almost like a smile on his lips.

"I have a dog." He admitted, some of the goth drawl slipping from his voice.

"A dog? I love dogs! How old is he? What breed?" Kenny asked, though he didn't care much about the information. Mostly, he just wanted to see if he could get Raven to actually smile. Oh, his smile must be cute. Kenny found himself willing to say anything to see it.

"He'll be seven this year. The person we got him from said he's part doberman and part rottweiler." A grin spread across Raven's face as he spoke. As Kenny had predicted, it was super cute. "Sparky's a big slobbery mutt. If he knows you'll feed him under the table, he'll set his head in your lap while you eat and--" Raven froze, cutting himself off. His smile slipped from his face.

He continued, his goth drawl back in full force, "I mean, he's a great dog, as far as companions to march towards the black void of de--" He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I can't do this."

"Dude?" Kenny asked with a frown. "Are you ok?"

"I can't do this." Raven repeated. He peeked up at Kenny with those sapphire eyes. A shudder ran down his back. With a sigh, he asked, "What do you do, if you're not who you want to be?"

Before Kenny could answer, Mr. Kim called him from the front. There was a spill near the bathrooms. He swore he had longer before his break was over. Or maybe he didn't. It was easy to lose track of time while admiring someone. He knew that from experience.

"I gotta go." He told Raven. "If you want to keep talking, I get off in another hour and a half. Um, meet me outside."

Raven's face remained emotionless. He didn't respond, instead turning his attention back down to his tea. Kenny sighed inwardly, heading back to where he hid his mop bucket. When he wheeled it from behind the plant, he looked over his shoulder towards Raven's booth.

It was empty.

Kenny spent the next hour and a half in a disappointed daze. This was probably the only opportunity he would ever have to talk to Raven without the rest of the goths throwing judging looks his way. Kenny didn't need anymore judging looks than he already got normally for his ratty appearance.

He hung his apron up on the nail in the back before reaching for his backpack. He pulled his pack of cigarettes from the front pocket as he stepped out the back door of the restaurant. Flipping open the pack, Kenny was greeted with even more disappointment. His pack was empty. Empty just like the back booth.

With a swear, he crumbled it up and tossed it into the dumpster. In all likelihood, his brother had probably stolen the last few from him. Not that Kenny could complain and demand them back since Kevin had been the one to buy the pack for him in the first place.

Great, this day couldn't get any worse. He couldn't wait to sulk home. Maybe he'd drop by Kyley-B's house on the way home, instead, see if he could use his puppy-dog eyes to garner sympathy, and maybe some free food, from Mrs. Broflovski.

"Hey, um, Kenny, right?"

Kenny jumped, spinning around. From beside the fence dividing City Wok from the sushi house next to it, Raven pushed himself up.

"Oh, yeah! Raven, you're..." Kenny trailed off, trying to keep himself from becoming tongue-tied. He took a breath before continuing, "you still want to talk?"

"Yeah, I mean, sure, whatever. Not like I have anything better to do." Raven's shoulders slumped forward. The action sent some of his hair into his face. It didn't look like that unnatural black that some of the other goths had. Kenny didn't think it was dyed.

"Awesome." Kenny flashed a crooked grin.

"Alright," Raven nodded. "Follow me. I don't want to talk here. The smell is giving me a headache."

As they started to leave the alley, Raven took a turn to the left and went down the road towards Skeeter's Bar. Kenny raised an eyebrow and followed behind him. As they passed the bar, he glanced through the front window.

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see his dad inside. More times than he cared to admit, he had to drag his dad off the bar stool on his mom's orders. Once he started working at City Wok, the orders to do so only increased. Leading his belligerent dad through the streets sure didn’t help with the judging looks, either.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he jogged back up towards Raven.

"The woods?" Kenny asked as they stepped over a large fallen tree branch in the path. "You're not an axe murderer, are you? I mean, just in case I need to pretend to be a virgin or something." For the briefest second, Raven smiled at Kenny's joke.

"No. It's private here." He paused at the crossroads up to the old Mephesto Labs before jumped up to sit on the wooden fence. Kenny leaned against the map signpost, putting his hands in his pockets.

