#but this death came out of nowhere and smacked me in the face

[gaylordscooter]

You're at the Party

“so you brought mass murderers to my place without warning me beforehand?” Cross said.

“Haha, nice.”

“don't humor them, chara.”

Blue wrung his hands together, opening his mouth to explain only for Ink to cut in.

“Listen, these guys aren't gonna cause any trouble. Besides, I thought this was a place where people could start over.” Ink crossed his arms.

“Two of them killed everyone in their universe? Hm, a Sans killing a bunch of people…Where have I heard that before?” XChara nudged Cross’s arm.

“you know that isn’t the problem here.”

Everyone gave Cross a look as if he was the one that was being unreasonable here.

Cross sighed, “fine, they can stay. but they need to pass a test first.”

Blue narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of test?”

“well, i guess it's more of a favor.”

“Is this what I think it is? You're not sending them there.”

Cross waved away his concern. “it’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What are we talking about?” Ink questioned.

Blue leaned close to Ink. “He’s totally planning to use them to retrieve his friend.”

“Oh! Hah. Ahahahahaha!” Ink giggled like he told him a joke. His eyelights reflected his amusement as he stared at Cross. “So we’re at this part now, huh?”

Cross looked confused while Blue huffed at his words and XChara looked bored.

Ink clapped his hands together. “Well then~! Have fun with that~!” he said cheerfully.

“I'm sure those tildes have no malice behind it,” Blue deadpanned.

“Oh, when have my tildes ever held malice~?”

Blue opted for putting his hands on his waist rather than gracing that with a reply.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce! I’ll see y’all later. Don't have too much fun without me~!” He painted a hole in the ground and hopped into it while waving goodbye.

“Eugh, he's like a kid that just learned about emoticons,” XChara said.

“you can't even see the tildes,” Cross pointed out.

XChara rolled their eyes. “I don't have to. I can hear it in his voice.”

“Never mind that. Cross, you can't send them there! I’ve already been making a careful plan. To just toss it out the window and replace it with an improvised one isn't a good idea!”

He rolled his eyelights and crossed his arms. “It doesn't need to work, anyway. I don't expect it to.”

Blue’s sockets widened as he gasped. “So you're just,” he gestured wildly, “sending them off to their deaths? Where's your compassion?”

“Where was their compassion when they hurt all those monsters?”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “Where's your compassion?” he repeated in a duller tone.

“Don't you have a Mettaton to serve? This isn't your business.” he snapped back.

Blue threw his hands up, “Wow! Sheesh. Fine. Go have fun torturing the prisoners of war.” He stormed off with a frown.

XChara and Cross watched as he walked in a direction that definitely led to nowhere rather than towards the town.

“He has a point,” XChara stated.

“Awful navigation skills is what he has,” Cross spat. He noticed XChara’s unamused face and did a double take. “Do you actually agree with him?”

“Huh! Do I agree with him that you have no right to judge these morally messed up monsters and that sending them to that freak’s place as punishment is completely hypocritical of you?” They stroked their chin and pretended to think about it hard. “Yes, Mr. ‘the reason why our world has become a hotspot for people who messed up like you!’”

“You don't care about them at all. You're just saying that to spite me.”

“I am, thanks for noticing,” they deadpanned.

Cross brought a hand to his face and sighed.

Killer awoke. He wasn't refreshed in the slightest and he nearly panicked over waking up in unfamiliar surroundings if it wasn't for Dust smacking him on the head.

No wait, he was called Dusk now. He even came up with that name for him.

Sheesh, the sudden change is gonna be hard to get used to.

Right. New chapter of his life. Again. Again again, actually.

Ironically, he was starting to get sick of new experiences.

This wasn't a bad change, really. In fact, it was a clear upgrade. Well, that's what he thought back when Nightmare first found him too, so.

He was waiting for the catch. He was ready this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Both of them had the knee-jerk reaction of summoning a blaster angled at the door but then the rational part of their minds took over and they scrambled out of bed to hold their blasters' mouths shut.

“good morning to you guys too,” said the voice behind the door.

They managed to desummon their blasters once they recognized that it was, in fact, Horror that knocked.

There was unmistakable joy on Killer’s face. He didn't say it, but he was convinced Horror was going to avoid them since they got settled in.

He skipped over to the door like a gleeful idiot and opened the door.

Killer was surprised by his getup. It was the first time he's seen him in different clothing. If it wasn't for the red eye in his socket he wouldn't have recognized him.

The first thing he noticed was the cap he was wearing. It was a generic white cap that covered the hole in his head. Other than that, his outfit was the same as any other normal Sans, sans the signature hoodie. He also looked a lot less tired.

“‘sup, h—sans. ‘sup sans,” Killer said, barely catching himself. He couldn't help but still refer to him as “Horror” in his mind, since from the day they met that's what he called him and known him as. But those names were nothing but brands that Nightmare put on him and Dusk. They weren't names that they chose for themselves.

“hey,” he replied with a small wave, mostly aimed at Dusk to acknowledge his presence even though he hadn't approached the door yet. “so…” he trailed off, unsure.

So.

They were in unfamiliar territory now. After a whole year of living with Nightmare, they formed somewhat of a schedule. A loose one, but a schedule nonetheless—mainly built off of the way Nightmare acted. 

With that thrown out the window, every step they took was unfamiliar. Potentially dangerous. Ironic, considering they were in a safer area now. At least they assumed so.

They hoped so.

They would normally eat breakfast at this time, probably. They weren't ever exactly sure what time it was, but that's how it's been their whole life. It felt like it was around that time, at least.

“my bro said there's a bakery here.” Another pause. Okay, he didn't have to make this that awkward. “you two wanna scope the place out with me?”

Killer’s smile perked up at the edges. “hate to say it, that sounded like you just asked us out on a date.”

“‘k, forget i asked.” He made the move to shut the door.

“nah, i’m joking! we’ll go—” he whipped his head to Dusk for verification, who gave him a thumbs up. “—yeah, let's go.”

So they got out of the hotel room. The lobby had a few people, unlike last time.

None of the three really acknowledged anyone there and no one acknowledged them, until some Monster Kid said a mere hello that made them all awkwardly respond; either with a curt head nod, wave, or quiet “hi” back.

Boy, they weren't ready to be perceived by anyone else. How the hell were they going to handle entering a cafe, let alone going outside? Well, Sans managed, so.

Sans was probably the most stable of the three, let's be real. He was the only one who had contact with other people before Nightmare came to them. When it comes to interaction, Killer and Dusk have done nothing but literally talk to themselves for who knows how long.

The second Sans started to open the door, Killer protested, “actually. could you just grab me something instead? i’ll stay in the room.” When he turned to retreat, Dusk grabbed him by the arm.

Dusk gave him a look that spelled “really, coward?”

“i don't think i’m ready, okay? sue me,” he said. He could already feel eyes on him. The stares gnawed away at his bones, trying to eat him alive. 

They knew what he wanted to do.

Dusk sighed, letting go of his arm. “we can't go,” he signed to Sans.

“right…” he sounded disappointed—no that was pity in his voice. He probably didn’t even expect the two to agree in the first place. “anything specific you want?”

“nothin’ with chocolate.”

Dusk shook his head.

“gotcha. i’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Dusk and Killer watched as he sauntered off to be a normal monster that was a part of society. Then they walked at a breakneck pace back to their room.

Once they were back in the safety of their private room, they collapsed on their beds.

Killer, face buried against his pillow, groaned in frustration. “i hate this. we're safe now and i can't even go outside. do you feel it too, dusk? that tug on your soul?”

He might kill someone if he went outside. It was highly likely.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy to return to a normal life—of course his high LOVE would haunt him. He was too tired yesterday to be bothered by it, but now, any other monster he saw that wasn't Dusk or Sans had his soul screaming for more exp.

“i’m trying to ignore it,” Dusk mumbled.

He laughed. That's not going to work. That is not going to work and they both know it. 

That’s.

That's not going to work.

“it was—it was better when we were stuck with Nightmare. we wouldn't be able to—”

“It wasn’t better,” Dusk interrupted.

“—we’re going to kill someone. we're going to kill someone and it's going to snowball and it'll—hah—it'll be like a snowball of dust!”

He was choking now, on the rotten determination coming out of his skull.

“killer.”

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer.

“killer!”

That's all he was.

“Killer.”

Oh, someone was holding him by the shoulders. Wow, everything was blurry and stained black. No, that was just the liquid in his sockets. He tilted his head down, letting it flow out until he could see better.

Oh, it was Dusk. Right.

He shuddered out a breath. He realized all his senses had turned off for the past few seconds. When the hell did he get on the floor?

His eyelights finally focused enough to stare back at Dusk. He didn't like the worried look he had on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but all that did was make him hack out more rotten determination.

“well…” the sentence died on his teeth the second he started. “i want to go back to sleep,” he settled on saying.

Dusk brought him into a stilted not-quite-a-hug, where he brought him closer and draped his skull over his shoulder.

They just. Stayed there. For a bit.

“another episode…i’m starting a daily streak, really.” Any humor he thought that statement would have was completely absent. God, how fucking pathetic was he? Surely Dusk was struggling with his LOVE just as much as he was but he didn’t fuss about it. He shouldn’t need Dusk’s comfort and Dusk shouldn’t need to comfort him. He was so selfish. So needy.

Killer willed himself to move away from Dusk to lay back down on his bed.

The room was quiet until someone knocked on the door again.

Dusk opted to answer the door since Killer wasn't budging.

Fortunately it was Sans who was at the door but unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Behind him was another skeleton he hadn't seen before.

He wore monochromatic clothing and there were large x’s on his sleeves and boots. He looked a lot younger than all of them. He must've been in his 20’s. His eyelights were a lot bigger than the average sans, with a slitted pupil reminiscent of a cat’s.

Despite the youthful look, one glance was enough to tell Dusk that he had a lot of LOVE too. It wasn’t nearly as much as he or Killer had, but it was more than the amount Sans had.

Dusk glared at the stranger as if he personally wronged him.

Sans didn’t look too happy either with the death grip he had on the bag containing their breakfast.

“hey,” Sans said. He walked in as if everything was fine and normal.

The stranger also tried walking in as if everything was fine and normal.

A wall of bones rose in front of him to block his path.

Killer sat up on the bed, “nope. not dealing with unwelcome company now, thank you.”

The stranger cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “well, i’m actually the organizer of this place. the name’s cross. i’m sure ink told you three about me.”

“i’ve never heard of you in my life,” Killer said.

It was painfully clear that Cross was already annoyed by Killer, despite his attempts to keep his face neutral. “i’ll just get to the point—”

“he’s gonna test us. if we pass, we can stay. if we don’t, we’re getting kicked out,” Sans said. He opened the bag of food and grabbed a pastry for himself before handing it over to Dusk.

Dusk hesitated as he grabbed the bag. He quickly grabbed the first pastry he laid his hand on and turned to Killer.

“we’re getting kicked out?” Killer repeated.

“only if you don’t pass the test,” Cross emphasized.

Killer stood up as the wall of bones went away. He shambled over to him with a misleadingly calm expression. He leaned close to Cross’s head, keeping his hands by his sides. “what’s the test?”

Cross stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on Killer as if he would attack him if he merely glanced away. “a rescue mission,” he answered with a steady voice despite the tension.

“the blue guy said you weren’t going to torture us,” Killer spat.

“it’s not torture. i have a plan. it should be simple,” Cross insisted.

He narrowed his eye sockets. “so why are you using us as fodder?”

“it’s a test.”

Sans snagged the bag from Dusk and shoved it over to Killer. “no point in complainin’, just roll with it.”

Killer pushed the bag aside. “why are you being so compliant? he’s going to send us to our deaths!”

“because we don’t have a choice,” he sighed. “besides, we’ve gone through hell and back, what’s one more trial?”

Killer caved in and grabbed the bag to fish out a pastry for himself. He took a hefty bite from it specifically to talk with his mouth full, “you gonna leave us alone after we complete this ‘rescue mission’?”

“yeah, just this one thing and you’ll all prove that i can trust you to stay here.”

Killer winced at the word “trust”. He quickly scarfed the rest of the pastry down. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Cross for putting them through a trial considering that they’re all murderers. Well, he didn’t think Sans should be judged to the same extent as them. He needed to kill all those humans in order to survive.

“why does sans need to go too? his friends and family have already been staying here,” he asked.

Cross looked surprised by his question. Fucker probably didn’t expect him to be considerate. “the plan’s easier with three people, and all three of you worked with nightmare.”

“worked!?” Killer shoved the bag towards Sans and grabbed Cross by his shirt. “we didn’t work with that bastard. he KIDNAPPED us! if you think for one second that we associated with him? oh you got it entirely wrong, asshole! do you think we had fun being his fucking toys?” he snapped.

“killer, let go of him,” Sans said.

“y’know what? fine. i’ll do your stupid test. nothing you put me through will be worse than what he did to us,” he snarled before pushing him away.

Cross fixed the wrinkles Killer made on his clothes. His nonchalant behavior pissed Killer off even more.

He was lucky he actually listened to Sans.

“sorry, i wasn’t aware of that,” he said quietly.

Killer calmed down only slightly at the apology. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “you better be.”

Cross waited for them to finish eating breakfast before he went over the plan.

As he talked more, the three were even less psyched about doing this.

They were going to disguise themselves and then enter the place through a portal made by Ink. The first part of the plan was finding the right monster. Cross handed them an image for reference. They collectively sighed when they saw it was yet another Sans. If he wasn't wearing the same outfit it would be hard to find him, that's not to mention that Cross said the place they were infiltrating was a packed warehouse.

The second part of the plan was actually leaving the place. Which was supposedly the easier part of the plan because Ink will arrive and make another portal once they find the monster.

All in all, this just sounded like some dumb hidden object game rather than a rescue mission.

Ink arrived at the room shortly after Cross finished explaining. He came in holding a pile of clothes, their disguises.

Said clothes were all campy and flashy.

“in what world,” Sans held up a sequin jacket that had colors that could blind hawks, “are these disguises?”

“Well you're going to a party! A rave, specifically,” Ink explained.

Killer snatched a red leather jacket and bell bottom jeans from the pile. “all of these shirts suck, i’m gonna change.” He went over to the bathroom with the articles in hand.

“Oh yeah!” Ink snapped his hand. He reached into the pockets of his pants and took out three pairs of sunglasses, each were different shapes. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

“glasses,” Sans remarked.

Dusk and Sans exchanged glances with each other.

“it's really bright there,” Cross explained.

“in a warehouse?”

“trust me, the strobe lights could probably blind you otherwise.”

Sans narrowed his sockets.

Killer finished changing and waltzed out of the bathroom, flaunting his gaudy outfit.

“no shirt?” Sans remarked.

“i said they all suck.”

“surely you could just wear the shirt you already had on.”

“actually,” Cross butted in, “after you three get back we’re burning those clothes immediately. so probably don't wear anything that's actually yours.”

“and why are you doing that?”

“Cooties,” Ink deadpanned.

Cross frowned at him.

“Anyways, take a pair. Whatever you do, do not take them off.” Ink held out the shades with a wink.

Killer opted for the triangular ones while Dusk grabbed the rectangular ones and Sans got the circular ones.

Then Dusk and Sans grabbed whatever clothing, tossing any attempts to make a cohesive outfit out the window, and took turns changing in the bathroom.

Finally, Cross looked over the three, determining if their disguises were good to go. Dusk and Sans’s fits were horrible. That neon fluffy bucket hat that Sans wore was definitely not comfortable. At least Killer had a cohesive outfit.

He spent a second longer looking at Killer's sunglasses. He leaned close to Ink. “it doesn't cover his sockets fully,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fiiine,” Ink assured. He clasped his hands together. “Okay! You're all ready to go. Don't forget, you're looking for Epic, the most notable feature is the scar on his eye socket. Keep your distance from other partygoers and do not take off those shades.” His scarf swept at the floor underneath the three, creating holes that lead to their destination.

The three could barely see Ink waving goodbye as they fell.

The landing wasn't bad, all of them landed on their feet just fine, but the change in atmosphere gave them whiplash. While it was dark as night, strobe lights flashed and lit up the place erratically.

Oh god the music.

Eurodance from the 90’s was blasting with bass heavy enough to shake the building.

Oh god, the amount of monsters.

They were also dressed in gaudy outfits, which explained why their disguises were like that.

“cool. all we need to do is find whoever the hell ‘epic’ is. should we split?” Killer asked.

“oh god no,” Sans said.

Dusk grabbed them by their shoulders to drag them around and start their search.

“they're all wearing glasses too, didn't they say a scar on the socket is how we can differentiate him?” Sans said.

Killer groaned, “this is gonna take forever! we should just ask around or something.”

“you suddenly in the mood for social interaction?”

“this sensory nightmare’s making me feel like i’m floating out of my body, i just want to get this over with.” Killer approached one of the partygoers. “hey, y’know where a skeleton called epic is?”

He was completely ignored.

“cool. awesome. if we don't split up this’ll literally take forever, peace.” Killer walked off without waiting for the other two’s input.

Dusk and Sans watched as he got lost in the crowd in a whopping five seconds.

Dusk face palmed.

“maybe…maybe we can ask the dj? then they'll put out an announcement, or something,” Sans said.

“not that simple,” Dusk signed. He spelled out “fishy”.

“would it hurt to try?”

Dusk frantically shook his fist in a “yes.”

“eh, don't be a downer. where is the dj, anyway?” He looked around, fortunately most of the monsters here were around the same height as him so his view wasn't too obstructed. “yeesh, this place is big.”

The strobe lights flickered more as they all started moving to one point. The lights shone on the DJ station, the DJ themself was still shrouded in darkness. The sound of scratching discs filled the building as the music quieted down. “HOW WE FEELIN’ BROSEPHS ‘N JOESEPHS!?”

A mechanical roar of cheers rang out among the crowd.

They recognized that voice. They most definitely recognized that voice.

Dusk grabbed Sans by the arm.

“okay,” Sans breathed, “that's fine. maybe, no one knows his deal. we can just. leave the building.”

Dusk tugged at Sans, pointing furiously at the ground.

It was hard to notice due to how dark and packed it is, but on the ground were several piles of dust.

“hm. nice knowing ya.”

“You party animals havin’ fun?! I know I am, yo!” The unmistakable sound of Fresh’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse. The lights finally shone on him. He looked exactly the same as the first time they saw him. He was spinning. a disc on his finger. “I just gots some totes rad news before we continue on with gettin’ jiggy.”

The colored lights moved over to his side, revealing a stage that was hidden in the darkness, and on the stage was Killer. He looked confused, as if he didn't even know how he got up there.

Sans nearly swore but Dusk slapped a hand over his mouth.

When he caught sight of Fresh he stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Any bros know this fool?” Fresh asked. He put the disk back on the turntable and scratched his chin. “I don't. Did we invite him?” His bemusement barely masked his elation at having prey he didn't have to catch.

Killer didn't know what to do. He looked down at the crowd. The sunglasses they wore were originally all blank but the familiar “YOLO” text was on them now.

Running definitely wasn't going to help.

“Eh no biggie. I’ll give him a proper introduction to this rad party.” Fresh turned the music back on.

Killer internally swore at Cross, cursing his entire life. He was going to die and it was going to be to the fucking tune of a stupid 90’s song about sex. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

He summoned a blaster aimed at Fresh and fired.

Only for one of the partygoers to leap into the blast to block it.

Killer watched in horror as he dusted that monster. The familiar rush of exp hit him like a truck, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

“oh god,” Sans muttered from the crowd.

The three were completely powerless in this situation. This wasn't a fucking test. They were sent to their deaths.

What a sick joke.

“Oh snap! Well, you're just gonna hafta replace that now, aren't ya?” Fresh disappeared with a poof, promptly reappearing behind Killer.

Killer quickly pushed himself up and backed away from him.

Fresh didn't even follow him, the stage wasn't that big anyway.

He reached the edge of the stage, back to the crowd. Only Fresh could see the fear on his face.

Some of the crowd climbed on stage to grab his ankles, anchoring him down.

 He was hyperventilating, he was overwhelmed, he felt nothing at all.

He felt nothing at all.

Dusk and Sans went as far as they could away from the stage. They eventually reached a wall. Sans leaned against it in defeat while Dusk banged his skull against it.

Sans winced at the loud thud.

They could vaguely see the stage from here. Killer was gone and Fresh returned to his station.

The party continued on like nothing happened.

“so. do you think you’ll end up back in your universe after, or.”

Dusk huffed.

“right.” Dumb question.

They just stood there against the wall watching the neverending party. They questioned if this was hell or purgatory. No, this was definitely hell.

“ey, i finally found you guys.” It was Killer.

Dusk and Sans tensed.

His soul was a shape they’ve never seen it be before. It was in the shape of a flower.

“chillax, i’m not gonna do anything,” he said. His cadence was off. “you two have just been standing there all gloomy…” He put a hand on the wall just above Dusk’s shoulder. “why don’t you come join the fun?”

With how close he was, Dusk was able to see the parasitic flower in the small sliver of his sockets that wasn't covered by the triangular shades.

Killer leaned closer to his face. “c’mon, i’m getting lonely.”

Sans socked him in the face.

Dusk flinched back in surprise as Killer fell to the ground from the impact.

Sans shook the pain off his hand. “i think we're good.”

Dusk knelt down by Killer. He took his shades off and immediately plunged his hand into the socket containing the flower.

“uh—” Sans reached a hand out but was interrupted by Killer’s lucid screaming.

The nearby skeletons slowed their dancing, turning over to the interruption.

With one last quick yank, the flower snapped off. Dusk dropped it and stamped his foot on it repeatedly.

Killer gasped for air and keened in pain. Then he passed out.

Dusk blinked in shock.

Sans cringed, “think you went a bit overboard.”

“you were the one who punched him!” Dusk blurted stupidly.

“yup, and you committed malpractice.”

The music came to a halt with a dramatic record scratch.

The lights landed on the three.

“Yo, dudes. Quit harshin’ the vibe,” Fresh scoffed into the mic.

Dusk rolled his eyelights and picked Killer up, draping him over his shoulder.

They were surrounded now, by the skeletons under his control.

Dusk summoned multiple blasters overhead, ready to fire if any of them stepped closer.

“Yeesh! You three weren't even invited! What's the dealio? That scummy octo brought you here to rustle my jimmies or something?”

That. Wasn't even 90’s lingo.

There was some feedback coming from the mic. “That thing’s not comin’ here for real, actually, right?” For once he sounded unsure.

Was he actually threatened by Nightmare?

They had to roll with the lie. They could survive this. They just had to convince him he was coming.

Sans put a hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “nah yeah, he won't have to intervene as long as we get what he needs.”

“Bogus! Whaddaheck would that dillweed need?”

Sans pulled out the image of Epic from his pocket and showed it to the nearest partygoer. “we just need this guy, and we'll be outta your hair.”

“Oooh, yeah, I get what you're layin’ down.”

Said nearest partygoer grabbed Sans’s wrist.

“You're fibbin’.”

Welp.

Dusk was just about to fire the blasters on standby, only for a cluster of bones to sprout from the ceiling and stab through the giant skulls.

Dusk grumbled. He adjusted his grip on Killer so that he didn't drop him.

“you're kinda grabbing his butt,” Sans pointed out.

“we’ve done worse.”

“go back to not talking.”

“Aight. So y’all come on in uninvited and interrupt my bodacious party? S’all good. I’ll let you dudes bounce…not!” Fresh yelled into the mic. “I’m gonna enjoy taking y’all over. You're not worming your way out this time.”

Right as his sentence ended, it was disproved. A portal opened. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

That portal looked similar to the ones Nightmare made, actually.

“Ah, nah, what’s the dealio?”

But instead of the guardian of negativity arriving, a huge wave of tiny not-quite-skeletons poured in like a flood.

“what,” Dusk and Sans said in unison as absolute chaos unfolded in the warehouse.

These “not-quite-skeletons” acted more like hyperactive temmies. Their giant skulls were bigger than the rest of their body making them look more like aliens than anything. They all wore bandanas that matched the color of their huge star eyelights. They bounded around the place causing total anarchy.

Fresh among others were trampled by these small menaces. Some were simply dancing to the music while others were actively jumping some of the partygoers. They swore they even saw one playing with a pile of dust.

And all of this was happening while “We Like to Party!” by the Vengaboys was playing.

A second portal opened up behind them. They didn't even get to process this before someone yanked them through.

They both landed on their backs. Killer peacefully laid atop Dusk, still managing to sleep through that all. Hopefully he wasn't in a coma.

Dusk and Sans looked at each other, unsure if they were both already dead or if what they saw was all real.

Certainly one hell of a deus ex machina, but with all the shit they’ve gone through they might as well accept it with open arms.

It was Blue that stood over them, looking utterly concerned. “oh my GOD, you three almost died! well, you would’ve been under fresh’s control for whoever knows how long and then you would collapse from exhaustion and then die, but still,” he rambled. He put a hand on his face. “If my plan didn't work…well! Glad it did! Even if it wasn't the one I initially had,” he sighed in relief. “I’m SO sorry you guys went through that! I told Cross not to do it but, ARGH, no one listens to me!” He stomped his foot, it reminded them of Papyrus.

Another portal appeared next to him and two skeletons walked out. One was dressed like they just walked out of an anime convention and the other was clearly a skeleton from Fresh’s party.

“Thank you so much Dream,” Blue said.

Dream?

The two looked closely at him. There was a star made out of magic floating by his forehead. It reminded them of the crescent moon that rested near Nightmare's forehead. He was the one that created the portals similar to him too.

“you're his brother,” Sans said.

“Hm? Brother? I don’t…”

“They already know he's your brother, Dream,” Blue interrupted.

