#certain chapters opened with this sense of gravity

[fideidefenswhore]

the not directly articulated thesis of hunting the falcon is that while catherine of aragon took henry's literal virginity, anne boleyn took his emotional virginity.

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (4)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# CHAPTER 4 : Is it possible to hear your own heart physically break?

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : definitely a beefy chapter! thank you all for your support so far! i love hearing your guy's thoughts ♡ ( 5023 words )

-: ✧ :-゜・． MASTERLIST <- click me!

You soon regret your decision once you're now fully aware of the fact that your ex is, quite literally, living and breathing in the same room as you.

And you kind of want to kill him.

Or kiss him, you're not sure.

HONESTLY? YOU’RE FUCKED — Your brain seemed to have successfully checked out from the chains of your mortal body, as if it has claimed that there is no longer room for it inside. Instead, your consciousness found a comfortable refuge in the sky as it nestles into the clouds.

It felt like watching yourself from a third person perspective, observing your limbs move smoothly yet having little to no conscious control over them. Even if you did try to gain control, your brain fogs over and sends over a strange feeling of suddenly transversing through the fabric of time and space itself.

Your arms sway lazily, fingers grasping at the rough texture of your leather bag — itching for something, anything to ground yourself back down. However, your senses grow distant, each texture, each sound and sight only felt like a faint whisper down your neck.

The quiet murmurs of the party around you only dissipate into unidentifiable chatter, urging you to turn around and finally face them. However, it felt as if gravity had taken you in as its number one enemy— and decided to glue you down in your position. Could it have been fear? The fear of the billions of possibilities of what might happen next.

Your feet shuffle aimlessly, eyes eerily locked onto the cracks of the dungeon wall. Yet your heartbeat thumps against your ribs, a sound like a quiet drum. A reminder that echoes from inside you; you are still in this reality. So you press a mindless yet firm palm towards your chest, feeling around as your chest rises in a deep inhale.

You shake your head a bit, squeezing your eyes shut — only to open them back up to the same concrete wall.

‘I’ve been facing the corner for too long… That’s… Embarrassing...!’

The sudden thought yanks back your consciousness, like a splash of ice cold water jolting you awake. Your spine snaps straight, shoulders pulling back as you pivot on your feet —spinning around just a little bit too quickly. You wobble, looking around at the party with a sheepish expression.

Everyone is currently pre-occupied, which provides a bit of comfort to your raging fear and nervousness that consistently gnaws against your confidence (which probably doesn’t exist at this point.) Your hands fiddle around with your wooden staff, arms wrapped around behind your back. Your fingertips run against the grooves and indents of its wooden material, feeling the mana flow through it like a gentle river.

Your hand grasps it down firmly, seeking refuge in its comforting familiarity and stability.

Though, right before your eyes could focus in on Kabru — Mickbell’s frustrated groan cuts through the silence, as he desperately scratches his scalp through his blonde hair. His foot impatiently stomps against the rocky floor, kicking against the dust and debris that roll under his boots. His outburst catches the attention of everyone currently present, but no one dares to utter a word just yet.

“Everything is complete, but our barley! Who steals just barley?!” He exclaimed, a certain roughness to his call. His gloved hands desperately shake his precious bag, turning it upside down and watching as his dungeon trinkets fall to the ground. It creates a sporadic shuffling sound, followed up by a series of metal clinks! And clangs! Along with the occasional muffled sound of piles of fabric and clothes softly thumping on the floor.

He desperately throws the empty leather bag onto the floor, in a fit of anger.

Despite the seriousness of the situation—being mugged of your food rations—you can't help but feel a warm, endearing sensation in your chest. His exasperation and the way he fusses over the scattered items make you smile. You glance at the objects strewn across the ground, skipping over the usual equipment he always carries...

Gold coins, dwarven artifacts, gears, a chipped beyond recognition jewel, darts that are most probably dipped in poison, and a… stray gold coin that seemed to pick itself off and crawl away?  

Often, important and valuable items are given to Mickbell for his protection— he has a weird yet endearing habit of collecting and somewhat hoarding items from the dungeon, when it has the slightest chance of being valuable. In his words, “If it can be made use of, then use it.”

However, you never really hold him against it, or pin him for hoarding unnecessary items. Since about most of the time he can haggle quite a hefty price for even the most nonsensical items. Which always ends in a celebratory dinner, alongside frequent visits to their favorite tavern.

And getting black out drunk, off the rails and unaware of how much gold has been spent— piles and piles of empty shot glasses (curtesy of your drunken state ordering one right after the other.) It usually ends with Kabru and Kuro dragging the rest of the lot around, like heavy sacks of potatoes.

However, those moments are usually scarce and distant in between. You all were a severely unlucky bunch.

“Augh! This sucks! These thieves are insane…!” He groans, whining as he haphazardly cleans up the area— using his hands to scoop up the items and throwing them back into his backpack. His boots scuffed against the floor, dragging them around in an aggressively childish manner. He then proceeds to, somehow, defy the laws of gravity as he boosts himself up into the air— scrunching his body together as he jumped.

He clicks the clasp of his backpack closed, flinging the slightly deformed bag over his shoulder. The piles of messy clothes and trinkets create lumps in the leather, making you snicker slightly. With one last defeated sigh, Kabru finally decides to speak up.

“That seems to be the last of our food rations, it’s best to head back now. Let’s give up, and try again another day” Kabru smiles, a little bit too handsomely might you add. He comes in swiftly, approaching Mickbell from behind and clasping down on his shoulders. He soothes his worries by gently squeezing his hands on his shoulders, rhythmically massaging them. It looked like an all-mighty prince, coming down to soothe the worries of his people.

“Give up? You’re taking this failure a bit too lightly.” Rin adds on, her foreign voice giving you an aggressive whiplash. Her tone was gentle, and sweet like a bite of sweet cake. It was low, and you could sense the stern attitude through her lips— her words coming off cold, but you knew there was a certain fondness in those words.

“I can take failures lightly, but not the safety of our wellbeing’s. If we have no food rations, continuing onwards is basically walking straight into death’s hands.” Kabru scoffs back, a smirk tugging against his lips— his cheeks pulling upwards as his half-lidded gaze directs towards her. His words had a certain bounce to them, he’s being a tease. Their banter was something you couldn’t digest, as it was all too familiar.  

You can’t hold him back anyways, but that all too nostalgic teasing tone made you want to pull his curls out— cluster by cluster using bare hands. Or you could possibly make him mute for all eternity, so he could never utter a word in that tone to anyone else but you. It was supposed to be a luxury for only you to enjoy, not anyone else.

His voice left a sweet taste in your mouth that quickly bubbled into something bitter and rotten. The blinding anger only fuels a fire in your heart, a deep desire to swiftly blast a heart shaped hole into his body out of sheer desperation. Or possibly even turn him into a frog, stripping him away of his handsome, princely face and toned body.

  Jealousy is a fickle thing, like the devil on your shoulder that whispers horrible scenarios to fan the intrusive thoughts and the urge to act upon them.

But of course, morally speaking you can’t act upon these (As much as you want to do so.) And even if the feeling spreads as an irresistible itch that dances all around under your skin.

“If Kabru says we go up, then it’s definitely the best option for us all.” Daya mutters, smiling gently at the party around her. She stretches her arms out behind her back, fingers intertwined as she sighs at the sudden popping sound from her tired joints. Kuro, who had somehow appeared next to Mickbell’s side had barked in agreement.

The rest of the party nods in accordance, accepting their defeat once again with a collective sigh. Your gaze sweeps over their tired, crestfallen faces, which slowly starts to blur into a sweeter moment as you watch their confidence and general mood bounce right back.

 It's bittersweet to you, but it soothes your troubled heart just a little.

You can’t hold back the melancholy smile that creeps up your face, watching as the distance between you and the fleeting party grows bit by bit.

 Seeing your old friends safe and sound, despite the hardships, brings a sense of comfort.

However, their careful and deliberate attention to their general well-being and health was a sharp contrast to how you have treated yourself in the past years. Especially how Kabru and the rest were so quick to accept defeat, only to treat it as yet another small hiccup in their lives.

It serves as a bitter reminder that they were all doing just fine, without you. That they all have matured and become even closer with little to no difficulty, generally not affected by your disappearance in their lives.

They all have gone much farther in their lives, evident by their newer and higher-rarity equipment. Their uplifted mental, and well-established new outlook of life— like they were a breath of fresh air now. Something that you were all too adjusted to, yet still manages to prove to you that you cannot stay static as a person. They’ll always be susceptible to change and becoming a better person day by day.

But you are still forever in that same place since you left. Not someone better, not someone worse— but someone who has stayed unchanging and alone. Someone who clings onto the fragments of the past, relishing in the old familiar joy that they once had.

It makes you wonder if your existence had any valuable weight in their lives, and if you were even a memory that was worth remembering.

Was it admiration, or pure envy?

For them to bounce right back at the sudden face of failure, for them to treasure themselves over the slim, high-risk chances of success.

Maybe it was a sign from the dungeon, or even the mad mage himself. Could it have been that fate had deliberately given you the chance to see them once again, even in such a short and fleeting moment in time— to act as a wake-up call?

To slap your face with such vigor and intensity, which will sting for eons to come— to serve as a reminder that life will forever go on, with or without you. The friends and loved ones you once made will not stay hung up on you forever, sulking in the coldness of their rooms at the dead of night. They will move on one day, and that day may come sooner than it will for you.

No matter how heavy or light of an impact you were in their lives, they will always seek the light at the end of the tunnel.

Unlike you, the pathetic and miserable person who refuses to seek out the better side of things.

You, who instead relishes in the melancholy prison that holds your mind and body in confinement.

You, who would rather feel sorry for yourself— crying in the dead of night and desperately grasping the fleeting memories of the past.

You, who falls into the same dwelling hole again and again.

Addicted to the serene comfort of familiarity, as sadness is all you have ever known.

Instead, you sigh— keeping a bittersweet smile on your face as you turn away to start walking deeper into the dungeon. You knew your own rations wouldn’t last yet another floor, alongside the venture back up to the surface. Nor were you completely equipped with the correct gear, since you had never planned to even go that deep down in the dungeon.

You were just a stubborn idiot that was too bothered by the thought of going back up alongside them, just to trail behind like a lost puppy. Because, yeah, sacrificing your life instead of going out of your way of having to ask them if you could come with was a much better option.

You bite your tongue, seeking comfort in the pressure of your teeth sinking in, the sting hastily preventing you from calling them back. However, before you can turn your back on them, a soft voice cuts through the silence. It sent chills down your spine and dropped your heart straight to the lowest floor of the dungeon.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?”  Holm questions, his voice laced with concern. His head begins to whip around, twisting and turning his body to catch sight of any sign of you. This cues the rest of the party to scan their surroundings, anxiously shifting their gaze from wall to wall— person to person before laying their eyes on your figure.

You had been staying in the same place as before, showing little to no signs of movement. Most of the party, notably Rin and Kuro tilt their heads in confusion. While the rest let out a deep sigh of relief, possibly thankful that you hadn’t been eaten by a merman in complete silence— or even kidnapped and dragged into the walls by a ghoul.

Nervous, your heart pounds against your chest, the rhythmic thudding echoing in your ears like a drum. A sheepish smile creeps across your face as you catch sight of their dumbfounded expressions, realizing you haven't moved an inch since they left.

Mickbell darts toward you with a sense of urgency, his footsteps quick and light, while the rest of the party trails behind (However, less enthusiastically.) He tugs on the fabric of your sleeve, his eyes wide and pleading as he looks up at you with a mix of desperation and hope.

“Where are you going?” He whines, almost angrily— in a borderline childish manner. Your gaze shifts around in avoidance, shuffling your feet as you let out a quiet chuckle. You shrink at the realization that all eyes are on you.

Even Kabru’s.

“Ah… I’m going to keep going deeper into the dungeon.” You awkwardly cushion your words with gentle laughter, the sound feeling forced and unnatural. Your arms feel unnatural as they stay still by your side, opting to scratch your cheek and sway around your staff using the other.

 The sheer awkwardness of your current actions makes you want to leap into the nearest body of water and offer yourself to the mermen, sirens, and krakens lurking within.

“Going that deep into the dungeon, as a solo mage? Are you out of your mind?” Rin comments, her eyes set on you sternly. Her fingers messily intertwine in the strands of her hair, as she curls and spins it around. Her words were sharp and cut through you like a sharp blade through paper.

“You’re honestly lucky that you made it this far alone, but it’s not safe.” Holm adds on, stepping forward. His face etched with concern.

“You should know how dangerous it is! You should look out for yourself the same way you did for us!” Mickbell exclaims. The rest of the party unanimously hums in agreement, reflecting their collective concern over your well-being. Kabru was busy staring elsewhere, unsure if he was trying to ignore you or genuinely was more interested in the surrounding dungeon walls around you. Which was, quite possibly, both.

His eyes seemed to wander everywhere but near you. But the nervous and rhythmic tap of his boot hitting the floor, his fingers twitching and scratching at his collar, the sound of his cough before his hum of approval— it all leads you under the assumption that he was hiding his true feelings.

You’re not sure how to feel.

Happy, with your heart warm and swelling with love and care? Generally, upset and offended, as they assume that you are not fit for exploring alone?

You would have run straight to them, laughter bubbling from your lips, your hands ready to caress their heads and feel the warmth surge through your heart. However, your gaze locks onto Kabru, boring into him like bullets through cardboard.

Fear claws your insides, chopping you up like minced meat. Just the mere presence of Kabru right in front of you— the thought of having to spend possibly a week seeing him 24/7 was just enough to make you want to hurl. You would rather make a quick dash down, to wipe him away from your sight.

Your pride and ego battle within, both desperately urging you to convince them that you are a seasoned adventurer, fully capable of delving deeper into the dungeon.  That you are not the same person you used to be— you’re stronger, more agile, stronger willed. Yet the words die down by your throat, as your tongue gets held down by your chattering teeth.

Your lips stagger and stutter, desperately trying to find the right words to say— to say something, anything!

“Aaah… It’s fine! I’ll just end up being a bother if I went along with you all.” Your smile comes out forced, jaw clenched and unsure. The sound of your voice manages to rope Kabru into looking back at you, underestimating the sudden flinch of his gaze as he ends up locking eyes with you.

He doesn’t bother wasting any time before looking away. It clenches at your heart painfully.

Is it possible to hear your heart physically breaking? Call in the scientists and researchers, because you just did.

“A bother? Nonsense! You’re coming with us, right this instant! Right, Kabru?” Holm shakes his head disapprovingly, his eyes slimming and glimmering with mischief. He turns his body towards Kabru, using his elbow to prod Kabru into agreeing.

…

Okay, maybe you aren’t currently the only stupidest person in the world.

You were very much high up on that chart, but only trailing behind in second place.

Kabru’s expression was unreadable now, however the sweat dripping from his forehead and the hand that won’t stop adjusting his collar, his suddenly slightly widened eyes— gave it all away. Maybe not to the rest of the party, but it was as clear as day to you.

And possibly, for once in the 5 years apart— you were completely sure that you and Kabru had one shared thought, in this very moment. Your intentions and feelings are in complete synch and in perfect unison.

‘I’m going to have to kill this guy and hide his body so well to make sure he is never found.’

It was a reach on your part. Imagining his voice synching in with yours and everything. But you like to have fun sometimes.

Kabru anxiously clears up his throat before speaking, his gaze flickering to you repeatedly.

“Yeah, its uh… Safer if you come along.”

The words that just came out of his mouth, might as well have sent you straight to the sun. Your jaw drops, remaining agape for a few seconds. Your mind lost a couple of screws and gears, with your gaze unwavering and locked onto his figure.

You’re not sure if you’re losing your shit now, and only imagining the faintest blush on his face. But it’s a good thing to hallucinate right now— as the view is currently making your heart pound. So, props to your imagination.

“YEAH! And let’s drink our failures away, just like old times!” Mickbell raises his fist in the air, impatiently tugging at your hand to close in the distance between you and the rest of the party. However, this time you began a steady pace alongside him. They all began turning their backs on you, beginning their journey back gleefully with you by their side. However, you keep your distance away from them at the far back.

The mention of alcohol makes you feel faint, as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth— feeling a strange thirst as the taste lingers on your taste buds. You haven’t had a drop of alcohol since that day.

Honestly, it would’ve been quite a help if you were able to drink all your sorrows away.

You were a huge drinker, and quitting cold turkey completely went crashing on you. If it wasn’t for your weird thing where you hold such high sentimental feelings for the most random places and objects, as well as your constantly empty pockets— you would’ve rather spent the rest of your days wallowing in that same tavern.

“Really? I… Don’t really have the budget right now to go out drinking.” You gently tug back your hand away from Mickbells, bringing it back to sway by your side instead. He didn’t seem to mind, putting his arms behind his head and walking off alongside the party.

“We’ll pay for it.” Kabru suddenly speaks up. The way he spoke made it obvious that he was rushing to make a comment before the perfect moment flew away. His voice quietly cracked in the beginning, almost choking the words out as he spoke. But he spared you no glance, keeping his back on you and his gaze set on the journey ahead.

It fed into that little hope you had in your heart.

But you also really wanted to knock his head onto the floor.

If he was that desperate to string you along with his party for a couple of days, then why didn’t he come running to your house begging you to come back when you left?

You grit your teeth, letting out a heavy exhale as you decided to hold onto that small hope instead of riding off your anger.

“Okay.” You sigh, letting a gentle smile spread through your face. You decide to entertain them and allow yourself to succumb to your gluttony for their company. Taking risks is stupid, but you would rather accept and see where life will take you— rather than end up regretting your decisions later.