He pursed his lips a moment, going over his thoughts. Once he collected himself, he said, "Back at City Wok, what did you mean when you asked if I knew what to do when you don't like who you are."

Raven glanced to the side. He opened his mouth once, shut it, opened it again, before shaking his head. "No, you know what? This is stupid. Never mind. Forget you even saw me."

"Wait! No, dude!" Kenny put a hand reflexively on his arm. "It's fine. I've got nowhere to be, and if you're worried about me judging you, I won't. Promise." Their eyes met and Kenny prayed his sincerity shone through.

Raven pursed his lips then sighed. He slipped completely off the fence but didn't walk away, instead leaning against it.

"'What do you do, if you aren't who you want to be,' is what I asked." Raven shut his eyes. "What am I to you? You don't know me, but what do you see me as?"

"Cute?" Kenny blurted out. He blushed and took a step back, suddenly remembering his hand was still on Raven's arm. "I mean, shit, goth! Goth! I see you as a goth."

The wry smile that appeared when Kenny called him 'cute' faded when he answered 'goth'.

He looked down at his hands. "I became a goth in third grade. Before that, I was just another conformist running the rat race, trying to stay popular and well liked." He laughed, but it was cold. "I was on the football team. Star quarterback, actually. Or as 'star' as an eight-year-old can be."

"Really?" Kenny questioned, astonished that a goth would ever be on a sports team, let alone an MVP.

Raven nodded. "Yeah, but once I became a goth, I dropped the team. It made my uncle and dad cry. I couldn't be the preppy, happy-ass jock they wanted me to be." He spat the word 'jock' like it was a swear.

Kenny hummed. "I sit with one of the basketball players at lunch. Kyley-B? The kid from New Jersey? And he isn't what I would call 'preppy'."

Kyley-B was pretty far from a traditional 'preppy, happy-ass jock' as Kenny could fathom. He was loud, easy to anger, used odd combinations of words that Kenny was ninety percent sure were insults. If not for his athletic skill, he probably would have been kicked from the team years ago.

Raven's face scrunched up. "I know not all jocks are preps. I'm not stupid." He shook his head, slumping farther down until he sat on the cold earth. "What I'm saying is this. I gave up being what my family thought I should be, to be what I thought I should be. Now, though, I'm not sure if this is what I really want."

Kenny frowned, crouching down next to him. "What? You don't want to be a goth anymore?"

A half shrug. "I dunno. Yes? No? I just...don't know. I like my friends. Henrietta, Michael, Pete, Frickle, and I go way back. They've been there for me. I can't just leave them," He rolled his head back, "but I don't want this anymore. I want to wear colors again, not just black. I want to play sports for fun, not just for a passing PE grade. I know it sounds hypocritically coming from  me, but I want to be a conformist again."

Kenny pursed his lips in thought. After a moment, he said, "Will that make you happy?"

"What?" Raven asked, brows furrowed.

"Will that make you happy? Will branching out and trying to be something else make you happy?" Kenny tilted his head. "You know it's not a bad thing to go through phases. Everyone does. I went through a superhero phase that lasted for two years. Looking back it was pretty embarrassing that I ran around with underwear outside my pants, but, I got it out of my system.  Maybe being goth was your phase. Maybe being a 'conformist' will be a phase. Either way, you gotta do what makes you happy, so I say branch out. Find yourself. Be who you want to be."

He smiled brightly, trying to cover the fact that among his corny advice he had actually mentioned his Mysterion phase. Only he and Butters ever talked about those times, and that was almost always to laugh at themselves.

Raven fixed him with a stare for a long moment. It felt like burning on Kenny's skin, but he couldn't really say he completely disliked the feeling. Raven's gaze wasn't judging, not completely and not in a cruel way like when other people judged him, anyway. It was like Raven was trying to figure Kenny out.

Finally, Raven looked away.

"I always figured you were just another conformist poser, saving face and shit," Raven said, "but, you're actually not terrible."

"I'm not too terrible at a lot of things." Kenny winked, unable to hold back the flirts he'd been fighting off since setting eyes on Raven's cute face. He winced internally, hoping beyond hope Raven would take his comment as a joke.