Dream darted his eyelights away guiltily. “I promise you, I’m not like him at all. I’m so sorry he held you all captive for a year! It must've been horrible.”

Dusk and Sans didn't really care about the needless pity. Both of them had one thing on their mind and it was punching the living daylights out of Cross.

“Right…” Blue said awkwardly. “Anyway, Dream, please tend to Epic, I’ll take these guys from here.”

Dream nodded and teleported himself and the other skeleton, who was apparently Epic, off to someplace else.

Blue stared down at the three who hadn't budged at all. “So, do you guys need help getting up, or.”

“i’m staying down here, thanks,” Sans said.

“Is Killer knocked out, or sleeping?”

“he's been out cold ever since Dusk ripped off the flower in his socket.”

Blue smacked the side of his skull, looking distraught. He looked around the place—they just realized they were in someone's living room—and told them to stay there before bolting off to another room.

Sans turned his attention to Killer and Dusk. “are you just gonna have him lay on top of you the whole time?”

Dusk shrugged. Honestly he was kind of comfortable like this. Killer was like a weighted blanket.

Sans finally got up from the floor, stretching his back with a groan. He stumbled over to the couch nearby and flopped onto it. He massaged his face. “god, i don't want to do anything ever again.”

Dusk hummed in agreement.

Blue came back shortly after with a stash of snacks. He dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “I got some snacks so you guys can replenish your energy. Do any of you know healing magic?”

Dusk nodded.

Blue walked over to him, leaning down to pick up Killer off of him only for Dusk to slap his hand away. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were stuck,” he said, embarrassed.

Dusk sat up, holding Killer in his arms. He carefully put his hand over his soul and started healing it.

“you're not even going to eat first—Okay, that's fine.” Blue looked away from the poor medical practice. He waited a moment. “Okay, you're not supposed to keep going until he wakes up, you're gonna overload his soul with magic.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and drew his hand away.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. In the meantime,” he grabbed something off the table and threw it at him, “eat something!”

The packaged snack bumped his head and fell to the floor sadly.

Dusk laid Killer down, having his head rest on his legs so that he could pick up the snack and eat it.

Blue turned to Sans. “You should eat something too.”

Sans glanced at the food on the table, then back at Blue. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

Blue looked disheartened by his suspicion. He fidgeted with his hands. “because i want to. And why wouldn't I? Everyone deserves help!”

“real naive of you to say.”

Blue’s expression hardened. “Fine, maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I want to feel like I’m worth something by helping people out. Maybe I’m sick of people dying when I could’ve done something. Maybe I’m guilty, so I help assholes like you in order to cope! Is that a selfish enough answer for you?”

Sans grabbed something off the table to eat. “sure.”

Blue sighed, crossing his arms. “good.”

They sat in silence as the two ate a bit. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Killer finally woke up.

He rolled off of Dusk. He immediately fired a round of questions, “everything hurts. why’s it so dark. where am i?”

“The lights are on?” Blue said.

“who the hell are you?”

“i think you blinded him, dude,” Sans said.

“what?!” Killer shouted.

“He shouldn’t be permanently blinded, he just needs to eat!” Blue assured. “Carelessly yanking out Fresh’s flower temporarily blinds the victim because it injures the orbit, and any injury to that area causes temporary blindness as our magic prioritizes healing it over being able to see.”

“oh, you’re the nerd that gave us food yesterday.”

“i’m the huh?” Blue mumbled. He shook off the insult and grabbed some packaged crackers off the table to give to Killer. “Anyway, we’re not at the hub right now. You guys are gonna crash at my place, which is here, until I give Cross a talk.”

Killer gnawed on the crackers without removing the wrapper, until Dusk snatched it from him to properly open it and hand it back to him. 

Killer poured the crumbs into his mouth, a good amount of it missed and landed on the floor which Blue decided to ignore.

After blinking a few times, Killer was able to see again. “where is ‘here’?”

“I don’t really have time to explain what this place is but uh, I suggest not going outside because you might end up in a different universe,” Blue said casually. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but in case I am, you guys are free to raid the kitchen, watch some tv, etc—Oh yeah! I also have a book containing all my notes on the multiverse if you wanna read it. Since you three are outcodes now it’ll be useful to know about some of the threats and important areas in the multiverse.”

The three of them looked at him like he was speaking a different language.

He coughed into his hand and pulled the book out from his inventory to set it on the coffee table. He awkwardly waved goodbye which got no responses and left the house.

“that guy’s too nice,” Killer remarked. “how hasn’t he died?”

“my guess is dumb luck or he’s hiding something.” Sans sat up on the couch, looking curiously at the book, which was actually just some spiral bound notebook. He picked it up, might as well read it to pass the time.

Killer stood up, stumbling a bit as he waited for the vertigo to pass. “i’m gonna snoop around,” he announced.

“have fun with that.”

While Killer wandered off and Sans read, Dusk went over to the fridge.

Sans flipped through the pages of the notebook, skimming over the titles of various names of people and places. He paused when he saw Nightmare’s name.

“dusk, get over here!”

Dusk walked over with no haste at all. He was holding two glasses, and was currently drinking out of one. He held out the other to Sans.

Sans looked up from the book to see the concoction he was giving him. It was nearly the same as all the past times Dusk made the mistake of playing bartender. Except this time…”did you add crushed chips? that thing has at least four different textures in it now.”

Dusk shrugged.

Killer walked back in the room, looking very dissatisfied. He wasn’t able to find anything interesting or any skeletons in the closet. His sights immediately landed on the drinks. “what the fuck is that?” he chuckled.

“nah, killer this ain’t for you.” Sans took the second drink from Dusk’s hand.

“aw, what?”

“anyway,” he took a sip, “this guy has notes about nightmare.”

Killer walked around the table and sat next to Sans. “woah, that's crazy.” He leaned closer at the book, but quickly switched his target to the drink.

Unfortunately, Sans was quick enough to move the drink away before he could take a sip.

Killer grumbled disappointedly and looked back at the book, actually reading the page this time. “i mean, we already know all of this, i don't see how this is…” he trailed off as he got halfway through the page. “huh. he’s had quite the history.”

“whaddya think being ‘the guardian of negativity’ means?”

“does it matter? we hate him. end of story.”

Sans eyed the line that said Nightmare couldn't feel positive emotions. If that was true, that explained a lot of things, but did that change anything? Not really. “yeah, i guess it doesn't.”

Once he was back at the hub, Blue hunted down Cross. His angry speech died on his metaphorical tongue the second he saw him and Epic having a reunion. He stopped in his tracks and watched them from a distance.

Ink appeared by his side, also watching the two. “Ah, a happy ending.” “It was completely unnecessary for any of this to happen and you know it,” Blue said sternly.

Ink pouted. “Aw, are you mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to send those three to their deaths.”

Blue scowled at him. “But it’s your fault Fresh kidnapped Epic in the first place.” Ink looked dumbfounded and then guilty, like a dog that was caught doing something it shouldn’t. “You’re getting too good at reading me…” he sighed. “How long did you know?”

“The second we found out it was Fresh that took Epic I immediately knew it was you,” Blue deadpanned. There were only a few people who could’ve let Fresh into the place, and only one person who would’ve. Besides, ever since Cross rescued Epic from his scripted death, Ink would glare at him like he personally wronged him.

“Aw,” Ink gave him a hug, “and you didn’t tell anyone?” He didn’t just not tell anyone he also covered for him. There was a reason Cross didn’t know he did it. “There wasn’t any point to.” “And you wouldn’t rat out your best friend!”

Blue flicked his cheek bone. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. He ended the hug with Ink with a gentle shove. “Those three are probably gonna try to kill Cross though. I’m making that your responsibility.”

Ink giggled at the idea of the three hunting down Cross. “Eh, he can handle that on his own.”

[novelmonger]

His tomorrow never came, and when she saw him next, he lay there looking so serene and noble, it seemed as if it must be well with him, for all the pain was past; temptation ended; doubt and fear, hope and love, could no more stir his quiet heart, and in solemn truth he had gone to meet his Father, and begin again.

- Rose in Bloom by Louisa May Alcott

[lilisettean]

Glittering Scales | Rafayel/Reader

About: You didn't know what to expected when Rafayel texted you to get him bags of ice near midnight. You thought it was for some art piece he was working on and didn't question it. Turns out, it was for something you did not expect. At all.

Pairing: Rafayel/Reader

Notes: Based on that mermen having 2.... you know.... tweet.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Mating, Monster(?)fucking, Tentacle, No protection, Hints of breeding. Please tell me if I missed something! Also 18+ only please. Enjoy :)

“Rafayel?”

Your voice echoed throughout the empty studio. Normally Rafayel would be here to greet you, be it from the floor or on the ladder he sat on while painting. But today he was nowhere to be found.

A faint splash of water down the hallway alerted you to his presence. With a sigh, you followed the sound, your bare feet breaking the quiet that descended upon the studio. 

‘Is he painting while in the bathtub again?’ You thought as you carried bags of ice under your arms and in your hands. After going radio silent for a week, he texted you out of nowhere, asking you to get him enough ice to last him for a few days. And while you had half a mind to ask him why and where he had been, curiosity got the best of you and you agreed readily.

Another splash brought you out of your thoughts, and you sighed at what sounded to be impatient flicks of his tail against the water.

“Coming! Coming, jeez–”

The sight of Rafayel sitting in the bathtub, his tail hanging out the edge of it, greeted you. Small puddles of water dotted the tiled floor, his phone lay haphazardly on top of the pile of clothes next to the bathtub. Oddly enough, his painting equipment was nowhere to be found. 

Despite having seen his merman form– his original form, you should say, multiple times before, the shimmering blue scales that were on his tail and his skin always enthralled you. And under soft moonlight shining through the full length windows, it looked as though they glowed, drawing you in.

Before you could lift a hand to touch the scales on his tail however, he flicked it, smacking your thigh and dousing your pants with water.

“What took you so long? I am on the verge of death!”

“I had to go around and buy these for you! Why do you need them anyway?” You huffed as you set the bags of ice you bought down to the side. It was almost midnight when his text came and you had to scramble to get at least a few bags for him, lest it wasn’t enough for… whatever he’s doing. The nerve. Pinning him with a stern look, to which he innocently blinked in response, you continued.

“And you don’t get to talk! What took you so long to text me back? You were unreachable for the entire week!”

If it weren’t for the fact that you arrived back in Linkon city mere hours ago, you would’ve gone and visited him as soon as he dropped off the face of the Earth. Rafayel would never go a day without calling you at least once, so when he suddenly did not reply to any of your texts or answer any calls, you knew something was deeply wrong.

Noticing that you were eyeing him critically, he turned away from your gaze, hoping you wouldn’t pick up on anything irregular. But unfortunately for him, you did.

“Are you sick? Why does your face look so red?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned closer to inspect him. You thought it would be impossible for the blush that stained his cheeks to intensify even further, but it did. If anything, it looked like it spread to his ears too.

“Yes– Well, not really but I…” He stuttered, his usual nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be found. To you, it seemed like he was avoiding any sort of eye and skin contact. Interesting.

With a long suffering sigh, he looked towards you again, his eyes pleading. “Please just give me the ice. It’s too hot.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong.” You countered, but still tore open the bags anyway. He sighed in contentment the moment the ice came contact with his higher than what should be normal skin temperature. The ice that settled on his skin and his scales would soon melt and you idly wondered if you had to buy more when morning came.

‘There’s a store about 15 minutes away, maybe I should–’ A soft mumble from him interrupted your train of thought. “What did you say?”

Despite you prompting him, it took him another minute before he repeated his words.

“It’s… mating season.”

It took a few more moments before his words registered in your mind. Mating season, he said. What does that have to do with– Oh.

“Oh. And you’re…” Your eyes darted down, not so subtly wondering where his cock would be when in his original form. Nothing out of the ordinary– and was that ironic, saying that there was a merman in front of you ordinary– caught your eye.

To you, anyway. To him, however… 

Rafayel drew in a stuttered breath, desperately grasping at the shards of sanity that were slipping away from him. You being unaware of the details pertaining to merman physiology and mating rituals was making him antsy. He should’ve explained the differences between his original form and his human form a long time ago, yet couldn’t as the otherworldliness of it might scare you off. He knew you wouldn’t run away so easily but that apprehensiveness stayed because what if…?

Despite all of this, he couldn’t help but preen under your appreciation for his scales. Merpeople took great care maintaining their scales, and mermen in particular would show off theirs during mating season to attract attention from their intended.

You, being his intended, who was now perched on the edge of the bathtub, touching and admiring his scales, would be interpreted as acceptance to the mating ritual. But there was no ritual, nor request from him, so it was all null and void. He pointedly ignored the disappointment that seeped into his gut. This was for the best and for your own good, he thought, and yet–

“Do you… want me to help you?” You asked as you traced the edges of his scales, not catching the hitch in his breath when your fingers trailed further and further up his tail.

“I’d rather not. My physiology is not what you’d expect.” 

“And let you sit here for days on end?” 

“...” Rafayel bit his lip. You had a point. The constant neediness brought by his biology made it difficult for him to focus on anything of note. But what if you rejected him once you saw what was in store for you? It would feel like that day all those years ago all over again, when you didn’t remember him despite him spending so much time looking for you.

He shook his head at that. No, he should have more faith in you. And so with much trepidation, he relented. “If you are that determined, I won’t stop you. But…” He trailed off, grabbing your arm and yanked you towards him, causing water to splash out of the bathtub and onto the floor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“At least let me take my clothes off–”

“No need.” With a snap of his fingers, his flame Evol materialized and he brought the gentle flame to your clothes. And within seconds, every piece of clothing on you burned away, leaving you exposed to the warm summer’s night air. 

“Rafayel!” It always tickled whenever he did that, a fancy trick he liked to use whenever he felt particularly impatient. “How long were you…?”

“Long enough.” He replied, leaning back against the bathtub to let you get used to your new position. You were straddling him, your hips sat upon the upper half of his tail. While the water both of you were submerged in was cold, icy almost, the heat from his body warmed you.

A spot on Rafayel’s tail piqued your curiosity. It was warm and softer to the touch, unlike other places. You reached down to lightly poke at said spot, only for him to hiss in warning. 

Oh. Was that where– Then how–

You prodded that spot for a bit, carefully watching Rafayel’s face while figuring out how his merman form worked. He stared right back at you, his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he watched you with interest.

“Rafayel? Can you give me that ability to breathe underwater for a moment? I want to try something…”

He arched his eyebrow at your sudden request, but didn’t comment. Wordlessly, he pulled you closer and into a kiss, wrapping an arm around your torso while tucking a few stray strands of hair that fell on your face.

A simple, chaste kiss was more than enough to give you the ability needed to breath underwater for an hour. And yet he cannot bring himself to pull away from you. If anything, he cannot stop kissing you, cannot stop his tongue from prying your lips open and pushing against yours. 

It was only when you needed air that you parted from him, albeit reluctantly. Like his, your face was flushed from the heat and the intensity of the kiss, fueling the growing fire that was threatening to take over within him.

Now equipped with the ability you needed, you shuffled away from him and dived under the cold water both of you sat in. Faintly, you could hear him ask what your goal was, but you only grinned in response.

Over water, his scales looked as though they were shimmering, glinting softly under the lights. But seeing them underwater was another story. They looked iridescent, the water around them making them almost dreamlike in its shine. But as pretty as they were, you were on a mission. A mission to see what Rafayel was hiding from you.

You poked the same soft spot that was on the front of his tail, and with a bit of prodding, you found a well hidden slit between his scales.

‘This must be it then.’ You thought as you brushed over the slit, missing the shuddered breath Rafayel had let out. You dipped a finger into the slit, and found something round– the tip, perhaps– poking at your fingertip.

You circled your fingertip around the head, coaxing it to come forward. And slowly, you feel it inch closer and closer to the opening, with warm slick coating your fingertips before dissipating into the water.

Rafayel sighed as you teased the tip of his cock, if he was in his human form he would’ve been fully hard by now. But he was in his original form, his apprehension to your eventual surprise eating at him, causing him to be slower to react. That didn’t stop his neediness to take over though, as he could feel himself getting closer and closer to revealing himself by the minute.

He was about to ask if you were doing alright, until he felt your lips on his slit. He tossed his head back, groaning at your tongue teasing his opening and his tip. He could feel his cock pushing through his slit, widening it and protruding into your more than eager mouth.

You gasped when you tasted his salty, tangy tip in your mouth. While it tasted the same as his human form, the tip was smoother and coated with more precome than you expected.

The similarities between his human form’s cock and his original form ended there, you quickly realized. As soon as more of his cock emerged from his sheath and into your waiting mouth, you felt there were ridges on the side of it. Fleetingly, you wondered as you dragged your tongue across the ribbed sides, whether there were more surprises waiting for you. This cannot be it, right? There had to be more which would explain his visible apprehension.

As soon as that thought ended though, Rafayel suddenly cradled your chin, and coaxed you to resurface. 

Unlike earlier, when he still looked like he had some semblance of control, his stormy purple eyes were now focused, pinning you in place as though you were his prey. The nervousness that was evident before was now gone, replaced with a growing hunger. Hunger that could be only satisfied by having–

“You.” He panted, pulling you closer and closing the too wide gap between you and him. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Merpeople… My people mate for life. There will be no going back after this.” He stated, doing his best to ignore his growing cock poking at your inner thigh. He had to warn you before you walk into uncharted territory, clueless to the repercussions again. While this was not life threatening, like the things you usually run head into first, it was severe enough wherein if you had denied the bond that formed afterwards, it would tear him apart.

“I think we are past that point of no return, no? With all the vows I’ve made to you.” You replied as you tucked away the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead, pressing a reassuring kiss on his temple. And that was true. The promise you made when you two were children, the vow you made next to the hospital fountain late at night. You promised you would never leave his side, so why would you leave now?

Rafayel laughed in relief, burying his face between your breasts as he clung to you. With the emotional hurdle out of the way, what was left was the more physical hurdle. Unlike before, however, he felt less worried about this one now.

“I hope you are prepared then.” He smiled as he littered quick kisses all over your decollete, inching closer to your neck and then your lips. “Because after this…”

“I will never let you go.”

Rafayel captured your lips with his once more, the kiss slow but all the more passionate. With his worries soothed, he slotted his emerging cock against your mound, wanting you to feel the effect you had on him as you kissed.

It wasn’t long before the kisses turned less than chaste. You gasped as he left open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling on the skin beneath his lips as he thrusted his cock against you. The bumps on the underside of his shaft rubbed and teased your clit perfectly, and you couldn’t help but return the favor by shifting your hips to his rhythm, making him grow thicker and thicker by the moment.

You had a feeling that his cock wasn’t just ribbed while you grinded against him. You can’t exactly explain why, other than there were parts of his shaft that felt… softer to the touch, despite knowing that he’s turned on beyond relief.

“Rafayel–” 

“Mmh?” He hummed as his mouth left another love bite on your neck, pausing to admire his handiwork.

“Can I… Will you let me see it?” You asked, reaching down to drag a finger across his tip. He shuddered at your touch, and you felt his cock twitch in interest. It seemed that his drive to mate was slowly taking over, as all he could muster was a nod.

With his permission, you tore away from him, giggling when he whined at the loss of contact. You reassured him with a quick kiss to his cheek, and dodge his clingy hands when you retreated. Inhaling one deep, steadying breath, you steeled yourself, and looked down.

Oh. Oh. 

Was that a sight to behold.

Through the clear water, you saw his cock in its full glory. His tip was round, like humans, but that was where the similarities ended. It was flushed dark blue, his cock the same color as his scales. 

You dived underwater again to take a closer look, your curiosity getting the best of you. Immediately, you spot that there were bumps and ridges down the shaft and all the way to the base. His cock both intimidated you, and made your walls clench.

But that wasn’t all.

Curled around his cock was a tentacle shaped like a smaller shaft. Like what it was wrapped around, the tentacle flushed blue and had small lumps on the sides. It was slimmer in comparison, but still as thick as his finger. With avid interest, you reached out to touch it, and was surprised when it unfurled itself and curled around your finger, coaxing you to come closer.

Like a creature under a sea witch’s spell, you inched closer, fascinated by the cock in front you. And before you knew it, you curled your fingers around his base, testing how the bumps felt under your skin by stroking it.

Above the surface, Rafayel gasped as you touched both of his cocks, and groaned when you brought both of them to your lips. He was relieved you accepted the otherworldly nature of them without any hesitation, and were even eager to pleasure him.

With both of his cocks in your mouth, you quickly realized that they, especially the smaller one, leaked more precome than expected, perhaps to make up for the lack of lubrication underwater. The salty taste filled your mouth as you circled your tongue around the larger tip, the smaller one pushing against your tongue and stimulating itself. Its movements made your heat clench at nothing again, and you wondered. How would this feel like if he fucked you now?

Rafayel gathered all your hair that was floating underwater, and held it behind your head. He wanted a clear picture of you sucking on his cocks and by God did he want to thrust himself deep into your mouth at the sight. But he relented. You were still new to this and he rather not risk you choking while underwater.

Pulling away from his cocks, you resurfaced one more to admire them from afar, only to be assaulted by another kiss. 

Rafayel had enough of his mate being so far from his embrace, he needed you in his arms and on his cock, now. Tugging you towards him again, he maneuvered you so that you would be flush against his cocks, making sure you knew what was in store for you moments later.

Unlike last time where he would grind against you however, he reached down to prod your entrance, spreading your folds with his fingers. You expected him to slip his fingers in but instead, a familiar, yet not, sensation crept in, massaging your soft walls.

“You can control it.” You gasped once realization kicked in, staring at him in bewilderment. He merely blinked in response, and nuzzled the crook of your neck.  

“Does that disgust you?” He asked. While you couldn’t see his face, you could feel him tense up, his grip on you unrelenting.

“No! Nothing like that. I was just wondering… What else can it do?” 

At your reassurance, he relaxed and continued to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your skin. “You will have to find out.”

“What–”

He pulled the smaller cock away from your heat, and had it latch onto your clit. You whimpered as he teased your clit, its smooth tip and small bumps running along its side sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.

Rafayel ran a finger up your entrance while you were distracted, and clicked his tongue in annoyance. Right. He needed to drain the water around the both of you before he tried anything. The water would wash all of your juices away otherwise and make this experience entirely uncomfortable for you.

He tugged at the stopper and let the water drain away, leaving just enough water for part of his tail to be soaked in water. As the water level dropped, more and more of your skin was exposed to him; the water droplets that clung onto your skin and slid down your body taunted him. 

With the water gone and out of the way, you could finally see clearly what his cocks looked like above water. And they did not disappoint. 

The amount of precome that dripped out and down his smaller cock was staggering, coating and smearing your clit with every twitch of it. His larger cock was the same as well, precome beaded on the round tip of it before sliding down the ribbed sides, his shaft glistening under the low light. 

“Do you like them?” He asked, parting your dripping folds and slipping a finger inside as his smaller cock busied itself with your clit. Your sweet whimpers made both of his cocks throb, and he couldn’t wait to hear your moans when he pushed both of them inside you.

He added another finger, burying it deeper within you as you rode his fingers, your hips having a mind of its own. You were starting to get used to the two different cocks when suddenly, his smaller cock shifted, resting your clit against a dimpled surface and–

“Mmh–!” You whimpered, the realization of him not only having ridges along his cocks, but also having suckers of all things, hit you with full force. It felt similar to having his mouth sucking on your clit, and you fleetingly wondered what if his smaller cock slipped in and sucked on your walls as well.

As though reading your mind, he stopped teasing your clit with it, and slid it inside you, adding what effectively was another finger into the mix, stretching you and satiating that growing ache to have something inside you.

You moaned as his fingers slipped in and out of you, the juices from your heat and his precome mixing together and dripping out of your core. While his smaller cock wasn’t as sensitive as his bigger one, the sensations of your walls dragging against his bumpy shaft made his cocks twitch. 

The primal drive to mate, to fuck and to breed coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him, demanding him to push his neglected cock in you and breed you properly. It was tempting, too tempting, with you bouncing oh so wantonly on his fingers, your hands holding on to the edges of the bathtub to steady yourself. But he held back. 

As much as he wanted you to ride him while he thrusts his hips in sync to your pace– and God did that thought made another bout of precome drip from both of his cocks– he was afraid of what was in store for you. He knew once he was in, those instincts would take over and you would not be able to reason with him until it was over.

He could feel his control slipping with every heartbeat, the lustful haze that was clouding the edges of his mind seeping into the forefront. It was a challenge, a manageable one, until you curled your fingers around his larger cock.

“Nnh–” He groaned, his cock pulsing in your hand as you stroked the underside of it and traced all the bumps it had. It took him a few steadying breaths not to thrust up and rut against your palm. 

Through a clouded haze, you fixated upon the cock in your hands as you rode the other. It was bulging and pulsing at different places, with some parts flushed deeper blue than the others. You didn’t fully comprehend it yet, the question of whether you can take it all plagued your mind. All you knew that whatever this was, you wanted in you. Now.

“...Are you sure?” Rafayel asked breathlessly as you pulled his fingers and his smaller cock out of you and teased the larger cock with your heat. You drawing circles on his tip with your entrance made him pulsate, staining you with more precome. His hands were now on your hips and he had half a mind to just push you down his shaft in one go.

“I won’t stop until I’m done, you know.” He cautioned again, one final warning before those little slivers of sanity that he had disappeared like foam. His smaller cock caressed your dripping folds and held them to the side, allowing him better access when he inevitably sank you down his eager cock.

“I know.” You responded as you lowered yourself down, slowly taking his cock in inch by inch. It was hot and the throbbing ridges rubbed against your soft walls, forcing more juices to flow out of you. You paused midway to let yourself get used to the foreign feeling, and watched him as he tried to keep his face in check.