I mean, how bad could it be?

“Do we even have the budget to go out?” Rin opposes, fingers never leaving her long jet-black hair as she walks. It made you ponder; do they actually have the budget? If they did, you’re starting to consider that you’ve finally found a stroke of luck.

Just about enough time to dissect Rin and Kabru’s current relationship, Kabru’s state after the breakup, catch up with old friends— AND, you finally get to drink to your hearts content!

“I have been saving up a secret stash of savings.” Kabru replies, patting down the side of his hips— pretending to pat down an imaginary sack of gold by his side to prove his point. This causes a couple of excited cheers and hollers to erupt from the party. Listening to the upbeat chatter from them, makes your smile widen even more. With how casual Kabru seemed to talk and address them, seeing how close-knit they all are now; it made you feel as if everything was going to be alright.

With a sudden pep to your step, you catch up with them eagerly from behind.

The walk towards the next floor was boring, to say the least. Though, you’re not one to really get upset over the looming silence— since you had gotten used to it over the years. But the stories of your adventures in your mind had only registered the interesting parts, completely blocking out all the mundane parts.

Even though you were currently treading on water, not even the tiny fishes wanted to entertain you. The process of getting the blessings onto the party was severely mundane, since your current party now possesses three magic users— making the process extremely fast.

Minus when you almost accidentally smacked Kuro across his furry face, as you watched Rin take her time casting the spell on Kabru. There weren’t really any romantic hints or teasing in the air, since they both remained professional and blank faced.

You’re just… A little butt hurt that he didn’t come to you.

There was a thick tension in the air, which you were convinced that only you and Kabru could sense (It was only between the two of you, unfortunately.) He kept his head held high, as he could feel you basically watching his every move— peeling his skin away in your mind and analyzing each move of his muscle, each beat of his racing heart. It was coming to the point that it had become a battle of pride.

Though, it came to a pitiful end as he glanced at you for a second as he turns his head to the side— side-eying you. To which, you react by averting your stare in defeat.

You need something else to distract yourself.

So, you instead decided to analyze their whole party set up— to fight against the boredom and the frightful echoes in your empty mind.

Your gaze starts from Kabru, who stands firm and confident at the front of the party. It made sense, as he was one of the main fighters of the team who was excellent at close range combat. He is also skilled at closing in long distances, with his agility and high awareness of his surroundings.  However, as you inch your stare to your left— there stood Rin.

Rin stood proudly by his side, providing a gentle teasing punch towards his arm. Kabru chuckles slightly, while she remains a strict and stern expression. Though the slight pink in her face catches your eye as his melodic chuckle makes it through her ears, making your jaw clench and scrape your teeth against each other.

If she was so daring to walk front and center alongside Kabru, she was possibly more knowledgeable on offensive magic. Usually, mages tend to mingle around the middle or possibly near the rear end of the party, letting the other fighters do the work as they take care of their flank and other enemies out of reach due to their longer ranged attacks. Mages don’t have a good set of defenses, usually depending on their party members to manage closer ranged enemies— Mostly due to the time it requires to charge and chant spells, as well as the position and stance putting them in a vulnerable situation.

The only sensible reason for her to be so confident at the front, was for Kabru to basically solo the enemies nearby for the sake of her safety. Working side by side, taking care of each other’s backs.

But you don’t want to accept that fact. So, you’d rather decide that she’s just there for… Other plausible reasons that you cannot think of.

Mostly because that’s what you and Kabru used to be like.

It churns your gut around a bit.

You haven’t seen her in battle, aside from casting blessings here and there— so you’re unsure of her specialty. You take a mental note to analyze the spells she casts in battles, whenever you encounter a monster on the way.

Behind the two comes another pair.

 ‘What is this, a buddy system?’ You groan internally

Daya trails closely behind Kabru and Rin, possibly yet another backup fighter in the cause for dealing with close ranged enemies that could surround the mage. She’s very strong, and much like Kabru is skilled and powerful using melee weapons— overpowering enemies using one handed combat with skilled axe wielding. Though, she lags slightly behind Kabru himself in terms of agility.

Next to Daya, trailed Holm. You could consider them close, but not necessarily too close knit with each other. Daya had once told you that she tends to gravitate more towards Holm due to their closeness in age, however they came off more as just friends rather than close friends.  

Holm is very passive in fights, so being in the middle provides him some protection from his front and his back— while also allowing him to swiftly run away and escape. If you had thought that it was only fight or flight, he has the third one: freeze. He gets easily overwhelmed in fast paced situations, which are, mostly but not exclusively, battles. 

He does not wield any weapons on hand, nor has any base offensive magic for assisting in battle. However, he does carry his elemental familiars with him— named Marillier and Essiet (Which, you found cute how he had given them names. Or did the familiars actually have names before being bound to Holm?) So being in the middle of the party allows him both to release his familiars easily with protection and having the freedom to flee or freeze.

Mickbell typically lounges behind the party, since he isn’t equipped with the typical weapons— nor does he have any confidence in fighting head on. He’s cowardly, and often runs away during battles. Sometimes, he’d make use of his poison darts to assist in the long run. His heightened senses allow him to detect enemies from behind easier, preventing any possible flanks.

Lastly, Kuro stands side by side with Mickbell— serving as his personal bodyguard and guarantees Mickbell’s safety. His heightened smell and hearing also pairs hand in hand with the halfling. He is also skilled in close ranged combat, as a melee fighter that uses his sharp teeth and strong jaw to his advantage.

And… Then there’s you.

You feel somewhat uncomfortable now, seeing how they complete each other so perfectly. You feel like when you finally finish a puzzle, but then there’s a random spare piece that doesn’t fit anywhere.

But it’s okay, knowing that they all have each other’s backs. They don’t need you anymore, but their safety and happiness— is your happiness.

-: ✧ :-゜・． TAGLIST

@sy1v30n @whatamidoing89 @meerpea @pop-ee104 @starriejin @valerayne @mshope16 @stefnarda @lovin-past @slightly-lonely-jonesy @auhokvam

[rascal-xo]

Living in the Shadows | CoD Series | Two

Pairing - TF141 x Female Reader (Callsign Dagger)

Romantic Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley × Female Reader

Series Warnings: Violence, SMUT, Language, ANGST, Gore, Smoking

Chapter Summary: You’ve met the 141, but your new mission pairing with a certain Lieutenant threatens hostility.

Part One: Here

As you approach a door marked with fading Arabic writing, Soap pushes it open, revealing a dimly lit space filled with anticipation. 2 figures are seated around a large table, their eyes focused on the holographic display projecting mission details.

"Captain, I found our special guest." Soap announces, gesturing towards you.

You enter the room, meeting the intense gazes of the iconic soldiers you've heard so much about. Captain Price, with his weathered face and piercing eyes, nods in acknowledgement. Gaz, a steadfast presence, offers you a warm nod. And then there's Ghost, the enigmatic figure shrouded in mystery, whose eyes seem to hold the weight of a thousand secrets.

"Good to see you, Sergeant. Take a seat." Price says, motioning to the empty seat at the table.

You oblige, settling into the chair next to Ghost. The room is filled with a charged silence, the anticipation almost palpable.

Captain Price clears his throat, his voice commanding the room's attention. "We have a critical mission coming up—a high-risk extraction operation deep in enemy territory. Our objective is to retrieve a high-value target who possesses crucial intelligence that could turn the tide of this conflict."

As the details of the mission unfold, you lean in, your focus unwavering. The complexity of the operation becomes apparent, with numerous potential threats and contingencies to consider.

"This mission requires specialized skills and adaptability." The captain begins to say. "From now until the time of the first leg of the mission, you all will be paired up for training."

Captain Price's words hang in the air, and you can sense the weight of the impending mission settling upon each member of the team. The room is filled with a mixture of anticipation and determination, as everyone absorbs the gravity of the task ahead.

As the briefing concludes, Captain Price looks around the table, his gaze meeting each team member's eyes with unwavering confidence. "We'll begin specialized training sessions immediately," he declares. "Ghost, Dagger, you two will be paired up due to your similar combat specialties."

You glance at Ghost, hoping to catch some indication of his thoughts. His eyes remain hidden behind the mask, his demeanor unreadable.

Over the following days, the training sessions intensify. You and Ghost are pushed to your limits, honing your skills in synchronization, stealth, and precision. Despite the grueling exercises, Ghost remains stoic, barely uttering a word. It's as if he operates in a world of his own, carrying his own burdens.

As you navigate obstacle courses, engage in close-quarters combat, and practice coordinated movements, you start to admire Ghost's prowess. His movements are swift and calculated, his instincts razor-sharp. There's no denying his skills, and you find yourself pushing harder to match his level of excellence.

However, Ghost's silence and occasional distant demeanor begin to wear on you. Over the various training courses you barely talk unless its strictly training based. You wonder if he truly respects your abilities or if he simply tolerates your presence.

During a break in your sparring session you notice Ghost, as usual, stands at a distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Frustration bubbles within you, and a determination to break through his silent façade takes hold.

Summoning your courage, you approach Ghost, still catching your breath from the activity before. "Ghost," you begin, your voice steady, "Am I doing something wrong?"

Ghost turns his head towards you, his eyes concealed behind the mask. His response is curt, yet tinged with an underlying sense of emotion. "You're doing fine, Sergeant."

His vague reply frustrates you, but you refuse to back down. The tension between you has become palpable, and you yearn for some form of understanding. Gathering your thoughts, you press further.

"If I'm gonna be going into the death zone with you, we might as well skip the awkward lack of pleasantries." You let out a dry laugh.

Ghost's masked face remains inscrutable as he meets your gaze. There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes at your directness, but he doesn't respond immediately. The weight of the silence settles heavily between you, and you can't help but wonder if you've overstepped some unspoken boundary.

After what feels like an eternity, Ghost finally speaks, his voice low and measured. "We're getting off task." His words hang in the air, leaving you slightly deflated. It's not the answer you were hoping for, but it's the only one he offers.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, realizing that Ghost's reserved nature might be more deeply ingrained than you initially thought.

With a tinge of disappointment, you decide to accept his response for what it is. You can't force someone to open up, especially not when the mission takes precedence. Ghost's skills and expertise are undeniable, and the team's success hinges on your ability to work together

if he won't talk, then neither will you, you decide as you take your stance on the sparring mat once again coming face to mask with him.

Main CoD Taglist: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera

Series Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @swissy23 @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @ner-dee @your-antares-universe @kittyoonsstuff @deadbranch @thriving-n-jiving

A/N: Hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Stories starting to establish itself so now I can get into all the fun action packed stuff :))

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 6 - Canada Water Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 5 Summary: Neil shows you just how well he can take care of you. As the night at your place takes a turn, you both need to adjust to the slight change in the dynamic. Warnings: Explicit content, and I mean it; swearing; slight angst. Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm a day earlier than I thought but since barely anyone reads this anyway... *shrugs* might as well. This is 10+k of smut and then another 3k of mental spiralling (thanks to Duran Duran), to make things more entertaining :)) It's been a while since I wrote scenes like this and it proved to be a challenge but I do hope I delivered. One thing is certain - these two definitely were into whatever I envisioned in my daydreams ✨ Without further ado, I'm leaving you with another 14k of words. The motivation for this story fluctuates like crazy but for now, more is coming. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Although it was far from the very first time you had a gorgeous man kneel before you with a promising smile on his face and a determination to cure your ails through the sheer force of a good orgasm, it might have been the most memorable one.

If only just because of Neil’s eyes, staring into the depths of your soul as he carefully took off your underwear, simultaneously laying kisses on the expanse of your calves, knees, and thighs. In some shades of the light, you would swear his eyes were twinkling.

At first, you wanted to look away, hoping it would help your case. Make it seem less meaningful in this unspecified way that you could not and would not dissect for months. Soon, you found that you simply could not look away. Instead, you looked on, letting his tender caress arrest your senses and instantly put you back within that fuzzy space of mind. Once he took off your panties, Neil glanced up to meet your gaze, that dangerous smile still hiding in the corners of his mouth. His hands continued the journey, pulling up the dress for easier access, all the while driving you another step closer to madness with perfectly laid kisses, burning the tender skin of your inner thighs. Before you could even think of anything to say, he broke the heavy silence:

“You’re beautiful,” the certainty in his voice, as if stating a fact not unlike the existence of the forces of gravity, made you feel lightheaded.

Sure, it was something you had heard before. Maybe even often. But that didn’t mean you believed it. The notion scratched at the edges of your insecurities, never quite managing to scrape them away. Usually, it fell way off.

“See, I don’t know if I should take that seriously” stumbling through the sentence with a breathless voice, you subtly shifted your hips on the sofa and pointedly glanced down at Neil with what you hoped was ferocity, “Considering what you’re about to do to me,”

From his vantage point, with his hands pinning your thighs to the couch, legs wide open with everything on display, the point was more than evident. You could tell Neil caught it with how that light pink spread over his cheeks again, painting a fascinating contrast.

“You should,” drawing mindless circles on your kneecap as if to buy his time, Neil added, “I’ve thought it since I first saw you. It just didn’t seem the right thing to say back then” he shrugged, daring to put forward another mind-blowing concept.

Another fact undeniable only to him. As if desperate to make talking even harder for you, Neil took the pause as his chance to drop his gaze from that respectable position, wandering over your face to stare at the apex of your thighs with nothing but hunger in his eyes. You swallowed hard, feeling the arousal spread through your veins like wildfire.

“And now?” the question was all you could manage, driven by the remains of sanity that considered this answer essential.

As if it would change anything at all.

“Now I’m hopefully going to make you feel really good, so… There aren’t many lines left to cross” Neil glanced up at you again, that same confident smile acting as both a warning and an enticement, luring you in.

As if aware of your increasingly muddled state, he let go of your knee to squeeze your hand and grinned. There was nothing more you felt capable of saying. Or doing, except to drop your head back on the sofa headrest and let Neil do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Which was to trace an invisible line up the expanse of your right leg to that place between your thighs, that was already drenched because of him. Even that ghostly touch burned your skin as Neil carefully parted your folds with the tip of his index finger and dragged it through the slick. Muffling a groan by forcefully biting your lower lip, you closed your eyes. You were already on fire.

“Is this all for me?” the wonder in his voice, combined with just enough smugness to make you consider punching Neil in the face, was another reason to drown in the embarrassment.

Although, drowning in need was a close second with how Neil slowly mapped out his terrain, spreading the wetness over your slit and around the entrance. Preparing you for what he had in mind.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had found its way to the nape of his neck, lightly playing with the hair ends and pressing against the warm skin. The contact acted like an anchor, assuring you of the realness of the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t get too cocky about it,” the end of what you hoped to be a warning never quite landed as it was immediately followed by a gasp.

A consequence of the fact that Neil decided to use that exact moment to delve in. His warm breath fanned across your bare skin as he settled between your thighs with a simple comment:

“I’ll do my best” the tail end of the quip was followed by the first experimental lick through your folds, the tongue lightly dragging through the sensitive skin.

You choked on a curse, fingers of the occupied hand already tangling in his blonde locks. Your other hand gripped the sofa edge hard enough that you worried it would leave indents in the material.

Neil took that sound as a cue, repeating the move till you could barely stay still. Keeping your hips pinned to the couch with one arm slung across your thighs, he swirled his tongue over your heat, collecting the arousal as if he was dying of thirst. Just when you thought he would offer respite, he dragged the tip of his tongue up towards your clit and focused the attention on the spot that had you crying out loud.

It was easy to let go then. To keep your eyes closed when Neil’s thoughtful manoeuvres and skilled tongue attacked your senses with an intensity that soon made it impossible to think or speak. Resorted to incoherent mumblings and moans, you tugged at Neil’s hair with force, making him groan. The sound went straight to your core, shooting like a live wire through your body and making you tense up. He was good at this. Not that you ever doubted he would be. He listened and used the cues available to go where you needed him, interchanging between lapping at your heat and sucking your clit. Like a scholar dedicated to his study. Like a devoted believer praying at the altar of his God.

Or goddess, apparently.

You could feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, that wave of pleasure getting close to unbearable with every second. An attempt at speech only got you as far as a breathless admission, interrupting the silence filled with nothing but your shameless screams:

“I’m so close” it was merely a fact, something he could discern from the force of your grip over his hair or the way you quivered, barely able to keep yourself together, “Neil, please just-”

You did not even know what you were asking for. Something. Anything.

He knew anyway. You felt a comforting touch, a careful hand tracing invisible circles on the skin of your outer thigh as Neil took a break to glance up. Your eyes snapped open at the interruption, meeting his gaze as if following a sense you had no label for.

Much later, you would wonder whether that, the connection so alike the first time your eyes met over the carriage floor, could be something different than a trick of light. Something substantial. Something terrifying.

But, back then, you could only stare back. Vulnerable and at his mercy, yet not scared of the prospect. As if able to read your mind or the incoherent ramblings resembling scatterings of thoughts, Neil shot you a grin. His lips and chin were glistening, coated with your slick. The sight was enough to make you clench around nothing and shudder. Your body wound tight still.

Whatever Neil saw in that moment of silence must have been what he was searching for. Your eyelids fell close when you felt him dive in again, the talented lips enveloping your heat without a second wasted.

Before you could as much as let yourself immerse in the steady rise of pleasure, in the exact feel of his mouth at the most sacred of places you could offer, he took it that one step further. Delivering the deathly stroke with the tip of his tongue, prodding at your entrance, and penetrating it without mercy. It was too late to try muffling the cry torn out of your throat without warning. Christ. You could only attempt not to rip the hair from his head as you tugged at the blonde locks and tried to get him closer. Tried to do what you always did and take what you wanted.