A blush flared up on Raven's cheeks as he scrambled to stand. "I need to go home. I have a lot to think about." He let out a breath through his nose then turned, holding his hand out. "Thank you. You have...a comforting aura. I'm glad I talked to you. Please, don't tell anyone about this--not that I care what anyone thinks or anything. I just don't want any of this getting to the other goths before I've made my choice."

Kenny let Raven haul him to his feet. "You're welcome, thank you, and you have my word. I won't tell a soul."

Raven seemed to believe that. He bobbed his head before turning and heading off down the path deeper into the forest. Kenny watched him disappear among the dense pine trees before looking down at his hand, the one Raven had held.

He touched his palm with his fingertips. Even if they never spoke again, he hoped Raven would do what made him happy and he was glad if he could help with that.

~~~~

"And then I says, I says to him 'are you talking bad about my brother? No one talks bad about my brother but me!'" Kyley-B slapped his fist against the table, causing the lunch trays to shudder. Butters scooted down the bench to avoid being hit by Kyley-B's waving arms. Kenny unconsciously leaned back, though, from his seat across the table, he was out of slapping range.

Kyley-B made a punching motion in front of him. "So I knock the air out of the bastard, and I show him you don't mess with someone from Je--"

"Um, excuse me?"

The three at the table looked up, Butters peaking around Kyley-B to be able to see.

The boy wore a brown jacket and blue hat, both accented with bright red. Unstyled, black hair stuck out from under the knit hat. For a moment, Kenny didn't recognize him, until he met the boy's sapphire colored eyes. He blinked once.

"Raven?" He asked.

"It's, um, it's Stan, actually. Stan Marsh." He corrected.

Realization washed over Kenny. That's right. He remembered now. Stan had insisted everyone call him 'Raven' starting back in third grade, even had his name changed on the class lists. Once middle school came around and everyone went to different classes, Kenny didn't see much of Stan and his memory of him faded.

"Oh, hey! Hey, dude! What's up? How are things?" Kenny grinned. It was manic, but he didn't care at that point.

Stan didn't wear the same monochromatic makeup as before. The makeup he had on now didn't quite match his natural skin tone perfectly, but it made his face look much warmer than before. He looked even cuter than before.

Stan bit his lip a moment before taking a calming breath. "Kenny, I wanted to talk to you, in the hall." He glanced at Kyley-B and Butters. "If you're not busy."

"Nope!" Kenny jumped out of his seat. Kyley-B gave Kenny a knowing look before rolling his eyes. He spun in his seat so he was directly facing Butters and continued on with his story.

Stan nodded nervously to Kenny, before walking out of the cafeteria. He lead them to the library but stopped before heading inside. Instead, he turned and stepped into the small alcove in the wall, pressing himself between the water fountain and the corner.

Kenny rocked on his heels a moment before asking, "Is everything alright? I see you've got some color going on."

Stan shrugged. "Yeah, thanks, I mean--no, yeah that's what I mean. Thanks, thank you." He took his hat off to run his hand through his hair. "Thank you, our talk really helped."

"Did it? I'm glad!" Kenny said. "I guess that means you decided to rejoin the rat race?"

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, for now, at least. I talked to my friends on Sunday, and, honestly, they all knew it was coming."

"Seriously?" Kenny wasn't sure if he should laugh or not, so he cracked a somewhat sympathetic, half-smile instead.