Your tight warm walls made it increasingly difficult for him to hold back, especially when you clenched tentatively around him. He understood why you stopped halfway, as his larger cock grew thicker at the lower half until flaring out at the base. But he felt like you were teasing him at this point, with you dragging the upper half of his cock out and pushing it back in over and over again.

“Darling…” He hissed as you rode him, his grip on your hips vice like. Following your lead, he shallowly pumped his larger cock in and out of you, in tune to the pace you’ve set.

The bumps on the side of his cock grazed your clit with every thrust, and before you knew it, you began to take more and more of him in, your folds spread further and further apart with the help of his smaller cock.

The urge to pull back and slam his hips into you the moment you finally, finally, took the entirety of his larger cock in was overwhelming. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp, stuttering breath.

He was fighting a losing battle against his primal instincts, but he had to hold back or–

“Do it.”

Your voice broke through the lust ridden fog that clouded his mind. Did you just give him permission–

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” You said again, nuzzling the top of his head and patting it. He was tense against you this entire time, strained and a heartbeat away from snapping. You knew he had been waiting for you to be ready, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. 

Coaxing him to finally let go of whatever inhibitions he had, you clenched your walls around him once more, forcing a quiet moan out of him. “Please Rafayel… Please fuck me.”

And like a light switch flipping, he dragged his larger cock out without warning, only giving you a second to process before slamming back into you. Every thrust filled you to the brim, and you could feel his hot precome leaking and spreading all over your walls as he thrusted.

“Rafayel– Mmh–” You moaned between open mouthed kisses, his lips capturing yours every time you managed to slip away. One of his hands held you in place as he fucked upwards into you, while the other palmed at your breast, tweaking and brushing over your nipple as your breasts bounced to the pace he had set. You had to wrap your arms around his shoulders then, or else you would’ve toppled at the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

At some point, when you cannot pinpoint exactly anymore, his smaller cock pulled away from your folds and prodded your entrance, slipping inside and pushing against your tight heat. The sudden intrusion forced your half lidded eyes open, and before you could mention it, the suckers dotted on the underside of his smaller cock grazed your walls, gently sucking on you from the inside.

Rafayel listened attentively to your moans as he sucked on the skin of your neck, leaving numerous bites and markings on you. His rational mind was now gone, replaced by his need to pleasure and breed his beautiful mate. He nuzzled your neck once more, your lovely moans encouraging him to keep going, spurring him on.

The steady tension that was building within your abdomen threatened to snap with every heartbeat, and you could feel yourself being close, so close, to that high that Rafayel was pushing you towards. You couldn’t help but move your hips along to his erratic rhythm, anything to get yourself closer to that point.

As though sensing your desperation, which was not difficult considering your walls fluttered more and more around him, clenching and squeezing him oh so sinfully, he pulled his smaller cock out of your heat and grinded the underside of it against your clit.

“Rafayel–!” The sensation of his suckers pulling at your clit drove you over the edge. Like a coil snapping under pressure, your heat tightened around his cock as you reached that high, clenching and spasming around it.

“My mate…” He breathed out, not once stopping to give you a break as you navigated through the pleasure he brought to you. The way your walls clasped around him as you were pushed over the edge brought his own high forward, forcing a growl past his lips as he suddenly pushed both of his cocks as deep as he could within you before letting his come spill over, releasing as much as he could inside you. 

He didn’t stop there however, he continued to pump his cocks deep into you, hoping to push his essence deeper inside with a few more unsteady thrusts.

As you paused to regain your breath, he pulled away from your neck and brushed the hair that fell messily on your face away, and kissed you as tenderly as possible. 

He looked calmer now, content even, compared to how he was before. The tension that was present on his shoulders and eyebrows was gone, dissipated along with the apprehension that he had about showing you the entirety of his original form.

A sudden glint in the corner caught your eye. It was your phone, its screen turning on most likely because of someone texting you. Next to it was your belongings and–

Oh. You forgot about the ice.

“You should’ve told me this was going to happen instead of making me buy ice for you.” You laughed, seeing that the bags of ice had now turned into bags of water with ice chips in it. They weren’t that expensive so you didn’t really mind, but the time you spent scouring shops that were still open close to midnight was now rendered unnecessary.

Rafayel kissed your cheek and nuzzled you, still basking in the afterglow under the moonlight. “...I was scared you would reject me.” He confessed, still clinging onto you like a lifeline. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You were about to ask how he would do that when you were acutely reminded of his cocks still being inside you, still stiff and ready for another round.

“How–”

“It is mating season after all.” He simply replied, and you noted that his eyes suddenly had a predatory glint to them, making your heat clench again and your heart race. 

“You, my darling mate… are going nowhere.”

[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Finan x Reader, Part 5

Warnings: Mature themes. Minors DNI. Angst, Violence, Misogyny.

The grasp of Finan’s hand brought Alfred to his feet, but the King of Wessex was still a weak and trembling mess, caught in the midst of a brutal battle with only Finan to shield him from several Danes who still advanced towards them. Finan moved to avert them at every opportunity they had to seize Alfred, his skillful lunges and quick agility blocking fierce attacks and forcing several of Haestan’s men to the ground. Finan eventually forged his way to a path of safety for the disgraced King as the battle began to die down, the exhaustion evident in both of them.

Alfred looked to Finan, meeting his gaze and giving him a nod, “… Thank you.”

Finan returned his gaze with hooded eyes and furrowed brows, giving him a firm nod as he sheathed his sword.

“W-why?” Alfred muttered, “Why did you prevent my death? Surely you despise me.”

“Oh I do,” Finan chuckled, “But I don’t see an end to this without you in it.”

Alfred bore some semblance of a smile, looking to Finan and chuckling under his breath slightly. “The love of a woman can drive you mad. Or at least, turn you into a fool.”

“Ya don’t have to tell me, Lord King. I know this very well.” Finan smiled.

Suddenly, Finan heard Uhtred’s voice shouting from a distance.

“They’re retreating to the forest! Stop them!!”

Domnal strode over quickly and came to stand at Finan’s side, his eyes searching Finan’s for his next command and his mind reeling with shock as he had only moments ago witnessed Finan save Alfred’s life.

“My King, he… he shall be spared? I don’t understand.”

Finan put his hand on Domnal’s shoulder, speaking sternly to him, “He shall be spared. He is the great King of Wessex,” Finan said, “…and his reign will continue, for the sake of England.”

Domnal narrowed his eyes at Finan, simply perplexed that Finan had allowed Alfred to survive. After a moment, Finan’s gaze came to rest on the entry to the forest and of Uhtred and the others chasing the remaining Danes into the trees. His eyes searched for Haestan, who he knew couldn’t have made it far after receiving the devastating blow to his shoulder, but he was nowhere to be found. As the battle settled at the encampment and some of Uhtred’s men returned, the surviving Danes having escaped, Finan looked for you. His heart started racing, his strides growing quicker as he looked in each tent, Domnal following close behind and searching to no avail.

“I told you to keep her safe.” He muttered to Domnal in fury, meeting his gaze with such darkness and disdain that Domnal felt as if he was next to receive Finan’s brutality. Finan groaned angrily, still pulling back flaps of tent entrances and stopping to gaze around the encampment.

“Your Grace, she.. she was just here, with several Guardsmen.”

Finan scoffed at Domnal, cursing himself for leaving you with simple guardsmen to defend you.

Finan stopped to listen to his surroundings, a deafening silence among the several dead bodies on the ground, until Finan heard you scream his name.

Your guardsmen had been disarmed, and a fierce Dane had brutally smacked you across the face hard enough to force you down, now holding you by your hair and dragging you across the ground. The Dane brought you up to standing just as Finan and Domnal rounded the corner of trees swiftly, their eyes widening at the sight. The Dane was stunned by their now looming presence, and he brought his seax up to your throat as Finan held his hands out with wide eyes, pleading with him as he slowly stepped closer.

“Please,” he begged, his eyes showing gentleness now, “She is my betrothed. Please, have mercy on her.”

The Dane chuckled darkly, muttering a string of words with dark, misogynistic connotations until he was suddenly knocked across the head with a plank of wood from behind, falling to the ground and seemingly out cold from the blow.

Finan looked over your shoulder to see Alfred, trembling as he held the large wooden plank he had used to subdue the Dane.

Finan exhaled in relief and ran to you, taking you up into his arms and squeezing you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“The battlefield is no place for ya, lady,” He rasped, “Oh dear God… Thank God.”

Finan looked up to see Alfred staring at the two of you, trembling and tears in his eyes. Alfred held Finan’s gaze and gave him a stern nod, Finan’s gentle eyes showing him a deep wave of gratitude.

Finan held you in his arms tightly as he sat you upon the ground, your face nuzzled into his neck. A faint rustling sound caught your ear, and Finan noticed it as well, looking in your eyes for a moment before he stood, searching the distance for the sound. He heard Domnal shout from a afar, and instantaneously he saw men with horses approaching in the distance. But they weren’t Danes… they were Saxons.

“Your Grace!” Domnal shouted urgently, “it’s the Mercians!”

Finan met Alfred’s gaze again, who gave him a look of pride as his daughter’s fyrd emerged from the forest, easily twice the amount of men as the Scots-Irish warriors Finan and Domnal commanded. At this moment, Finan felt so hopelessly tired. Tired of running, tired of political pressure and brutal killings, and tired of the love of his life consistently being placed in harm’s way. He nodded to Alfred, a gesture of accepting his fate as the men of the fyrd came closer, led by a looming and steadfast figure. Domnal thought he must have seen a ghost.

“Lord King!!!” Steapa beckoned from a distance as the men on their horses drew closer, surrounding the encampment now as Uhtred and his men walked closer to join with Finan and Domnal.

Finan turned to Uhtred, biting his lip and nodding to him as they spoke with their eyes. Uhtred embraced Finan, giving him a firm hug before placing his forehead to Finan’s, tears evident in his eyes but not yet falling. Steapa dismounted his horse, coming over to tend to the defeated and sickly looking King Alfred.

Domnal drew his sword again, meeting Finan’s gaze as he did so, and Finan shook his head, giving him one last command. “Stand down.”

You had barely regained your senses at this moment, time moving slowly now as if you had surely been knocked into another realm of existence. You stood gazing at Steapa and the fyrd, all of them surrounding you now and tending to their King, who they then gestured away quickly. You looked to Finan, who gave you a stern look with furrowed brows before cupping your face in his hands once again.

“My sweet angel,” he started, his hooded eyes becoming gentle again, “I love you… I have loved you ever since the day we met. I will fight for you in the next life and beyond,” Finan choked up and held back a sob, “I… I will always love you.”

Steapa and the others came to surround you both, giving you no time to think or digest the gravity of the situation.

“No,” you muttered, looking at Steapa and the others now as they circled, “N-no! Please!” You grabbed Finan’s hands, holding them impossibly tight before pressing your forehead to his, “We… we are to be married, Finan…you will not leave me now. You promised you would never leave me again.”

Finan held your gaze with a deep sadness in his eyes as he stepped back from you, his hands coming up in surrender, before being knocked to his knees, his hands swiftly tied and bound by Steapa and eventually lifted brutally to stand. Domnal was also detained brutally, but he held resistance that Finan did not, and was punched in the stomach multiple times to coerce his compliance.

You ran to Uhtred, pleading with him and seemingly mad with your words.

“Uhtred!! Stop this! Stop this now!!”

Uhtred looked at you with sympathetic, sad eyes, holding your arms gently. You then ran to Sihtric and Osferth, who were both giving you the same sad gaze, and you pleaded with Sihtric then, sobbing into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Please, please help him… Sihtric!!” you grabbed Sihtric’s armor, shoving and hitting him in your desperate rage, until he had to grab your arms firmly and pin them against you. You exhausted yourself of your efforts, and Sihtric pulled you close, holding you against him and cupping his hand on the back of your head as he looked to Uhtred.

“Lord,” Osferth spoke, “There must be a way. Finan has served his Kingdom, we all have. He saved the King’s life on the battlefield.”

Uhtred sighed, watching as the Mercians made preparation in the distance, “He is an enemy of the Crown.”

Osferth scoffed, walking away from them in a fit of rage.

Sihtric was still holding you tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder relentlessly, and Uhtred came over to put his hand on your back, feeling it rise and fall with every desperate cry.

“We follow,” Uhtred commanded, “We see this through until the very end.”

>>> Part 6

Taglist: @gemini-mama @whitedarkmoonflower @alexagirlie @justanother-sihtricgirlie @persephones-journey @bcon24 @ficnation

[sumsumstrashbin]

𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 ~ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 { 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 }

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟖𝟕𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 ��𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐫. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤! 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐯𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰.𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐨, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The rumbling of thunder and the quiet pitter patter of raindrops was heard throughout the Gryffindor common room: a place that most students resided in on a gloomy Saturday such as this one. Some found comfort around the warm crackling fireplace with a book in hand, while others lay in their dorms, completely miserable that their precious day off was ruined by the weather. 

You, however, were doing none of the above. Your best friend Lily Evans had dragged you off to the quidditch pitch with her so that she could watch her boyfriend practice with the rest of the team. Being the good friend that you were, you agreed despite the dark looming clouds.

By the time you sat in the stands, the rain had started pouring down on all of you. The captain refused to let the team call it a day, which meant that Lily refused to go back inside. You didn’t want to leave her on her own, so you reluctantly stayed by her side, holding up an umbrella in one hand and a book in the other. 

During the break, Lily headed down to see James, leaving you with some peace and quiet. You loved her to death, but that girl would go on about her boyfriend for hours if you let her. You could hear the team chatting below, but the heavy rain and strong winds were drowning out a lot of the sound. 

Those same strong winds caused your umbrella to fly out of your hand and hit a boy sitting nearby right in the face. You hadn’t even noticed his presence until now. He was also reading, and your umbrella smacked his book right out of his hands, along with a bunch of loose papers. You gasped at the sight, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry!” You shoved your own book into your bag, rushing over to help pick up the fallen papers. The wind was picking up most of the pages, causing them to fly out of reach. The boy was sitting there, a bit stunned at what just happened. He watched his papers fly away, though his expression was strangely calm for the situation he was in.

You reached out to hand him whatever papers you were able to save, only then getting a good look at his face. “Lupin! I’m so sorry, truly. The wind- it just came out of nowhere and swept the umbrella out of my hands.”

He took the papers, offering you a warm smile. “It’s alright, accidents happen. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I really hope those papers weren’t important. Were they? You asked, sitting next to him. Despite only being exposed to the rain for a few moments, the rain had thoroughly drenched you in a matter of seconds.

He shuffled closer to you, sharing his own umbrella with you and shaking his head. “Just notes for an exam. I can rewrite them.” 

“That makes me feel so much worse. Notes for an exam are important.” You grimaced, shaking your head in embarrassment. 

“Really, it's no trouble. Though I’m wondering what you’re doing out here, especially on such a rainy day. I saw you with Lily, so I’m assuming she brought you along with her. James and Sirius always force me to come too. I know you aren’t usually at these practices, and you don’t come to many matches either.” He tucked his book and the remaining papers into his bag.

“She begged me to come with her. Otherwise I’d be comfortably enjoying the warmth of my bed right now. But here I am, now soaking wet and shivering because I’m such a great friend.”

“How rude of me. Here, hold this for me?” He handed the umbrella to you before pulling off his coat.

“You don’t have to do that. Especially after I just smacked you in the face with my umbrella.” 

“Nonsense. You’ll catch a cold.” He stated, placing his jacket on your shoulders for some extra warmth before taking the umbrella back.

“I appreciate it, thank you.” You smiled, putting your arms through the sleeves and wrapping the front around yourself. As you inhaled, the smell of cinnamon, parchment, and a distant hint of chocolate filled your nostrils. 

“Have some tea. Surely it’ll warm you up.” He reached into his bag, pulling out a warm thermos. He opened it up, offering it to you. It smelt strongly of cinnamon, and the steam emanating from the top was enticing enough for you to accept it. You sipped it carefully, allowing the warmth of it to settle the chills running through your body.

“You’re too kind, Lupin.” 

“Please, just call me Remus.” He smiled at you, before returning his gaze to the field. It seemed as though practice was resuming, but Lily was still nowhere to be found. “I don’t see James.” He spoke again.

“I don’t see Lily, either. How much would you like to bet they’ve run off somewhere together for a quick snog?”

“Although he’s the team captain, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. He probably told them to get started without him.” He chuckled.

“If they can ditch the practice that we were coerced into coming to, why can’t we?” You inquired, looking at him.

“I suppose you’re right. I do fancy a warm butterbeer right now. Shall we?”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

[bombdiggity666]

Here Comes Judgement Day Pt.2

A few years ago, I attempted to draw a fan comic to resolve the ambiguous ending of the MTMTE/LL Comic series. I managed to complete one panel, but lost the other three when my computer crashed.

Now, after some time has passed, I feel encouraged to try again. This time, I've written a multi-part story to better guide my comic.

It's worth noting that when I began this project, I was feeling edgy, so it's all based on the song posted below

A Summary:

Megatron faces his impending execution in Garrus 9. As he reflects on his fate, Ultra Magnus grapples with his role as a witness. Through introspection and discussions with Rodimus, Ultra Magnus ultimately decides to attend the execution as Minimus Ambus, embracing his true self and honouring Megatron's last request. Tensions mount as the time draws near, with Rodimus struggling to cope as Megatron's death approaches.

Was he in a different room now? He couldn’t activate his optics, but the environment felt colder than before. Prickling static sensations danced across his arms and chest. Surprisingly, he could feel another medical program running behind the overbearing corruption code that idled in his systems menacingly. Luckily, its suffocating presence was still dulled by the sedative. This new program, he recognized, was a standard vitals systems check. A quick yet inhibited jolt of his right servo revealed a second medical cable jacked into his wrist port, this one far more comfortable. He huffed a vent to test his surroundings.

"Take Me Away"

Megatron regained consciousness quickly, or so it felt. His heavy-duty engines metabolized narcotics swiftly, especially when deprived—a function that had aided him through many of Starscream’s assassination attempts. As he searched for his chrono, the inability to gauge time reminded him of his current situation. Stirring slightly, he realized he was restrained once again, but this time in a far more exposed position. He lay on a different berth now, a surgical one with arm boards. The hum of the stasis restraints felt stronger; testing them, he found he couldn’t even lift a finger. ‘Do they think they're immobilizing a titan?’ he pondered loosely, his head still spinning with disorientation.

“I know you’re awake,” came a confirmation, not an irritated remark. The muffled voice, unmistakably from Evac, gave his ringing audio receptors something to focus on.

“What-” He was cut short with a static cough, his vocalizer rebooting as slowly as his optics.

“Shh, right here.” He felt a light servo’s touch on his right shoulder, more haunting than comforting.

“You were out of it; I brought you the rest of the way.” The servo ran down his arm, stopping at his wrist to fiddle with the connection.

Unable to respond in a civilized fashion, Megatron's engine subconsciously revved low and primitive in a threat display. The frequency resonated throughout his frame, communicating his irritation efficiently.

“Stop that. It was just me. No one saw. You got here all on your own.” Evac brushed off his display with a smack to his forearm, as if such behavior from him didn’t bring opponents in the pits shaking to their knees.

Where was here? His frustration grew.

“Okay, just let me…” He could hear typing, “There, try now.”

His optics onlined with the assistance of Evac’s manual start-up code. The room slowly cleared into focus. His revving engines stalled.

The execution chamber.

He was bound at a slight incline, his frame fully exposed to a viewing window where live witnesses would soon be sitting. The room had a solemn feel, nowhere near the clinical setting as before. A dull light lit the immediate area around them, but Megatron couldn’t spot the source, just glad that it wasn’t above him like an interrogation or operating room. He glanced to his left; the uncomfortable cable was still spooled and strapped to his wrist. A loose end hung ominously, but still unconnected to whatever equipment held the kill code.

“Hey,” Evac tried to pull his attention softly, using her servo to redirect his optics.

Megatron groggily gazed up at her. She must work with sparkling’s with how effectively she corrals his attention away from unpleasantries.

She sat near the right of his helm, monitoring the large screen exhibiting his vitals. The displays left nothing to the imagination: spark pulse, processor activity, fuel consumption ratios, all of it on display for the viewers. He doubted any of it was legitimate medical monitoring.

Looking past her smile to the screen, he could see a diagram of his own frame. It was spinning slowly, with certain pieces of his armor colored red. ‘Strange,’ he thought. All bots of Tarnish origin exhibited some degree of leucism, him being mostly affected with the exception of red pigmentation of his upper arm plating and abdominal vents. This model was wrong; he didn’t have red wrist or chest plating. In fact, he didn’t have wrist armor at all at the moment…

Oh.

No.

He gawked, stunned, as the realization of what he had seen washed over him. Evac noticed his expression changing.

“No no no, don’t-“

But her warning came too late. He dropped his helm in a lightning-quick reflex which should have been inhibited. He nearly threw Evac out of her seat as she attempted to grab his faceplates.

His Spark was exposed, pulsing and spinning fast, it bathed the room in an ebb of twisting light. His chest plating gone. Removed entirely. He was utterly exposed, freezing cold, and completely vulnerable. A touch could kill him right now.

He heard Evac speaking, though neither words nor tone registered. Distantly, he felt the medibot pulling at him, trying to get him to lay back down. Despite both physical and chemical restraints, she didn’t have hope in the Pits of moving him. The glare of his spark lit his reflection in the field of the viewing window, catching him by surprise. Barely recognizing himself as he had never before been forced to examine his appearance; especially in such a position. In the mines, mirrors were nonexistent. Any Pit mech who glanced at the monitors for even a nanosecond in the arenas where slaughtered. He never paid any mind with Autobot propaganda…

It wasn't until the Necro world, standing before the statue of his youth that he truly understood the monstrosity he had become. A cold calloused war monger, hungry for control and blinded by it.

But now? He looked frail. Bare. Weak. Yet, he was closer to his true self than he had been in millions of years.

The hardest part wasn’t seeing his exposed lifeforce or his restrained frame. The hardest part was staring into his own optics and finally seeing that once youthful face. The face that once held the resolve and determination for a better world. The naive slave from Tarn who had once foolishly thought he could change the world with his rhetoric. He couldn’t see the monster anywhere, and with the clarity of it, he felt the urge to apologize for failing them both. A bitter smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. ‘I know you wanted to change the world,’ he mused.

‘And you did,’ he recalled his session with Rung on the Lost Light. ‘But not for the better.’

“No,” he murmured. “But now…” his optics softened, losing focus on his reflection before offlining as he slowly rested his helm back against the berth. “For the better.”

Evac remained silent, unsure of what to say. Words seemed inadequate in the face of Megatron's internalized closure. He seemed to be coping well. She reached out and placed a servo firmly on his clavicle plating, messaging her thumb along the unnatural coolness of the metal beneath her touch. Megatron didn’t flinch, so they stayed like that for as long as they could, the weight of their shared silence hanging heavily in the air.

She glazed over at the chrono on the monitor before sighing lightly, leaning in close to whisper into his audio receptor.

“It’s time”

A bell sounded, stirring them from the peaceful silence.

---

Cycles blurred together after Rodimus’ final conversation with Megatron, the weight of sleeplessness pressing down on him like a relentless burden. Though he was well aware there was never going to be an out between the two verdicts, he clung to a faint hope for some kind of miracle. Megatron always seemed to conjure those when backed into a corner. Downing the rest of his engeX, he slammed the container down to join the mounting pile at his side.

The oil house was bustling tonight, everywhere was, streets, parks, fragging libraries were ablaze with hollering, singing, and dancing in celebration and anticipation for the viewing of Megatron’s execution. The enormous monitors, typically reserved for sporting or political broadcasts, stood ready, awaiting the live transmission of the ‘event’ from Garrus 9. Rumor had it that the council would likely declare this day a new Cybertronian holiday. 'Sick,' he thought, sarcasm thick on his glossa. He could fix that. He waved down the bartender, gesturing towards his empty pile of Engex containers, indicating his displeasure with a circling motion of his finger. 'Keep them coming,' he thought, not trusting his voice right now after his conversation with Minimus resulted in a good sob-fest out in the back alley. It was hard to maintain his composure in a bar full of retired Autobots and neutrals; being on the verge of black-out drunk was somewhat helpful, or so he thought.

The bartender placed a glass down in front of him with a concerned look. “You wanna slow down there, kid? The slagging screening hasn’t even started yet, and you’re 12 deep.”

Rodimus scoffed in indignation, his servo rising to his chest in offense. “I can count, my guy.” Dodged that one like a pro. The bartender rolled their optics as they whisked away, too busy to babysit a drunkard on a day like today.

He swirled the liquid in the glass, unsure of what else to look at. He was too drunk to hide all his feelings and fought to avoid catching optics with anybot. He really shouldn’t have come here today, but he thought being around others might help him through the process. That their excitement might rub off on him. A true extrovert at spark. Honestly, he just didn’t want to be alone…

A soft servo landed gently on his back. ‘Or maybe I did,’ he deliberated.

“You’re hard to find when you want to be found.”

Rodimus paused, processing the vague and confusing attempt at a pick-up before slamming his servos to the countertop of the bar, nearly spilling his Engex, and knocking several empties over. Hopefully this display was enough to dissuade any other onlookers from approaching; he wasn’t in the mood for flirtatious conversation right now, too drunk and distraught. Spinning around in his seat, he attempted to address this bold bot directly.

“Who would fragging be looking in the first pl-“ He was caught off guard immediately.