But Neil would not let you, his grip unyielding over your hips, keeping you pinned to the sofa. Keeping you spread out and helpless as he dragged you over the precipice with the tenderness of his touch and the determination of a man desperate to do well. Desperate to serve.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse carried on a moan in that last flash of coherence before the edges of your vision darkened, and your spine rose in an arch, unable to hold still anymore, “I’m-” the thought, whatever it was meant to be, was never finished.

Instead, it got replaced with a litany of his name, whispered with the tint of ecstasy, colouring the vowels and consonants. As if you had nothing else to say. No one else to praise. Just Neil. The wave of pleasure crashed into you without subtlety, its force rendering you numb as you quivered beneath his tongue and under his firm hands. Neil held you as you shook, licking you clean as if he did not want to lose the taste of you from his tongue for hours to come.

When the orgasm started fading, and you felt your body relax again, falling limp against the cushions, you opened your eyes. The hazy vision blurred the edges of your living room, making it seem soft and pliant. Unreal. With a quiet sigh, you glanced down just in time to see Neil raise his head and meet your gaze.

He painted a picture, as always. The blonde strands fell into his eyes, and the sharp cheekbones bathed in pink blush as his lips curled into a smirk. That sudden spike of desire to grab his tie and pull him into a kiss, to learn what your taste feels like on his tongue, was hard to fight against. It made you curl your hand into a fist, focusing on the shade of blue in his eyes. Until you could take another breath. Until your heart rate slowed down. Until everything felt real.

Until you knew what was happening next.

As if aware of the internal crisis, Neil stayed quiet. He observed you with almost unnerving stillness before seemingly finding what he was looking for and letting your legs close with a final kiss on the kneecap. He propped his chin on your thigh, almost resembling a perverse image of a lapdog that you had no idea you were into before now. Curious.

“Everything alright?” the huskiness of his voice swept over your senses like a chilling breeze, waking you up from a trance.

What a silly question. As a preamble to an answer, you shot Neil a wide grin, aware of the madness still clearly visible in your eyes. It hardly mattered.

“Even better” dragging your fingers through his golden mane, you relished in the slight tremble of his hands as Neil settled them atop your thighs. Now it was time to give praise where it was due, “I always knew you’d be good at this, but… fuck’s sake,” that was as far as intelligence went, replaced with a groan that doubled as a dreamy sigh.

It still barely covered what you wanted it to. But Neil knew. It was visible in the pleased smile and the knowing glance thrown your way from his spot at your feet. Almost lazily, his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean of your arousal. Without breaking the eye contact. Of course.

You could hardly ignore the fact that you were wet again. Still, that is.

“I aim to serve, m’lady” squeezing your thigh, Neil got up from his knees to sit by you on the sofa.

He stayed close, and that proximity, complete with the undiminished hunger in his eyes, told you all you needed to know. A push in the right direction.

“Yeah, you do” offering Neil a sly smirk, you shifted so that you were facing him and reached out to grab his tie and pull him close. Just like God intended. Probably, “Come here, I need to-” that sentence had no end prepared, so you sealed it with a kiss.

Your lips covered Neil’s with a self-explanatory intent as your tongue teased and prodded until he opened his mouth and let you in. That first taste of yourself coating his tongue was a revelation. It made you groan, motivating you to rise on your knees and climb into his lap without breaking the kiss. That second of hesitation following the bold move was eradicated when Neil pulled you closer with his hands on your waist. He kissed you as if his life depended upon it, swirling his tongue around yours and mapping out the inside of your mouth. A rush of blood to your head was the reason why you decided to switch it up, lightly scraping your teeth over his bottom lip and pulling until you got a response. The answering growl, reverberating through his chest, ignited the sparks burning out in your blood. Now you knew what you needed to happen. The realisation made you pull back with a final peck upon his parted lips and open your eyes.

Neil’s wrecked gaze felt like a boost to the system, increasing your confidence. It was a reason why you comfortably settled in his lap and regarded him with quiet contemplation. Returning the earlier look.

You tried not to dwell on how different it felt, unhurried and deliberate like none of your previous hook-ups. How uncomplicated it all seemed, with Neil’s steady gaze and firm hands holding you still. How unavoidable you had deemed it to be a long time before. You tried and failed, burying the thoughts behind a wall of sensations and feelings. You hoped they would never resurface again. Somehow.

“Good?” Neil’s question made you start, instantly pulling you back from the abyss in your head.

The surprise must have shown on your face, for Neil followed the question by brushing his nose against yours, tenderness permeating every glance and gesture.

It was almost too much.

“Great” aware of the shakiness of your smile, you splayed your hand over the expanse of his chest, feeling the heartbeat.

It was both a distraction and searching for confirmation. A confirmation that you were not about to make an idiot out of yourself.

The rapid beat beneath your hand erased the doubts, helping you make that decisive move. Meeting Neil’s questioning gaze, you smiled. The edge of your grin turned sharp at the mere thought. Before he could catch the meaning, you got up from the sofa and reached out a hand towards Neil. Extending an invitation.

You could see the quick calculations behind his stare, the blue eyes switching between your extended hand and the enigmatic expression. Although the silence felt eternal, it only lasted a beat. Without another word, Neil took your hand, enlaced your fingers in a loose hold, and stood up from the couch. The certainty in his gaze made it easy to start leading him towards the room down the corridor. The room he has already seen, albeit not in this context.

At the doorway, you let go of him to turn on the lamp in the corner, bathing the room in a warm glow. Neil crossed the threshold, following you like a ghost. You did not need to tell him to shut the door till only a small gap remained. Or to meet you halfway across the room and pull you back into his embrace like you belonged there.

And tonight, it felt like you did.

One giddy kiss quickly turned into the next and then another after that. Until you were both gasping for breath, needy hands tugging and sliding across the pieces of clothing that were in the way. It was then, midway through an inhale you desperately needed, that you realised there was one crucial thing left to settle. One question that you owed Neil:

“Before I make a fool of myself… Do you want this?” settling your hands on his shoulders, you met Neil’s gaze with what you hoped was a coherent enough look.

You could tell the question surprised him from the way his eyes widened, hands wrinkling your dress over the hips with a tight grip. But the pause only lasted a second.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” the confidence was striking, almost fatal in how well it fit his beautiful face. The angles softened by the warm light, and the smugness still felt lethal, threatening to cut you open if you kept on being reckless. You pushed the warning to the back of your head, focusing on the look in Neil’s eyes, “I want you. So much it drives me crazy” the admission completed the desire in his gaze.

Its simplicity drove a shiver up your spine and bloomed heat on your cheeks. While it was nothing you have not anticipated, hearing it said so plainly drove the point home. It offered no space to bargain for insecurities and doubts. As much as you still did not know the expiration date on this precious, lovely thing between you, now you knew where it was going. You knew the drill. The logic of it. Need, want, desire. Yearning to have another person, claim them as your own, just for one night. Just until you felt whole again. One night should be enough.

Right?

Instead of addressing that thought, you smoothed out the creases in Neil’s tie and met his gaze with indifference. (At least outwardly).

“Fab. I’m glad we got that sorted” giving the Windsor knot a final pat, you shot Neil a smile.

Slowly, with his grounding touch running over the sides and down to your hips, you could feel the temperature rise again. The increase was steady, not yet overwhelming like before on the sofa, but it was very much there. It made your gaze wander, trailing down the column of his neck, begging to be kissed and bitten, to the expanse of his chest, still hidden by the frustrating layers of cotton and linen. You desperately wanted to get your hands on him. Properly.

“Do you?” the question caught you by surprise, making you look up to see Neil’s searching gaze.

Your brain muddled with want, needed another second to understand what he meant. Only then disbelief took the stage, with the bewilderment in your eyes. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Obviously. I’ve only been eye-fucking you for months” that was an understatement.

But it hit the mark, with a hitch in his chest and a subtle move of hands on your hips pulling you a fraction closer. Enough so there was barely space left between your bodies, and you could just about feel the effects of your words and actions on Neil. At least the physical side of them. A glance down, below his belt, confirmed the suspicions and made you grin like a wolf that has just spotted its prey for the night.

“Have you now?” the hints of amusement in his voice, still somehow mixed with uncertainty, were enough to put the need aside for one second and meet Neil’s gaze with confidence.

The apprehension, when it came to how you saw him, had no place here. Not when each time you laid your eyes on him, you only found more reasons to be captivated. Not when Neil tended to be the only one you could see when you were together. When he haunted your dreams with beauty and pleasure. No, that wouldn’t do.

Covering his hands with yours, you stood on the tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. Leaning in, you whispered a simple admission:

“Yes, Neil” you hoped he could tell there was more behind those two words. That he could see the depths of admiration you had never possessed for another person, save for him. That he knew how much you meant every tender compliment and careful touch. It was the most you could offer. The furthest line you would cross. It was high time to return to the crux of the conversation. You did so with a bat of the eyelashes and a smirk on your face, “And now I want you to fuck me. Is that clear?”

Admittedly, the whiplash you served Neil was quite something. He took it with a few seconds of hesitation, a lack of comprehension flashing through his eyes in something resembling the 500 error screen. You fought the urge to burst out in ridiculous giggles. Then, as if his brain finally caught up with your words, Neil blinked. Once, then twice. Blue eyes flashing with inklings of understanding. It was fascinating to watch. To notice the different shades of his iris and then the exact second when yearning replaced the previous confusion and took up reigns.

“Yes, m’am” grinning wide, Neil mimicked a lazy salute and took a decisive step forward, pushing you towards the bed with newly minted drive.

You sure did not mind the initiative, letting him steer you in the right direction until you felt the edge of the mattress hit the backs of your legs. A sudden strike of inspiration made you use the years of ballet and turn on your toes, pivoting you both to reverse the positions. His quiet gasp was an indication that you succeeded. Without another word, you pushed him down to sit on the bed, meeting the bewildered gaze with a grin. It was high time he got used to it.

When you had him where you wanted – seated below you with a gaze full of awe and parted lips, you whispered the only praise that came to mind:

“Good boy,” the effect was instant.

A swallowed groan, complete with an eye roll that was still somehow fond. Before you could react, tease him further, Neil reached out to grab onto your hips and pulled you down, throwing you off balance. There was no point in resisting gravity as you tumbled down onto the mattress with a whoosh and found yourself in his arms. Again. His hands wandered over your body in broad strokes, igniting the fire as you closed the distance and captured his mouth in a kiss.

One kiss stretched into another and one more still, spanning minutes and seconds until you were both gasping for oxygen. Until all you could taste was Neil, and all you could feel was his touch. Between one sharp inhale and the next, you placed a kiss on the edge of his mouth and started trailing pecks down the column of his neck, making Neil shiver and moan. Each kiss was sealed with the tiniest bite, barely reddening the tender skin and a reconciliatory lick so you could satiate the desire with his taste. Just a little bit.

His exploring hands crept beneath the hem of your dress again, pulling up the fabric and creating goosebumps on your thighs. There was no guessing what it meant. Ending your intensive study with a lingering bite over his pulse point, marking him for everyone to see, you leaned back far enough to meet Neil’s gaze. You offered him a subtle nod and sat up, twisting so he could see the zipper running down your spine. The message was clear. He caught it with a knowing smirk, lightly brushing away the hair falling over the nape of your neck. The tremble in the wake of his touch had to be disguised with a sigh.

Even now, Neil was gentle. One of his hands settled on the back of your neck, stroking the delicate skin with unnecessary care, while the other tugged at the zipper, slowly undressing you. That first hit of colder air in the apartment was a shock to the system, making you inhale sharply. The sound alerted Neil. His hand skirted down your spine to warm up your skin revealed beneath the dress. Now, you could not do anything about the shivers rocking through your body in an embarrassing display. Before you could even attempt to fill the silence with another dose of bullshit, Neil pulled the zipper all the way down to the base of your spine and slipped his hand inside the dress. The warmth of his palm against your bare stomach felt like a burning flare, putting your soul alight. Sucking in the air sharply, you pressed your back to his chest, seeking out more.

The intimacy of the moment could not escape your attention. The slow pace and conscious decisions to get to know each other first were something new. Something unheard of as far as your hook-ups went. There was no rush in tearing off the clothes and getting off as far as possible to avoid the thoughts catching up. Instead, there was Neil’s hand against your midriff and his mouth against the back of your neck, gently biting the sensitive skin and making it impossible for you to detach from the present moment. Not that you wanted to.

When he deemed it right, Neil leaned back and slipped the dress off your shoulders. A sudden uncertainty took root in your heart, like a bad seed eager to corrupt the rest of the crops. What was about to happen seemed substantial somehow. Despite the improbable nature of the idea that Neil could take one look at you naked and decide that you were not worth his time, the concept was still there. It replaced the previous bravado, making you exhale shakily before standing up and turning towards him, holding up the article of clothing to keep it from falling.

You knew there was no point in fooling yourself that Neil did not catch on to your hesitation. Not with the way he always saw right through whatever posturing you tried to attempt. You met his gaze, aware of the extent of damage to the reputation it would do. All you found looking back at you was his silent reassurance, trying to keep you anchored. Inhale. Exhale.

Before your brain could become a little bitch again, you relaxed the hold over the fabric, letting it fall to the floor. You had nothing to hide behind, having left the bra back in the dressing room and your underwear on the floor of the living room. The chill in the air made you tremble, barely resisting the urge to cover up.

Neil’s gaze remained steady as he took you in. His eyes roamed over your body, noting the curves and edges, imperfections, and flaws. That fear was still there, making you tighten your hands into fists. Neil closed the gap, taking both your palms into his and relaxing the muscles. Taking a deeper breath, you risked meeting his eyes. The blue depths lured you in, showing nothing but affection and infatuation. For reasons unknown, the look felt dangerous in way you could not describe. So, you stared back, ignoring the desire to fill the stifling silence with words that could not be taken back.

As always, Neil proved to be the braver one.

“Are you alright?” his soothing tone complemented the gentle touch of his hands running up your bare arms to rest over your shoulders.

Even now, Neil proved to be shockingly respectful. His eyes never strayed from yours and although he had all rights to touch you as he pleased - he did not. Something in his gaze told you this was a given for Neil. A rule he would never even consider crossing. The realisation helped you find your voice again.

“Always,” the wavering tone did nothing to create an illusion of nonchalance.

But then, it was too little too late, anyway.

Upon Neil’s searching gaze, you nodded. It must have been what he was looking for because the next thing you knew, he was placing a lingering kiss on your lips and letting his hands wander. At first, tentatively down the centre of your chest and over the heart, beating so fast you would swear even Neil could hear it pounding in the silence. Then, he got braver, palms cupping your breasts and tracing the pink areolas, making you gasp and tense. If his hand delved between your thighs, you knew he would find you dripping wet.

But he didn’t. Instead, Neil mapped out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks over your chest and stomach while massaging your breasts and stoking the fire burning underneath your skin.  When he first tweaked your nipple, the resulting moan made you clamp your mouth shut with your hand and stare at him in silent horror. There was no room for aloofness and detachment here. No space to pretend you were not bothered. And that was terrifying.

Yet, the most terrifying moment came a little later when Neil had you spread out beneath him on the bed. He was still wearing clothes, and it was a fact that would have caused much more annoyance had he not just finished leaving marks over your chest, kissing, and biting all the sensitive spots. Your panting mouth was still parted on a gasp when Neil released your nipple with a wet pop and moved back up to meet your gaze. Like this, with his cheeks permanently coloured pink and lips red from the kisses you did not seem able to stop trading, he was exceptionally breath-taking. Your chest heaved as you attempted to formulate any words, but before you could succeed, Neil broke the silence:

“You’re beautiful” it was an echo from maybe an hour before, uttered with even more reverence.

The effect was strengthened by the look in his eyes, roaming over your face with something akin to worship.

Worship you were not worthy of. Never. And especially not by Neil, who, without a shadow of a doubt, deserved better. The thought was not anything new, yet it acted like a bucket of ice-cold water, wiping off the dreamy haze you had settled into. Oh, so stupidly.

Suddenly, the rightness of it all seemed wrong. Skewed in a direction you did not dare ponder. Because yes, Neil was the right one, the one you desperately needed to have. Even if just once. But not like this. Not with all those feelings and monumental thoughts that strayed too far from the comfort zone. No, you had to act. Had to remind both Neil and yourself what was going on here. Who you were supposed to be.

Swallowing past the inexplicable lump in your throat, you sat up and pushed Neil up with your hands around his neck. It was much easier to breathe like this, no longer entirely at his mercy. With his blue eyes peering at you with curiosity, you settled your hands on the buttons of his vest and smirked:

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” now that sounded more like you.

It was a perfect opener, instantly eliciting a reaction in the form of widened eyes and parted lips. Neil stared at you for something close to thirty seconds, which proved that it was the last thing he expected you to say. But then, just as you dared undo the first button of his vest, he grinned. That wolfish smile which haunted your sleepless nights flashed at you with an edge of something dangerous hidden beneath. Something you wanted to discover.

“Then do something about it, Cupid” Neil shot you a wink and leaned back on his elbows to strengthen the point.

The point that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. There was no need to say it twice. You undid the rest of the buttons on his vest, pushing the garment down his shoulders and letting Neil shrug it off till the garment landed on the floor. It had served its purpose. Definitely.

Loosening up the tie was the easy part, and as you took it off over his head, you paused with the burgundy accessory in hand. The second of hesitation did not go unnoticed.