"Michael said he was surprised I didn't 'go back to being an 'acceptance-hungry poser' years ago. None of them thought I would keep being Goth up for as long as I did." Stan's smile wavered. He said, "They said I can still hang out with them if I want, but that feels, I don't know, othering, I guess, if I'm not a goth anymore."

Kenny cocked his head to the side. "Do you want to hang with me and my friends for a while? Butters is a sweetheart and super friendly, and I swear Kyley-B isn't nearly as bad as he seems."

Stan looked taken back for a moment. He opened his mouth to reply when his hip pressed against the side of the water fountain, causing it to turn on. He jumped back, face red.

Kenny gently put a hand on his arm. "We're playing basketball after school. You can join us if you want."

"I, uh, really? Would that be ok?"

"Sure!" Kenny squeezed his arm. "It's always just Butters and me against Kyley-B. Maybe with three of us, we might actually win a game."

Apprehension clouded Stan's features for a moment before he smiled, that same genuine smile like when he was talking about his dog, and Kenny felt his heart do a backflip.

"That would be cool. Thanks."

"Uh, yeah, t-t-totally, anytime!" Kenny stammered. He coughed into his hand and stepped back. "Actually, um, can I ask you a question? Why did you want to talk to me--not now, but before at City Wok."

Stan fixed him with a similar as when he tried to puzzle Kenny out, then shrugged. "I told you, you have a comforting aura."

"'Aura'?"

"Yeah, Henrietta says everyone has an aura, and some people's auras are just better at inviting others in. Yours is like," He pursed his lips a moment, "and don't take offense to this, I mean it in a good way, a dog. It's just friendly like you can talk to you about whatever, ya know?"

Kenny didn't know, but he nodded anyway. Before he could reply, Stan kept talking. "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure, shoot."

The tops of Stan's ears turned red as he asked, "Do you really think I'm cute?"

Kenny swore internally as he fumbled for what to do. He could play it off as a joke, but then if he ever did want to ask Stan out, he would have to own up to his lie. He could admit to it and risk Stan being uncomfortable around him. He could--

"Because I think you're kind of cute, too."

Kenny blinked, dumbfounded. "What? Are you--are you asking me on a date or something?"

"Not yet. I think I'd like to be your friend first." Stan replied. He was trying to play it cool, but the blush and his stiff pose gave him away as just as nervous as Kenny.

The bell on the wall rang then, making both of them jump.

As Stan shot a glare at the bell, Kenny swallowed the lump of nerves in his throat. "Shit, dude, yeah that sounds great."  He patted down his pockets before pulling out a crumbled City Wok receipt and a pen. He scribbled down his number before awkwardly handing it to Stan.

"Here, text me or something and I'll tell you when and where we meet up to shoot hoops."

Stan looked at the number before carefully folding it and put it in his jacket pocket. "I will," He stepped forward, out of the alcove and past Kenny. The crowd of people leaving the cafeteria could be heard down the hall.

"My locker is on the other end of the school." Kenny jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "I need to get going so I'm not late for class."

"Yeah, mine's just up the hall." Stan nodded in the direction of his locker. The crowd of students was upon them then, and Kenny had to duck and dive around students to get into the flow of traffic going his way.

He looked back towards Stan, but he was already swallowed by the crowd.