Drift stood behind him with a soft, sorrow-filled smile and a consuming presence of warmth. He didn’t move his servo from Rodimus’s back kibble; instead, he applied more comforting pressure, sprawling his fingers to cover more area. Rodimus continued to stare, confounded, his intake opening and closing as he chewed over words. He had not spoken to anyone in person since the sentencing, purposely isolating himself in his pain until his dumbfounding decision to be here today. He had specifically hidden from Drift, as he didn’t think he would be able to understand his conflicting emotions over Megatron’s Verdict. He shrunk in on himself suddenly, and after a moment, he managed a shaky question.

“…Minimus?”

“Ratted you out, yes,” Drift soothed, moving to sit in the seat next to Rodimus’s hunched frame, nonchalantly pushing the empty Engex containers off the bar with his forearm, earning a scathing glare from the bartender across the counter. He seethed back with equal intensity momentarily, enough of a threat to make the bartender turn on his heels.

Rodimus stared down at his drink, optics spacing out in broken thought. “You didn’t…” he quickly brought the glass to his intake to shoot it down, conversation was difficult. “You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do.” Drift hushed assertively, placing a servo over the glass of Engex Rodimus was preparing to down, easing it back to the countertop with little convincing.

Rodimus looked at him from the corner of his optics, unwilling to turn his whole body. A prickle of shame sprouted somewhere distantly in his mind, which was silly; Drift had definitely seen him in much more embarrassing states. However, being in such a drunk grief over a bot who murdered little over half the known galaxy, including himself at least once, probably came pretty close to ‘taking the cake’. Drift was Ex-Decepticon, he likely knew the spell Megatron casts on ones psyche. When their goals aligned, that is.

“We are still a team, you know,” Drift lightly shoulder checked him in camaraderie, hoping to capture Rodimus' full attention. It didn’t work, so he persisted. “Even without the Lost Light. Without a mission, without an adventure, I’m still on your team. Whatever happens today, tomorrow, cycles from now, I’m going to be on your team.”

A flicker of a grin flashed on Rodimus’s faceplates as he offlined his optics. After a moment, he scrunched his facial plates and dropped his helm to the bar counter with a resounding thunk. Drift looked up apologetically to the patrons it may have startled. After throwing his whole arm across Rodimus’s shoulders as he pulled himself closer and leaned into his audio receptor. “And teams are stronger together,” he said, placing his hand over Rodimus’s, squeezing it in a grounding manner. “So we are going to do this together, understand?”

A snort, or perhaps a strangled sob from Rodimus, was muffled by the metal of the counter, his shoulders jerking, concealed from onlookers by Drift’s supporting arm.

“…Thank you,” Rodimus murmured, rolling his head slightly towards Drift. “You're too good to me.”

-----

From across the oil house in a darkened hallway, Ratchet stood leaned against the wall as he watched Drift console the hot mess of his former captain. There on 'standby', he had no intentions of taking part in today's celebrations. Not that he didn’t agree with it, just done with the war and all of the remnants of it. To see a society so excitable over the death of another bot filled him further with pessimistic bitterness. To him, it was just another bot dying for nothing. No progress would be made of it.

Despite his bitter nihilism, Ratchet cared deeply for a select few and how this would affect them. Drift predominantly, and if Drift was worried about Rodimus, well then he was worried about Rodimus too.

There was a buzz of static and a flash of light which blared from the monitors, resulting in an uproar from the crowds gathered in both the oil house and throughout the streets. Bots flooded in closer to the screens as the voice of a council orator began to speak.

Ratchet cursed, swinging his head away in disdain. He had no interest in watching this garbage today; he had seen enough death in his lifetime, so watching a screening of it on his free-time would be absurd. He glanced back to where Drift was consoling Rodimus. His cold spark pinged slightly at the state of him. Such an impressionable bot, getting so unhealthily attached to anything that remotely resembled a parental figure. Disgusting that Megatron was ever given the chance in the first place. Optimus set the poor kid up to hurt before promptly dying there after. Idiot.

He looked back again towards the monitor, following Rodimus’ saucer-optics stare to find Megatron, restrained with spark exposed. He was slightly taken aback by it. He never imagined a day where he would see Megatron so tolerant of such ministrations to his frame. Than again, he never anticipated seeing the day Megatron renounced Decepticonism either. As a doctor, such imagery had little effect on him, he’d seen bots in such position of vulnerability millions of times; However, for Rodimus, it was likely quite distressing. ‘For the love of Primus,’ he thought, as if his scolding thoughts could reach Megatron’s processor. ‘Don’t you dare make this any worse for Rodimus.’

-----

The resonating ting of his pattering steps down the metal corridor was comically light. Minimus pressed on with speed and purpose, his frame devoid of Magnus armor now, though it wouldn't matter; they already had his spark signature on file. He marched towards the witness hall, attempting to subdue the pit in his tanks with a false air of superiority. Passing two guards, who stared for far too long with dumbfounded expressions, he noticed their perplexed glances shifting between him and their scanner before they yelled out after him.

“Hey, you! State your role and purpose-”

“That would be 'Excuse me, Sir'!” he chastised, spinning around aggressively.

Approaching him somewhat cautiously, the guards looked down at their spark scanner while also placing servos on their weapons. “These scanners are saying that you are Ultra Mag-“

“That is because I AM Ultra Magnus,” he declared, his servos landing on his hips as he leaned forward in a posturing position. “And you are keeping me from my assigned role as a witness to the execution. Which I better not miss.”

The two guards exchanged confused glances. One of them pressed a finger to their audial, undoubtedly sending out a com. Minimus realized this was not going to be as simple as he thought.

“Forgive us, uh, sir?” One of the guards began, patronizingly. “But you are going to need to step aside and-”

“WHAT?” Minimus roared, holding out his identifier tag now. “Two spark scans and an identifier code, and you still don’t accept-“

“You don’t look anything like Ultra Magnus,” one guard interrupted, moving around Minimus to box him in.

“Yeah,” the other guard accused bluntly. “You’re looking more like a Decepticon minibot to me.” He reached down quickly, snatching Minimus’s upper arm with a powerful jerk.

Really?! How astoundingly racist. Were his red optics enough to be considered a Decepticon? Three authentication procedures be damned?

“Release me this instant! This is a major violation under- URK!” A fist smashed into his left faceplate, sending him whirling to the floor, his frame skipping twice off the metal.

“Shut up, a MAJOR violation would be impersonating a senior officer. Pick him up.”

Dazed from the hit, Minimus struggled to prop himself up, his servo lifting to his olfactory sensors only to come away bloodied in fresh energon. Distantly, he heard a bell ringing, and with stark realization, he knew that it was the start of the Execution screening. He only had minutes now.

“No,” he coughed, attempting to move towards the noise. Rough servos clasped his shoulder plating hard enough to dent the metal, lifting him clean off the ground. “You’re making a mis-“ a punch to his abdominal plating had him keeled over, peds not even touching the floor.

“Let’s get him out of here quick, I wanna watch that fragger die in real-time,” one guard murmured to the other, dragging Minimus in the opposite direction of the Witness room.

“No… wait,” he pleaded weakly, unable to catch a vent as his bent fans kept stalling.

“At ease!” An approaching voice hollered from behind them. The two guards stopped immediately, standing tall and leaving Minimus dangling in the air, fans clicking and vents hitching. He knew that voice…

“What is all of this about, soldier? Explain.”

The smarter of the two began, stuttering over their words at first. “Sir! We found this Decepticon trying to infiltrate the witness hall, claiming to be Ultra Magnus, Sir!”

“Ultra Magnus, huh?” the voice began to round on him with the speaker almost in his line of view. “Definitely doesn’t seem to fit the build, now does he?” The bot stepped in front of him. Minimus cowered slightly. Prowl. He and Prowl haven’t exactly been seeing ‘optic to optic’ as of late. Their relationship had soured further with Minimus’ appointment to Megatron’s case. Now would be a perfect time for Prowl to do what he does best. Act out about it.

“…Prowl...please,” he wheezed.

��Would we know each other, little bot?” Prowl teased while leaning down, olfactory sensors remaining high and mighty. He smirked. Minimus's spark sank.

“I- I know we have never agreed on methods, Prowl,” he started, his voice still shaky. “I-”

“-Was just going to stroll into a live broadcast and shatter the legend for everyone on Cybertron, and on such a joyous, sought-after day? All to make your best friend happy? How incredibly selfish, Minimus,” Prowl spat venomously in a mocking sneer, leaning in close to minimize what his underlings heard.

“Magnus, the Armor, I’m done with it. Through,” Minimus continued, hissing through dentae at the effort. ”After today, we can go our separate ways.”

“I think we can do that right now, actually,” Prowl smirked, standing to his full height. “Brig this Decepticon sympathizer, I’ll deal with him after the show,” he ordered the two guards before turning back to the execution chamber. “I don’t want to miss Megatron’s face when he realizes you’re not coming.”

“NO, PROWL,” Minimus thrashed, kicking but unable to land anything substantial. No longer having might on his side, he had to think. He had to think of something fast. What would work on someone as cynical, calculating, and arrogant as Prowl?

Blackmail.

“Overlord!” Minimus shouted, craning his neck back towards the direction Prowl was walking. He stopped abruptly. Listening.

*I am aware of your involvement with the release of Overlord, Who is still out there! Don’t you think for a second that anyone has forgotten* Minimus commed, the blackmail would fall short if others listen in.

 *As I recall, your crew played an unmistakable role in that…Mishap* Prowl didn’t move, back stiff. Calculating.

*Under your direction, discretion, and trusted advisement. Overlord was a prisoner assigned to you and you foremost.* Minimus bit back, he was getting further and further away. He could hear the orator beginning to read out the jury’s sentencing.

*And?* Prowl spat back, turning his head to glance, a sliver of blue shining from his silhouette.

*Nobody needs to know* There was no reply. Minimus panicked briefly, knowing any further discussion or clarification would ruin the offer. He just needed Prowl to take the hook.

“Drop him,” Prowl commanded to his bots after careful consideration. Mimimus hit the ground hard, crumpling to his knees. He could hear Prowl approaching quickly. “Dismissed,” he hissed with a wave of his servo. The guards nodded, continuing their march down the hall. Before he could rise, a ped slammed into the crease of his back painfully, pinning him back down into a crouched position.

“You’re going to go in there, make googly optics at your genocidal BFF, watch him die, and then I am never going to see you again. Do you understand?” Prowl leaned down to whisper the threat directly into Minimus’ audio receptors.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way…” Minimus grunted, shrugging Prowl’s ped off his back. A rag fell to the floor in front of his face.

“You tripped on your way here, smashed your face into the bulkhead. You needed a minute to look presentable. That is why we are late,” Prowl hummed as he walked away.

Minimus took the rag, dabbing the drying energon from his faceplates as he rose shakingly to his peds. Perhaps he was a Decepticon sympathizer, he thought as he began to limp after Prowl’s steady steps.  Never has he ever thought so lowly of the Autobot peacetime they had created.

[songmingisthighs]

Ignominy

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. v - kokomo

hybrid!san × human!reader

buy me coffee ?

everyone wants to belong, it's basic human need to connect with people around them. what happens when you're responsible for someone who belongs to two worlds but at the same time belongs to neither ? worst part is, what happens when it's your ex ?

In the arms of Jongho, you didn't feel much different than everyone around. And with the flute of champagne in your hand, you honestly felt much much lighter than you initially was when you just arrived.

"Remind me, how did you manage to convince me to accompany you to this event?" You asked before taking a sip of the champagne. Jongho took a sip from his flute as well before answering you, "I promised you that I'll do a Marvel marathon with you," he said, leaning down closer to you, "and that I'll buy your beer for the next three outings." You furrowed your eyebrows and pursed your lips, "I thought you said five," you questioned, recalling what Jongho told you.

Unfortunately, Jongho avoided your question as he perked up and called someone over.

You looked in the direction of the person Jongho called only to see a handsome man, he looked older than Jongho and dressed to the tens. There was an aura of authority around him and you couldn't deny that at that moment, you were attracted to him.

"Seungcheol hyung," Jongho pulled him into a tight one-arm hug before pulling away and introducing you both, "Hyung, I want you to meet my date, (y/n), she's unemployed and drinks like a sailor. (y/n), this is my cousin Choi Seungcheol, he's the VP of another family business and he's finally showing his face after... Three? Four years of being abroad?" Jongho said, grinning proudly at his cousin.

After giving Jongho the stink eye, you faced Seungcheol with the biggest, widest grin you can muster and offered your hand for him to shake, "Don't mind Jongho, he's annoyed that he couldn't actually get any girls to go with him tonight so he decided to be a sore loser about it," you said in a sweet tone. Seunghceol laughed heartily and took your hand in his, shaking it, "Damn, so you're telling me you're just doing Jongho a favour?" he teased, side-eyeing Jongho. The man in question huffed and smack his cousin lightly on his shoulder, "Hey, don't make it sound like I'm such a loser, I could've taken anyone tonight but I wanted (y/n) to mingle with business people!" he defended himself. You faked a mocking coo and pat him gently on the head, "Aww, sure you can, buddy. We're so proud of you," you teased and smirked when you saw his left eyebrow twitch.

Your focus accidentally shifted past Jongho and you couldn't help but swallow the lump that appeared in your throat out of nowhere when you locked eyes with San.

You hadn't seen him since four or five years ago. The last time you both were in the same room was after you both lost your virginity to each other. You remember that day clearly like it was just yesterday. You remember getting your high school diploma and then running away from your friend group and him from his own friend group to have a romantic day to celebrate. It had been in both of your plans to have sex for the first time ever with each other and you both agreed that the perfect time to do it was when you both finally stepped into adulthood. Hand-in-hand, you both spent the day taking pictures, eating, lying on the grass of the Han River next to each other making plans for the future, and come evening, having your way with each other for the first time ever.

Above all, you remembered how San almost choked you to death and then later on, woke up in the hospital with bruises all over your body, unable to speak. You waited and waited but San never came to visit you. Heck, he disappeared into thin air, never to be heard from anymore. Well, not by you anyways. And despite being best friends with his cousin, Jongho, you never dared ask about him because why would you wanna know anything about the man that only gave you pain and didn't even have enough balls to take responsibility?

Immediately, you averted your gaze to look at Seungcheol with a smile, "So, Seungcheol, how good is your drinking skill?"

On the other side of the room, San's palm began to sweat. He had been uncharacteristically jittery ever since he stepped into the hotel parking lot and he didn't know why. Thinking that his meds were wearing off, he took a dose of his heat suppressant but it still did nothing. San thought that maybe he was nervous because of the scale of the party and the guests and heck, even the fact that his grandpa was there.

It didn't even take long for him to spiral out even more when he saw that you had come with Jongho. To be frank, San was so close to leaving earth at that point but Yunho regrounded him by assisting him in talking to the guests who wanted to discuss things with him. Despite the distraction of waves of old men coming up to him trying to ask about his business plan and his feeling over his family's achievement. He never really minded with being the face of the company but at that moment, he wasn't feeling so hot.

Things become even worse for him when he saw you pulling Seungcheol to the side of the bar. WITHOUT Jongho.

"Dude, are you okay?" Yeosang asked, tapping on San's shoulder which made the man jump slightly despite it being a light tap. San's hand instinctively pulled at his collar from discomfort. It took a lot from San to avert his gaze from you and his obviously hot cousin whom he hadn't seen in a long while. Damn it, why is he back now and right when you're finally in the same room as his again?

Although he wanted to say all that, his body was not letting him have his feelings. So San let out an exhale, fixed the lapels of suit and gave Yeosang a tight-lipped smile, "Nothing, can we move from this spot? I think I saw the guy we signed a deal with two years ago," he said, nodding his head to the other direction. Though unsure, Yeosang knew that it was unwise to unload San's feelings at that moment so he just went along with whatever San wanted. "Sure thing, we can- Mingi?" Yeosang turned to look for Mingi only to see the tall man trailing away, seemingly following someone with the tray of sliders. "Damn it," Yeosang groaned, turning to Wooyoung who was making eyes with a hybrid paralegal nearby, "Can you please focus? We lost a guy to food, we need to stay sharp for San," he said. Hearing him say this, San felt bad. He was basically being babysat by his friends and it was humiliating for him. But he couldn't do anything, not when he himself realized that he was not in an emotionally stable state.

With one last glance at your direction, San walked away to circulate the room, hoping that he might get to talk to you again after so long.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to choke on the shot you just downed. Seeing you trying to bite down you grin as some alcohol dribbled down your chin, Seungcheol easily inhaled his own before he pointed at your chin, "No, that's cheating, you're losing like half of that shot just by being clumsy," he stated. You put the now empty shot glass on the table and stared at Seungcheol with an incredulous look, "Excuse me? I downed that one whole shot, you saw me!" you defended. But Seungcheol shook his head at you, briefly taking a moment to flag down the bartender and put two of his fingers up, indicating that he wanted two more shots, "Nope, doesn't count," he smirked. Once the bartender came back with two shots that he placed in front of you both. You took the shot glass that was placed in front of you and swirled it slightly, "Do you do this often?" you asked, peering over to Seungcheol through your eyelashes, "What?" He asked, "Doing shots at parties with a girl?" Seungcheol raised an eyebrow at you and he suddenly repositioned himself, moving so that he was leaning closer to you. The lack of chairs or stools on the bar allowed him to be free with his movement and position. "Girl? No. Pretty girls? Yes," he winked as he took his shot glass and pressed it to his mouth. You shook your head in disbelief, trying to be aloof but the smirk on your lips made it apparent that his words had affected you, "Smooth," you stated simply as you gulp your own shot.

When you lowered the shot glass from your lips, you saw Seungcheol staring at you. It was at that moment that you realized how beautiful his orbs and lashes are. "What?" You asked, feeling awkward all of a sudden, not used to being stared. Well, not used to being stared by a guy as handsome as he anyways. "You got, uh... You got a little something," He then proceed to put his shot glass back on the bar and he gently cupped your chin. Your eyes widened at the sudden touch and your body became stiff.

Just as Seungcheol was about to do something, a commotion broke that snapped you both from being so immersed with each other and made you jump away from each other.

From the middle of the crowd, you can see some people moving around frantically until the people around you stepped to the sides to reveal someone on top of another person. There were several people trying to separate them but the person on top seemed to have the upper hand. It wasn't until the person on top finally lifted his head that you realized that it was San on top of a middle-aged businessman. Your eyes widened in shock and San's too. Maybe it was you imagining things, but you could've sworn that when he realized you were looking at him, San's body relaxed and his hands lost their grip on the middle-aged man. People took notice of that as well and one person took that moment to his advantage. He grabbed San up by the arm and dragged him away, their trail was covered by two more guys as people only started to gather around to tend to the middle-aged man once they were sure that San was no longer around. The area was nothing short of chaos with people running around getting ice and making space, and the whole nine yards. It had started to overwhelm you, to be frank.

Thankfully, you saw Jongho jogging towards you once San was taken away and out and once he got close, he pulled you away to the sidelines. "Geez, I thought that was you," Jongho said, exhaling in relief. Confused, your eyebrows scrunched, "What are you talking about, I was with Seungcheol this whole time. You left me alone with him, you jerk," you scoffed. Jongho simply rolled his eyes and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you away from the crowd, "Well, for one thing, I know you tend to do stupid shit when you're drunk and you've been inhaling shots like it was fucking caprisun," he stated, looking at you pointedly, "Second, I don't want you to get hurt, okay?" and you smiled gratefully at Jongho's consideration over your safety.

"Can we go somewhere... Less crowded? This feels uncomfortable for me," you smiled sheepishly at him. Lucky for you, he grinned widely and nodded in agreement, wordlessly guiding you away once again. But as you walked away with Jongho, you couldn't help but let your eyes trail over where San and his friend disappeared to. You had never seen him like that but maybe he just had changed over the years. The sweet boy you once knew maybe has been replaced by someone you act without thinking. Whatever it was, you don't think that you liked it. Not even one bit. Especially not when he looked like he was about to hurt someone like he had hurt you a long time ago.

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @90s-belladonna @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @miaatiny @shinotani @jayb17 @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @bbymatz @yunhorights @tinybinnie @blaaiissee @yunhobug @kwanisms @yoongiigolden @kpopnightingale @maddiebabyxoxo @dea-nimus @meowmeowminnie @x-bluee @itsbeeble @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @starjoongie1117 @x-woozi @jwnghyuns @marvelous-imagines-for-all @baguette-atiny @jessi-outdated @dogsongy @kirooz @ateezourstars @memorymonster @yoonguurt

@justbaozi25 @idjitscentral @angelicyeo @jackinmyarea @cutie-wooyo

@glitterystarlightmeow

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: blood, wounds, violence, death, grief, loss of a parent, implied sa references/fear of touch due to Inej's trauma

Note: This kinda got really long out of nowhere and I'm not sure when that happened but hey, hope you enjoy :)

AO3 link

Chapter 18 - Jesper

Jesper was barely in time to stop Inej from smacking into the pavement, catching her shoulders and gently laying her the last few inches instead of letting her fall through them. She shuddered as his hand found the wound on her leg, his fingers almost instantly turning wet with blood. He thought he should probably apply pressure to it - even though the knife was still there, protruding from her flesh at an ugly angle, blood was soaking through her trouser leg and dripping onto the ground - but as soon as he made contact she flinched away. The movement elicited a deep groan from the pain, but Inej just shook her head and seemed to be leaning as far away from him as she could manage from where she lay.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

Jesper began to nod, then paused.

“Is this a… touching-my-leg-makes-it-hurt-more kind of situation, or a don’t-touch-me-at-all kind of situation?”

“Not at all,” she managed, through gritted teeth and a tight breath.

“Okay,” Jesper nodded, shuffling back a little, “Okay,”

But he wasn’t sure what to do now. He had to get her to Nina - no, he had to get her back to the Slat and have Nina come to them. He couldn’t take Inej to the White Rose. He sent Bolliger and Pim running to fetch Nina, and hoped with such fervour it might have been a prayer that he’d be able to get Inej back home in one piece.

He tried to study the cut for a moment and realised it was worse than he’d thought; the wound with the knife handle still visible was only one of several deep, jagged caverns that had been dug into her leg, and around all of them the ripped edges of her trousers bubbling with blood. The lowest was at her knee but the rest were close together in her thigh. He didn’t see her getting back to the Slat without help. 

“We’ve got to move,” he said, after a second had passed, “If I just help you up, do you think you can walk alone?”

“You came back,” Inej whispered, sounding almost surprised.

“I heard a gunshot,” he said, “The others were steering down the street, I sent Anika and Roeder to the docks and pulled Pim and Bolliger into the fight with me,”

Jesper was still nervous about that decision. It was hazy enough for him and Inej to show up and ask him to trust them on such insane information, but looking at Inej he knew he needed to be here. And the main thing was just that the others got Wylan away from the hired guns and back to the Barrel. 

“You came back,” Inej whispered again.

Jesper tried to force his focus to Inej’s face, and not the throbbing flesh in front of him. He nodded.

“Do you think you can let me help you up? Can you walk?”

A brief moment hung in the air.

“I can try,”

Jesper held his hands out so Inej could choose to take them when she was ready, and she gripped him so tightly he thought the pressure from his rings might break skin. She was clearly holding in a scream as she anchored herself against him to drag her legs beneath her and sit upright. 

“Inej-”

“Just let me try,” she breathed.

Jesper held his arms out at right angles, as stiff as he could make them, and Inej leaned on them like they were the top of a wall she’d climbed as she pulled herself to her feet. He watched her fingers tighten on top of his sleeve, her knuckles almost turning white. As soon as she was standing she released him, took one shuffling step forwards, and very nearly collapsed as her leg buckled and a low, almost angry scream burst from her chest. Jesper  caught her on instinct as hse fell, then quickly pressed her against the side of one of the buildings leering into the alleyway so she could stay upright as he stepped away. She stared at the floor, breathing shakily. Her shadow loomed across the paving stones, disfigured by the dark blotch of the knife handle. Jesper took a slow breath.

“Inej, you’re not going to get back to the Slat like this,” he hesitated, “It’s not a long walk. You can lean on me, and we can take breaks if you need them. Okay?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again she still avoided his gaze.

“Okay,”

Inej swayed a little as she tried to straighten, then fell into Jesper’s arm with a few slow, stumbling steps. He held her up, trying to keep weight off her leg if he could, trying to watch her face and figure out if she needed him to let go.

“Just tell me if you need to stop,”

They managed the first few steps, Inej limping badly, and had almost reached the mouth of the alley before she grabbed his sleeve. Jesper froze, scanning for something to lean her against to stay standing. He pulled away but kept his hand on hers, seemingly all that was holding her up. But all she said was:

“I’m dizzy,”

Her voice was barely a whisper, with a worryingly light tone that sounded faintly amused. Jesper glanced down - Inej’s face had paled quite considerably, and the cobbles beneath and behind them were dark and slick with red. Shit.

“Inej?”

“Jesper…” she whispered, swaying slighlty, “Jesper…”

Panic began to close its tight grip over Jesper as he tried to tug Inej another step forwards, hand over hers, arm outstretched for fear she’d fall or faint. 

“You’re okay,” he told her, wishing he sounded more convincing, “You’re okay; we’re not far from the Slat now,”

Inej glanced around her like she was surprised to discover where she was. 

“It’ll just take ten minutes,” said Jesper, even though he knew on a brisk walk it would probably take you fifteen, “Come on, you can do it,”

Inej gripped his hand tighter, took a slow but confident stride forwards, and promptly fell straight towards the pavement. Jesper grabbed her by the shoulders before she could face-plant onto the stones and tried to encourage her to balance, but he could tell it was a lost cause. He hesitated, but there was still blood pouring from Inej’s wounds and she was swaying between his hands on her arms, eyes half-closed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then quickly looped an arm around her waist and scooped her up into his arms, “I’m so sorry. We’ll get home as quick as possible, okay?”