“What’s up?” Neil’s cautious tone made you grin as you looked up to see him peer at you with curiosity and alarm in equal proportions.

Wrapping the tie around your fist to keep the accessory as a needed prop dressing in the scene, you shrugged:

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about the different ways I could use this on you” the twinkle in your gaze was unmistakable for what it suggested.

There sure were ideas. Tones of them, and one better than the other. Images like wrists bound together with the tie or the burgundy fabric used as a blindfold were only a start of what you could concoct at the spur of the moment. The ideas alone made you shiver with anticipation.

Even more so when you saw Neil’s blank gaze, staring at the very topic of the conversation with something that could only be described as revelation. It dawned slowly as his pupils dilated, and the darkness consumed the blue irises. Licking his lips thoroughly as if already feeling the effects of what was about to happen, Neil raised his head and met your gaze.

“Now?” he sounded breathless, tongue stumbling even over a one-word question.

You buried the wave of affection under a dry chuckle, focusing on unbuttoning his shirt with single-minded focus. The tortoiseshell buttons necessitated a certain degree of patience, which you were not sure you possessed. And least of all right now. But, considering that the alternative was doing something stupid like ripping it off him, you did your best. The expletives still came, even if only in the quiet of your mind.

“Next time” once you were halfway done, you looked up and winked.

Was it too much? Probably. It assumed a course of events that you had no right to dump on Neil. Let alone like this. As if it was a given. But hopes were there, traitorously scheming in the unconscious layers of your psyche. Faint wishes that maybe you could have more than a one-night special.

Before you could dwell on the probability of thoughts like these, you broke eye contact again and glanced at your work in progress. With just a couple of buttons left, you could see the perfect canvas - pale and almost unblemished. You rushed through the remaining steps and pushed the shirt down his arms until he took over the task with a smirk and shrugged it off. You did not wait to look where the shirt had fallen as your eyes took in the picture.

He was beautiful in that perfectly imperfect way that tended to catch you unaware. His broad chest narrowed at the waist, presenting just the right amount of musculature. Strong arms drew you like a magnet, and you did not hesitate before letting your hand dart out to skim over his biceps and down the planes of his chest to touch the firm muscles. Neil was watching you intently. His gaze followed your every move as you slowly took him in. Noticing the scattering of beauty marks along the inside of his right arm and the dark, coarse hair covering his torso. Pressing your hand against the centre of his chest, you felt the beat of his heart and the heat of his skin. A strange sense of completion settled in your chest, making the heat bloom on your cheeks. That never happened before, either.

Before you could spiral over that singular, alarming thought, Neil covered your hand with his and asked:

“Better than the picture?” although the smug smile graced his features, you could sense hesitancy underlining the question.

A fear that you were about to laugh at him or ridicule his looks. As if he wasn’t the most incredible person you’ve seen. As if you were not rendered speechless.

There was no other way to approach it than by acting. Fast.

You glared at him with what you hoped promised no bullshit to be accepted and pushed at his chest till Neil was sprawled on your bed with his head propped on the headboard. He painted a beautiful picture. The only flaw was the infuriating presence of pants, but that had to wait. Just a little longer.

When you had him where needed, you straddled his lap and met his slightly bewildered gaze with a confident smile.

“Definitely,” you nodded, strengthening the statement with a careful touch as your fingers stroked his torso, wandering down till you could lay your palm flat against his abdomen. The trail of darker hair disappearing under the belt acted like a magnet, and you did not even try resisting the pull, “You’re fucking stunning,” sealing the compliment with a kiss was just a formality.

Yet the way Neil leaned into it, kissing you back with the ferocity of that first time on the platform, made your head spin. Somewhere, at the edge of consciousness not presently occupied with the taste of his tongue and the exact way his mouth pressed against yours, you could not ignore the obvious. The fact that it was never like this. No one-night-stand ever felt this deliberate and measured in a way that still incited a fire in your stomach and hunger in your blood. There was something different in how you kissed and let things slowly build up to sex rather than just rushing through every step along the way.

It all led to another thought, a faint realisation that you might have already subconsciously decided that one time with him would not be enough. Even before getting to know what it was like. That thought was not as terrifying as you expect it to be. Still, you ignored it, placing it among the towering piles of things not spoken or thought of until the end of time itself.

The piles were beginning to topple. One by one.

Neil broke the kiss with a telling gasp, shifting beneath you and bumping his hips into yours, drawing your attention back where it belonged. Namely to the darkness of his eyes and the visible bulge below the belt. Your hands almost automatically wandered to the belt buckle, but before you could put them to work, his breathless attempt at speech made you stop:

“I’m not-” you did not need to hear the sentence to understand it.

It was there in the uncertainty of his gaze and the bashful blush on his cheeks. How he still chose to stare at the bedcover instead of you, even when you were in his lap, free to be ogled for all he liked.

It was increasingly clear that Neil was not like that. That he was not like anyone you had ever known.

Ignoring that primal desire to undo his belt right this very instant, you abandoned the task and cupped his face between both hands, forcing Neil to meet your gaze.

“You are. Trust me,” there was no need to make those words sound convincing, for you believed it more than you knew how to express.

You stared as Neil seemingly tried to take it in. His eyes roamed over your features with scrutiny for a beat. He must not have found anything amiss because the next thing you knew, Neil was breaking into a smile and pulling you back into his arms.

Things went a little easier after that when you could fall upon familiar sensations and actions to push you in the right direction. Sure, there still were a couple of hung-ups, like that embarrassingly long pause you stumbled into once you had successfully taken off Neil’s trousers and underwear and could compare imagination to reality. Your imagination fell short. Somehow. Because, as you probably should have expected, Neil had no reason to compensate for anything. In the slightest.

At first, your undivided attention made Neil fall quiet, with the bashfulness threatening to replace the tentative confidence you were beginning to enjoy about him. But that changed when you shook off the hitch and let your hands explore. Your fingers traced the veins on his length as your palm started stroking him with confident twists in the wrist. Then Neil was not able to stay quiet any longer. He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest as he laid next to you on the bed. Something in his gaze made it impossible to look away as you stroked and touched him, listening to the cues so earnestly provided. Soon enough, you knew what he liked, what moves elicited the moans that shot right to your core, making you squeeze the thighs hard in pointless hopes that it would do something to ease the throbbing want. It didn’t do shit.

As if reading your mind (or simply seeing the need written all over your face), Neil batted your courageous hands away with a pained glare that told you all you needed to understand and allowed his palms to wander. The hand that was previously placed on your hip slid down your naked skin. The places he touched felt like they were on fire, and the sensation grew when you felt his elegant hand delve between your legs again with confidence. Unbeknownst to Neil, that – his beautiful and mouth-wateringly long fingers moving between your thighs and between your folds – was a frequently-featured hit in your nightly fantasies. The reality lived up and surpassed the imagination in this case, too.

A wolfish grin you noticed too late did not warn you of what was coming. Neil wasted no time. His right hand instantly darted to your clit to circle the bud with precision and speed that matched the level of your fever. With him, you found no need to fill the silence with pointless words, instead letting yourself gasp and moan as he met your gaze with a smirk on his face and dipped a finger inside. There was no need to question the wetness he must have found, yet you noted a surprise pass through his face as if that was somehow unexpected. But you had no time to dwell on the thought. That delicious stretch as Neil added the second finger to your entrance wiped all coherence from your head. A loud moan tore at your throat as you shivered, finally feeling something take care of the emptiness at your core. But it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be till you had him.

His fingers quickly build up a rhythm, with the thumb pressing at your clit just right. Your hands, which had previously idly rested on his chest, ventured up to grasp at his shoulders, looking for support as the pressure rose with overwhelming pace. You were aware of the red lines you were scratching on his back and the pathetic moans and half-swallowed curses that permeated the silence. But you were unable to do anything about them. Not with how Neil knew exactly what to do to make you come. Again.

That lethal strike came when you felt a third digit delve inside. It joined the other two, keeping up the pace and making you scream with pleasure. The perfect fulness could only be replaced with one thing. One sensation that would go beyond it. It was a thought that pushed you over the edge, making you rake your fingers through his skin and squeeze your eyes shut against the force of the orgasm. Only once you felt like you could breathe again, lying lifelessly on the bedding, you opened your eyes again. The smug smile on Neil’s face confirmed one thing – he knew what he was doing. You were but a mere puppet in his hands.

A very willing puppet, one might add.

When you recovered the senses and coherence enough to speak, you met Neil’s gaze and stated:

“I’d like you to fuck me” there was no need to hide behind metaphors and euphemisms when saying it out loud was merely a formality.

Everything before led to it, after all. Every touch, glance, and flirtatious exchange that with Neil was almost too easy. It was what you always wanted, right from that first conversation and the dawning understanding that Neil was too incredible to forget. It was not an accident that ever since meeting him, you had close to no desire to have sex with anyone else, no pull to score another hookup in the bathroom of a club or the apartment of yet another random guy.

No, what you wanted (who you wanted) was Neil.

What you saw in his eyes, looking back at you through the narrow space between your heads, told you that he got the message. The yearning you often thought you saw in his gaze was present now. Along with want that dripped from his hands as they touched your body, tenderly yet with purpose. Neil stared at you as if he never wanted to look away and could not be convinced to. Like you were the only thing he desired. Or at least, you hoped it was like that for him. Too.

“Are you sure?” the pre-emptive question would have been silly was it not so damn endearing coming from him.

It coexisted with his hands skating over every inch of your skin within his reach and his hardening length pressing against your thigh. You had no choice but to offer him a smirk and cup his face to soften the tone. Just a notch.

“Very,” sealing the response with a kiss, you moved closer across the minimal space so that no gap between you remained.

It was easy to hitch your thigh over his hip and take him in your hand to guide him inside. It was easier still to break the kiss with a gasp once you felt him enter you. The sound mixed with his choked breath, sharp and sudden as if even though it was expected, Neil was not quite ready. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of your head, gently holding you close. The other was splayed over your waist, helping to find that perfect angle. He slowly inched inside, taking his time to bottom out, for which you were more than grateful. The pace helped you get accustomed to the feeling of fullness, almost painful yet not at all. The slight discomfort was the wake-up call you needed, a sensation so familiar that you could rely upon it to find your footing. To ignore the feelings and inconvenient thoughts for the sake of this, right here.

It helped you adjust the position, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage and meet his gaze. A moan upon the feeling of him inside you, filling you perfectly, was muffled with a kiss he incited. It deepened as you opened your mouth for Neil and shifted so that your pelvises were touching. The move made him break the kiss with a telling groan, expressing exactly how it felt. He occupied all your senses, making it impossible to think or do anything but stare back at his beautiful face, now transformed by pleasure.

That first moment, the first sensation of connection when you slept with someone new, often hit like a drug. A dopamine hit, going straight to your brain. A rare sense of completion, especially sweet after months or weeks of pining for someone. It was like that now, too. The sensation of his naked skin touching yours, the heat of his body burning at your cells, and the strange knowledge that at least for the moment, you were one. Bodies and souls joined for one common purpose. Chasing that spectacular high that you knew was in reach now. Only then did you not feel like you were missing something crucial that you would never attain.

“All good?” your silence must have been alarming, for Neil’s question had a tint of concern underlining it.

Only that made you realise he was still as if frozen by uncertainty and afraid to mess it all up somehow. As if that was possible.

That had to be amended instantly.

“Yes,” offering him a slightly manic grin perfected by insanity in your gaze and tender touch ghosting over his beating heart, you added, “You can move now,”

Neil did not need to be told twice. He took your hand in his and started the slow tempo, thrusting with something you could easily mistake for gentleness. Softness you were not used to crashed against the walls built around your guarded heart. For now, they were too weak to cause damage. Thank God.

Tightening the hold over his palm, you raised your joined hands over your heads, looking for something to hold on to. Your other hand found purchase on his shoulder, digging in your fingernails as the pressure rose. The unhurried rhythm made the pleasure fill your veins in slow, consistent waves. You could feel it build up again as your inner muscles contracted, eliciting moans and curses from Neil. Once you knew how to meet him in the middle, you bucked your hips in response, earning a groan that shot straight to your molten core. The sound and the gratification it carried brought a grin to your face. It spurred you on with the promise that you could return the immense satisfaction Neil brought you. That you could make yourself memorable.

That notion inspired you to use the core strength and athletic training and topple Neil without letting you separate. His sharp gasp told you it was the last thing he expected. Good. From your new position astride him, you watched his heaving chest as Neil processed your impish trick. Warm light painted his skin and made his hair look like a golden halo belonging to a fallen angel. An angel worth the fall from the heavens.

Before he could recover fully, you rolled your hips and rose on your knees to fall again in the slightest of moves. It only strengthened the titillation on his face, but it did the trick. His blue eyes blinked awake as his hands found their purchase again, skating over your thighs to rest on your hips. With your subtle nod, he guided you to match the desired tempo.

Like this, with full opportunity to control the pace, you could allow yourself to stare. To take note of the subtle changes on his face. Like the crease between his eyebrows begging to be smoothed out. Or the panting mouth, pink parted lips still red from the kisses. Or the pearls of sweat on his temples and chest, proving that you were doing something right. Proving that perhaps Neil would remember you.

The coil in your lower stomach was tight now, feeling close to bursting and bringing you another orgasm. You could tell Neil was close, too. It was visible in the bliss written all over his face, and the abdomen muscles pulled tight. Your fingers grazed over his chest, drawing mindless patterns and bringing out goosebumps as a reward. As if able to read your mind or feeling the way you constricted around his length, Neil met your haze and raised his hand to place it between your thighs. Thumb on the clit, circling the bud with a rhythm that by now he knew would work. Just like that. Without you ever having to ask.

The realisation alone was why you could not stay quiet any longer.

“Neil-” a pathetic sob interrupted the sentence with no aim in sight, so the rest came out in a rush, barely aware of what you were saying, “You’re perfect,”

It didn’t make the words any less true. Any less real.

But still, it was not something he anticipated. Neil glanced at you, and before he could school his features into a less vulnerable expression, you noticed hints of uncertainty. Something else was there, too, occupying the dark depths of his pupils and shining through the greyish blue of his irises. It was gone before you could identify it, but you considered tattooing the exact shade of his eyes on your skin the morning after. You felt like it might match the shade of your heart tomorrow.

“You stole my line” there was no genuine grievance in the look he gave you, instantly bucking his hips into yours to make you swear and shiver. You were so close now. The edges of your vision were growing fuzzy again as you felt your inner muscles contract and squeeze around him, eliciting another groan and a sigh that matched the words echoing in your head, “Jesus Christ…” it took him another second of composure to find the words that only confirmed your suspicions “Cupid, I’m not gonna-” using his seconds of distraction, you leaned forward to deepen the contact and covered his mouth with yours, interrupting the sentence.

With the kiss, as hungry and devouring as always, you hoped to convey everything you could not tell him. That he mattered. That you were beginning to worry he had ruined you for anybody else. Ever. That although you would try, nothing would ever be the same again.  Neil took the kiss with an eagerness that was still somehow startling. He nipped and licked at your lips, ensuring they stayed red and swollen. Only when another moan escaped the confines of his mouth and made it impossible to continue the kiss, you broke the contact and met his delirious gaze with a smile. You could feel his rhythm stutter and wane as he visibly approached orgasm. There was just one thing left to about it.

“Come for me” although piecing together a sentence was a struggle, the reward in the form of Neil’s muffled curse and full-body shudder was worth it. You watched as his abdomen muscles tensed, and he began thrusting with no rhythm or pace, helping you chase the feeling that was just around the corner. Leaning forward again, you placed your hand over his head and whispered into his ear, “Now,”

The word acted like a trigger. Neil stiffened in your embrace, his hands seeking out your waist and holding tight. Without thinking, you rested your forehead against his and felt him fill you to the brim. Warmth spread through your core, making you clench around him one last time before your body gave in. White sparks filled your vision as you closed your eyes and entangled your fingers in his hair. You could finally let go. A pleasured scream rang through the silence of the room as you collapsed, limbs falling lifelessly against his sturdy form. For a split second of stupid indulgence, you let yourself believe that Neil would always be there to catch you.

But that wasn’t a happy ending people like you wanted. Or deserved.

You were half aware of what came after. Of how your body trembled in Neil’s embrace and how he whispered your favourite nickname repeatedly, filling the word with enough affection to bruise your heart purple. You knew you should cut this short to prevent the inevitable awkwardness that almost always followed as fast as possible. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you snuggled into the crook of his neck and inhaled, feeling the ache in your body. It would hurt like a bitch tomorrow, you were sure. But for now, you focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the comfort of his hands resting on your naked waist and back. By some miracle, it seemed like Neil was one of the few men who did not mind your desire to snuggle and breathe instead of quickly dismissing whatever transpired between you as an unimportant rendezvous on the timelines of your lives.

Yet, soon enough, you had to break the silence. The best way you knew how.

“You’re such a good boy” as soon as the words left your mouth, carried on a teasing tone, and accompanied by the smirk hidden in his neck, Neil’s comforting touch stilted.

Judging by the hitch in his chest and an ill-disguised cough, he choked on the breath intake. Even in the confused depths of your mind, you had to admit it was rather adorable. And it most definitely did the trick by diffusing the tension caused by the deafening silence and your synched-up heartbeats, which had no right to exist. Not here. Not ever.

“You’re incorrigible” laughter rang through the letters in his response as Neil chuckled dryly and resumed the caress, letting his fingers skim up and down the ridges of your spine.

You never wanted to move again.

That’s why it was high time to do so.