~~~~

As Kenny sat idly in chemistry class, waiting for the destruction that came with being partnered with both Kyley-B and Eric Cartman, he felt his phone buzzed twice in his pocket.

Ignoring the arguing over which chemical should go into the beaker first, Kenny slipped it out. They were texts from a number he'd never seen before.

"Hey, it's Stan," the first text said. "In all my thanking earlier, I forgot to thank you for something. I think I should do that before I forget."

Kenny felt his whole body warm in delight as he read the next text.

"Thanks for the tea. <3"

~~~~

AN: This has sat in my drafts for a few months now >>, but now I can say I finally did something with Goth!Stan and City Wok!Kenny.

[to4stmp3]

Believing In Magic

Prompt- Dan, Pj, and Chris all have a secret. Because of this they're not allowed to hang out during school hours. Pj and Chris are popular though. Dan is the loner hottie that never talks to anyone. Phil is the new boy.

Word count: 2198

Dan's Pov

"You doofus," I chuckle pushing Chris away from me. Pj laughs as well, until Chris tumbles into him. Instead his face turns bright pink. Yes Pj likes Chris and Chris likes Pj. But neither of them are brave enough to admit it.

They quickly dart away from each other, I just smile. I wish they'd get over themselves and date.

"Dan, school." Pj says, and I fall behind them as they continue off to join the popular kids. Instead I crawl through the hedges and make my way to homeroom.

Once seated in the back I pull out my phone and text Chris, 'i'm in class now. Did they see us?'

Chris, Pj, and their crew enter the room then. Taking their seats in the middle of the room. Chris turns to me quickly and shakes his head no, before turning back to his friends so nobody saw.

You see we can't be friends in school. Why? Because it's too dangerous. The authorities might recognize us as the runaways from a science lab. Then we'd be dead. Good enough reason, yeah? Besides we all have a secret we have to keep just that.

A secret.

. . .

Phil's Pov

I jerk awake at the sound of my mother's voice. Glancing at the clock I jump up and pull on a random pair of skinny jeans. A dark blue color, so I pair it with a black plaid styled shirt that has bright blue intertwined within it.

I pull my back pack on and race downstairs. I quickly tug on my black sneakers, grab a banana, and kiss my mum goodbye. Before running to school, hoping to not be too late.

I've already toured the school this weekend with the principal so I know where my classes are. I keep running until I reach registration. I stop outside the door, and take a deep breath. Readying myself for the stares.

Racing my hand, I knock.

"Come in!" A muffled voice sounds through the closed door. I'm guessing it's my teacher. I push the door open and carefully step inside. "Hello,you must be the new student. Philip, correct?" She asks.

"Yes. You're Ms. Ternan right?" I question.

"That's right." Ms. Ternan smiles. "Class we have a new student. His name is Philip." She gestures at me. "Philip why don't you tell us something about yourself?"

Clearing my voice I say, "okay. Well hi." I wave awkwardly. "I'm Philip or actually I go by Phil. I just moved here to America from England. I'm 18 and that's really it. So?"

I scan the room, taking everyone in, when my eyes settle on a boy in the back hunched over a notebook. His brown mocha colored hair covers half of his face. The part I can see shows beautiful bronze skin and a deep dimple in his cheek. He's gorgeous.

He's wearing black skinnies, a black shirt with a big white circle, and white converse. His arms are littered with band jelly bracelets.

"Phil, why not tell us about your hobbies?" Ms. Ternan breaks through my thoughts. I glance at her and blush slightly. I nod my head taking another gasp of air.

"I like reading fantasy books. I love the idea of super powers and good versus evil. The idea of princesses, dragons, and trolls. That in every story their be a hero. Usually a handsome prince, but sometimes someone completely unexpected. Maybe a giant, elf, or even a princess." I smile dreamily to myself. "I love how FairyTales always end with a happy ending. But I like that sometimes in other fantasies, they don't. How sometimes they show that a happy ending is overrated."

"Wow that was a very in-depth look. You must really like to read, Phil." I look around the room to fin everyone staring at me. Including the boy in the back, whose mouth had dropped open and was looking at me in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah. They just really...Um... in-interest me." I stutter. Then quickly Stan up straighter. Why should I be embarrassed by something I'm passionate about? "It's probably because I witnessed magic before."

"Haha, really? You witnessed Magic before?" The brown haired boy asks suddenly.

"Yes, yes I have." I say confidently.

He crosses his arms. "Well get on with it. Tell us the story."

I smirk, "fine Mr. Jerk face." A few people snicker and he glares at me before gesturing with his hand for me to continue. "I was 7 years old and went to London for the day with my class to visit a historical museum. I of course wandered away with my best friends Tyler, Troye, and Louis."