Inej didn’t reply. She struggled briefly and rather half-heartedly as he picked her up and her face contorted in pain. He genuinely wasn’t sure if that came only from the knife wounds, or from him as well. But he had to get her back to the Slat, and he wasn’t sure she’d make it on her own. He all but ran back through the Barrel, moving as quickly as he could manage with her drooping in his arms, feeling her blood soaking into his shirt and murmuring a thousand apologies into her ear. 

They burst messily through the door and Jesper immediately saw Layla, a sweetheart but probably the clumsiest girl he’d ever met, jump up from her chair at the sight of Inej. The chair fell over in her wake but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Find Kaz,” he told her, “Quick,”

She vanished. Inej mumbled something, her eyelids drooping.

“Hey,” Jesper tried his best to give her a shake without risking dropping her, “Hey, Inej! Look at me, come on, keep your eyes open,”

“Don’t…” her voice was weak and breathy, “... Kaz,”

Jesper shook her again, hurrying towards the stairs.

“Keep talking to me,” he said, “We’re gonna get you upstairs to lie down, and Nina’s gonna be here in no time, okay? Repeat it back to me, come on,”

Inej shuddered. 

“Jesper… don’t…”

Her voice faded.

“Talk to me, Inej,”

“Don’t tell Kaz,” she whispered, shaking her head, “He won’t… if I… don’t…”

Jesper swallowed.

“We’ll-” he glanced back over his shoulder, but Layla was long gone, “Okay, Kaz is coming, but I’m gonna keep him out of your way, alright?”

Inej groaned.

“I can’t… he’ll…”

“He’s just going to know something happened,” Jesper didn’t know why she didn’t want Kaz to know about this, but he had a growing suspicion he could work it out, “He doesn't have to know how bad it is. I’ll keep him out of your way,”

They got upstairs as quickly as Jepser could manage and he laid her onto her bed. She groaned softly, rolling quickly away from his touch and immediately wincing at the pain, whilst Jesper grabbed a towel that he found sitting on top of her little clothes chest. He hesitated. 

“I’m just gonna lift your legs up,” he told her, slowly, “to put the towel underneath you. Is that alright? I’m just gonna touch your boots, it’ll be two seconds,”

There was already blood on her duvet and maybe this was a futile gesture, but it would probably take a good while to track down any other clean bed sheets at the Slat if these ones got completely ruined. Inej nodded. She closed her eyes and when Jesper took hold of her shoes she gripped the quilt either side of her, the fabric balling into her fists. He pulled the towel along and folded it beneath the wounds as quickly as he could, then gently lowered her legs again. 

“All done,” he whispered.

Inej’s pained whimper was her only response.

“Nina’s on her way, she’ll be here any minute. I’ll give you some space, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me-”

He made to leave, but before he could take a step further Inej’s hand had shot out and closed tightly over his own. She winced - she’d sat up slightly to reach him - and her face was contorted in pain as Jesper turned back to her. 

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, “Please,”

Jesper nodded, moving back to her side and squeezing her fingers softly.

“Of course not,”

There wasn’t a chair in Inej’s room - there wouldn’t have been space for one - but Jesper sat down beneath her window and stretched his legs out in front of him. She lay on her side so the knife handle was sticking into the air, dangling her arm over the side of the bed and loosely interlocking her fingers with his. 

“Talk to me,”

“About what?”

“Anything,” she whispered, and after a minute, “How did you know? About Wylan?”

“I didn’t. Not really,” he shrugged, “I mean, I noticed stuff was weird… I didn’t think he would try to kill him,”

Inej closed her eyes for a moment and Jepser squeezed her fingers tighter.

“Inej? Inej, look at me,”

“I’m okay,” she whispered, “Still breathing,”

Jesper didn’t want to let go, but he gently loosened his grip on her fingers. They stayed loosely connected, index fingers hooked around each other. He was fighting to stay in this room, in this moment, with Inej and not… Jesper breathed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen death, since his mother, he saw it almost every day. Hell, he may very well have killed a man barely half an hour ago, before he brought Inej back to the Slat, he didn’t stop to check if the tough was still breathing. And Inej was going to be fine, Nina was coming, she would know what to do. But there was something about this that was forcing him to face the cavern that would be left in him if he lost Inej, to bring the cavern already inside him back to the surface. He took a breath, trying to shake himself away from such stupid thoughts. He was not seven years old anymore. And Inej was going to be okay. 

“Jesper?”

He blinked, smiling at Inej.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, “Do you want some water?”

“Jesper,” her voice was soft, “are you crying?”

“No,” he cleared his throat, standing up and dropping her hand, “I’ll get you some water,”

When he came back, Inej had shuffled herself up the bed to sit leaning against the headboard, propped up by her pillow, wincing as tried to settle herself.

“What are you doing?” asked Jesper, shaking his head, as he set her water down and offered her an arm so she could steady.

“I…” Inej breathed heavily, “... it hurts,”

“Well I hate to state the obvious, love, but I think that’s going to be a given when there a knife sticking out your leg,”

Inej made a sound that might have been laughter, but it was hard to tell through her pained breathing. She clutched his arm, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.

“You should lie down, try to keep it still,” he told her softly.

“Where’s Nina?”

Jesper had no idea. Shouldn’t she be here by now? Shouldn’t she have gotten back before they did?

“On her way,” he promised, “She’ll be here any minute,”

It took a short while longer for Nina to arrive, though Jesper wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. He got Inej to drink an entire glass of water, but she was still losing blood badly and he thought she might be close to passing out. He didn’t know how much blood you have to have lost to get to that point. Should he try to put pressure on the cuts? He didn’t want to risk moving the knife around, and he wasn’t sure if I he would be okay with his hands on her leg again. If Nina wasn’t here in a few minutes, he decided, he would find something to tie around them and hope that would be enough pressure until she arrived. 

“Talk to me,” Inej said again, her voice weak, “Please,”

Jesper nodded.

“I… I don’t know what to say,”

“You always know what to say,” Inej laughed softly, and Jesper echoed her.

She was right. He could’ve talked for King and country, as his Da would’ve put it - which always made Jesper laugh when he was little, because they didn’t have a King in Novyi Zem. There wasn’t a King in Kerch, either, but that didn’t stop him. Still, now it felt like there were simply no words within his reach. A moment passed, before Inej murmured:

“Tell me about Wylan,”

“What about him?”

“Well, I only met him twice,” she said, softly, “In chemistry lessons, of all places. I’m still yet to have a go at Kaz for those,”

Jesper laughed.

“Tell me what he’s like,” Inej said, closing her eyes again until Jesper grabbed her hand and she said: “I’m awake. I’m okay. Just… talk,”

Jesper talked. The minutes ticked by. He panicked that Nina still hadn’t appeared, wondered if he should send one of the Dregs looking for her or looking for a Healer, tried to keep his voice even and carry on talking to Inej. He didn’t know how long it had been when the door was flung open and Nina ran into the tiny bedroom, taking Jesper by surprise so much that he jumped up to his feet. 

“Inej?”

“Nina…” Inej groaned, softly, reaching out towards Nina’s outstretched hand, smiling as she said, “funny story…”

“Oh Saints, Inej, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

Nina clutched at Inej’s fingers for a moment as Jesper tried to shuffle out of her way in the tiny room, so Nina could get to Inej properly.

“What-?” when she saw the full extent of Inej’s injuries, Nina gasped, “Oh Saints, what happened?”

Jesper opened his mouth but before he could the door opened again and Kaz appeared through it.

“Wraith-”

Inej seemed to almost flinch, pulling herself quickly upright and immediately wincing at the pain.

“Nope,” said Jesper, before Kaz could get another word in, “There’s too many people in here,”

“What happened?” asked Kaz, his rough voice grating through the air. 

“Out,” Jesper pointed at the door, “I’ll fill you in,”

No-one moved for a moment; Jesper walked towards the door so Kaz was forced to back out into the corridor again, though he didn’t look pleased about it, and nodded at Nina and Inej before he pulled it shut behind them both. 

[rickmymanrick]

one rule | chapter two |

[rick grimes x original female character slowburn]

summary: the statewide evacuation is underway and it goes terribly wrong terribly fast. daphne and glenn undergo an impromptu rescue mission and soon their group of two becomes a group of 5.

note: twd-typical gore starts now. there's vivid descriptions and mentions of vomit among many other things. this will be the only warning from now on until we get into the sexual content of this book. but expect anything as gory as what you saw in the show and/or read in the comics. :)

"God, I fucking hate Atlanta."

"Daphne..."

I ignored him, pressing a hand against my forehead and squeezing my eyes shut to try to will the traffic we were currently stuck in away.

"In fact, I hate all big cities. New York, LA, Chicago..."

"What is—?" I peeked at Glenn to see him leaning forward, nearly smacking his head into the windshield.

I chose to complain without a care. "I could really stretch my legs right now..."

"Daphne!"

"What? What?" I glared at him through an eye. I quickly sat up when I saw the horrified look on his face. The fear of what I'd see up ahead paralyzed me for just a moment. I had never ever seen Glenn so terrified in his life.

"We need—" he started blindly reaching out for the door handle, pressing every button on the side door console. "Out. We need to get out right now!"

I whipped my head forward when the screams started and nothing could've prepared me for what I saw.

There was a crowd— no—herd— of people stumbling down the adjacent empty side of the freeway. Some of them were crossing the small median barriers that separated the lanes that led out of the city and the lanes leading towards it, where every single car in the state of Georgia crammed into.

From a distance, it looked just... odd. Then they started to get closer and I realized with a start what was causing Glenn to panic in a way I'd never seen.

These people were... dead.

Flesh hanging off their cheekbones and extremities... a horrid stench of death and rotten flesh that I could smell from a mile away... I instantly wanted to throw up.

I tuned back into my immediate surroundings and found that Glenn was still desperately grabbing at the door, eyes wildly looking at the chaos unfolding around us.

He was saying something— more like screaming something — but my hearing went into a strange state of white noise.

It was my body's fight or flight. The sort of survival instincts I'd never had to tap into before in my mundane life.

I slammed my whole hand on the driver's door console and in his panic, Glenn instantly re-locked the doors with his button. "Goddamnit, Glenn!"

"I'm sorry! I'm—"

"Let's go," I rushed out of the car and made it to Glenn's side in record speed. He was still struggling, halfway out the car, his hands reaching for whatever he could find useful in the car.

"We don't have time for this," I dragged him by the shirt and started running towards the woods adjacent to the highway, desperate to create some space between us and the dead.

A corpse lunged in front of me out of nowhere and a scream ripped through my throat. It tackled an older lady that was trying to grab something out of her car trunk just a few paces ahead of us.

I completely froze, the terror was icy cold and spreading from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my feet. My stomach started turning painfully —

My arm nearly came off my body from how hard Glenn pulled me away.

We began running, sprinting faster than we had ever pushed ourselves before and I couldn’t even feel myself break a sweat.

The adrenaline pushed me farther and farther away until I was the one leading Glenn by the hand, tearing through the woods and never looking back.

The screams were louder than ever and I could faintly hear Glenn hyperventilating over the pounding in my ears. 

I didn’t let go. I didn’t ease up.

We had to run.

It was only what felt like hours later (it had only been minutes really) that I skidded to a stop, no longer recognizing my surroundings. It was finally quiet, just a faint chorus of beeps and sirens from a distance away.

Glenn fell to the ground and instantly curled into a ball, his hands shielding his head as his back started shaking.

It felt like my heart soared up to my throat and I barely made it a few steps before throwing up everything I had eaten this morning.

My eyes stung, tears streaming down and mixing with the vomit. My nose was running and I was crying all at the same time. I threw up until there was nothing left in my system anymore, just dry heaving and a burning in my throat.

Glenn was still curled up on the ground.

I didn’t know how long we’d been sitting here in our state of shock; it could’ve well been over a half hour.

”You know,” I began hoarsely. “I was supposed to go on a date today.”

This made him look up, bloodshot eyes squinting at me as if he were trying to figure out if I’d truly reached my breaking point.

Maybe I had. Hell, everything I thought I knew about this world was flipped upside down.

As of this morning, there were two things I was absolutely certain of in this world — we, humans, are born and eventually we die. It was the natural order of things and there was no way around it. No do-over, no coming back— that was just it.

Now, now I was questioning my grip on reality and desperately holding on to anything I could remember from my life before this afternoon’s events.

There was life then, and there’s life now.

Maybe Glenn realized that too because as soon as the confusion crossed his face, it was gone and he was laughing.

”This is one hell of a way to stand someone up,” he said, sniffling. “At least you’ve got a valid excuse.”

“Yeah, true. Maybe he’ll be willing to reschedule.”

We don’t comment on the ridiculousness of that statement. It’s very clear to me that Shane might be dead.

”Who was it anyway?” Glenn asked, picking at the leaves under his hands.

I jolted at the sound of a branch snapping. An icy cold sensation gripped my throat and I snapped my head to look in that direction.

It was a squirrel.

”Uh - it was the flirty cop. You know, the one who asked what the best night of my life was like when we met and then - ”

”Then he told you he could give that to you. Yeah, girl, what the fuck?”

This was the first taste of normalcy since the highway.

”He - he’s not that much of an asshole anymore. I only agreed because he promised to take me to Ilio’s.”

”He knows about that place?”

”I told him yesterday morning and I guess he does have hearing for things other than sex.”

He snorted. “That’s some character development.”

”Surprised me too,” I said quietly.

It was silent for a few moments and I had to strain my ears to listen for the screams. They’d died down significantly.

We had to get out of here soon. Maybe go home, find a car if we could. Anything. Sitting here would surely end in our death - through starvation or otherwise.

”I was gonna quit today,” Glenn said suddenly.

I quirked an eyebrow. I stared over at my best friend and he stared back.

”You’re bullshitting,” I denied after a solid thirty seconds.

“I’m dead serious, Daph. I was thinking of becoming a cop, just like you,” he said with that proud bullshitting smile.

“Shut up. I’m not a cop,” I grimaced. “You know I would’ve never stepped foot in a precinct if it wasn’t required in my training.”

“So we hate cops but the flirty one’s alright?”

I rolled my eyes and sat down beside him.

“What about Griiiiimmmeeesss?”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” I shoved the annoying fucker aside, so hard that he landed on his side in the grass.

He fell over in giggles, knocking his hat into the ground and laughing even harder. I couldn’t help but laugh too. It felt bizarre after what we just experienced.

Glenn slowly recovered and it all went silent again.

”What made you say that anyway?” I glanced at him.

He shrugged. “Thought we were saying random things.”

I shook my head in amusement. We sat there for a few more minutes.

”What do we do?” I stared at the ground.

I saw Glenn turn to me from the corner of my eye. “I don’t know.”

”What do you think we should do?”

Glenn's idea ended up being 'borrowing' a car to drive back to our apartment and figure it out there. We'd both refused to go back to the highway and so with burning legs and dry mouths, we trekked through the woods until we eventually hit some concrete again. We stayed along the road, following whatever little signs we could find until we stumbled across an abandoned Jeep halfway on the road and halfway on the grass. It was still on, its windshield wipers moving and the lights turned on despite the bright sun out. 

"Looks like there was a struggle here," I noted. We both stood at a good distance just in case. 

"Which means we shouldn't linger around any longer than we need to," Glenn made a start for the vehicle. "I'm willing to bet one of those geeks are close by."

"Wait - " I followed after him quickly. "Grand theft auto?!"

"Does it even matter anymore? I don't see any law enforcement around here, do you?"

A nearby human-like growl was all the convincing I needed. Surprisingly, Glenn let me drive and I noticed his shaky hands resting on his lap as we sped down the deserted roads. 

When we made it to the complex, it was just as empty as every other road we'd been on. There was some cars here and there but not a single soul in sight. They must've left as soon as the evacuation was announced. I cringed at the thought of our neighbors stuck on that highway from hell. 

I ran my hands along the comforter on my bed, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers because something told me I wouldn't be back in a long time.

For a moment, our little apartment felt like the only safe haven left in the world. I wanted to stay, beg Glenn to help me barricade the doors, but it wasn't possible. The I-85 was too close to our town for comfort. 

Between the two of us, we silently emptied our pantry into the trunk of the half open-door, half window-less Jeep. I tried to shove every knife I could find in the glove compartment, wishing I had more than just a handgun. 

"We should stop the station," I thought out loud. "Maybe they'll let me grab some more ammo. We can warn them if they don't know yet."

Glenn nodded and we rushed to finish packing as much as we could fit. I was grabbing a pack of batteries when we heard the first gunshot. 

Without hesitation, I threw myself to the ground, crouching behind the island as a vase behind me shattered. 

"That's not good,” Glenn stated the obvious. He rushed on all fours and then grabbed me, running toward the front door without hesitation. The bullet had entered through our side window, one of the perks of having a corner unit. I barely had time to grab the keys of our stolen car.

I kept my head down, sprinting to the driver's side and twisting the key in the ignition. 

Glass rained down from the apartment building, windows shattering as bullets entered them with precision. I realized with a start that this wasn't an accident. 

"It's the military," said Glenn as soon as we safely sped away from our street. 

"You saw it?"

"Yes, I saw it," he said exasperatedly. "They're shooting everyone down. Look!"

I did my best to look over at his phone and saw a shaky video of military soldiers raining down rounds on groups of people-- living civilians…

There was a military truck ahead, two lights away, so I turned the wheel into a sharp right. We were already halfway to the police station in the next town over - King County. Our only option was to try to speed through the town square; it was the only exit I knew and maybe I could've thought of more if I wasn't terrified of being shot in the head. 

We raced closer to the town, going well over the speed limit and I was forced to slow down when I finally saw signs of civilization again - people running for their lives, thankfully, no children in sight until --

"That's - that's Shane! What the fuck?" I yelled over the wind, recognizing the back of my coworker as soon as I laid eyes on him.

"Who's Shane?!" Glenn yelled back. 

I couldn't answer, not as I was staring straight ahead at a group of armed soldiers, aimed and locked on Shane and the two others that were with him. 

My consciousness would never let me live if I didn't act fast. I pressed the gas straight into the floor and it felt exhilarating for half a moment. We began approaching the intersection with frightening speed.

I suddenly slammed the brakes and used whatever momentum I had to twist the car around. Right between the military and Shane's group. 

Glenn made a desperate grab at the handle above beside him, screaming something along the lines of me being insane. Shane pulled himself off the ground, releasing Lori and Carl Grimes with a relieved smile.

“Yes, fuck yes!” He cheered as he opened the back door quickly. Carl and Lori climbed in first, breathing so quickly I feared one of them was hyperventilating.

“T-thank you,” Lori reached over and grasped me by the shoulder. Her hands were severely shaking. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand back, a bit shocked at the company. Shane came barreling in with a large KCPD duffel bag.

I managed to crack a joke. “I thought you were picking me up, Walsh?” 

The soldiers kept yelling orders from the other side of the intersection and I realized they would start shooting again if I didn’t move now.

Shane leaned forward and grasped the side of my head with one hand, pulling my temple against his lips firmly, breathing into my hair like I was the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to him. I smiled, gripping the steering wheel and shifting into drive just as they raised their guns again.

Shane let me go quickly and the shooting started again. Lori screamed and I saw her pull Carl in close through the rearview mirror. I slammed my foot into the gas, adrenaline pumping through my blood and I remember feeling a sharp pinch in my left leg as I sent the car from 0 to about 100 MPH in record time.

“Where are we going? Daphne, where are we going?!” Glenn panicked from the passenger’s seat.

I wished I could answer him but the only thing my brain was allowing me to do was drive. Survival kicked in and I was doing everything I could to keep us alive.

“Ayala, listen to me. We gotta go in-land. It’s the only place they won’t find us, you hear me?” Shane asserted from behind Glenn. He grabbed me by the shoulder.

I saw an opening between the trees a few yards ahead and without warning, took a sharp left into the wild greenery.

Carl cursed. Lori didn’t seem to care.

It was only until Shane told me we were safe that I stopped on the edge of a cliff, the view of Atlanta in the distance, the endless traffic on the I-85 eerily silent now.

“Holy shit,” Glenn said. “Daphne, your leg.”

“What?” I asked absentmindedly.

I hadn’t bothered to check out that strange pinch until now. Before I could force my head to look down (it had gotten strangely heavier since I put the car in park), my door was opening and Shane was right there, crouching at my side. Lori and Carl had gotten out of the car, one of them crying. Or maybe both of them were— I wasn’t sure anymore.

I was all of a sudden dizzy.

My mind drifted off in a million different directions. Were we the only survivors? Was it just Atlanta and the surrounding cities? What the fuck was happening? What the fuck—

“Hey, Ayala.”

What the fuck —

“Look at me.”

What the fuck—

“Daphne!”

I looked back down at him with a newfound strength. My mind cleared enough to realize the situation.

Shane’s hands were covered in red, ripping at his undershirt and I felt the first sting of pain as the adrenaline wore off.

“Fuck,” I gasped, tempted to clutch onto my leg but he quickly pushed my hands away and began to wrap the fabric around the wound tightly.

“One of the bullets got you,” Shane grunted. “We’re lucky it’s just a graze. Any longer and you would’ve lost too much blood.”

Glenn pushed Shane aside as soon as he was done. When had he gotten out of the car?

He wrapped an arm around my torso and began to help me out of the vehicle.

“You crazy asshole. You can’t leave me like this,” said Glenn dramatically. We hobbled over to a nearby rock.

“I’m not going to die, Rhee,” I slurred.

Glenn looked at me. “You better not.”

“Nope,” I shook my finger. I think the blood loss was getting to me now and I distantly hoped if I passed out, I wouldn’t hit my head too hard.

“Here,” offered Lori as she walked over to us. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on what Glenn had accepted from her hands.

“Thanks,” I said without knowing. I’m pretty she gave me a smile before walking back to her son.

Glenn thrusted the object in my face—

A go-gurt in all its glory.

”The kid grabbed everything that was in their fridge,” he pointed his thumb at the second duffle bag that laid next to Carl. “You need to eat something.”

I was too tired to argue. I slowly began to rip the top off and made eye contact with Shane.

”What’s up with him?” Glenn eyed him and sat beside me.

“I was supposed to go on that date with him,” I explained. My strength was slowly coming back.

Glenn looked at me and then back at Shane with wide eyes.

“Do you fucking know the definition of subtle?!” I whacked him on the arm, ducking closer to him so Shane couldn’t read my lips.

“He’s the flirty coworker?” Glenn whispered quite fucking loudly.

I rolled my eyes. “I need to stop telling you every little detail in my life. It’s really backfiring on me now.”

I didn’t mean it of course. Glenn was a part of me and me, him. We were pretty much each other’s first everything and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since we met.

”It’s just weird. How we all ended up together… ” I trailed off.

”You know them?” He looked over at Lori and Carl; she had her arms wrapped around her son, holding him close.

I smiled sadly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“Daphne, I’m going to go scan the perimeter. See if I can find us some tents, shelter…” Shane looked over at Glenn. “You comin’ with?”

My first instinct was to protest. Glenn looked down at his arm, my hand clutching at it like a vice.

”Hey, I’ll be fine. We’ll be back before sundown, right?”

Shane looked between me, Glenn, and my hand. “Right.” He said stiffly.

To our luck, Shane and Glenn found a camping store within the last few hours of daylight.

I’d spent that time talking to Lori, skillfully avoiding the subject of her husband though I was dying to know what happened to him.

Was he alive? Did they evacuate the medical patients in time? 

The not-knowing made me anxious… All in all, Lori Grimes was a really sweet woman, just a few years older than I was and easy to hold a conversation with. I imagined it would be even easier if the threat of death and gloom wasn’t hanging over our shoulders. That was another thing I was desperately trying to ignore, but I was failing horrendously.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the corpse ripping apart that old lady’s torso on the highway, blood soaking the ground before my feet, intestines spilling like rope from her abdomen as she screamed in agony -

“Hey,” Lori put a hand on my knee. I jumped in fright. “We can’t get lost in our heads. Now now.”

She had an understanding look on her face. I wondered what she’d seen before Glenn and I found them in the town square.

I looked over at Carl and wondered the same thing; he was only a boy. 

I squeezed Lori’s hand and gave her a shaky smile.

“They’re back!” Carl exclaimed. It was the first thing he said since the car ride.

I nearly cried in relief. My leg was still aching, the blood dried up on the fabric of my pants, so I couldn’t get up even if I tried.

Carl ran over to Shane with a smile. Glenn slammed the passenger door shut and came running over.

”How was it?” I asked quietly, keeping an eye on the police officer.

”Could’ve been worse,” he shrugged and I instantly knew Shane had been difficult. “We found some supplies though. A national park shop, it had tents, flashlights, we grabbed it all.”

The first bit of hope flooded through me. Maybe we would survive this. Wait it out until the military found some better way to control the virus.

”And this - ” Shane came out of nowhere, holding a bottle of vodka. I gave him an impressed look, nudging Glenn in excitement. If this was the end of the world, at least we could get wasted one last time.

" - this is gonna hurt," finished Shane. He was looking straight at my leg. My heart sank at the implication. 

”Hey, at least we can drink it after, right?” Glenn cheered. “Be optimistic, man!”

I glared at him, clutching Shane’s shirt with pale knuckles as he crouched at my feet.

"Remind me to never get shot for one of you assholes ever again," I said through gritted teeth. Thankfully, Lori and Carl were distracted by the supplies. I wouldn't want them to think I was talking about them. 

"I'm sure the pain will be reminder enough," Glenn smiled sympathetically. 

Whatever witty response I had instantly died on my tongue at the first drop of vodka. 

next chapter...

[mayday-jd]

WARNING!!