“You love it, though,” the rebuttal was easy to conjure as you lifted on your forearms and slid off his body with an apologetic smile. The gasp at the loss of contact and emptiness that followed was inevitable but also necessary. Laying down on your side so that you could see his face, you spoke, “Damn, that was…” before any accurate adjective could be found, Neil turned onto his side, mirroring your position and met your gaze, striking you mute in the process.

There was something indescribable there. A vastness of emotions you could not decipher without delving into that scary territory of your understanding that was never meant to be breached. Especially not like this. Not right now.

So, instead, you let your eyes take in his beauty, and the fading blush, complete with lips kissed raw and tangled hair. A look so thoroughly labelled as ‘freshly well-fucked’ that no other words were necessary or even advised. Even better so that you were the sole cause and reason. A point of pride, in fact.

“Good?” the joy in his gaze was enough reason to banish the strange thoughts and focus on the fact that his question demanded an answer.

As much as you were almost positive Neil knew just how damn good the sex had been, it still seemed like he wanted to hear it from you. You were happy to comply.

“Very good” a smug grin was complimented by the satisfaction Neil was bound to see in your radiant gaze.

Strengthening the point, you shifted closer to him to place your hand over his heart and winked. It did the job. Neil flashed you a bashful smile and leaned over to press a peck onto the crown of your head. That was an unprecedented act. Something that had never happened before. Terrifying in its novelty.

The realisation was enough to make you sit up and gather the covers to gain at least an illusion of modesty. A glance at the alarm clock told you how late it was, with the digits flashing a remorseful 02:27 AM. It was high time to make a move.

Without waiting for Neil to catch up with the drastic changes in your demeanour, you reached towards the chair next to the bed, where your dressing gown had landed that morning due to marvellous luck and got up to put it on in one, practised move. Only then could you look back at Neil to say:

“I’ll be right back,” sending him a smile that was hopefully neutral enough so that he would not understand the depths of your inner turmoil, you turned on your heel and waltzed out of the bedroom straight down the corridor to the bathroom.

Once the door had been closed, you let out a relieved sigh and met your crazed gaze in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your lips were kissed red, telling a simple tale. As were the faint pink marks left on your neck, which would require concealer tomorrow. It was all worth it. You knew as much without having to search your heart. At least now you understood what it was that you craved so badly. How it felt and how it tasted. Now you knew what about Neil made you feel so insane.

And now, knowing all of it, you also understood that just once would not be enough. It couldn’t be.

Armed with that knowledge and the particular pain of realisation that often accompanied those hard-hitting truths concerning interpersonal relationships, you also knew what you needed to happen. You had to do everything in your might to keep Neil close. To ensure you would not lose a dear friend so quickly after gaining him.

As you stared at the bathroom floor tiles, you reminded yourself of the crucial detail that it was all in Neil’s hands. He would be the one dealing the cards. The one deciding what awaited you next. The best you could do was be yourself and not scare him off prematurely. Easy, right?

A quiet scoff answered the rhetorical question as you dried your hands with a towel and turned towards the door again. Now onto the harder part…

If there was one rule you had, one that you never, ever crossed no matter the circumstances, it was that you never stayed for the night or invited whoever you had sex with to stay over at your place. Simple. Except for that first time you had to bring it up with someone new. Like now.

Before you could even consider deciding how to go about it or how to signal what you needed to happen without making the situation painfully awkward, you walked out into the corridor to see Neil standing in the doorway of your bedroom. He was finishing buttoning up the shirt and met your gaze with an understanding smile:

“I’ll get going” no matter how hard you looked, you could not see hurt or grudge in his eyes or in the shrug he sent as he put on the tie and tightened the knot.

That was certainly a relief. A cop-out, but you were not the one to argue with fate when it offered easy wins. But-

“Are you sure?” you had to ask.

Not that you were willing to break the rule, but you had to know that he was okay with it. Because, for some unknown reasons, what Neil felt and thought seemed important in ways you did not begin to understand. It was just a fact.

“Yeah. It’s late anyway” the assured look in his eyes told you there was no point in prodding further. Instead, you watched as he put on the vest and fastened the buttons. Before you could get lost in thoughts, Neil spoke again, “Thanks, though, it was… a very memorable night” the hint of a smile in his voice was clarified by the bright grin he offered.

It was a wild, sharp thing that always felt so right on his face that you wondered how come he was not smiling all the time. Although that could cheapen the effect, you noticed upon a second thought.

The grin almost made you ignore the affection in his gaze. Almost.

“That it was” the blush on your cheeks was no longer as rare an occurrence as you wanted it to be, so you tried to hide it by glancing at the floor instead of holding his all-seeing gaze. The sentiment stayed true, “Message me when you get home?” it was another question that had to be asked although you could not understand why, “So that I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere?” because that concern was also something new.

You never cared quite so much. Never before. It was worrying in ways that made you want to hide your head in the sand and never poke out again for fear of the consequences crashing on top of it. But life rarely offered such mercies.

“Of course, Cupid” feeling Neil approach, you looked up in time to see him close the awkward gap between you.

He passed you in the corridor, the cuff of his shirt brushing against your arm as he raised his hand, visibly hesitating. Tilting your head in a silent question, you waited for him to decide. The resolution came in the form of his hand cupping your cheek for the briefest of seconds. The touch was gone before you could react, but the ghost of it stayed behind as you whispered:

“Thank you” it was another sentiment that needed no prompt or inspiration; it was just a fact.

Something that sprung from your heart like an overeager daffodil seedling breaking through the frozen February soil. Too early and bound to freeze before it could ever bloom into life.

“For?” Neil stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared back at you.

The expression on his face was impossible to puzzle out. It almost made everything easier. Easier to risk the freezing for the chance of elaborating on what you wanted him to know.

“Everything, really,” shrugging, you offered Neil a smile.

Not the sharp, dangerous grin he knew too well. No, it was a gentle thing; so ill-fitting of what you thought you understood about yourself.

But perhaps you understood nothing.

Not too long later, you heard him open the door to your apartment and let himself out quietly. You padded to the living room and picked up the used dirty wine glasses and the empty bottle. For a second, you contemplated smashing the bottle against your head to stop thinking. Then you realised the blood loss was probably not worth the passing relief. Probably.

***

Staring at the depths of the coffee in his mug, Neil sighed heavily for the umpteenth time within the past three hours that passed since waking up. Waking up in the new world, he unhelpfully added upon opening his eyes. As if his brain conspired to fuck him over, Neil could not stop thinking about it. About her. And everything that happened. All to the point that he barely slept within the odd four hours he snatched between stumbling into his apartment past 3 AM and waking up with a curse on his lips sometime after 7 AM. There was no sleep to be found after, so he gave up.

Visit to the gym did not cause any miracles either, but at least now he was free to sit on the sofa and stare into space. As if that would help. It is not even that anything was wrong. Or that he regretted the previous evening because he certainly did not. He did not. Everything that happened was something he wanted. Starting from the not-so-smooth seduction and ending with making her come. Three times. Not to be smug or anything. He wanted her. Full stop.

And now, having gotten the taste, Neil also knew that the desire would not stop there. She would not be just a box on a checklist, ticked and forgotten. Cupid was not someone he could forget. Even with the current prognosis, which was not optimistic. Because she laid out the modus operandi from day one. There would be no fantastic love story culminating with a kiss in the rain in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Not even because of the high risk of being run over by a car.

Yet, still, being an idiot, Neil could not help but think. About her. About their evening. About how it felt. About what he wanted to happen next. All the while knowing that not much could happen beyond it. And nothing without Cupid’s will and desire for it. That knowledge did not help the thoughts or dilemmas playing out in his head.

With another heavy sigh, Neil got up from the sofa and walked over to the radio to put on music. If he was to suffer, he might as well do so with the accompaniment of bops. In the truest meaning of the word. Yet, the algorithm must have held a grudge against him, too, for he barely managed to down the remains of his coffee before trouble started. It all came crashing down with the voice of Simon Le Bon and a song Neil knew too well. Usually, he enjoyed it. Usually, there was nothing particularly stinging about this song. Usually, the opening synths and the bass rhythm did not elicit a groan and make him hide his face in his hands. Usually.

‘And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance

But fear is in your soul

Some people call it a one-night stand

But we can call it paradise

Don't say a prayer for me now

Save it 'til the morning after’

When the bridge came, along with the final chorus of the damned song, Neil was seething. Be it with rage or utter frustration. The accuracy of what was so beautifully sung by Duran Duran did not escape his attention. Or the fact that this was the first one-night stand he could not just let go. The first time, Neil was wallowing in self-pity and confusion at the state of his feelings and thoughts because of a hook-up.

Or what was supposed to be just a hook-up.

The problem was Neil was beginning to worry it was not just that. That it couldn’t be. And it was a terrible realisation to have. It made him want to be hit by a car on Piccadilly Circus. Or on the Oxford Street. He was not picky.

Quietly cursing every star on the firmament and the sparks in Cupid’s eyes, he reached for the phone and automatically opened the text conversation with the woman in question. Their last texts offered no respite from the suffering with how she bid him a good night after Neil informed her that he had found his way back home unscathed. It took him another two minutes to get his shit together and dial the number with a press of the correct icon on the screen.

Feeling the heartbeat in his throat as he awaited her to pick up the call, Neil stood up from the sofa and began pacing the living room. The seconds stretched into infinity, almost making him talk himself into ending the attempt and blaming the call on a mistake. Before he could act on the cowardice coursing in his veins, the click on the line followed by her voice acted like a heavy curtain, shutting off every doubt and uncertainty until all that remained was Cupid:

“Hi,” the breathlessness in her voice made it seem like she was not anticipating the call.

As if it caught her by surprise. Neil winced against the observation, forcing himself to reply.

“Hello. How are you?” even to his ears, the innocent question sounded strained.

It betrayed the motifs before he was ready to disclose them. His pacing has brought him to the window, so he stayed there, leaning against the sill.

An intake of breath from Cupid broke the silence before she replied:

“Good, great even. Achy as fuck, but then I got up to stuff last night, as you’d know” the slight nervousness in her quiet giggle sounded off, out of place among the implications.

The infuriating blush Neil did not seem able to get rid of even when closer to the age of thirty, made an appearance again. It bloomed across his cheekbones like weeds, making him hang his head with shame despite being the only one present in the room. Ever so helpful, his bitch of a brain chose this moment to show him a reel of last night’s events. Cupid underneath the stage lights, dancing with grace in every step. Her laughter upon the streets of Soho. The feel of her naked skin underneath his hands. The taste of her upon his tongue- Yeah, message received.

“Yeah, I was there” the ridiculous feeling of pride entered the crowded stage of his heart.

Before Neil could attempt to shrug it off, Cupid spoke again:

“You were. I remember you” her tone lowered almost imperceptibly, yet enough so Neil would notice. The low timbre spread across his chest with warmth as she added, “Vividly” the emphasis made everything worse as it awakened the exact shade of yearning he wanted to banish for eternity “Neil, I know you didn’t just call me to ask how my morning is going” the matter-of-fact turn in her voice was the wake-up call he needed.

It reminded Neil about the true purpose of the call and what he needed to say. Now, ideally. He took another deep breath, aware of the prolonged silence on the line and the rapid beat of his heart. It took him another second to convince convincing himself to speak the words into existence. All with the grace of an elephant stumbling over the vowels and tripping on the consonants:

“No... But it’s- I’ve never done this before. I had one-night stands, but not with someone like you” the ending came out in a rush as Neil tried to get it out as fast as possible without further embarrassment.

Although he knew that it was too late for those kinds of worries anyway. He was already a personification of shame in all meanings of the word.

The laugh he expected from Cupid upon such a pathetic display did not come. Instead, he got a quiet huff, which was hard to interpret with his lacklustre detective skills and a question carried on a soft tone:

“Not with a friend?” to Neil’s surprise, she did not sound judgemental or sarcastic, as if making a joke on his expanse.

Admittedly, it was what he anticipated, knowing how the sentence sounded and what it conveyed. Knowing what a loser he was, confessing the facts instead of pretending to be someone he was not. Instead of doing what he usually did.

For whatever reason, Neil increasingly often found that he did not want to pretend with Cupid. He particularly enjoyed those moments when it felt like she saw him and enjoyed the picture revealed. It was at once terrifying and exhilarating. It was what made him turn on the heel to press his back against the wall by the window and slide down to sit on the floor, risking yet another admission:

“Yeah, exactly. And like- It was amazing. It really was, but now I’m… I’m so… confused” the word hardly covered the state of his mind since waking up, but it had to do for now.

Somehow, Neil knew she would understand. She would find meaning within the stammers and pauses, interrupting the incoherent reasoning. She was smart like that.

Because the clue of the matter was that there were no regrets. No particle of his soul that wished last night did not happen. It’s just that he didn’t know what was coming next. If anything at all.

“I get it. It’s uncharted territory for you” once Cupid spoke again, Neil tried to determine her feelings on the topic from her voice. There was nothing to interpret apart from thoughtfulness and the desire to understand. To understand him, of all people. A feat few attempted and even fewer succeeded at, “From my point of view, nothing has to change between us. But I don’t think last night has to be a one-off. It could happen again” the meaning of her words took a while to sink, and even longer to be processed by his brain, slowed by incompetence and whatever charm she had him under. When it did, Neil sat up straighter, a rare sense of excitement tugging at his gut and making him open his eyes wider “If you wanted it to” the addition was almost a footnote.

Because, of course, he wanted to. He would be a fool not to. Right?

The enthusiastic reply was almost at the tip of his tongue, but the remains of dignity stepped in at the right time. Instead, Neil let the silence speak, taking a moment to ask the second most terrifying question. If not the first.

“And what about you?” the fate of his self-respect was placed upon the pedestal made of four words.

Ready to be crumbled with just one sleigh of her hand. While Neil knew Cupid enjoyed what he did to her (and with her), there was no guarantee. No way of knowing without asking her first. Now, all he could do was wait.

Wait and listen to her breathing through the phone, trying and miserably failing at not hanging upon each exhalation as if it were a sentence determining the rest of his life. Luckily, Cupid was not the one to make him wait in misery for too long.

“I’d definitely want a repeat” the certainty in her voice felt like a rush of blood to his head.

It was tinted with that shade of playfulness he considered her trademark. It was barely there, but still, it made everything easier. Brighter.

Now Neil did not even try to fight off the grin from his face as he asked:

“Yeah?” it was just another lousy trick to make her confirm what should have been obvious but was not.

At least not to his stupid brain, burdened with the eternal fear of not being enough. Ever. For anyone. Not even as a friend that you occasionally shag.

“Yes,” Cupid did not hesitate, humouring him joyfully.

Or at least that is how Neil interpreted the light chuckle that followed the reply. It eased the burden a little, but soon he found another pressing question that needed answering. Should they continue… whatever it was that was happening. Phrases like the infamous ‘friends with benefits’ started floating around his head, but for the time being, Neil brushed them away.

“So, if we did… do it again, what are the ground rules?” the clumsy wording was something he could do without, but alas, there was no choice.

He could only hope that Cupid would ignore the failure. It was the very next thing he needed to settle. The rules of play, per se. It was a completely new territory for him, something he had never done or entertained because there was no reason to. No person was worth the confusion. But now- Yeah, now there was. And Neil had no fucking clue how it all made him feel. Or whether he was not making the mistake of his life by even considering the concept. Still, he ignored the idea as Cupid broke the silence with a factual voice:

“No staying over afterwards for the night, and you must tell me if you find someone to be with for real. I don’t want to be the mythical other woman” the business-like tone suggested what Neil already knew – this was not the first time for her.

Far from it. He added a strange pinprick of jealousy to the ongoing list of feelings and thoughts to be ignored and rested his forehead against his folded knees.

The simplicity of the do’s and don’ts was undeniable. Still, it was impossible to tell how bad of a decision it would be on the endless spectrum of ‘ways to fuck up’ that Neil knew too well. From experience.

“Okay,” he nodded, although she would not see it and risked another question. To calm the running thoughts before they escaped his control entirely, “Is it fine if I think about it for a while?”

The pros were easy to think of. If he agreed, this one night would not have to be the only time Neil would have her. He could keep acting on what came to him so effortlessly when near Cupid. He could touch and kiss her as he pleased, whenever he wanted, without first worrying whether it would destroy their friendship.

But the cons were not hard to come by either. Adding sex into the equation often destroyed the friendship on its own. Neil was not sure whether he could trust himself to be as detached emotionally as the situation required him to be. He would never actually have her. Not that he wanted to. Because he didn’t. He didn’t.

“Sure thing, sunshine. We don’t have to change anything right now” her steady reassurance stopped the increasingly frantic thought processes and filled his chest with warmth.

Neil never knew he was a fan of nicknames. Of being called sunshine. But apparently, he was.

The sudden wave of peace settling over his head was the only sign that the conversation was successful. He has reached at least some sort of clarity. Even if he still had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do.

“I’ll see you Wednesday. Like always?” the pathetic edge to that question did not escape him.

But it was impossible to end the call without asking. Without checking whether Neil had something to look forward to. Without ensuring that they were okay.

At this point, Neil did not even try to pretend that Wednesdays did not become his favourite day of the week. For absolutely no reason.

“Yeah, you will” the internal debate about whether he actually could hear her wink got quickly interrupted by Cupid’s question, “And Neil?” a noncommittal hum had to do instead of a reply, what with his brain becoming a lost cause. Still, it was impossible not to wait on her addition with bated breath and heartbeat thundering in his ears. You know, like a normal person would “You know I can’t offer you a relationship, but what we have still means a lot to me. It’s not every day that I have sex this good with my best friend” this time, Neil could definitely hear the sly smile in her voice.