"Tyler and Troye soon disappeared to probably find a cupboard to snog in." I chuckle to myself. "Leaving me with Louis. Or so I thought. When I turned to ask her something she was gone. By now I was kinda scared. I was all by myself, in a creepy museum, and I was lost."

I look away from the boy in the back to see everyone hanging onto my every word.

"So I turned around to head back. Getting more frightened by the minute when I heard it."

"WHAT DID YOU HEAR!?" A boy in front with curly brown hair and light green eyes shouts in a entranced tone. I laugh quietly.

"A voice of a young boy. He kept whispering, 'helophonia' over and over. It was quite freaky to tell you the truth. But as scared as I was, I was more curious than anything. I followed the voice. Which was soon joined by two others. All three boys were whispering 'helophonia'."

The brown haired boy looked slightly uncomfortable, as was the boy who shouted out, along with a boy beside him. Strange.

"Once I finally located them they were all holding hands in the middle of the room. Continuing to whisper. I was about to ask what they were doing when a blinding light flashed and they were gone."

"And then what?" Another boy with brown hair asks, the same one who was looking uncomfortable earlier.

"I looked around but nothing was left. No sign any one was there. It's like they never really existed. I asked someone who worked at the museum about it. But they had no idea what I was talking about." I sigh, "to this day I still wonder what happened to them."

"Did you see what they looked like?" The boy in the back asks.

"No, all I know were they were boys, and all had brown hair." I answer truthfully.

"Well shit." The boy says after a long silence.

"Daniel Howell, enough!" Ms. Ternan snaps.

He huffs, "sorry."

She smiles at me. "Well Phil. That was something. But this is end of homeroom now. You all may leave." With that everyone heads off to class. Well besides the two boy in front who asked me stuff.

"Hey Phil. I'm Pj and that Chris." The green eyed on says. "That was a cool story. Wish I had been there." He chuckles, sharing a glance with Chris.

"So you believe me?" I question. Nobody ever believed me before. I'm kinda shocked they might.

"Of course! Nobody could come up with that on the spot, and you didn't make yourself out to be a hero. Plus you seem very honest." Chris answers for him.

I smile, finally somebody trusts me.

. . .

Dan's Pov

Fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck

He was there! Phil was there when we came to America!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

Calm down, Daniel. Breathe in, and exhale... FUCK!

I really need to relax, I feel like I may faint. So I head out of the school building and walk behind the shed were everyone smokes, I choke on the horrible after smell. Lifting my hands I begin to let my self take control again. And do the only thing that could calm my rapidly beating heart.

I begin to move. (And no he's not dancing)

. . .

Phil's Pov

A lot of people ask me about the story, most thinking I made it up. So by the end of the day, I'm labeled, sadly, a liar. It doesn't really bother me though. That's what I've always been labeled as.

It's now my third day and I'm in a sort of, well snitch.

A boy name Jake has took it upon himself to personally make my life a living hell. Which I greatly appreciate, note my sarcasm?

But today is by far the worst. I kind of, uh... agreed to fight my bully. IT WAS ON ACCIDENT I SWEAR! He just got under my skin and before I knew it I blurted out to meet me outside after school...

So, um.... oops...

Dan seemed pretty freaked to tell the truth. He's quite strange if you ask me, but oh well. I'm weird myself.

It's currently last hour and five minutes before the final bell. Five minutes before I get my ass kicked. Gulp.

'blring'

Crap.

I slowly make my way outside, a crowd has already formed, and in the middle is the one and only Jake. I set my bag down and cautiously walk over. I intend to fight with all my will. Oh who am I kidding? I'm dead! Please attend my funeral, yeah?

"Ready, Lester?" Jake snarls.

"As ready as I'll ever be I suppose." I whisper.

Taking a step forward I get into my best fighting stance. But before I can even move Jake has his fist colliding with my jaw. I stumble back startled, only to trip and fall hard on my bum.

Jake laughs before kicking my in my side. Raising his fist to hit me again, until...

A huge branch flies past me and hits Jake causing him to fall back. A bunch of rocks suddenly lift around him and drops harshly, bruising his tanned skin.

I look around trying to figure out what's going on, when I see Dan. He's running to me his hands outstretched. I glance back at Jake to see my bully lifted in the air. I gasp leaves my parted lips. What the?

"Pj, Chris now!" Dan shouts. And suddenly Pj appears with water swarming around him and lifts his hands to wrap it around Jake's unmoving body. The water suddenly freezes and my bully let's out a girly screams.