I'm mostly just talking about broppy here lmao

—————

• moving onto the better fit for poppy I present to y'all my boy... shadow the hedgehog!!

he's definitely one of my favourite trolls this guy singlehandedly started the sassy man apocalypse LMAO

I think branch is good, he's alr and can you see that I can't properly express why I like him 😭

I think it's funny how he spends so much time hating on the trolls happy, fun and loud lifestyle while he's brooding in his corner or bunker

when in reality he feels lonely and does want to be included (BROZONE WHEN I CATCH YOU BROZONE.)

tbh that's probably one of the reasons why he loves poppy since she's always gone out of her way to include him when everyone else just gave up on him cuz of his moody attitude

like guys.. he kept all the invites she gave him... ☹️

when they were on their way to bergen town and all he did was complain about poppy's "poppiness" he never really was completely fed up with her (which kind of is a miracle) like look at his face in this scene where she's singing despite him complaining about it

LOOK HOW HE LOOKS AT HER

and I cannot find a screenshot for this scene BUT THAT SCENE OH. MY. DAYS.

the scene where everyone's freaking out on how to compliment gristle until branch speaks up and gives this absolutely beautiful compliment out of nowhere

but it's not out of nowhere yk why?? CUZ THAT'S JUST HIM DESCRIBING HOW HE SEES POPPY

"Your eyes, they're like two pools so deep, I fear if I dive in, I might never come up for air. And your smile, the sun itself turns jealous and refuses to come out from behind the clouds knowing it cannot shine half as bright."

"I kinda do have a nice smile, don't I?" - gristle's response

"Yes, you do."

AND THEN BRANCH LOOKS AT POPPY

I felt so normal when that scene happened cuz why would I let a trolls movie affect me that much?? 🙂

what's fucking insane tho is that they don't kiss at the end of the movie

like I'm not saying they're obligated to do so but when you basically say "I love you" to each other in I'm pretty fucking sure a /r way then I'm expecting y'all so smack lips by the end of the movie

broppy fans have been starving out there cuz these two bozos don't kiss until the lastest movie which came out SEVEN FUCKING YEARS AFTER THE FIRST TROLLS MOVIE

this is like one of the most evil things I've heard about canon ships LMAOO

anyways broppy wins and fuck creek can't believe poppy liked him 🙄

they should've gone thru with choking him to death ngl

[miles-and-waylon]

A Betrayal of the Worst Kind

Camerashipping and fluff, what could be better?

Miles ‘punishing’ Waylon and Lisa’s of no help.

-

Being on the run and trying to take down a major corrupt corporation with near infinite resources take a toll on a man. Waylon kept his mind away from his stint at Mount Massive by working. Lisa was the one keeping them up on personal maintenance (and driving a majority of the time), Miles handled the execution of dangerous ideas (given the fact he was already dead), and Waylon was the planner.

He was almost always on his laptop, a laptop protected by a motherload of security measures as he’d learned to use after getting caught that first time. He only stopped for long when it came to eating and sleeping, and when one of his partners got fed up and forced a break.

In another cheap motel found on some highway in the middle of nowhere, with Lisa out getting food from the gas station next door, Miles smacked his laptop shut just after he saved his newest project. Before he could even complain, he was laid out across the couch, hips straddled by his dangerous captor.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Waylon tried to protest, squirming as his death-cold grip tugged up his shirt. “Bad time! What if Lisa walks in?”

“I mean, the last time she walked in on us, she seemed quite happy with what she was seeing. Did you really tuck a t-shirt into a pair of sweatpants? You’re such a geek it’s painful.”

Waylon bucked up his hips, kicked his legs, tried to swat away his hands—all to no avail. He proved absolutely terrible in a struggle when his life wasn’t on the line. “Are you judging how I wear pajamas? Are you kidd—“ Miles fingers came in contact with his stomach, nails dragging down against his skin. Immediately, the pinned man turtled into himself.

“I was curious, you know, at our last stop. I brushed up against your side, and you jumped juuust enough for me to notice, and you said that I scared you!”

“Miles—“

“Ah-ah! You said that, but I’ve seen how you startle. That wasn’t it. I’m still a journalist, Way. A bored journalist! When I think I’ve been lied to, that’s when my gears get working.” He wore the most evil grin, contrasting with Waylon’s suddenly wide, terrified eyes. He scribbled slowly, teasingly across exposed flesh. “Did you lie? Did I really startle you?”

“Miles,” he began again, voice wavering. Waylon twisted to press his face into the dusty couch cushion beside him. “Really? A-are you held up on a lit…” He paused to swear. It was the only way to keep a giggle from getting out right then. “…little thing like that? I don’t even remember it!” Journalist or not, who would realistically be able to tell a startled flinch from having sensitive sides?

“Well, honestly, I only remembered it because I basically have nothing to do right now. Doesn’t change that you lied. You lied, and you’ve been neglecting me. I think that’s worthy of a little punishment, don’t you?” Then he found those sensitive sides to attack in earnest.

“Wait! Wait, wait—!” God, then the *buzzing* started. There was no point trying to resist after that. His brief exposure to the engine was still enough to make poor Waylon more receptive to sensing the Walrider’s presence, and he’d be damned if the sudden hum of nanites against his body wasn’t an abuse of power! He broke out into sweet, bubbly laughter, unsure if he should try to protect himself or keep trying to push him away.

Then came a glimmer of hope.

Lisa came through the door right then, plastic bags full of food and much-needed toiletries hanging from her arms. She quickly realized she arrived to a scene of chaos. Her expression turned into curiosity and bemusement.

“Lisa!” Waylon gasped. He threw his arm out towards her in a pleading gesture. “Lisa, help me! Please!”

To his horror, as she realized what was going on, her look twisted into a traitorous smile. “You gotta go lower,” she advised. “Get his hips. He can’t take it. It’s adorable.”

Was this the woman he married? One so willing to throw him under the bus like that? His shock was interrupted by Miles gleefully following her instructions. Laughter turned to mirthful, unmanly squeaks and squeals echoing across the walls of the room.

“Let me put away what I got for us, then I’ll come help.” She better mean help him! “It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten to see him like this.” Apparently not.

He was doomed.

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 4

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Master List of Chapters

Word Count: 1.4k

4. Good Intentions

"I can't believe you get to be out there doing all that, and I'm stuck waddling around after Mister Diplofat here."

Sprint had been filling Howzer in on his latest mission, recounting the details with just enough enthusiasm to make it a thoroughly riveting story and further fueling the simmering desire for some "real action". They walked along the food line, filling their trays with a basic assortment of the options.

"You can find the dignity in any assignment if you choose to," Sprint answered, grabbing a spoon before heading to a table.

"Maybe you can. But once they make me a Captain, it's gonna be a turning point in the war," Howzer insisted.

"Great. I can't wait! Now eat your soup."

***

An impossibly long week of repetitive and seemingly pointless tasks found Howzer back at 79s, accompanied by a few squad mates he had found a conversation with. They were reclined in a booth on the upper level, swapping stories and jokes, when some voices rose above the others downstairs.

"Get back to work, sweetie. Here, take my glass. I could use a refill."

"Did you hear me? I said it's time to go," came a female voice with a sharp edge to it. Howzer peered over the balcony, eyes drawn to a table with a few Weequay pirates huddled over a game of sabacc. A handful of clones were standing around them, arms crossed and brows furrowed, and in the center of the group was Aurelia, pointing toward the door.

One of the pirates stood up, leering at her with just enough impairment to his movements to bely his condition. "We're not done making money off of these chumps!" he said, beckoning toward the clones nearby, who stiffened and appeared to be readying for a fight.

Aurelia sighed, cursing herself inwardly for agreeing to cover a shift by herself. She opened her mouth for one last attempt when a loud clone voice came over her shoulder.

"You're done if she says you're done."

She turned, spotting a familiar clone approaching from the stairs, striding confidently toward the group. She couldn't quite remember his name, but she recognized his messy hair and the way he tried to swagger. Howzer pushed past a couple angry clones to stand beside her, folding his arms over his tensed chest.

"Oh look boys, she's got a little guard dog," the Weequay taunted, turning to poke Howzer in the chest plate, "A nice fresh one all raring to go."

"Come on," a clone beside Howzer said, "Let's not turn this into a big mess. Just call it a night. You've wiped us clean. Take your winnings and go."

"He's got a point," said one of the pirates from the table, rising to his feet to scoop up the variety of credits and cards scattered across it. "Besides, I'm still tired from the last troopers I beat up."

They stood, gathering their things, as Howzer watched sternly. The crowd of clones dissipated, eager to return to their leisure, and the closest Weequay leaned into Aurelia's face, hissing something foul under his breath. She grimaced at the hot blast of stinky air as well as the content of his words.

Smack! Howzer's hand flew out of nowhere, whacking the pirate upside the back of his head. A confused squawk flew from the Weequay's mouth, and one of his cronies was on Howzer in an instant, delivering a tragically accurate sucker punch straight to his gut. He doubled over in pain, quickly followed by terror as his stomach lurched and he felt his dinner come flying back up, out of his mouth, and all over the feet of the pirate in front of him.

A chorus of disgusted sounds rose around him, and the pirates left in revulsion, throwing a litany of insults over their shoulders as they left. Howzer slowly stood back up, hand pressed to his mouth, horrified that one well-placed shot had turned his attempt at courage into a mortifying embarrassment. Aurelia was still next to him, having jumped back a few feet when the pirate charged him, looking at the mess on the floor with a resigned disappointment before turning to fetch a mop from the utility closet.

"Wait, I'll get it," Howzer said, reaching for her elbow. "Or a service droid can?"

"Our droid is perpetually broken. Wait here so no one steps in it," she answered, not looking back. She disappeared around a corner behind the bar, and he stood there for a moment, arms at his sides, ignoring the few judgmental looks from the patrons around him. Aurelia returned with the cleaning supplies, which he promptly took from her arms.

"Please. This was my fault. And it's disgusting," Howzer insisted, and she acquiesced with a mumbled sentence of gratitude. There were a few orders waiting for her at the bar, so she returned to wash her hands and take care of those while he cleaned up the mess.

"I'll put these back," he said, bringing the supplies to the edge of the bar and pausing for a moment, affirmed by Aurelia motioning with her head toward the utility closet. After tucking it all away and washing his hands in the hallway, he slumped on a stool at the very end of the counter. It was getting close to closing time, and the crowd was dwindling. The music was starting to feel like more of an annoyance than anything else, as the desire for sleep began to outweigh the jovial nature of the remaining guests.

A few stragglers were finishing their drinks and conversations, and Aurelia had things mostly tidied up when she noticed Howzer still sitting dejectedly. She was struck by the change in his composure; she had become accustomed to seeing him jaunt around the place, chatting up a variety of females and acting like a general big shot. His friend was noticeably missing tonight, and she felt a sudden intrigue at his complete deflation.

"Thanks for taking care of that earlier," she said, ambling to the end of the bar to chat while she waited for the clock to signal her freedom. "And sorry you got sucker punched."

"That was definitely not how I envisioned that going," he replied, eyes looking up at her from a downcast face.

"Yeah, well... Things often take unexpected turns around here," she offered, studying his face as if it could offer a clue to the name he had shared before giving up. "I'm sorry... What was your name again?"

"Howzer," he muttered, "CT-2420."

"That's right," she said, still mystified by the drastic change in his behavior. She felt oddly moved by it, and it somehow reminded of her older brother when he was disappointed in himself. She glanced at the few remaining patrons, who didn't look close to being done, then back to Howzer. "Don't beat yourself up," she said gently.

"I know. It's just hard to envision my future as a Captain when I can't even handle a few obnoxious spike heads," Howzer answered. "Maybe the cushy life of following politicians around is all I'm suited for after all."

Aurelia smiled, relating to the youthful tendency to overreact to perceived failures. She placed a hand over his, and his head jerked up to look at her, shocked out of his despondency as she spoke, "Sometimes the steps that get us to where we need to be aren't what we think we need. But they can shape and prepare us in unexpected ways."

He regarded her thoughtfully, touched by her compassion and inexplicably drawn in by her dark eyes. "Sounds pretty wise," he mumbled. He was uncharacteristically lost for words; he usually had a whole variety of slick phrases and comebacks, but he felt empty somehow.

"That's why I work here," Aurelia quipped, offering a playful smile in an attempt to encourage him out of his discouraged state. He returned her smile with a small one of his own, and she pulled her hand back from his, checking the time. Thank the Maker, it was finally the end of her shift. She ventured into the room to shoo out the last few stragglers, and Howzer rose to his feet, helmet at his hip, waiting until just the two of them remained. He paused in the doorway, turning his head to Aurelia at a nearby table.

"Hey," he said softly, catching her attention, "Thank you."

Next Chapter

[oliviacursebreaker]

From the prologue of Heir of Blood

So much had changed in the time since I first entered the Map Chamber, and yet as I neared the entrance to the Caverns, I felt exactly the same as I did then. Young and afraid.

The Keepers had left their portraits and I was entirely alone. Perhaps as I had always been meant to be.

Crossing the threshold into the Caverns, I forced myself to slow. To stop and look around at what might be the last thing I ever see. Countless had died at my hands. Their names and faces were nothing more than blurred memories now. I couldn't be sure how many of them deserved to die. I couldn't be certain that they all needed to. Their deaths had carved my path forward, their bones built the bridge I'd now cross into the afterlife.

"Stop!" Footsteps descended towards me, quickly as if the person was running. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

I whirled around, spinning so fast that the ends of hair smacked me in the eyes. For a moment, all I saw was copper red. When that cleared, though, my eyes focused on a boy charging towards me. Freckled and brunette, his eyes were wide with an emotion hot like anger and bitter like regret. It couldn't be. "Sebastian?"

But it was.

"How did you find me?"

"I asked you a question, Irvine." Sebastian drew closer, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he was readied himself for a battle to come. His hair laid messy, more so than usual, as darkness shadowed beneath his eyes.

It didn't seem to matter how much time had passed with us, how many fights and falling outs we'd had, in this moment— it was only us. "Now's not the time to be stubborn, Sebastian. You shouldn't be here."

"I can't think of anywhere else I should be." He stepped forward, the little space between us vibrating with the knowledge of how near we were. "There is nowhere in this world I wouldn't find you." Sebastian's hand found mine, pulling it away from my wand's holster strapped to my thigh. "Don't do this."

A crack sounded in my heart, splitting me between what needed to be done and what I so deeply wanted. "I have no choice."

Sebastian's face was painted in pain. "Please," he begged as if it would make any difference.

Tears pricked my eyes. There was no word I knew to describe what pulsated between us, nothing strong enough to detail just how rawly powerful it was. But power came with a price. "The Keepers entrusted me with this, with all of it. I'm the last Keeper and it's my duty to protect the magic. To protect Hogwarts!"

"And who is protecting you?"

"I don't matter in this."

"You do to me!" If the proper response existed, it was lost on me. Sebastian's breathing disrupted the silence stretching between us. "Please... I can't lose you too. Geneva," his hand cupped my face as his fingers laced into my hair, "I'm begging you. Don't leave me."

For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. Under different circumstances, perhaps I'd let him. I brushed my thumb across his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Maybe in another life."

"We're not done in this one," he said through shaky breaths.

Love seemed to be too weak a word to describe what I felt for him. Our bond overtook destiny, overtook fate, but it seemed that even the greatest stories had to come to an end. Our time was running out, the metaphorical sand of our hourglass drained almost entirely to one side.

"If you do this," He paused as if to give me time to take it all back, to leave with him and pretend our world doesn't rest upon my shoulders. "I will never forgive you."

Pain etched itself across my heart. Deep in my bones, I felt the ache. "But you'll be alive."

He pulled away from me in an instant, cold rushing in. "Life means nothing without you."

"Sebastian, I have been doomed from the start!"  His life had to matter. He had to move on. Had to live, even if I wouldn't be there to see it. "I am destined to die."

"You are destined to be mine!" His voice echoed through the cave, with such conviction I would've thought it to be true. I would've thought our fates must've been intertwined. That he was my destiny and I was his. There'd been moments in the quiet hours of night where I believed it, where I hoped it was true. But if his fate depended on mine, he would be just damned as I. "I'm not letting you do this."

"You can't stop me," I reminded him without a moment of hesitation. 

Sebastian Sallow may have been the Master of the Dark Arts but I was the Master of Magic, the Hero of Hogwarts, the Slayer. He knew damn well that he was no match for me. 

read the rest here!

i'll add it to ao3 as soon as i get off their waiting list, i SWEAR

[nightskyfangirl]

Summary: Five and Luther get into a car crash. Luther is severly injured and Five has to save him.

Characters: Five Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, (others siblings briefly)

A/N: I'm reposting some of my Umbrella Academy fanfics from Archive of Our Own since the main site is down. If you see any mistakes/typos, I apologize, but this copy is from my backups and is not as edited as what is published on AO3.

--

It was the cold that woke Five. Not a slight chill, but a bone deep cold that he couldn’t shake.

Five remembered the crash, but his memory was foggy. He probably had a concussion.

It had been raining and Luther was driving. He and Five had been arguing about something stupid. Five didn’t even remember what it was about. Then Luther looked at Five and lost control of the car. Five remembered Luther’s hand shooting out, bracing Five stronger than any seatbelt. Then the car rolled and Five hit his head on the glass, passenger window.

Five opened his eyes, squinting at the light. It felt blindingly bright and caused a spiking pain in his head. Reasonably, he knew it wasn’t any brighter than normal, but the logic didn’t help dull anything.

They were in a ditch, but at least the car had landed right-side-up. The front of the car was dented in, and the windshield and Five’s passenger window were shattered. The rain was still pouring, and the wind blew it in through the window.

Five hadn’t been this cold since the apocalypse. Maybe that’s why he woke up. In the apocalypse, the summers were scorching, and the winters were sharp, biting winds and freezing temperatures. Cold like this was dangerous. He only had himself to rely on, no doctors, limited medicine. Cold like this could be a death sentence. And now Five wasn’t only cold, he was wet. His shirt was soaked through, his hair was dripping water down his face. Even his socks felt wet.

Five turned to his side.

“Luther?” Five asked, his voice coming out raspy. Five’s eyes were having trouble focusing. He reached out, smacking Luther’s shoulder. “Wake up, Luther.”

Luther slowly came into focus. Dark red blood covered half of his face from a deep gash on his forehead. Probably where he hit the steering wheel. Five reminded himself that head wounds bleed a lot even when they weren’t serious.

But then why wasn’t Luther waking up?

“Luther,” Five snapped, shoving Luther’s shoulder again. Light reflected off something at Luther’s waist. It was a long shard of glass, the length of Five’s forearm, sticking out of Luther’s gut, turning his shirt a dark red.

Five didn’t know if his brain was slowing down or speeding up, but either way it wasn’t working right. He felt like he was short-circuiting. He reached out one hand, straining to reach Luther’s neck. He searched for too long to find a pulse, but it was there. It was slow and weak, but there.

Five breathed out through his nose, willing his hands to stop shaking. How many times did he have to see his siblings almost die? Hadn’t he done this enough?

Five clicked his seat belt off. Luther didn’t feel as cold as Five and seemed to be radiating heat. Even when they were kids, Luther usually stayed warm but after Dad changed his DNA to match Pogo’s, Luther always radiated heat. Five wondered if it was his body fighting the DNA like an infection, keeping Luther mildly feverish at all times.

Five leaned across Luther to get a better view of the glass.

It was a piece of the windshield. At least that meant it was unlikely to break off inside Luther. Five took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around the glass, putting pressure on the wound.

Luther groaned.

“You with me?” Five asked. Luther didn’t respond. Typical.

Five kept one hand on Luther and did a quick scan of their surrondings. He couldn’t see far in the rain, but they were definitely in the middle of nowhere. All he saw were trees. There were no stores or houses. Five didn’t even know which direction to walk in to find help, much less how far. He knew they were getting close to the Academy, probably another 10 minutes before Luther crashed.

And Luther was heavy. Five couldn’t carry him and the car was definitely totaled. Spatial jumps with anyone was difficult, but someone Luther’s size would be nearly impossible in Five’s condition. And Five knew he couldn’t risk needing two jumps. He would have to stretch his powers and take them all the way to the Academy. That was miles away.  

Five was only getting colder. The air was cutting and, now that he didn’t have his jacket, there was nothing providing a barrier from the wind but his soaked shirt.

Luther hated spatial jumping with Five. He always claimed it made him nauseous for hours afterwards. But in his current condition, Luther wasn’t in able to complain.

Five frowned. “Brace yourself.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Luther or himself.

Five kept one hand on the jacket wrapped around the glass in Luther’s stomach and put his other hand on Luther’s shoulder. He reached for his powers.

Normally his powers were at his fingertips. As soon as he reached for them, they were there, and he was able to pull himself to his destination. But now they were uncooperative. Five was exhausted and his teeth were chattering from the cold. Five pushed harder, fighting to reach his powers.

Eventually he caught it, feeling the destination on the other side. He pulled and he and Luther disappeared in a flash of blue.

***

Diego flipped his knife again before catching it in his palm. Five and Luther were running late. They had all agreed to dinner and Mom had spent hours working on it. There was a concert tonight and Diego understood that but would be nice if Five and Luther showed appreciation for Mom’s work. Instead, Allison, Klaus, and Diego were sitting in the living room waiting for Luther and Five to show while Mom’s hard work sat on the table.

Allison had insisted on waiting for Luther and Five and Mom sided with Allison. But Diego was still irritated.

Diego looked at the time. Dinner had been ready for 20 minutes and still no sign of the others.

“How long do you want to wait, Allison?” Diego asked. “They may not be coming.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “They’ll be here. They both live here; they have to come home at some point.”

After the apocalypses, they tried to work out a family dinner or outing once a month. They did smaller meet ups in between, but with Allison traveling to see Claire and everyone else staying busy with jobs or vigilante-ing, once a month was an accomplishment.

“All I’m saying,” Diego said, “is if they were hungry, they would be here. They’re adults. We don’t need to wait for them.”

Klaus pointed at Diego. “He has a point.”

Before Allison could reply there was a flash of blue in the foyer.

They all stood from their seats. Klaus made his way to the table, probably looking to get first choice at whatever Mom had made, but Allison and Diego walked to the foyer.

“What took you so long?” Diego asked as he turned the corner. Diego stopped.

Luther was on the floor and Five looked about to join him. A large shard of glass was sticking out of Luther’s gut and blood was already starting to puddle on the floor. They were both soaked to the bone. Five stumbled.

“Help Luther,” Five said. He lowered himself to sitting but his legs gave out halfway and he seemed to fall the rest of the way. Even sitting, he braced one hand on the ground as if to keep his balance. His pupils were blown wide, probably from a concussion, and his head was bleeding.

Despite his better judgement and Five’s history of hiding injuries, Diego listened to Five.

Diego rushed over to Luther, hesitating only for a second before putting pressure on the cloth wrapped around the glass. It looked like Five’s blazer which would explain why Five was only wearing his button-up shirt.

“Mom,” Diego yelled. “It’s Luther!”

Allison was across from Diego, leaning over Luther. She tapped his face, calling his name but he didn’t react.

“He been unresponsive,” Five said from behind Diego.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

Klaus walked into the room, followed by Mom.

“What happened?” Klaus asked. Diego didn’t know and Five didn’t respond.

Mom knelt beside Diego, gently moving him out of the way.

“I need to get him to the infirmary,” Mom said. “Can you go grab the—”

Allison was already gone before Mom could finish. Luther was too big to carry without help and Dad had invested in a strong gurney before he died.

“Five?” Klaus said. Diego glanced over his shoulder as Klaus crouched in front of Five. “You got a pretty good gash there on your head. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Put pressure here, Diego,” Mom said, calling him back to Luther. Once his hands were putting weight on Luther’s injury, Mom moved to check Luther over for any other injuries.

“Luther lost control of the car,” Five said, dryly. “We went in a ditch.”

“Here?” Klaus asked.

“Few miles away, I think.”

Diego looked over his shoulder at Five. “You jumped a few miles? With Luther?”

Five met Diego’s eyes and blinked. He didn’t offer a response, but Diego wasn’t sure if it was Five’s way of saying Duh or if it was just the concussion at work.

Allison was back. She adjusted the gurney so it was a little lower and they wouldn’t have to lift Luther as high. Together, Mom, Allison, and Diego managed to get Luther on and then Mom whisked him away, Allison right on her heels.

Diego was about to follow when Klaus spoke up.

“I think we might need a little help, Diego,” Klaus said. “Can you stand Five?”

Five looked at Klaus, blinking slowly before nodding jerkily. Five struggled to push himself to stand, but Diego knew he wouldn’t appreciate help so he kept his distance.

As soon as he was upright, he stumbled backwards, almost landing on his ass again if Klaus hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“Okay,” Klaus said as Diego grabbed Five’s other arm. “To the infirmary. Just like old times.”

--

Please comment if you enjoyed <3

[valeriele3]

B̶̟͚̟͛̆l̴̛͍̊͗̿ǫ̷͕̬̟̀̏͌ȯ̶̯͚d̵̛͓̜̳̓̿͑̐?̷̢̳̼̭̑͝¿̴̫̦͎̺̇͗ x Ģ̴̛̬̫̩̈̊̈͠ͅN̵͔̱̪̊̾̐͐͘!̷̞̭̈́͘R̶̡̦̭̐͋̔͠é̶͖̼͊̂a̶̳̲͖͇͌ͅd̴̫͋̈́e̸̮̥̜̫͑̊̕r̴̩̫̣̎͌̔̈͜?̶̭͍͉͉̅̾̊̊͝¿̶̠̳̼̾́̉̏

Words: 798

Dec. 6, 2023

"Hmm hmm hmm~♩"

Ding

"Huh?"

[10:52 PM]

I cannot stop laughing

I cannot wait for ya to see next chapter

İ̶̧̺̜̹̝̩͕̱͍̲̒̓̆̚͘ sweatdropped after seeing the ominous text.