That strange smugness and pride returned to fill his chest with warmth and painted a grin on his face. It was the highest of praises. Both because Cupid admitted that whatever they had was worth her time and attention and because she confirmed that the previous night was… satisfying. It was a challenge not to let that get into his head, successfully distracting Neil from any other thought he could have had.

He was a simple man, alright? One spoonful of praise placed at his feet, and he was done for. In all meaning of the word.

“No?” the joy was audible in his voice as he risked a tease, “I’m such a lucky bastard, then” it was barely an overstatement.

Even if it all was to backfire spectacularly and bite him in the ass soon, Neil felt lucky. Lucky that Cupid wanted to waste her time on him. Even for a wink of her time.

And yes, he knew he sounded like a pathetic simp. He was aware of it, thank you very much.

“You are” her laughter still rang in his ear as she whispered a necessary goodbye, “I’ll talk to you soon,” for once, Neil felt no need to question her promise.

No reason to doubt.

“Bye, Cupid,” his farewell was met with another chuckle before the woman in question ended the phone call.

Slowly, Neil put down the phone and raised his head to stare at the ceiling. The white paint was occasionally spruced up with cobwebs, reminding him just how long had passed since he had last deep cleaned the apartment. A sigh had to do before Neil got up from the floor and turned up the music.

Duran Duran had nothing on him now. Surely.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Far Cry 💜 Chapter 1 // Escaping

💜 Pairing - idol!Jungkook x OFC  (You can also read it on AO3) 📚 Summary - After barely escaping captivity, Jungkook is lost in a jungle on an unknown island with an injured Namjoon and an amnesiac girl. 🧮 Word count - 4.1k (Total = 426,818 (ongoing)) ✍️ Genre - Kidnapped/Lost AU (smut, action, mystery) 🔞 Rating - Explicit ⚠️ Warnings - amnesia & mental confusion, escaping after being kidnapped, being chased, gunshots and injuries (warnings for the whole story include death, grief/mourning, blood and violence, explicit sexual content, and angst)

A.N.: The first fic I ever wrote for BTS and it's still ongoing! (I'd say it's my baby, but it's grown up at this point 😅) This story is based on a videogame of the same name but the plot is totally different, no knowledge is required! If you give it a chance, know that it is smut and action-packed and shit hits the fan quite often 😅 It's my 2024 year resolution to finish it, I like my odds 💪 Enjoy! 🦋💜

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

She awoke with a feeling of dread.

She was breathing, but it felt as though she was fighting this invisible force that kept pushing the air down her lungs. It was tiring. She felt extremely tired.

She was lying down. She could feel the back of her head, back, butt and legs touching something, a surface. And in turn, she could feel all of her body weight against said surface, to the point she felt that even gravity was too heavy. She couldn’t move.

She tried moving her arms and legs, but they just placidly rolled over the surface she was on. Her body wasn't functioning and she was only waking up. But as she felt her heart beat increase in her chest, limbs scraping on that horizontal place, a sense of panic grew in her.

She'd been there before. In that situation, waking up, feeling like she couldn't move, react, completely exposed and vulnerable. As her mind seemed to catch up with her body, her breaths picked up as panic started making her muscles flinch. She wasn't safe. She had to get out.

She forced her eyes open. Everything was dark, it was evening. The ceiling greeted her, dark and empty. The room was abnormally hot, or maybe she had a fever. She tried swallowing, but her throat was sandpaper. Her heartbeat was exploding in her chest, drumming in her ears. The adrenaline was too much, if it kept going, she would crash again.

She had to get out. That thought wouldn't go away. She recognized she was unsettled and she couldn’t remember why. She couldn’t think why. Did it matter? No, something wasn't right. Nothing felt right, her body felt weird, her mind, the hotness, the darkness. The void.

It wasn't the first time. She'd felt it before, she was certain. That's why it wasn't safe, it would happen again. She had to get out. She held onto that, her only coherent thought. 

She tried again, with all her strength, to get up. Instead, she curved in a ball towards her left side. She felt something on her left arm. She used her right hand to feel it and panicked when she felt the line with the needle deep in her vein. 

She took it out forcefully. She didn't know what it was but she trusted nothing and no-one until she could get her mind straight. First, she had to get out.

When she dropped the needle, it swung in the open space. That alarmed her, and she forced herself to try and see beyond her arm. She couldn’t. It was a dark abyss. She had to get up, the abyss was the way. No, the abyss wasn't safe. What if she fell? What if she fell forever? What if there was no ground? No, it was safer to stay still. Safe, it wasn't safe. She needed to get out. That was the only way. She had to get out.

She hit the floor harshly. Her head banged against it, making everything even more dizzy than it was already. She could only feel her weight pressed down to the floor. Her head was throbbing. 

She felt a wall with her fingers and she tried to put her head against it, to gain some level. Her blood rushed down, her heart pounding like she was running a marathon. She had to calm down or she would have a heart attack before she could get out. She tried controlling her breathing and found that her muscles obeyed her, her diaphragm was collaborating. Soon, the others would follow. 

She opened her eyes again after she couldn’t tell how long, and she saw it. A door across the room. It was closed, but that was it. The way out. She just had to reach it.

She wasn't going anywhere. While she laid there breathing, oppressed by gravity itself and with a huge pounding headache, her body refused to move. Her heart dropped to the floor when she realized she was weak. She was too weak to move, too weak to get away, to even think why she had to get out. And if that was the case, she'd be stuck there and it would happen all over again. 

What would happen again? She frowned, forcing herself to reflect. Why did she need to escape? Where was she? What was she doing there? Was there no-one to help her? Should she scream for help? Why was she weak? 

Her headache was in full force, she couldn’t get anything out of her confused mind. She glanced at the IV bag and the needle now detached from her arm. She was starting to suspect something. 

Before she could go down that lane of thought, inexplicably, the door opened. Not fully. To the point she thought she could be hallucinating. Two figures, crouched, entered quietly and closed the door back without a sound. 

They stood there for a while, just crouched, while she observed them, just breathing. Maybe if she didn't say anything, they wouldn't notice her. Was that for the best? Maybe. Who were they? How would she tell if they were safe or not?

The first figure to enter moved away from the door, while the other stayed by it. Her breath, already rough, picked up again as she understood it was approaching her. Her stomach squeezed in her belly, her arms and legs flinched, but still, she couldn’t move.

It was on her. As close as an arm, if she could extend it but she could only twitch placidly in place. It was breathing, she felt its breath against her skin. She was wearing something, drenched in sweat. A top and shorts, she thought, that's how she could feel its breathing on her chest.

She felt a touch. She flinched, startled, her brain hadn't registered it even moved. Something touched her left arm, then at the same time her forehead.

"Are you okay?"

She heaved in a breath, it was the voice of a man. It sounded soft and gentle.

"What are you doing?!" Hushed the other male voice from the door. 

They were two men. Now how could she tell if she could trust them?

The figure close to her put one of his hands down, but was still touching her arm.

"She has a fever."

"So?"

He took a deep breath. "So, she is sick and she looks like she's been through hell."

The second figure walked past them, and she blinked slowly, trying to keep up.

"Well, she can join the club."

A bit of light suddenly came through — the second man had opened the curtains and moonlight came through the window. 

She blinked, adapting. A man was in front of her, crouched to her level. He had dark short hair. He was pale. His dark eyes were shining and his lips were pressed in concern, observing her. Beyond him it was a simple room. She looked to her right and saw a gurney. She almost choked. 

"Are you alright?" He repeated, concerned, since she looked like she couldn't breathe. 

He was nice, he asked twice. His hand felt comfortable, warm. His voice was gentle. He was safe.

She shook her head, and when she tried to force her voice, she almost started a coughing fit. He tapped her back gently when she curved forward and started looking around the room. He got up and she lost his support — her eyes teared up, if from the small dry coughs or fear, she wasn’t sure.

He came back though, and helped her head back straight, putting something to her mouth. She didn't know thirst could be that visceral. She drank each sip as if she would die without it, and he had to keep her in check to prevent her from choking. 

Half a water bottle in, she stopped and he supported her to lean back. She swallowed, feeling her empty stomach twist uneasily with the new contents. She took deep breaths, willing her body to calm down. She needed to keep that water in.

She looked at the other guy, still by the window observing something with full attention. The guy in front of her was seemingly waiting for the other one to say something, and through the quiet he seemed to decide to give his attention to her. He noticed her eyes on him and displayed a small gentle smile of support.

He was safe, she thought again, reaffirming her previous assumption. Now that she was calming down, and after convulsive swallowing for some time, she decided to try her voice.

"I feel very weak," she murmured, just wind through her vocal cords, no actual sound. 

He nodded and looked around again. "Are you being treated for something?"

She shook her head convincingly. 

Before anything else could happen, the second guy spoke. "Jungkook, come here."

He looked at her before doing so and she forced herself to remain calm. She had some water, she could recover now.

"See that, there?" A pause. "There's a gap. We can get away there."

"What about the others?" Jungkook's voice sounded unsettled.

There was a longer moment of silence. She didn’t have the energy to look up and see their interaction.

"We searched and searched," the guy said, almost out of breath. She got a gut-wrenching feeling. “We can do more for them if we escape and get help.” She was breathing more calmly now. Her mind was dancing around, trying to figure out if they were escaping the same thing. “I don’t think they’re here, we must have gotten separated.”

After another long moment, the guys moved away from the window. But whereas the guy headed straight for the door, Jungkook kneeled in front of her. 

“What are you doing?!” Was it a déjà vu?

“She’s coming with us.”

“What?!” The guy kneeled back down, approaching them.

She saw the hard look Jungkook gave the guy, clenched jaw. “I’m not leaving her.”

She gasped inaudibly. She wanted to cry. She couldn’t understand what would make him be so kind, but she would never forget it. If she found her way back, if her mind was hers again, she would repay his kindness somehow.

The other guy approached her too, on her right side next to Jungkook, and she finally took a look at him. His hair was military short, dark brown. He was sweating and pale, with smart eyes shining while he observed her.

He sighed and rubbed his face quickly. “Of course not, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nodded in approval and turned back to her. 

She swallowed harshly. “I can’t move.” 

She saw their eyes observe her body and conclude what she already knew: she was physically fine. She had no time to explain.

“I need sugar.”

Jungkook frowned, but the other guy nodded and took something out of his pocket. It was a small white bag and in blue capital letters the word SUGAR stood out. It was a sugar packet that accompanied expressos.

He tore a tip and versed it inside her mouth, taking the bottle from the floor to give her a few drops. She didn’t drink much, only a sip. She wanted most of it to be sublingually absorbed. 

“Sugar?”

“Yeah, I collected some packets for when we feel faint…”

They gave her time to recompose.

“Do you need another one?”

“No, that should do,” she answered, straightening her back against the wall, with their help.

While her breath calmed down, the guy spoke. “I’m Namjoon, he’s Jungkook.”

“I’m Leah,” she answered without a second thought. 

“Nice to meet you! Now, can you walk?” Namjoon was in a hurry, she noticed. Were they being chased?

She nodded, twitching her toes, then flexing her legs slightly. “Yeah, but I need help.” She admitted, with hopeful eyes. They both took an arm each and pulled her up.

The whole world swirled around her, but they supported her so she wouldn’t fall. Her vision went black and she felt faint with cold sweats up her spine.

While she waited for her senses to come back, one of her arms was guided to someone's neck and when she lost her strength, she dangled from said neck.

“I got you,” Jungkook said, holding her by the waist. 

She breathed deeply, nice and steady, waiting for it to pass. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“No worries,” he answered, supporting her easily.

Eventually her vision came back and she was in control again. Tension returned to her legs and they finally supported her weight. However, when she tried letting go of him, she felt dizzy. He was quick to grab her arm and pull her against him again.

“Okay, are you ready?” Namjoon was by the door with his hand on the handle, ready to go. He observed her worryingly. 

She felt Jungkook’s nod against her hair and she took a deep breath, trying not to have her stomach swirl along with the room.

“Give me another one of those and we’re peachy.”

Jungkook pulled her more comfortably against his body while Namjoon tore another packet and spilled the sugar straight into her opened mouth. She nodded in thanks, sucking on the grains slowly. She’d have her strength back soon.

Namjoon opened the door quietly and peeked through the smallest of cracks. The room fell silent, there wasn't a sound, not even the wind. After a moment he waved at them to follow and opened the door more for them to pass. Jungkook moved with her in his right arm, and she walked next to him. It felt too easy, like she wasn’t making an effort at all. She looked at him and noticed he was carrying her weight completely. She was slightly shorter than him and had barely any meat on her bones — that probably facilitated the task.

They exited to a corridor with six doors, half on each side, all looking the same. They kept walking silently towards the end where there was a window. Namjoon told them to stop and opened the window very slowly, putting his head out and looking down. 

Suddenly she became aware: there were people out there. Laughs and conversations could be indistinctly heard. A buzz, as if it was a party. While she reflected on that strange thought, she heard shots. Gunshots. She cowered against Jungkook, petrified. That felt strangely familiar, and distinctively fearsome. He held her completely crushed against him without saying a word. 

Namjoon pulled his head back in and looked at them. “It’s a dark alley, it’s safe. We can reach the walls and go all the way until the gap.”

She frowned at the gibberish but Jungkook nodded, walking them both close to Namjoon, who was already putting his legs out and jumping. Jungkook released her, helping her put her hands on the window sill and she gasped when she looked outside. There were trees, like they were in the middle of a jungle or a forest. And that was beyond a wall, which were just metal scraps all glued together vertically. But before that wall could be reached, there were houses. Or should she say huts? Houses that looked like wrecks and some wooden huts in between. It looked like a community, she thought, seeing the bonfires all around in the streets. That thought accompanied by the nightlife sounds felt oddly like that was a normal place. She could hear screams too, though. Anguished, tortured screams lost in the night while laughs and glass bottles also echoed. Her stomach turned.

“Leah!” 

A very low whisper made her look down. Jungkook had passed the window already and was extending his arms towards her. It was not even 2 meters to the ground. Normal Leah could have knocked this one out of the park. Present Leah could barely walk with the constant vertigo.

She sat on the sill and passed her legs over to the outside. Jungkook stepped closer, but didn’t touch her. She took a deep breath and leaped out of the edge. 

He caught her easily by her waist and let her fall gently to the ground still in his embrace. “I got you,” he whispered, putting his hands on her arms to keep her steady. She held him back, panting.

“Thank you,” she murmured, getting her breathing back on track.

"Let's go!” Namjoon called them quietly, waving at them to follow him. He was already away behind the corner of an old house.

Jungkook put his right hand on her waist and guided her forward. She wanted to grab him for support, but instead clenched her teeth and walked slowly forward. She could do it. 

They followed Namjoon slowly, Jungkook staying behind to make sure to steady Leah as they went along. As they moved from corner to corner, she could hear better what was happening: people were gambling, drinking and smoking without a care in the world. 

They got to a place that looked like a slaughterhouse, only open for everyone to see, where a man with a white apron covered in blood was gouging what looked like the carcass of a pig. Namjoon moved forwards crouched behind the guy and crossed that court with ease. The guy was so in it, he didn’t even feel their presence. Jungkook crouched in front of her and paved the way, always between her and the man. She was slow and had to keep her balance by putting her fingers on the dirt, but she dragged herself behind him. 

When they reached the other side, protected by the wall, he held her left hand before she could shake off the dirt in it, and he pulled her along. She observed the crook of his neck where his ebony hair touched his pale nape, and wondered if it was going to be that easy. If getting out was that easy, why did she never do it before?

Ahead there was some sort of wooden stage. People were on it, but they were high enough not to notice three figures quietly passing by. She heard cries from up there, and couldn’t help but look. Through the wooden boards she saw someone walking closely to shadows that were stuck in place.

“Nobody wants to pay for you,” a cold male voice sounded.

Immediately a gunshot echoed and a body collapsed on the stage. Leah gasped, taking her right hand to cover her mouth. Jungkook pushed her harshly to move faster. Another gunshot was heard, but she blurred it out. It was not happening, that was not possible. 

Before her thoughts risked getting chaotic, they reached an area that was open. She could now see the gap in the wall between the scrap metal enough to let a person pass at a time. But to get there, that person would have to run into the open and be exposed while passing. Someone would notice. It was insane.

“There,” Namjoon pointed, looking back at them. Jungkook nodded, but Leah’s face showed her fear. “I know, it’s risky. But everyone is distracted.”

“How do you know that?” She screamed in a whisper, starting to feel her panic rise again.

“I don’t, but no one knows we’re gone yet,” he stated, with an intent look. 

She took a deep breath and felt Jungkook's hand squeeze hers. She looked at him and nodded, not exactly knowing what for. She didn’t want to get shot and die, but she sure as hell couldn’t go back to that nightmare.

“Go first.” Namjoon pointed to Jungkook. He was the fastest and more agile, he should be the one to make it, if all else failed.

Jungkook peeked around and launched in a fast but utterly quiet run, almost as if it was choreographed. With an easy leep he passed through the gap without a sound and disappeared.

“You next.” 

Leah looked at him and took a deep breath, seeing the way ahead. She heard yells, but couldn’t figure out what they were saying. 

She didn’t peek, she went straight for it. Not as fast as Jungkook, but the fastest she had been that night. When she reached the gap she paused, trying to control her body to pass it without making a sound. Arms appeared from the other side and guided her through.

The other side was dark, damp and had way too much foliage. She had to kneel down to not be constantly slapped in the face by leaves. Bushes, trees, whatever it was. She could tell, it had to be a jungle. 