Then Chris Kendall runs forward and raise his hands, fire erupting from his palms, melting the ice away, leaving Jake to helplessly fall the ground.

Dan towers over him and hisses, "Don't. Hurt. Phil. Again!"

Jake wobbly stands, sheepishly nods, and then runs away in fear. I slowly turn to Dan, Pj, and Chris who all seem scared.

Everyone around us is shocked, we all await an answer to the events that just took place.

"So yeah," Chris laughs. Pj smacks his shoulder and the boy groans.

"Sorry guys if we frightened you." Dan shyly says, twiddling his fingers nervously.

"You see, we all have special powers." Pj tries to explain. "I control water, ice, and air. And Dan has Telekinesis. Chris-"

"I GET TO PLAY WITH FIRE!" He interrupts happily. Proud of his talent.

I stare with my mouth hanging open.

"Phil, in that story you told on the first day." Dan begins. "Well that was us. We were escaping from a science lab under London where they experimented on kids like us."

"That's why nobody can know about our secret. Because then the authorities will take us away again." Pj adds.

"And the lab was scary. And the scientists were mean." Chris ends, shuddering.

I slowly nod. Understanding.... sorta.

"Guys we have to go. They'll be here soon. We need to try and find a place far away and hide out again."

"Uh... I think I know a place." I say, and for the first time I'm confident in myself.

. . .

"Thank you so much Phil." Dan thanks me profusely. They let me tag along to the old museum that I first discovered them. I knew it would be safe because it shut down a few years ago, and they secured it tightly.

"Its no problem Dan. I'm just glad I could help." I blush.

Pj and Chris are snuggled in another room, while Dan and I are taking here.

Dan shyly takes a step forward before cupping my cheek, and connecting our lips.

OMIGOD!

It was slow but passionate. Simple but elegant in a way. In other words, it was perfect.

"No thank you Phil." He whispers. "For believing in us, for helping us, for not pulling away when I Kissed you." He chuckles.

I giggle, "shut up Daniel." I scold before reconnecting our lips.

And I swear in that moment, the wonderful, perfect, and passionate moment. I believed in magic more than ever.

[deer-fairy]

Nursey Doesn’t Know He’s Bi

Shhh just hear me out ok. buckle up your seatbelts and let’s talk about this doofus of a boy who doesn’t know that he likes boys.

Derek doesn’t know what it is about William that makes him enjoy being around him, even if they drive each other crazy.

William doesn’t know why this boy won’t just let him live his life and keep his pretty face to himself. It goes to show you that the one boy who William develops a crush on ends up being straight as hell.

But there’s just something about him that gives Dex hope.

Maybe it’s the way Nursey brings him coffee every Thursday morning before they go to English 111.

Or the way Nursey cant help but smile every time Dex walks into the room

Or how about whenever Dex gets tired and really just wants to listen and not talk, Nursey will gush for hours about this novel he is reading.

Dex loved spending time with Nursey and hell he’d fallen in love head over heels for this boy, but he kept reminding himself that Nursey was straight.

Nursey didn’t know why being around Dex was so easy. 

He memorized Dex’s coffee preference (cinnabon creamer and two Splendas) and brought it to him every Thursday.

He didn’t know why when Dex talked to him, his cheeks started to warm up or his hands would get sweaty.

Nursey had no idea why longed to touch his fiery red hair and stroke it until Dex fell asleep in his lap.

The only other person he felt this way about was Maggie...who he ended up dating for a year.

Holy crap...he...likes???DEx????

Nursey suddenly freezes and all external noise just stops

He likes? Dex? What? HOw can this be? he had only liked girls or found girls pretty before. Like sure he’d seen pictures of like Chris Evans abs and been like wow id like to like a shot of vodka off him, but who wouldn’t right, Shitty?

Shitty: Chris Evans is a beaut

Lardo: Shitty isn’t the one to talk about normal str8 boy stuff with

Nursey: *hits the blunt faster and harder*

Nursey had to take this all in and process it holy crap what was this.

When he finally came back to reality, he knew what he had to do.

He marched his way across campus to the Haus where Dex was busy trying to get Betsy to run again.

He walked in the kitchen and saw Dex with his red baseball cap on backwards and in blue jeans and a tight white shirt with grease stains on it and he could barely breath..

Dex heard him walk in and looked up from where he was working. “Hey Nurse,” he smiled, “how’s it going?”

Nursey walked over to him and planted a sloppy wet kiss on Dex’s chapped lips and prayed to God.

He broke away and Dex was all starry eyed and trying to figure out what happened.

Nursey just nodded, “Yup...im definitely bi.” He turns and starts to walk out of the kitchen. 

Before leaving, he throws his head over his shoulder and says, “Dex. Dinner? At 8?”

Dex nodds, “yeah...totally...that would be like...chill.”