"..."

"What the heck"

'BLOOD'S DEAD?? DEAD DEAD??? Ok. That's fine. That's alright.'

'Damn it, Fuu! A favorite character literally died last week, and now he is too!? '

'But then again, ever since his first appearance, he was full of death flags'

"Is this the fate of a danganronpa fan? Everyone I like keeps dying. sigh"

'That person would certainly not like this outcome'

Dec 10, 2023

[̴̼̦͒͋͊̚ͅ2̵̱͓̑̾:̸̢̝̚2̸̮̠̈́̎̈́8̸̬̔̎ ̷̩̝̞͔̮̉̕͠Ṕ̴̩̠̣̣͠M̷̝̼̔]̶̲̂̃͌

̵̲͇̤̬͌́͒͌̕ͅC̴̰̪̘͕̱̓̄̈́á̵̝̠̺͕͆͐n̴̨̛̰̱̜̯̑̓̀̕ ̴̧̞̠͍̯̂̄͊̕Ị̶̺̲͕̇̏ ̶̤̾̎̆b̷̥͍̃̓̈ó̸̳̳̼͕̠̊̄̈́r̸͓̘͔̈́̍ř̵̬̪̃͝ǫ̴̙̳͉̟̃͑͆w̵̲̽͘̚ ̴̡̹̜́B̷̠͐͗͒̑̄l̷̡͓̝̙̊͝͠ȍ̴͓̼͙̕̚ơ̷̞̓̄̽̊͜d̵̢̖̤̫͊̓͛̍̋͜ ̴͕͎͖͉̆̒̎͘͝f̷̺̖͕̝͆̓͗ỏ̸͕̞r̶̨̬̯͎͒ ̷̙̝͖̗̂̈́ͅa̴̛̛̫̳̣̗̾͌̌ ̶̪̞̯͛f̵̤̳̥͇̦͗̏̉i̷̥͚̓̆͘c̶͉̼̲͎̈́͛

"̴̲̠̆̈́͝B̸͇̀̊̾́͝o̵̥̍͛r̵͎̹͉̒͊͊̅̎͜r̸̡͎̙̱̄̉͐̕o̶̰̯͠w̴̨̮̙̐̍͘"̴̛̺̼̬̼͇̈́͂̏̏ ̴͚͚́̓́͗l̴͚͚̺͛ö̷̢̙̗͔́̒͜ļ̶̈́

̶̳̝̼͉̂̇̓͘Y̶̘͎͈͖̍͒͑̇̈́ȩ̸̝̪̱̳͒͑ ̸̧͍̾̽f̵̧̦͂̿̈́r̸͈̗̜̭̿̍́ê̷͕͕͇͆e̷̢̧̬̿͒̃̓ ̷͇̔͌͘t̶̤̰̓͋͝ȏ̷̧̨͕̖͊ ̵̧̡̛͈̪̄̈́͝ͅḑ̵̞̘̂̊̾̒o̵̳̥͙͙̠͌̀̍ ̸̫̱̘͊̓̌̚s̸̝̗̙̒̀́͋͜ơ̴̱̙̱̭̰͊̐̉

"Psst, wake up!"

"No sleeping! I'm sure you've had a lot of time to sleep anyway."

Blood jolts awake. 'What. Me? Sleeping? What happened to me? I'm sure that,' As if remembering your presence, he turns his gaze to you before swiftly getting up, acting as if he wasn't just sleeping on the grass.

While he seems to be fully awake now, it appears that Blood is still lost in his thoughts.

'How come that thing didn't try to kill me? And this place..Where exactly am I?"

"Oh! You must be wondering where we are, right?" You say, almost as if reading his mind.

"This place is… um, I actually don't know ahahah.."

"I f̸̨̧̩́̑̾͐o̶͔̮̞͖͌̍r̷̛̞̒͘g̶͍͝͝ō̶̼͇̥̻̑̑t̷̗̤̊̈́̔́͠ why exactly we're both here, b̴͓̥̳̥̒̇̇̍͘ủ̷͕̂́͊͝t̵̡̲̟̰̄ ̶͚̭͕̦́͐ I'm sure I̸͍͉͕̓̔'̸̨̫̲͉̈́l̶̖̾́ḻ̸̩̔̐̓͝ ̸̹͝ȑ̷̮̪̣̲̾̄ḙ̸͙̑m̷̡̈́̂͐̏e̵͙͈̯̺̯̿́̄m̸̡͔͙̦̞̓̄̏̕͝b̴̭̟̓̆è̶̫͔̞͇̌͗ŗ̶̤̜͇̜̾͝ it halfway."

"But for now, how about this? We do whatever it is you want to do—literally, anything you could ever want. No holding back."

"So? What do you want to do firs—" You were suddenly smacked in the face by a piece of paper that seemingly came out of nowhere.

"..."

"This is quite a hard one, ahem, so, um, would you like to hang around Earth for a bit then?" You chuckle nervously.

"Welcome to Earth! A wonderful place where you can fulfill all your desires!"

"Tsk, and here I thought you said we'd be doing the things I want."

"Also, what's up with this weirdly realistic wig?"

"A disguise, of course! I'm sure you already know about the whole game thing. Besides, what do you think people's reactions will be if they see someone cosplaying their favorite character or from a game they play? I'd definitely look at them or maybe even ask for a picture."

"Also, your natural hair will still attract too much attention. Just look around us, do you see anyone with pink hair?"

Despite there being a lot of people around, there's no one currently around that has dyed hair; at most, it's all just dyed black or brown.

"I get it, I get it! Now shut up; you're talking too much."

An imaginary arrow hits your heart.

H̵̡͎̜͛̈́͠m̵̭͉̝̊m̷̢̧̹̼͊̄.̸̬̼̇̊̒͜.̷͈̌̈͝͝D̴̪͕̠̓̒́́e̷̛̜̤͚͊͠s̷̢̡̹̭̉͆p̴̧̺̥̮̾̈́i̷̮̫̐̒͋t̷̫̳̂̋́̏e̶͓̊̑ ̴̡̢͗͜ẅ̴͎͎́̾̅a̴͕̅̿̐͠t̵̢̠̫̳̀̀̀c̵͎̗̄̿h̷̛͈̓͊͜͝ị̵̧̭̍͌͌͋n̴̝̹̄ģ̴̧̹͈̋͛͛́ ̴̙͍̗̓̈́̓h̷̩͐̿i̶͎͙͌̓̾ṣ̷͑͠ ̷̰̲͇̫̽͘l̶̢̠̓ḯ̷͕̌̎̿ḟ̷͎̎͜e̵̡̛ ̸̧͉̥͐̃f̴̢͓̌̀ö̷̫̺́͜r̴̳̈́͊̇͠ ̸̯̪̈́s̴̪͍͚͌o̸̯͈̎ ̶̞͍̜̏̈́͜l̴̝̪̣̲͂̏̓͝o̵̡͖̪̩̓̃̚͝n̸̡̘̼͉̽̓ǵ̶̮̽̈́͘,̸̤̇̔̕ ̴̩̈̽͝Ï̷̞͔̂̽͠ ̶͈͈̗̉s̸͎̣̟͎̽̈t̵̫͎̾͜͠i̵͚̦͆̕l̵̛̰̗̞̣̚̚l̶͎͇̘͋̓̕ ̵̱̤̃̇͂̚ͅd̵͈̓̕o̶̪͑̿̌͘ñ̶͍̹͕̘̈́͑͋'̴̟̂͑͝t̸̘̟̫̞̄͊̚ ̵̦̣͖̠̃h̵̟̪̟͓̓a̴̲̖͝͝v̷̯͕͚̀͋̔́e̶̺̫͐̏̍ ̸̘̾͘a̴̖̯̋̔ ̷̥́̊c̷̨̺̩͖̃͝l̶̝̱̔̿͋́͜e̷̙͐a̶̛̝̩͝ṙ̵̨̯̈̏͝ ̶̡̱͍́̊͐ģ̴̥͍͕́r̷͙̰̞͉͋͝a̶͔̠͝s̸̼̺̤̍̓͝ͅp̸̢̯͓͚͝ ̴̘̦͔̙̓̀̕o̷̰̠͘f̵̈̓͜͠ ̷̯͖̽̄̒̈́h̸̙̱͑o̷̞̞̞͐w̸͇͎̜̓̄̚̚ ̷̛̺͚͕̌́e̷̢͕͎̺̒̔̏͠x̸̰̝͑a̴̘̻͐̽͊͝c̸͙̈̾t̴̢̓͐̈́̓l̴̨̍̓͜y̷̨̛̩͚̝̏̊̓ ̸̡̺̀͂̀͠ḧ̴̨̼͇̙́̋̋ȩ̴̩͚͆͋͗̆'̷̣́̾l̵͕̋l̶͙̇̀̉ ̶͎̯͍͓͊̚͝ä̶̤̱́c̵͚͇͑͝ț̴̢̍̾.̵̖̮͉͙͛͗ ̵̥̪̿M̸̦̀͋̾̈́a̴̭̦̟̽͌y̶̨̜͍͊b̷̯͕̓̈́͊͌ė̴̝̼̟͊ ̴̥̋I̶̗̺͉̿͘͜'̶̨̦̈́ļ̴̤͌̉͠l̴̹̱̋͗͠͝ ̸̞͙̰̓̂̑͠ͅd̴̛̠̳̣̈́o̷͉͚̪͠ ̸͈͈̜̋i̸͔͈̊t̵̹̼͛͗͘͝ ̸̦̼͍̜͂͐͋͝t̶̺͍̼͙͂͊̋̈́ȟ̶̬̾́͝ͅi̵̖̘̊s̷̰͇̫͛ ̸̻̃̔̀͠w̷̥̪̰̌̾͆̑ȃ̶̧͇y̷̨̢̅̑̐ͅ ̸̘͐̿̇̑ǐ̸͉̭̗̪̉͠n̸̂̐͛̎͜ŝ̸͙̔t̴̥͙͖̾̏͆͜e̷͖̪͔̩̓͌͆̇a̴̢̹̜͒̔d̷͓̓͋͘?̶̹̈́͋̑̔

And so since the one writing this doesn't know what to do, you guys spent the day going around the city, eating all kinds of food, buying souvenirs, going to popular landmarks, and even going to other countries!

And you even managed to sneak some pictures of Blood without him knowing! How wonderful

...

How was it possible to travel around the world in one day? Magic.

It was now midnight, and you guys were staring at the northern lights.

"Hey, Blood. I hope you enjoyed our time together today. As for your wants,..." you snicker.

"Stop your needless snickering and just get to the point."

"Sigh. Fine, fine. We'll just skip straight there, I guess."

"Fireworks boom and explode in the background as you and Blood watch the night sky get filled with wonderful colors an— Oh, that wasn't part of the script? Oops."

Explosions can be heard in the background as the entirety of the TWST world gets engulfed in flames.

Meanwhile, you were currently floating up in the sky using a magical broom you may or may not have stolen from a certain red head with beautiful gold eyes while eating a certain magi candy.

As for Blood, he's fulfilling his greatest want. His wish.

Badump badump

Sparks in the air

Blood and core look lovingly at each other.

[Click ALT text for context]

Without saying a word, he grabs Core, places his hand in their cheek, and closes the remaining gap between them.

He does what he's been wanting to do.

After letting go, he says the three magical words, "I love you."

Oh, how romantic!

Too bad, though, because Core is just looking at him blankly. And proceeds to show him their wedding ring.

Core then gradually fades away, with that blank look still on their face.

"I think you just got rejected." You state the obvious.

"Shut up.."

"I can be with you instead if you want," you say half-jokingly.

Fin.

AU by: @honeybeewhereartthee

[hausofmamadas]

| Always short to the gate |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón & Enedina Arellano Félix

For my df, dear friend, and fellow writer @purplesong1028 - Candyhearts Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈ 7.8K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

✷Disclaimer - This is an AU version of Barron, to the point that mans is essentially my OC. So, for purposes of morality/sanity/all that is holy, we disregard Nmx - S3, ep8, Last Dance. For more details, refer -> here. On a similar note: if I have to say “not condoning/glorifying the real people” aka “I don’t sanction the real-life actions of drug cartels,” I implore thee, look where you are. You’re in the wrong place. Best take that elsewhere porque no hay bronca, for civility's sake, we will not be going there✷

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done? David Barron is in love. He's in love and he does care who knows it. Particularly, if the brutal, savage cartel-boss brothers of the woman he loves, Enedina Arellano Felix, know it. But what’s he to do when he's taken by another powerful cartel leader, in retaliation for Dina's secret side-project moving coke across the Tijuana/San Ysidro border with fellow drug baroness, Isabella Bautista? In the face of a potentially more imminent death para su rayo de luna, can Dina afford to keep both him, and the business she built from the ground up, a secret?

⁂

So, this is it. I finally made it. Staring at the crowd, all the bigwigs laughing and clinking their champagne flutes, and now that I’m here, I can’t figure what all the fuss was about. Because in my whole damn life, I’ve never been to a party like this. Frankly, I’d sooner hit up a barbecue at Chato’s grandma’s trailer or a tailgate in Chicano Park, than show up willingly to a place like this.

The guest list is a family tree of Sinaloan-born narcos and an obnoxious who’s-who of Mexico City elites. Men come down from the ivory tower to grace all the thieves and plebes. Fat cats in pressed gray suits. Although, the champagne-glass pyramid is pretty cool. And somehow, this isn’t even as lavish as last year? At least according to Ramón. When we arrive, he explains that there was still all of well ... everything. But last year kicked off harder because Güero and Co rolled through with a life-size train and a tiger in a gilded cage. A fucking tiger.

“Pendejos only did it to kiss Miguel’s ass, que sean tan mamónes,” he growls, shooting a dead-eyed stare at Chapo across the lawn.

I laugh into the highball glass I’m sipping from. I don’t normally drink at events like this, and on the off chance I do, always a Corona with a lime ‘cause it reminds me of home. But thank you, no. I would not like to keep my tab open.

Except this time, the over-interested hostess practically forces a drink on me when we get there. No clue who she is either, except she must’ve been a high-roller herself or at least married to one, based on the obscene dress she’s wearing. Fuck if I know a thing about designer shit, but I can spot the difference between black-tie and fuck-you money. And I’m not in the habit of saying “no” to fuck-you money. Even if she is smiling and touching my shoulder too much.

My eyes wander, looking for Dina, brooding an invisible SOS into the night air, hoping she might swoop in and save me, but she’s nowhere in sight. Neither is Mín. I smack Ramón in the chest with the back of my hand. “Oye, dónde está tu hermana?” <'Hey, where is your sister?'>

He shakes his head.

The fuck did she go? The only reason I’m even at this glorified peacock-fest, and— oh wow, yeah, there are actual peacocks wandering around on the lawn by the lake. No tigers, but of course the night isn’t complete without some form of exploited wildlife. No, the only reason I’m here is because she asked me. Or rather, because of what came out when she asked me.

✺

Dina sat on Mín’s desk, legs dangled over the side, smoking a cigarette like always, and eyeing me slyly from across the room as I buttoned my shirt back up.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you?” I asked, readjusting my collar.

“What?”

“That it’s rude to stare.”

She threw her head back, laughing.

“Yeah, they must’ve had some lesson at whatever charm school you probably went to.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, “Charm school? No me digas esas shingaderas, hombre. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.” <Charm school? Don't give me that bullshit, man. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.>

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “Ah, tu lo sabes? Tienes razón. <Ah, you know what? You're right.> Because the working-class shit I’ve heard outta your mouth?” and shook my head. “They wouldn’t have let you in the building.”

She snapped her fingers. “Sí, David. Now he’s getting it.”

“Well, then that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why you don’t know it’s rude to stare at someone like that.”

Her voice shot up half an octave into the range of feigned innocence. “Like what?”

“Like they’re dessert.”

“Es solo porque eres tan dulce. <It's just because you're so sweet.> Maybe I just can’t get enough. Maybe I have no choice.”

I looked up at her, smiling wide, all love-struck-stupid ‘cause I couldn’t help myself. “‘Can’t get enough,’ like you didn’t just get a three course meal.”

She kicked her heels against the desk, then hopped off and strolled over. I made a face when she flicked her cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “Your brother’s gonna hate that.”

“Ya lo sé, y no me importa ni una mierda.” <Oh, I know and I don't give a shit.>

“Oh, sí? Pues lo haría tampoco <Oh, yeah? Well, I wouldn't either> pero the second he sees it, he’ll think I did it.”

Voice dropping just above a whisper, she came closer, “If he does, he can take it up with me,” and slid her hands under my shirt. “It’s as much mine as it is his. Maybe more even.”

They felt cold through the thin, ribbed fabric of my undershirt, gliding around my waist, creeping around to brush my lower back with her fingertips. At first, I thought she was going for my pant pockets, until her thumb hooked around the handle of the gun in my waistband. It startled me in spite of myself.

She smirked, practically presenting it, barrel pointed up at the ceiling. “Sorry, were you gonna need this? Or can we remove the ‘fire’ hazard.”

Taking the gun and grumbling, “You know there’s a safety, right,” I leaned over and set it on the filing cabinet against the wall.

When I turned my attention back to her, she tightened her grip around my waist suddenly and backed me up against the door. She tried bracing with her other arm so I wouldn’t fall back too hard. It didn’t work. A second thud, my head smacking the door, followed the first of it slamming shut. Still, the though that counts, right? My pained smile complemented a look of amused pity on her face.

Laughing, she winced and mouthed, “Shit, sorry!”

“So, this is how you treat your employee—“ she cut me off with a few well-timed, remorseful kisses.

She pulled back breathlessly, grinning, almost electrified. “Yeah, why do you think I took your gun away?”

“Mmm, yeah, would’ve been a hazard.”

“That, yes. But mostly I didn’t want you to feel like you were on the clock,” she murmured against my mouth, “this isn’t meant to be company time,” then caught my lower lip gently with her teeth.

I sucked in a harsh breath, not a chance in hell of suppressing the feral rumble already escaping the back of my throat.

It might’ve been fine. I might’ve been able to tear myself away, because we’d already been there too long, nevermind it was never long enough.

Until her lashes brushed my cheek and I heard, “Ah, how I love to hear you, guapo.”

My heart bottomed out in my stomach. I got ahold of the collar of her jacket on both sides. Rocking her back, easy and gentle, I slid it slow off her shoulders. Goosebumps followed the path of my fingertips across her neck, collarbones, down the backs of her arms. The metal buttons clinked against the floor. A bell announcing another round.

And all of a sudden, I couldn’t get at her fast enough.

I swept my arm around her waist, hand sliding into the curve of the small of her back, the other palming the spot between her shoulder blades to flatten her against me. If I could just bring her close enough for us to melt together and into the wood grain of the door, the better to freebase the air she breathed, the smell of her hair, the blood rushing to her face.

How many nights had I spent awake, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling of my cell, dreaming of moments like this. I’d lost count a long time ago. And okay, maybe not exactly like this. The feeling. The wholeness to it. But not the details. Like I never could’ve predicted the boxy radio with the giant antenna that played from its sketchy spot on the window ledge, too close to the edge; day in and day out while we worked. Or the way the sun lit the dust in the air like the office was an attic in an old house that wasn’t ours. And Dina, all nimble fingers now, working my belt buckle. No way I could’ve dreamt her up. She was too complete for that.

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done?

Suddenly self-aware, I wondered what it’d be like if just now, she could feel that inferno of memories at the tip of my tongue, burning through my lips to hers. If she could learn, inhaling every breath I took, things I’d share without saying a word. I wished she could. Maybe that’s why her kisses were so urgent now. Sharp, demanding, like she couldn’t get close enough. Like she’d occupy the exact same space if she could.

Don’t hide. Let me in. Anything. Tell me anything.

She was funny like that. Didn’t even know how far she’d gotten. So much further than most.

Lips still locked to mine like cross examining a witness, her hands grazed my jaw, my neck, practically mauling the collar of my shirt to get the buttons undone. I should’ve known not to bother earlier. This was the way it went with us. Part of the ritual, pretending we were done. Getting ready to leave, all raw nerves in the afterglow. Anxious awareness, never far behind not-near-enough satisfied. Because no matter how careful we were, there was a chance we’d be caught all the same. But we were never ready. Not really. So, we’d stall enough to justify starting up again. Living in each other as much as we could. Wringing out every last drop to bottle it up, a fail-safe supply for later. Another bump, another hit to tide us over. ‘Til next time. If we got one.

She’d only made it two buttons down when we both froze. A crashing sound, loud echoes of metallic clanging. Fuck. Someone on the main floor. We repelled to opposite sides of the room before we could think long enough to be disappointed.

I fixed my shirt, then grabbed Dina’s jacket from the floor and tossed it to her. “You said no one was supposed to be here till tonight?”

She caught it, draping it over one arm so she could get her cigarette holder out of one of the pockets. Trying her level best to look composed, she took one out and lit up. But I could see the tells; beads of sweat on her forehead; that too-quick rise and fall of her chest.

Eyes wide, she shrugged, at a loss. “They’re not. Pancho’s with Món at the racetrack. Apparently betting against some new horse Güero and Chapo brought up from Mazatlán. Mín’s taking Ruth to one of her appointments.”

I walked to the window and looked out onto the main floor. It was easy to make out a head of black hair bobbing just beyond the giant, industrial-sized forklift, partially blocking my view. My eyes followed it along the top of the forklift’s arm until Nestor came out from behind it, puttering around and practically strangled by a few long chains from one of the trucks. He swore, dropping them again. Poor guy. The links jittering against the cement floor filled the warehouse with what sounded like twisted, metallic laughter. Mocking him. Us.

“Who is it?” She asked it like she wasn’t looking out the same window.

Without a word, I turned and walked back toward the door. She followed, “Pinshe Nestor, este wey &lt;Nestor, this fuckin' guy>,” waving her hand dismissively at the window.

I couldn’t resist. “Mmm right? Fuck that guy. Yea, go yell at him, chew him out, tell him why you’re annoyed.”

She narrowed her eyes but in that way she did when she was stifling a smile. When she knew I was right.

“You know, it didn’t occur to me until this moment.” Sighing and cupping my chin gently, she turned my face from side-to-side to examine it. “But I think I just realized why you’re so quiet.”

My eyebrow shot up, not a clue where she was going with this.

“It’s this smart mouth of yours,” she mused, grazing my lip with her thumb, “gotten you into too much trouble.”

I brought her hand from my cheek to my lips and hummed into her palm, “Mm, mhmm,” before nibbling a few besitos across. “Funny coming from you, always trying to get me to talk. But only when you like what I have to say.”

“Ay chulito pues, I didn’t say I minded it,” she winked. “Just not when it’s used against me.”

“Mm yea, don’t play that way. I’m an equal opportunity offender.”

At that, she laughed, eyes closed, full-out, no doubt loud enough to be heard on the first floor. Remembering Nestor, I let her hand drop but held onto the tips of her fingers. I couldn’t be sure how long we stayed like that, twining and un-twining our fingers in silence; every once in a while pressing palms together; two kids in the sandbox, comparing to see whose were bigger. If we’d never stopped, I wouldn’t have cared a lick.

Something must’ve hit her though because her face fell. Serious. Troubled. Thoughts descended in real-time, only I couldn’t make out what they were.

Until she breathed out, “Oye.”

It wasn’t like her to retreat but when I looked up, she said nothing else. Just chewed ferociously on the inside of her cheek. I waited, eyes drifting back down to watch our fingers and knuckles, still rhythmically locking and unlocking.

Breaking the silence, she gave it another shot. “Miguel’s party is on Saturday.”

“Yeah.”

There it was again, another retreat. What the fuck was she gonna say that she was so nervous to say it?

“And?”

It came out soft like a secret. “Go with me?”

Huh. Whatever I thought she might say, it sure as shit wasn’t that. Not … asking me to the dance? Disbelief chipped away at my usual poker face and without thinking, I blurted, “What? Why?”

Zero-to-sixty in four seconds flat and now she was fuming.

“Why? What do you mean ‘why?’”

Senseless. I knew it then. Should’ve walked it back. Found a better way to ask. But still, it was the only thing that came out of my mouth and all too matter-of-fact.

“I mean like ... why.”

Her jaw cocked to one side. She looked like she wanted to slug me. Because despite the fact that I wasn’t family, had never even met Miguel, had no business being there, somehow it was the dumbest question in the world.

“There’s—” I fumbled for words, raking my hand up and down the back of my head. “I just— why would I be there? You don’t need security. He’s the main man. No doubt he’ll have his own.”

“Because.”

“Because,” I shot back flatly.

“Because.”

“Think your brother, my boss, is gonna need more than ‘because.’ Even from you.”

“You’d be surprised.” She cracked a smile.

That’s right. Stubborn. Impossible. And she knew it. Like a reflex or muscle memory, my face settled into that thousand yard stare, the one she and so many others felt the need to decode.

She conceded, “Because. Okay?” throwing her hands up and letting them fall. They smacked her hips on the way back down and the rest came out in practically one breath. “Because even though he’s a genius and he’s technically family, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo is the most insufferable man in all of Mexico. I can’t stand him and I can’t stand almost everyone else on that fucking guest list. Así qué quiero que estés allí porque ya todos los odio. Pero a ti te quiero. <So, maybe I want you there because I hate all of them. But I love you.>"

Wait, come again? She didn’t just— no, but she did.

Pero a ti te quiero.

“Oh.”

I turned around, fell against the door, pressing into it with my forehead, and didn’t say anything for a long time. Mind searching for an explanation: the timing, why now? What day was it? What date was it? What was different about now?