“Come on.” She heard Jungkook whisper as he peeped through and probably saw Namjoon running. 

After a moment she saw Namjoon’s head show in the opening, and then there was a gunshot. Its sound echoed deafeningly. Namjoon’s face of pain and Jungkook’s yell snapped her senses on high alert. She helped Jungkook pull Namjoon through the opening and immediately searched for a wound. While Jungkook was looking at his face and trying to talk to him, she felt his neck and started moving down. She didn’t have to go far, she reached his shoulders and immediately felt the stickiness. He was shot on his right shoulder, from the back. A painful place, but non threatening. 

“I’m okay,” he grunted, supporting his shoulder with his opposite hand.

“Hyung…” Jungkook seemed livid.

“Listen to him, he’s fine.” Her voice sounded like it wasn’t hers, commanding and sure. Jungkook looked at her, surprised. “It’s non-lethal and he can run.”

Yells could be heard from the distance along with dog barks, and Leah looked behind them fearfully. She couldn’t see much because of the foliage, but they were coming.

“We have to get out of here. Run.” Namjoon stated, slapping Jungkook's helping hand. “Run!”

She helped Namjoon up by supporting his right arm and they started running, and right on time too. They could hear the screams of alarm clearly now. No more laughing or drinking, they were onto them, full stop. 

Leah didn’t know where they were going. Jungkook led the way, running like a bloody athlete. Namjoon ran beside her, still faster than her, but bothered by the pain. She was trying to run, her breaths were short, her body felt heavy, but she was pulling through. This was it, now or never.

They kept running through the screaming and occasional gunshot sounds, with the endless foliage both camouflaging them and hindering their escape. She was so focused on running without acknowledging her pain or tiredness that she didn’t notice when Jungkook suddenly disappeared. She kept running and abruptly there was no ground under her feet. She yelped as her body lounged forward in a freefall.

The fall wasn’t big though. Before she knew it, she crashed into the water. There was water everywhere and it dragged her with unrelenting force. She tried surfacing but she got dragged down. She tried searching for a branch, a rock, anything, but she couldn’t find anything to hold onto. 

She tried searching for the guys. She looked around whenever she could, whenever there was a split moment to breathe, and she saw one. He was waving only one hand, completely lost in the same position as her. It had to be Namjoon. So she looked ahead of the current and once it stabilized, she could see something floating. 

She didn’t think twice. The energy sparkled through her like an electric current. She swam towards him easily since it was in favor of the current. She pulled him on his back, forcing his chest and face up. 

“Jungkook!” She tried yelling, but water got in the way. 

So she slapped him. Nothing. She was becoming desperate. She almost lost hold of him, so she wrapped her legs around his waist. With that newfound support, she dragged her hand with all her strength and slapped him as hard as she could manage.

He tried to gasp, but his lungs probably had water, so he coughed it out. He tried breathing while she always held his head above water. His hands immediately supported her waist. At first possibly to get her off, but then to hold her tight. He took a deep breath and looked around. She was observing him, indescribably relieved. 

“Thank you.” He tried saying, starting to cough.

“I got you.” She couldn’t help but smile.

It was short-lived. Abruptly, yet again, there was no more water. They were freefalling again, and this time it was maybe a dozen meters down. She screamed, her legs let go of him and she stared death in the face.

He held her hand mid-air and yelled something at her that she couldn’t understand. The water line was coming close, closer and closer. Until she closed her eyes before the hit, and everything went black.

You can keep reading it : [Ao3] or [Wattpad]

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 5

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, nothing else that I can think of

Words: ~6.5k

Author's Note: it's here! Very heavy on explaining magical growth, just fyi. Nothing to complicated, and I think I made it all make sense? Anyways, I'm super excited about this chapter and the next one, I'm hoping to have C6 out in a couple of days if I can manage it. Also I love making Rhys obviously care for Feyre, he's so sweet and considerate towards heeer 🥹

18+ only pls

🩵💜🩵

The book was fascinating.

Feyre had no idea how complex the magical growth process was before reading, no one had bothered to explain it to her, she had simply went on believing that there was some type of magical core that stored the power.

While there was a core holding spot, located in the body’s center of gravity according to the book, that was present from birth. In the first ten or so years of life, depending on the fae and the size of their initial core, the expansion of power is slow, but after the tenth birthday or so the first major expansion happens.

The magical core pushes outward, burning new channels into the body to carry magic, starting with the blood vessels. Pain was expected with each new expansion, the magic making a physical mark inside of the body to increase the overall capacity.

Feyre frowned, knowing that she had never felt any kind of expansion through her body. Though, with being Made, that process could very well have happened before she returned to her body from that endless void. She pressed a hand to her chest, attempting to find any kind of warmth or something that would indicate a well of power within her. But, there was nothing. She shook her head and continued reading.

Up through maturity, fae would continue to have magical growth within their body, every few years or if they consistently exhausted their magic. At around 50, when almost all fae are considered to be adults, growth usually stops, leaving the fae with their fully formed magical core. The only exception was to those with extremely large cores, such as the High Lords or their heirs, who typically had an expansion every century or so to keep the magic from eating away their body.

She wondered if Rhysand continued having them, being known as the most powerful High Lord in history.

He’s probably bragged about it to the other High Lords before, she thought, snorting at the image her mind created. Rhysand, standing in front of Beron, boasting about how “his core had tripled in size in the past few centuries, could he believe it? And what about you, Beron?” With his signature smirk.

She made it through the first two chapters before Nuala knocked on her door.

“Come in,” Feyre said, sitting up from her slumped position on the bed.

The door opened, revealing the wraith carrying a tray with a couple of dishes on top. Feyre stood, stretching her limbs and shaking the stiffness from her body.

“I brought you some lunch, Feyre. There’s soup, bread, and…” she turned around, revealing a midnight blue, large cylindrical cup with a lid. “This, I thought you might like something to keep water in that won’t spill everywhere.” Nuala offered the cup to Feyre, who took it and screwed the lid off, taking a few large gulps of water, not having realized how thirsty she was while wrapped up in the book.

“Thank you, Nuala, this is perfect. And I’d completely forgotten about lunch, I’m so glad you remembered! It smells wonderful, thank you,” Feyre said gratefully, taking a seat at the table.

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre. Rhys had asked me if you’d had lunch yet, and wanted me to bring you something soon before it would spoil your appetite for dinner,” Nuala replied, walking out of the door after she’d flashed Feyre a soft smile.

Feyre smiled to herself, genuinely touched that Rhysand seemed to care for her well-being. Nearly everything he had done since she had arrived proved that.

The soup was divine, and Feyre spied the same blend of root vegetables as were in the stew yesterday, this time with chicken instead of beef, what looked to some type of mushroom and soft spiralled noodles. It was spiced gently, a comforting flavor that she thought would be perfect if she ever caught an illness like a cold or flu. There were two delightfullly flaky rolls as well, and a nicely sized pad of butter waiting to be spread on with a knife. The meal was perfection, matching wonderfully with the slightly chilled breeze that was wafting in from the open wall in front of her. Both meals she had taken in her room were a lovely match to the autumn season, and she couldn't help but wonder why back in Spring, they only ever attempted to eat for the true season they were in at solstices.

Perhaps it was the lack of root vegetables that grew in Spring, but surely the courts traded goods among themselves?

Feyre shook the thought from her head, it isn't truly important what type food she eats, the food back in Spring was lovely as well.

Once she finished her meal, she crawled back onto her bed, laying on her stomach with a pillow underneath her chest, feet kicking lazily in the air as she continued onto the next chapter.

This one covered the actual expressions of magic that began appearing as fae aged.

Supposedly, the first signs appeared from birth to the first year, small things, like a candle being blown out when the window is shut, or a blanket being singed lightly.

After the first year, the magic fades, only returning in greater force and frequency once the child was around five, their core having expanded a bit more.

Feyre furrowed her brow. She and Tamlin had been trying adamantly for a child over the past year. Feyre herself wanted to bring a sweet, new life into this world, someone that she could protect as much as possible from the cruelty of the world. She wanted to watch her and Tamlin's child grow older, turn into their own person. Tamlin had been interested in that as well, but a driving force for him was the need for an heir to continue his family's bloodline, something that Feyre was all too happy to do for him.

But, if they were trying for a child, why had Tamlin not at least explained some of the basics of what to expect before they started?

Though, seeing as how no facets of her possible magic had been explained to her, perhaps he had assumed she knew implicitly somehow, or that Ianthe had explained it to her. And if he had, well, he was definitely incorrect. Feyre felt so in the dark now, having learned more in one afternoon than in a year back home.

Feyre promised herself that she would talk to him about it when she returned home.

She had nearly finished the chapter, longer than the first two, when another knock came on her door, prompting her to close the book and sit up.

“Come in.”

The door opened, revealing Rhysand who stood in a fine black suit, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Dinner is ready, Feyre. If you’re ready now, we can walk down together,” he suggested gently, still giving her an out in case she would rather go alone.

Feyre smiled back at him, getting up from her bed and sliding her flats back on. “I’m ready now.” She crossed the room, shutting the door behind her, and his scent washed over her. Every time, it made her heart flutter a little bit, which confused her but she took as just another interesting development in her body since becoming an omega.

Rhysand beamed at her then, another clear sign that he truly wanted to be friends with her.

They walked together to the table they had breakfast at, and a mouthwatering smell overtook Feyre’s senses the closer that they got to it.

On the table was a pan holding a roast, beef if Feyre was correct, surrounded by perfectly tender root vegetables. There was a bowl of mashed potatoes, a carafe of gravy, and large loaf of bread on a cutting board, steam still wafting from it as they sat down.

Rhysand began to carve the roast, giving two large slices to Feyre and scooping a hearty portion of vegetables onto her plate as well, then served himself. Feyre helped herself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes, making a dent in the middle with her spoon after passing the serving spoon into Rhysand’s hands. She poured a generous amount of gravy on, even pouring a small amount on top of the roast.

Feyre had gone to pass the carafe to Rhysand, when she looked at his face, a look of bemusement on it.

“What?”

“You made a hole for gravy in your potatoes.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Rhysand shook his head. “Nothing, you just reminded me of one of my brothers,” He said quickly. “Cassian always did love to have as much gravy as he could fit on his plate,” he stated with a fondness in his eyes, taking the gravy from her hands and pouring some on his potatoes before setting it down.

“I didn’t think you had any siblings,” Feyre voiced, never having seen anyone who even resembled him Under the Mountain. Then again, Feyre had not seen Mor until this morning.

“Oh, Cassian is more of a brother by choice, we met in the Illyrian camps when we were young. He, Azriel, and I have been thick as thieves since then, and considered ourselves true family regardless of our blood,” Rhysand answered as he cut the loaf of bread, passing a slice to Feyre, and she couldn’t help but smile at the softness in his face when he talked about them. So many different sides to this male, so many different facets of his personality that she had barely gotten a glimpse at.

“That sounds nice, having a family that you love because you want to, rather than being forced to,” Feyre said as she buttered her bread, thinking about her still human family. How difficult it had always been to just survive around them, every day like walking on eggshells to keep a fight from exploding and destroying them once and for all.

“I am sure that the two of them would love to call you their sister,” Rhysand offered. “If you would like to meet them at some point, I could ask them to visit while you’re here.” Feyre thought about his suggestion for a moment, then nodded.

“That would be nice, I think, to meet them at some point.”

Rhysand smiled again. “I’ll float the idea past them this month, then. And I’ll make sure to check with you before they show up, they can be a bit… much. Cassian especially, he can be similar to a very excitable puppy at times.”

Feyre snorted at that, then took her first bite of the roast, suppressing a moan at the flavor. The meat was so tender it melted in her mouth, the flavor of the vegetables and whatever spices were used pairing perfectly with it.

Rhysand was watching her again, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, causing him to take a bite of his own meal.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Feyre set her fork down.

“What are the blue and brown vegetables called?” She asked.

Rhysand blinked at her, swallowing the bite he had been chewing.

“They’re both native to Illyria, the blue one is a called ilpato, and the brown one is parillya.”

Feyre nodded her head, trying to remember the names. Ilpato and parillya. “What’s Illyria?”

“Well, the Illyria is a vast expanse of lands, particularly brutal year round, with the Steppes almost always having a layer of snow on them. It’s home to the Illyrians, a race of fae known for their inherent killing power and large wings.” Those same wings suddenly appeared behind Rhysand, taking Feyre’s breath away. They were beautiful, brutal, yes, with clawed tips at the apex, but the leathery expanse of them was black until the light hit it just right, making the delicate membranes visible.

Feyre’s fingers itched to commit them to canvas, paper, anything at all.

“My mother was Illyrian, and I thank her every day for the wings she gifted me. We value the freedom of flight above all else, and there has yet to be a sensation to compare to it in my life.”

Feyre’s mind ran wild, and she could almost feel the breeze in her hair.

She longed for that feeling. Pure freedom.

“Is your mother…?”

Rhysand loosed a sigh. “No, she and my sister passed quite some time ago, though I miss both of them dearly every day.” A wistful smile graced his face, and he continued, “They both would have adored you, that I know for sure. They always did like someone who could challenge me the same way they did.”

A blush crept onto Feyre’s cheeks, and she shoved a bite of creamy, gravy covered potatoes in her mouth.

The rest of the dinner passed comfortably, the two of them finishing their plates at the same time.

Rhysand walked Feyre back to her room, those massive, breathtaking wings still out, and the two of them lingered in her doorway for a moment.

“Have a good night, Feyre.”

“You too, Rhys. Dinner was amazing. Tell Nuala and Cerridwen that they outdo themselves with every meal I’ve had since arriving.”

Rhysand smiled, and Feyre could have sworn she saw a bit of extra color in his cheeks.

“I will, darling, they’ll be happy to hear it.” And with that, he walked away. Feyre watched him for a moment, before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The sun was setting, and Feyre wanted nothing more than to take bath and watch it slip below the horizon.

She padded over to her bathroom, kicking off her flats just outside the door. She shucked off her sweater and leggings, tossing them into the laundry basket inside of the bathroom. Grabbing a hair tie and putting it up into a bun, Feyre sank down into the tub, submerging all but her head.

The sunset was gorgeous, yellow fading to a pale orange, into a soft pink. It would make a lovely painting, she thought to herself.

Feyre let out a sigh, and turned her attention to the soaps and scented oils lined up on the edge of the tub connected to the wall. She sniffed a few bottles of oils, settling on sweet blend of lavender and orange blossom, a scent that instantly made her relaxed and a little sleepy. Pouring a small amount directly into the bath then placing it back in its spot, Feyre reclined back against the edge of the tub, soaking in the view and oil’s scent.

Taking her time, she leisurely washed herself, getting out once the sky had turned to purples and blues and drying off with a fluffy towel.

Feyre returned to her bedroom, flinging open the wardrobe to pick out pajamas for the night.

She flicked through the nightgowns, stopping on one that was made of a soft, sheer fabric in a pale pink. The long sleeves puffed out into wide sleeves that would still feel comfortable and free while sleeping, and the bottom of the dress would probably reach her ankles. Feyre pulled it off of the hanger, slipping it over her shoulders. The dress was loose but comfortable, skirt of it wide enough that Feyre was tempted to twirl in it to see the way the fabric moved.

Feyre felt so girly in it, so soft and sweet. She wished Tamlin could see her in it, hear the words he’d whisper in her ear while he hugged her from behind. She wrapped her arms around herself, smiling like a lovesick idiot at the thought.

It felt different than the girly dresses she was given at home, perhaps it was that she had chosen to wear it, or maybe it was how comfortable it was in comparison. The ones in Spring were made of fabric that was the tiniest bit scratchy, or clung to her body just a little too much. And, the patterns Ianthe picked out for her… well, they weren’t Feyre’s taste at all.

She fisted the material of the dress, shaking it back and forth. The fabric moved like water, just as Feyre was hoping. It was beautiful.

Feyre walked back over to her bed, picking up the book Rhysand had given her and cracking it open once again, just to finish the chapter she had started before dinner.

It took her a half an hour, by the end of which she was yawning every couple of minutes. She placed the book on her bedside table, then peeled the covers back, climbing underneath them and placing her head on a pillow.

Feyre looked out at the stars, loving the way they glimmered in the dark night sky, and they were the last thing she saw before she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

🩵💜🩵

The next morning, Feyre woke on her own to the sun already over the horizon. She let out a yawn, her arms stretching fully at the same time. She reached for her water cup, screwing off the lid and taking a few swigs before replacing it and setting it back where she’d grabbed it from.

Feyre stood up and made her way into the bathroom, nightgown swishing gently around her ankles. She brushed her teeth and hair, straightening out her appearance.

She felt more energized than she had in a while, almost like a weight was lifted off her heart. She couldn’t fathom why, though.

Back in her room, she picked out a matching lilac top and pants. The pants came up to her bellybutton and were loose until her ankles, where they came in to cuff her ankles, and the top was long sleeved and similarly designed to the pant legs, coming down to just above her bellybutton, leaving a small strip of skin visible between the two pieces of clothing. The lilac looked lovely with her skin tone, still fairly pale but less so than a year ago, and the clothing itself was comfortable and easy to move in. She picked up a pair of matching slippers, sliding them onto her feet and walking to her door.

After leaving her room, Feyre made her way into the library, wanting to find some kind of adventure or romance story to read for the day in addition to the book on magical development. She wandered through the stacks, and finally found herself in what seemed to be the fiction section. Perfect.