I’d woken up in the same bed in that cramped apartment just down the street from Parque Teniente, the first one I could find when I got to Tijuana months ago. Woken up the same damn person. As far as I knew, so had she. There was nothing especially extraordinary about today. If anything it was routine, sneaking into Mín’s office when we knew no one would be there, away from prying eyes: Alicia, Ruth, their mother, the gaggle of Arellano women who always seemed to be at the house. Away from Pancho, who’d made a habit of passing out, snoring until three in the afternoon, on the pull-out couch at my place.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it sank in how unremarkable the day was. Maybe something happened. Some earth-shattering event she hadn’t told me about yet, something that would explain the sentence that just left her lips and turned reality into something like the dimensions of a funhouse mirror.

Shit, how long had I been standing there with my head against the door? How long had she been waiting? No idea. Did it matter? Of course it did. This wasn’t something silence could solve. Or even put off. Not that there was anything to solve.

I turned back around to face her, half-wincing, anticipating her fury. A satisfied smirk had settled in the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t mad. Just leaned against the desk, puffing away, which was ... odd. I scanned her face for any indication, clenched jaw, flared nostrils, blazing brown eyes, some sign of impending apocalypse. But no, she looked serene. Smug even, tickled at how surprised I was. No, she wasn’t mad at all.

Oh.

And it hit me. I could see it so clearly now in the way she stood with her hip out and how she held her cigarette off to the side, wrist lax, nothing to worry about. Why she wasn’t mad. She knew there was nothing to worry about. This wasn’t a confession. No grade-school picking petals off flowers, ‘he loves me, he loves me not.’ She hadn’t said it in the hopes that in return, she’d hear the same. Because it was plain as day. Fucking obvious. Not a doubt in her mind.

It was funny too ‘cause that had been sealed away in a vault in some deep, dark corner of my mind, cordoned off by an electric fence, wrapped in several yards of barbed wire and caution tape. WARNING. POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. I barely knew because I barely allowed myself to. That came easy as it always did. Or easier anyway than feeling and not knowing what to do, where to put it. So I barely knew. Maybe it was now that I only just realized it, in a fully-formed thought.

A ti te quiero también.

But it felt wrong, seemed to make the moment small somehow, if I were to say it out loud back to her. Forced for obligation, ceremony’s sake, and altogether pointless when she already knew.

So I just said, “Fine.”

Her eyes lit up, filled to the brim with, you really mean it?

“Yeah, fine, I’ll go.”

She beamed. My own personal sun.

“But you figure whatever fake reason to tell your brothers. I ain’t sayin’ shit.”

She squeezed my hand. Any tighter and it would’ve cut the circulation. Not quite the deliverance that launching at each other would’ve been, sweeping all the papers and supplies off of Mín’s desk, not giving a shit what broke as it hit the floor, buttons popping loose from my shirt and rolling on the ground as she tore it off, taking each other carnally hostage right there. But with Nestor still downstairs, it’d have to be enough.

✺

So here I am. And she’s missing in action.

A hand comes down on my shoulder. Ramón’s. “Mira nada más <Look what we have here>,” he chuckles pointing to Ms. Fuck-You-Money. “Esa chulita been eyeing you all night.”

I roll my eyes.

Món chokes out, laughing through a sip of champagne, “Ay qué duro, cabron. <Ey, tough fucker.> Good answer. Attention from a woman like that? That’ll get you killed, or worse.”

Lost, I shoot him a look of confusion.

“What’s the look for.”

“What’re you talking about?” I say shaking my head.

“Wait d— you don’t know who that is?”

I stare at him through half-lidded eyes.

He can barely contain his amusement and I could bust that Cheshire-cat smile wide open for it, the chistoso. See, ‘cause it’s something I’ll never understand but Ramón lives for shit like this. How many times I wished I felt the same or could at least access some similar well of couldn’t-give-a-fuck charisma that allowed the kid to cut loose, no matter where he went. Unless he was in one of his moods. Still, his glee is infectious if not foreign. So despite being miffed, I’m grateful he’s here.

“That’s— okay, that’s Miguel’s wife, Daniela.”

“Thought her name was like Marta? María? Something else?”

“Oh nooo, no, no, no.” Ramón jiggles his head back and forth. “That’s his first wife. This is his second.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, right?” Món shrugs. “Tío moves fast apparently. Upgraded to a new model already. Personally, I don’t get it. Should’ve stuck with the classic. And María,” he looks at me and whistles, “qué clásico.”

We both watch Miguel work a group of sleazy-looking politicians. I don’t need to be up close to imagine how badly they reek of too-expensive, tacky cologne, or how clammy their hands are, sweating because they’ve been mainlining too much sauce and blow. My eyes drift to Daniela who’s pointing around theatrically to the outdoor decor. Like her husband, she’s smooth-talking another group of guests.

That’s when it clicks. As she dances from a group of Senators, to a group of financial hacks, to a group of mid-level distributors, I can’t help but think how busy bees flit. Flower to flower, pollinating each one. Stroking the right egos, smiling, leaving a hand on a shoulder just long enough to make them think they might have a shot with the big man’s wife. From everything I’ve heard about Miguel, he might let them, for the right price. That fact fills me with equal measures of sadness and relief. Sad for her. Relief to know it’s a hustle, an award-winning performance. Though why she’s been wasting time on me, a friend of the Arellano family at best, low-level Arellano goon at worst, is anyone’s guess.

“Seems she’s like that with everyone.”

“Oh no, carnal. With you? That shit’s real. She knows you’re with us.” Ramón reaches for my face like he’s about to pinch my cheek. “Not some rich politician’s secret love child.”

“Ey, no mames, cabrón.” I swat it away with a smirk, so he knows we’re simpatico. “You and Pancho always fixin’ to get me in more trouble than I’m ever looking for.”

I think of Dina just then and how it’s possible for lies to lag like that sometimes. Feeling like truth ‘til the words are well outta your mouth.

As if anxiety’s summoned her to me, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dina walking toward us. On her way over, she grabs a drink from a guy standing by the bar holding two champagne glasses, someone she mistakes for a waiter. Based on the beet red look on his face, he turns to be a guest. He flips out and at first, Dina looks ready to apologize and move on. No big deal.

It’s not until he starts pointing his finger in her face, “Qué verga, vieja? No soy un pinshe mesero <What the fuck, lady? I'm not a fuckin' waiter>,” that I glance at the ground to hide a smile. I know what’s coming but this poor bastard doesn’t. It’s always satisfying to watch Dina work, handling men who make mistakes like that. No doubt it’d be a scathing indictment but never done in the same way. Refreshing, that kind of variety. I always respected it.

She leans back, eyeing the guy up and down, then walks over, purposely slow, all the time in the world, to a real waiter holding a tray. Grabbing a new glass, she walks back and shoves it into the guy’s hand, taking extra care to make sure it spills on his jacket. Beads of sweat and outrage pour from him, as he looks down at his damp lapel in disgust.

She waves her index finger back and forth between them, “Listo, pues. Ya estamos? <Well, then. We good?>” and points at Ramón next to me. “Or shall I have my brother, Ramón—“ she waves, “Hi Món! Yeah, that one. The tall one over there. Shall I ask him to step in, help mediate the matter?”

Everyone’s eyes shoot straight to Món who, on cue, flashes a smile so diabolical, the devil himself would’ve tipped his hat in appreciation. Still fuming, the guy brushes the front of his jacket and straightens his collar but says nothing.

“Aye,” Dina punctuates with a dip of her head. “Eso es lo que pensaba. <Yeah, that's what I thought.>"

And that seems like the end of it until she a twenty out of her wallet in that impossibly tiny purse. “Ey, next party you go to, if you want to avoid being confused with the catering staff, maybe don’t wear a dinner jacket. It’s a nice house, sure. Not the fucking Met.”

The guy is mute, shocked as she slips the bill in his breast pocket and glides away. Even a few feet away, I can already see her rolling her eyes and giggling as she makes her way to us.

Ramón says, cackling, “I thought maybe you were going to ask for a bottle there, crack him over the head with it,” as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“No, no. We couldn’t embarrass our tío querido could we. Besides,” she gives a cavalier wave toward the guy, “Drastic measures like those are reserved for Chapo. Or Cochi.”

I look at the two of them standing with Güero on the other side of the DJ platform. They look like they’re enjoying themselves about as much as I am.

I make eye contact with Güero briefly before I feel another hand on my shoulder. Dina’s?

“What no hug for me?”

I catch her awkwardly with one arm, stiffening as she pulls me in too close and for too long.

“Woo,” Món hoots. ”Creo que Enedina ha tomado un poquito demasiado. <I think Enedina's had one too many.>"

She bats him in the arm. “Ay que no, if you’d had the conversation I just had with Mín, you’d be chugging this,” she knocks back the last few sips of champagne, then holds up the glass, “like water too.”

“Why? What happened?”

”Oh nothing, he just–“ she lets out a hefty sigh. “Just rolled over for Miguel like he always does.”

Before Món can ask anything else, Dina’s face lights up at someone behind him.

All drunk swagger, Pancho waltzes over, a drink in each hand, yelling, “Estos cabrooooones. I been looking all over for you.”

He sidles next to Ramón, who reaches for the other drink in his hand. He pulls back. “Qué shingadas? <What the fuck?> I didn’t bring this for you.”

Món pulls a face like Pancho just kicked over a sandcastle he spent hours building.

I hold my hands up in defeat, chuckling, “Ey I didn’t ask him to bring me anything. Knowing this pruno-king, I bet they’re both his.”

“Y esto? Esto es porque es mi compa. Él me conoce <And this? This is why he's my homie. He gets me>,” Pancho slurs, with a tipsy smile, eyes half shut.

“Qué pedo <What the hell>, is everyone drunk here besides me?” Món catches me smiling and rolls his eyes. “Tú no, rarito &lt;Not you, weirdo>. You don’t count.”

Glancing at the crowd around us, Pancho asks “Where’s Mín?” and stumbles back, nearly planting his ass on the lawn.

He grabs Món for support, who already looks startled as Dina shoves her empty glass at him. “Who cares? Yo quiero bailar,” she declares, grabbing my hand.

She yanks me with such force, I wonder if I look like one of those Loony Toons characters, a regular Beaky Buzzard swept offscreen by Bugs Bunny with a giant cane.

Behind us Pancho and Ramón are busting up laughing. “Panchito, I think she might be drunker than you are.”

Pancho holds up one of his drinks in salute. “Aaaaaayyy órale, mi brujita!”

My hand firmly in hers, Dina shimmies around the other couples on the dancefloor. When she finds a spot she deems satisfactory, she turns and snaps me towards her, gliding her hand up my right arm to my shoulder, and moving my left around her waist. I’m lost in static. My heart’s beating fast. Too fast, like a hummingbird caught all up in my chest and each beat of its wings jolts my rib cage, while it tries to jailbreak outta there.

And it’s not the proximity that’s got my blood up, really. It’s her. It’s rare to see Dina overflowing with this kind of reckless joy. So rare in fact, there’s a gravity to it, a pull magnified by irregularity, that makes it harder to resist. In tandem with the music, I’m goner, already falling into it. But what does any of it matter, when I know how she feels now. Just the same as me.

✺

We finish with a dip, and the blurry wall of lights and onlookers, among them the suspicious face of Mín, the curious face of Ramón, and the drunk glassy eyes of Pancho, become crystal clear again, as I bring Dina back up. The song changes and I let go, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Making my way off the dancefloor, she follows close, reassuring in a low voice, “It’ll be fine, amor. They know I’m tipsy.”

“Yeah. And they know I’m not.”

Although— I look over at the bar. Fuck it, I could fix that now. Before we can reach Mín, Món, and Pancho, standing by the DJ booth, I tear through the crowd, right to the bar. Fuck any rules. This is Def Con One and that lapse in judgment could only be reasonably explained to the Arellano boys by both of us being shitfaced. I flag down a bartender.

“Shot of tequila.”

“What kind?”

I eye him coolly. “Whatever. Dealer’s choice.”

Willing myself not to be too twitchy, conspicuous, I glance around to make sure Benjamín hasn’t sicced Món on me. That look of disapproval on his face is going to be seared to the backs of my eyelids for days. Maybe weeks. Not a chance in hell that he’d overlook that display. As far as Ramón, who looked more intrigued than anything, jury’s still out. Might be he’d follow Mín’s lead. That is, unless Dina were to intervene, which– that’d be something she’d have to do. I’d never ask her. Not an option. That leaves Pancho who’s unlikely to give a shit. Or if he did, he’s too drunk now to make a show of it. But no, even sober, we’ve been homies through and through. He’d have my back. Maybe the only one.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Christ, all of it, already a fucking mess. It hasn’t spilled out entirely from my head onto the world, but only a matter of time.

A whistle from someone a barstool away interrupts the game of 3D chess I’m playing with myself, trying to compute then varying combinations of factors and events that could end me. I’m so in it, it takes me a beat to even realize they’re whistling at me.

“Ey, dónde aprendiste a bailar como eso? <Hey, where did you learn how to dance like that?>” someone asks quietly, in familiar but strangely-accented Spanish.

I turn to shoot a fuck-off stare to whoever, but when I’m met with the sight of an odd-looking, half-bald, ginger dude in jeans, a denim jacket, and a pair of Jordans that probably cost more than my first car, I’m taken aback by the expression on his face. Strange-like, fondly admiring, but more like he’s observing a zoo animal, exotic as those peacocks waddling across the lawn, than a person.

“Viene de familia.” <Runs in the family.>

All the odd guy says is, “Ah,” and then proceeds to fiddle with the toothpick in his mouth and survey the crowd.

Based on how he’s dressed, it’s clear this dude isn’t a regular guest. If I had to put my money on anything? Sicario. No question. Because even though he doesn’t have the trademark hyper-vigilance, coiled up tight, a piston ready to pop, the strange little homie does have a cracked look I recognize. Like he doesn’t need to be on-guard because he’s past the point of feeling much beyond general amusement.

I’d come up with a couple guys like this back home. Met even more of them in prison. You could tell who they were because they didn’t pretend to be concrete copies of themselves. Already born steel people, they never needed to bother with the mandatory, self-imposed identity mutilation necessary to survive in the Petri dish of the California Department of Corrections. But the most interesting thing about them? Scary as they could be, they’re also some of the more honest criminals I’ve dealt with. At least, those who’re murder-for-hire, not murder-for-fun.

Spotting the shiny, engraved handle of a pistol in his waistband, I whistle, “Nice, .357?”

He doesn’t take it out to show it off, just flashes a slinky, joker smile. “You got a good eye.”

“Likewise. Dope piece.”

Yeah, definitely more than your average muscle. The real pros don’t tend much to show and tell. But who the guy works for, I can’t figure exactly. Given that I had to give up my own weapon before we came through, I’m guessing he’s Miguel’s muscle. Looking over at a doorway filled with the broad shoulders and Fabio-like hair of Miguel’s top security guy, Tony, I try picturing these two working together and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Eh, it’s too hard— it’s nothin’.”

The strange homie responds with an amused snort but doesn’t press further. We go back to our mutual but silent surveillance. I can’t see the Arellanos anywhere, but I do spot the Sinaloa crew making their way to the exit by the bar. The weird little guy waves at them like they’re the oldest of friends. I nearly give myself whiplash, looking back and forth from Strange Homie to Güero and Cochi’s pained smiles and an outright look of disgust from Chapo.

“Those are the guys who brought the tiger last year,” Strange Homie helpfully explains, still waving.

“Man, everyone keeps telling me about that tiger. Guess I missed out.”

“You weren’t here last year?”

Still looking around for Ramón, I shake my head, stating absentmindedly, “Haven’t been to any kinda shit like this in my life.”

If Benjamín hadn’t already put him up to cutting me into little pieces, I would’ve at least expected Món to be hot on the heels of the Sinaloa crew, if only to berate, and harass, and swear at them as they’re leaving. And yet, he’s nowhere. Shoot, maybe Mín decided not to even bother chasing me down, and they just bounced. Left me there. Dina would be pissed but all things considered, I’d be getting off lightly. Compared to other possibilities. Could I be so lucky?

I turn my attention back to Strange Homie.

A jackal-like grin brightens his whole face. “Yeah, you did miss out. I got to feed it.”

“Big animal fan, huh?”

Strange Homie considers the question seriously as though it requires an answer, deep or existential in some way. But what he comes back with is relatively simple. “I guess, apex predators, yeah.”

“Easiest to relate to?” I joke.

The jackal smile back again as he exclaims, “Exacto!” Only this time, it bears sincerity that makes it more endearing than unsettling.

I raise my shot glass, saluting, “Makes sense to me.” An implied given what I know about you, unsaid in the air as I knock the shot back. Strange Homie likely knows, has probably been profiling my own profiling this whole time.

“So, you are not from around here?” Strange Homie ventures, as I catch the bartender’s attention to order another shot.

“From Guadalajara?”

Strange Homie shrugs and nods.

“Nah. You?”

He says with a knowing smirk, “Do I sound like I’m from Guadalajara?”

I shake my head, chuckling to myself. The bartender brings another shot and I put it away, perfunctory, then bite into the lime. It’s so sour, I feel shooting pangs in the sides of my mouth and tongue. The sensation of pain, concrete and tangible enough to focus on, brings me back to me.

I wipe my mouth and clear my throat. “You don’t sound like you’re from Guadalajara, but I got a few camaradas back home who sound kinda like you. Colombianos.”

“Good eye. Good ear,” Strange Homie notes, a hint of approval in his voice.

“The melting pot of America.”

“Ah, entonces eres un gringo?” <Oh, you're a gringo then?>

“Te has visto, hombre? De donde vengo, eres más gringo que yo.” <Have you seen yourself, man? Where I'm from, you're more gringo than me.>

I half-expect Strange Homie to be offended but he just snickers and nods in agreement. “Pues, tal vez tengas razón. Supongo que quiero decir que eres un gabacho.” <Well, maybe you're right. I guess I mean to say, you're a foreigner.">

“Close enough.”

“Well gabacho, un placer. Yo soy Navegante.” He reaches out to shake hands.

I extend mine tentatively, “David Barrón.”

As we stand there, forearms bobbing up and down slowly, a look of calculation and sorrow fills Strange Homie’s eyes. Something about it, and the way he says, “You seem like a cool guy. I wish we hadn’t talked so much.” I can’t quite put my finger on why it makes my stomach drop.

Fuck. Dina. Where are they. The Arellanos. Makes no sense. Been nowhere this whole time. Fuck. The empty spot where my gun usually sat in my waistband screams at me like a phantom limb. I try freeing my hand from Navegante’s, who holds on like a vice and laments, “I am glad you got those shots of tequila in though. Since we both know how bad this will hurt.”

My teeth grind into my lower lip so hard, I taste blood. And yet, it still does fucking nothing to ease the sting of surprise as the knife sinks into my stomach.

✺

Everything after that happens in slow motion. He must���ve carried me out at some point and anyone who saw me doing shots at the bar just assumed I was wasted. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost. Enough that it feels like I’m moving through molasses when they chuck me in the backseat of that town car. Or is it a limo? The seats are facing each other like in a limo. Or maybe I’m molasses because of the booze. If not the booze exclusively, it definitely isn’t helping, blood thinning as it is. Fucking stupid. So stupid. In my life, had I ever been so stupid?

Although, I have to give it to Strange Homie— what was his name again? Navegante? — it’s been ages since someone got the jump on me like that. Since I was a kid probably. He’d been decent enough about it too, although I could’ve done without the stick in the gut. A few inches higher, he might’ve fractured a rib, but I might have more my full faculties. But no, this guy knew what he was doing. It’d landed exactly where he’d wanted it to.

Fingers wrestle with the tie at my neck, ripping it off, and it’s not until I bring it down to put pressure on the wound in my stomach that I realize those fingers are mine. The other courtesy Navegante had done? Strange Homie left the knife in. Although, whether that’s so I wouldn’t bleed out as fast or if it’s so he could further torture me by twisting it, is unclear. So much of it is unclear. I try going back, retracing every step leading up to the point I’d been stabbed but my brain’s stuck in quicksand. If I live to see tomorrow, I’ll have to take some kind of blood oath to never touch another drop of alcohol again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dina. Where is she. The Arellanos. They’d disappeared. Where the fuck was Dina. The panic, the cortisol, like a defibrillator at my chest, shocking me more awake, as I pack the fabric of my tie around the knife to soak up the blood. Forgetting myself, I reach behind for my gun and grumble at the empty spot where it normally is. Should be. Stupid. So. fucking. stupid.

I hear voices outside the car. No gun, no way out, no idea where anyone else is, where I am now, no choice but to accept it. So I just lean back against the seat, keeping pressure on my stomach and wait patiently for what’s to come.

When the door finally opens, I expect to be met with Strange Homie, Navegante’s jackal grin but instead it’s a taller man, a lot more normal looking, with dark eyes and a full head of hair. No one I recognize though and he’s someone I’d remember, considering he’s one of the most sharply dressed motherfuckers I’ve seen outside a movie. He slides in to sit across from me and grabs a file that had been laying on the seat next to him.

He reads from it calmly, soothingly business-as-usual. “I do apologize for the harsh introduction, Señor Barrón Corona. Navegante said you were nothing but gentlemanly prior to his stabbing you.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and on reflex, the muscles in my stomach clench around the blade. Like I’ve stepped onto the worst elevator ride, my throat feels like it’s in my head. Just blistering, white-hot agony. A jagged inhale drags down the back of my throat and I try not to pass out. “S’funny,” I cough out, “was just thinking the same thing.”

“Please know, this isn’t personal. Or rather, not for me. I suspect it’s very personal for your employer.” He looked up from the file, smirking. “Or I suppose, that’s the idea.”

My employer? The fuck was Benjamín going to be upset about? Me with a knife in my gut in the backseat of whatever big-shot, cartel guy’s car?

“Banking on the wrong strategy there,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

The man looks up from the file again, waiting for me to explain further.

“No love lost between my employer and me.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

He says this with such assurance, it becomes apparent that this whole scheme, whatever it is, whatever game this guy’s playing, this shit is well above my pay grade. No point trying to outmaneuver when my head’s still in quicksand and I don’t even have the fucking rulebook.

“But you answer to the whole family, no?”

I roll my eyes and slump my shoulders, too tired to summon a real response.

“David Barrón Corona. From Logan Heights, San Diego, California. Says here you were born in Tijuana, but your parents are naturalized citizens. Which would give you—” he licks his forefinger and flips a page. “Ah yes, dual Mexican-American citizenship. Oh, your father was in the navy? Why does it seem the best sicarios come from military families. Someone should do a study.”

“Eh, eres un soldado either way.” <Eh, you're a soldier either way.>

The man smirks and continues reading. “Two brothers, one older Mateo Barrón Corona, deceased. And one younger, Alexander Barrón Corona, incarcerated, life no parole. And your mother— hmm, we don’t have much on her.”

I clench my teeth so hard, it feels like I have a charlie horse in my jaw. Willing my stomach muscles to relax, I ease off the middle console with my elbow to lean against the window and breathe out a, “Wow.”

The man takes out a cigarette and pops it between his lips, mumbling, “Qué?” as he lights up.

“Just— I dunno. Seems a lotta paperwork for somebody who’s nobody. Whose asset are you, DoD, CIA?”

The man shakes out his match and cracks a window on his side to toss it out. “Ah, see, but that’s the thing, David— may I call you David?”

I nod listlessly.

“David, do I seem to you like someone who’d waste so much time, go to all this trouble if you were a complete nobody?”

“Can’t say. We just met.” We’re well past politeness. I’m already bleeding all over this guy’s Oxford leather seats.

But instead of insulting him, he cuts up, laughing deep and full. “Funny, discerning—tonight’s little encounter notwithstanding. And from what I hear, an excellent shot, a competent sicario.”

I snort loud enough that he pauses to say, “What is that? False modesty? Don’t bore me before we’ve gotten started.”

“No. I am as good as you’ve heard probably. But that’s not the point.”

Dragging slowly from his cigarette, he brushes a bit of ash that’s fallen on his pant leg, then looks up, fixes his eyes on me, and says, “Enlighten me, then.” He’s the cat. I’m the ball of yarn. It doesn’t even matter.

“Any sicario worth a shit knows it doesn’t matter how good you get.“

“Why’s that?”

A gotcha-type smile spreads across my face for the first time in what feels like ages. “’Cause however good I may be, I’ll always be expendable. Guys like me are always short to the gate.”

And just when I think I’ve got him, for some reason, that warms up those cold brown eyes of his, as though I’ve proven his point more than my own. He bobs his head toward the window where Navegante stood guarding the car. “Well, that may be true of most in your line of work. But I asked my man out there, and he seems to think you’re good people. I’m putting together the picture of you, beginning to understand the appeal, what she sees in you.”

“Why. You hiring?”

“Oh no, no,” he chuckles lightly, “you’re of no use to me that way. No, the fact of the matter is,” then clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “you’re right. Some are more expendable than others. But at the finish line, when death comes to collect, really, we’re all expendable.”

If this guy doesn’t reach some point, some punchline soon, I swear I’m gonna yank this knife out myself, happily bleed out all over the place just to reach some definitive conclusion.

”But here and now? To one with a little power and something I need? You David, are much less expendable than you think.”

The hell is he even talki— oh, fuck.

What she sees in you.

It echoes in my ears until it detonates, like pulling the pin on a grenade in my head, shrapnel ricocheting on the inner walls of my skull, just as I’m trying to piece it together.

My boss. Personal. Dina. You answer to the whole family, no? The guy’s practically been explaining it from the beginning. I’ve just been too dead in the head to make sense of it.

“Ah yes, there it is. And now that you’re caught up with the rest of the class, allow me to formally introduce myself.” The man places his hand on his chest, bowing his head. “I’m Pacho Herrera.”

Yup. This is above my pay grade. Way, way, way the fuck above my pay grade.