Feyre picked out a few books that seemed promising; a romance about an affair between a princess and her personal guard, one about a band of thieves recruited by their court to infiltrate their enemies, and another that was just a simple slice of life of an omega and her alpha starting a family. She was excited to read all of them, though it was likely she would only get through one during this week.

Feyre made her way back to her room, already reading the one about a princess as she did.

And then she crashed into something solid.

“Good morning, Feyre darling,” Rhysand said amusedly, and when Feyre looked up at him he had a grin on his face, his violet eyes staring down at her and scent filling her nose. His wings were hidden again, how he managed that trick, Feyre wanted to know.

“Oh, Rhys, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, closing the book that had crushed against his chest and stepping back, her cheeks turning a bright red. “I suppose I shouldn’t be reading while walking, hmm?” Feyre shook her head, then asked “Is breakfast ready yet?”

“Yes, I was just coming to get you, Feyre. Mor is eagerly awaiting you, she nearly chased me down here herself but coffee seemed to be more important,” He chuckled, turning to walk with Feyre back to the door of her room.

“I’ll just go set these in my room, okay?” Feyre opened the door, rushing inside and chucking the books in her bed, coming back into the hallway and resuming their walk towards the dining table.

“I’m glad you’re exploring on your own a bit, I know it must still be a bit unsettling being in a new environment,” Rhysand said as they walked.

“Ah, well, I wanted something else to read along with the book you loaned me,” Feyre admitted. “The book is very interesting, but sometimes it’s nice to have something a bit mindless to do, for me at least.”

Rhysand nodded his head in agreement. “I understand that. Sometimes it’s nice to have a different world fill your head instead of the one that contains all of your problems.”

“You get it,” Feyre said as they approached the table, Mor waiting impatiently with a stack of catalogues on the table in front of where she was seated.

“Feyre! Good morning, lovely! Now, I know you didn’t say yes to my offer for shopping booklets, but I decided that I would bring them to you anyways, just in case the mood to spend Rhys’s money does come to you,” the alpha said, placing them to the side of Feyre’s plate after she sat down. “There are some for furniture, bedding, nesting fabrics, books, clothing of course. I think I also managed to snag a cosmetics one in case you wanted some. Oh and a couple little pamphlets from restaurants that I love!”

Feyre swiped through them quickly, the one boasting about nesting fabrics catching her eye. She’ll look at that one the first moment she’s alone.

For now, Feyre looked away from the large stack, turning her attention toward the plates of food.

Fluffy pancakes were stacked on a large plate, perfectly golden on each side and sweet smell wafting from them, sausages piled on a plate next to them and another large bowl of fruit like yesterday morning.

Feyre stabbed a two sausages, putting them on her plate before doing the same for Mor. Rhysand grabbed his own, spooning a good amount of fruit onto his plate as well, then doing the same for Feyre and Mor.

“My, my, you two are so helpful,” Mor said, watching them serve the food. She picked up three pancakes and dropped them on her plate, pouring some sweet, rich maple syrup on top of them and immediately carving into them.

A blush rose to Feyre’s cheeks. She had never been one to willingly serve people before becoming an omega, but now it was a simple way for her to show her care and respect. And truly, she loved it. A small act of service could bring a smile to a loved one’s face, and that was much more important to her now that she had come back to life, everything seeming more precious to her than before.

“I just like being nice when I can,” Feyre explained, grabbing three pancakes for herself. She buttered the top of each one, placing them in a stack on her plate, and then poured a generous amount of the syrup onto them. She carefully cut out a slice, stabbing the pieces and taking a bite. “Oh Mother, these are good!” She said once she finished swallowing.

“Yes, well, we do have the best cook staying here with us,” Mor explained. “They love to make delicious food to keep our guests happy and well fed.”

“Compliments to them,” Feyre replied, taking another bite of the heavenly pancakes.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along,” Rhysand says, sipping his coffee and watching the two females in front of him.

There was silence for a few minutes as they ate, lasting until they were nearly finished eating.

“So, Feyre, if you could travel anywhere in Prythian, or even the continent, where would you go?” Mor asked.

“More questions again today?” Feyre asked before thinking on it for a moment. “I suppose the Dawn Court sounds nice, I have always loved watching the sun rise.”

Mor nodded her head. “The Dawn Court is an amazing place, they have so many beautiful fields of flowers in the Spring and Summer! Maybe we could take a trip there during blooming season?”

It was enticing, the idea of exploring the world beyond the lands of Spring she had seen so far. “That sounds lovely, Mor. We could even make it a little girls’ trip, just the two of us.”

“Perfect! Oh, I’ll start planning today! How does seven months from now sound? That would be right around the peak blooming season, I believe.” Feyre nodded her head in agreement. “Rhys, you’ll talk to Thesan for us, please?”

“Of course, cousin, anything for the two of you,” He said easily, a smile gracing his face. “But for today, Feyre, I’d like to pull you away for training. We can go over whatever you’ve read, then practice shielding and calling on your magic if you feel up to it.”

Feyre’s head bobbed up and down as she finished her last bite of sausage, pushing her plate away. “That sounds like a good plan, Rhys.”

“Ugh, training. Count me out,” Mor said as she stood up from the table, taking her coffee mug with her.

“That’s fine cousin, you weren’t invited,” Rhys replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off Rhys, you know I’ll help out with her at some point if Feyre would like.”

“Yeah, Rhys, Mor might be a better teacher than you are,” Feyre jested, and Rhys looked to her on mock offense.

“How rude are the two of you? Come on, Feyre, let’s go before she rubs off on you more,” He said, holding a hand out to Feyre after standing.

Feyre took it, getting up from her chair. Mor had already wandered off after sticking her tongue out at Rhys.

He led her back to the training room, ushering her inside and to the cushioned chair on the right. Sitting across from her, he clasped his hands together. “So, how far into the book have you gotten so far?”

“I got three chapters in, up through some of the beginning expressions of magic.”

“Good, that’s a fantastic start Feyre.” Feyre felt her cheeks heat slightly at the praise. “Did you have any questions about any of the information?”

“Not directly, more about… how you believe it relates to me,” Feyre stated, slightly worried about what his answer might be.

“Personally, I believe that when you were brought back you were Made with an adult sized magical core, and it is simply taking its time to expand into your bloodstream. Now, are you absolutely sure that you’ve had no instances of magic expressions?” Rhys asked, staring into Feyre’s eyes.

Feyre thought hard on it, and realized that soon after coming back to Spring a year ago, a dress had caught fire in her room. Ianthe had been insisting that Feyre wear it, but the pattern was horrid and the fabric and cut was far too uncomfortable for Feyre to willingly wear.

It had burst into flames when Ianthe went to take it off the hanger, and they had all simply assumed that it had caught fire from the lit candle nearby.

Now, though…

“I might have accidentally set a dress on fire a year ago.”

“Well, then, you might have a compressed growth period, with only one expression before your core began to slowly expand. If that is the case, Feyre, you are most likely near your first expansion.”

“So… what would that mean, exactly?” Feyre couldn’t quite wrap her head around it yet.

“I expect that within the next three months or so your core will push into your bloodstream and carve new channels for your power to expand into. Think of it as though you are going through the first ten years of your life in a little over a year, magical growth wise. You magic is attempting to make up for being largely undeveloped in an adult body by accelerating the process, most likely expanding as quickly as your body is able to handle.”

Feyre slowly nodded her head, thinking she understood the likely situation now.

“I do have one more question- about the expansions? How much do they hurt?” She asked quietly.

“The first expansion was definitely the most painful for me, at least, my core had nearly doubled in size by the end of it. But as you grow older, they become less intense, for the most part.”

“Ah… something to look forward to, I suppose,” Feyre joked sarcastically. “How long do they usually take?”

“It can take anywhere from a few hours to a day or two.”

“Constant pain?”

“Near the end it tapers off into a dull ache or itch that you can’t satisfy, but before that, yes.”

Feyre sighed. “And you think mine will be worse?”

Rhysand nodded. “You most likely have a large magical core already, and as your first expansion it will be creating the largest amount of new pathways throughout your body, it will most likely last a day or more, you may even need to be kept sedated for your safety. I am sorry, Feyre.”

“How wonderful,” Feyre replied drily before shaking her head, attempting to clear her anxieties about her possibly expanding magic.

“Well, enough of this downer talk, Feyre darling, let us begin to build your mental shields, if you’re still willing?”

Feyre bobbed her head, mentally preparing herself for what’s to come. While he had promised to be gentle, she was sure there was only so gentle someone could be while in someone’s mind.

“Start by picturing something very solid surrounding your mind.”

“Seriously?” Feyre asked.

“Yes, Feyre, I am serious. You will need something sturdy that can encompass all of who you are, without any cracks or places weak enough that someone with ill intent can slip inside. The fundamentals to shielding your mind are, quite literally, creating a shield around your mind,” Rhysand explained. “It may sound silly to do at first, but it is incredibly important to have a solid foundation.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes slightly at him before closing them, accepting that she would have to do this, no matter how silly it felt to picture a large stone wall around her mind, similar to those surrounding the manors she had seen in the human lands.

It was thick, sturdy, made of large chunks of stone cemented together, rising over ten feet high.

“Alright Feyre, I’m going to test your defenses now, if you’re ready.” Feyre nodded, her eyes still shut as she focused on keeping that wall built in her mind.

Slowly, inky tendrils of night caressed the wall, searching for any weaknesses.

It took maybe four seconds for it to begin spilling through a crack in the wall where the stones met, and as it did a haze slipped over Feyre’s thoughts, the wall crumbling to dust.

The night pulled back as soon as it did, and Feyre came back into the room, Rhysand still seated across from her. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on her skin, even from such a small attempt to protect herself.

“That was an amazing first shield, Feyre,” he said warmly, causing Feyre’s cheeks to heat yet again. “What did you notice?”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she thought about it. “The mist- you- slipped through a small crack in the wall, one that I didn’t even know was there.”

“Precisely. A Daemati will know where the common weak points generally appear, it’s normally in the areas that we don’t think twice about being secure, especially when using fae or human made structures.” Rhysand paused, looking Feyre over. “As we go through this, Feyre, remember that this is a learning process, one with a very sharp curve for learning how to control magic and shielding concurrently.”

“Rhys, I will be fine,” Feyre insisted. “I taught myself to shoot a bow and arrow as a child. I can handle having a few stumbles with learning this, I promise you.”

“Very well, Feyre. If you’re ready, we can try again.”

“Yes, please,” Feyre said, beginning to form a smooth, solid wall made of one continuous piece of stone. None of it appeared to have any cracks or crevices in it, but she supposed only time would tell.

“Nod when you’re ready for me, alright?”

Feyre nodded a moment later, and the dark wisps of power began creeping along the wall of her mind once more. It searched for something to grip onto, rip into but found nothing, only pushing further and further up the wall.

It was then that Feyre realized her mistake.

She quickly began attempting to create a roof over the wall, something to keep Rhysand’s power out, but it moved to quickly and slinked over, that same hazy feeling coming over her mind before retreating just as fast as it came.

“Wonderful Feyre, you figured out my next lesson before I’d even gotten into your mind. The wall must encase all of your mind, otherwise I can simply pass over the wall and easily access your mind.”

“Hmm…” Feyre hummed. “Does it need to be a wall, or can it be something else surrounding it?”

Rhysand smiled at her proudly. “It can be whatever you want it to be, Feyre. No two mental barriers are exactly alike, they reflect the person they protect.”

Feyre knew what her wall would take shape as, then. Something that could cover her entirely, but she would not be lost in.

“I’m ready for you to try again, please.”

Rhysand sunk into the space around her mind, suddenly floating on a body of water that had no end in sight, tumultuous waves crashing against his power. “Clever, Feyre darling. Very clever,” he purred into her mind, and the waves stilled for a moment before picking up in intensity once more. “Where are you hiding?” The mist floated along the surface of the water, taking a moment before diving down. It sank deeper and deeper before finally landing in front of its prize.

“There you are, darling.”

The mist stroked along the dome along the sea floor, sensing Feyre’s presence underneath. It’s touch was gentle, reminiscent of a lover’s caress. A moment later, he pulled away, retreating entirely from her mind.

Feyre’s body felt heavy, tired from the exertion of keeping up a mental shield.

“You have done astoundingly well, Feyre, for only your first day shielding!” Rhysand said, looking genuinely impressed with her progress.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre said bashfully. “But why didn’t you try to break in?”

“Well, I’d prefer to take your training slowly to build up your strength before we attempt any true attacks, that way we avoid any unnecessary pain.”

“Oh. When do you think I’ll be ready for that?”

Rhysand smiled at Feyre, before explaining “It will be entirely up to you, Feyre. Except for this week, of course. But for now, I’d like to move on to your magic itself. Have you tried reaching for it yet?”

Feyre bobbed her head. “I have, but I haven’t been able to feel anything. My chest just feels… cold. What is it supposed to feel like?”

“For me, it feels like a warm, comforting spark inside of my chest, right between my lungs. Just try focusing on that space as much as you can, tune everything else out.”

“Including your voice?”

Rhysand chuckled, responding, “Yes, Feyre. Even my voice.”

Feyre did as he said, narrowing her focus to the space between her lungs. After a minute, she could swear she felt a gently pulse, cold feeling in her chest. No warmth, but at least it was there, wiggling slowly with each breath.

“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s… that’s amazing. It’s like there’s something living in my chest.��

A soft chuckle escaped Rhysand’s lips, staring at Feyre intensely. “It can feel that way, especially when beginning training. As you progress, it should start to feel more like an extension of you, a piece of you so intertwined with your body that you won’t be able to imagine life without it anymore.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She placed her hand on her chest above where her core resides. “When will I be able to access it? My magic, that is?”

“If you feel up to it… You could try right now,” Rhys said, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched her. “Try summoning one of the High Lord’s powers- wind, fire, water, ice, light, and darkness, any of them would be suitable. Pick the one that calls most to you, in this moment,” he instructed.

Feyre nodded, picking through the options he listed. Fire, she had called on before. Maybe it would be the easiest?

She imagined a spark coming to life above her fingers, holding her palm out flat.

Nothing happened, and Feyre furrowed her brow.

She concentrated harder, trying to create any extra warmth in her fingers- but nothing.

“Feyre, try another element.” Feyre narrowed her eyes at him, continuing to try and bring fire to her skin.

Nothing.

Feyre sighed in frustration, feeling more tired than before, and she’d only been attempting for a few minutes. “Nothing is happening.”

“I told you, it won’t be easy, Feyre. It takes time, just be patient with it.”

Feyre settled back in her chair with a pout on her face. She tried summoning a bit of light, this time.

Still. Nothing.

She cycled through the powers, attempting each of them for at least five minutes before moving on. She was getting tired, her body slumping further and further in the chair.

“Alright, Feyre. I’m calling practice for today. Come on,” He said, extending a hand after standing in front of her. She took it, grateful to have help getting to her feet.

They exited the room, walking at a leisurely pace towards her room in silence.

“Feyre, you did amazingly well today, better than most would with learning to shield, and on top of that, learning to access you magic is incredibly difficult,” Rhysand praised once they arrived at her doorway, color once again gracing high on her cheeks. “It also takes a large amount of energy, which is why you’re feeling so tired right now. I’ll have Cerridwen bring you lunch in a half an hour, alright?”

Feyre could only nod her head at him, so exhausted and ready for a bath that she just slipped into her room, beelining her way to the bathroom.

She pulled off the matching set of clothing, damp with sweat, tossing it into the laundry bin. Feyre tied her hair up into a bun again, sinking into the water quickly, a contented sigh leaving her lips.

Feyre’s eyes closed. They were so heavy now, it was hardly worth it to keep them open.

She pictured herself floating on that dark, tumultuous water. Pictured it calming, her body resting at peace on top of the water.

She floated off into the distance, sleep claiming her body.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars

[callipraxia]

sooooo i read the christmas pages and now i'm crying about it. it could've been a whole episode it could've been a WHOLE EPISODE. WIN!!! but also i'm here to say that my assumptions about ford "not being much of a drinker" until bill cipher was ACTUALLY CORRECT??? SOMEHOW??? also this is making me want to write again. like very much so. guh (let's hope this hype continues!)

Feel you on the wanting to write again; most of what I've written so far has admittedly been short extrapolations on tumblr and I am suddenly full of interest again in the notes I made for another essay last year, so maybe it's triggered my nonfiction era or something like that, but I also wrote like half of a fifth chapter for the 'Unexpected Memoirs' recently.

On the subject of Ford and drinking...I know you put the story with alcoholic!Ford on the back-burner, but it occurred to me last night that there's the potential for some interesting discourse around Ford's role in the show's addiction metaphors now. Admittedly, we have to take Ford's statements about himself with a tiny grain of salt, since he's barely a more reliable narrator than Bill when it gets too close to home, and one could read into the fact that he says he usually "tries to sober", which leaves open the option that he has to 'try' because it's an active effort for him and/or that he's the poster boy for nineties narratives about peer pressure making you make unintelligent decisions - not sure if I read it that way or not, but it would definitely be a legitimate reading. If we take Ford's statements at face value, though, and he really doesn't/didn't drink very often pre-Bill, then an interesting pattern that I assume could mean something still develops: Ford might not drink that often, since I can only recall now three canon instances, but when he does, he apparently cannot handle it at all. And it works even though we already had Fiddleford as the "alcoholic just waiting to happen" in the plot, since they have completely different motives. Ford isn't deliberately blacking out portions of his own life to avoid dealing with them like Fiddleford did, but he does, after all, 'use' Bill to get 'round his problems at first. His loneliness, his lack of social facility ("[he's] given me clever comebacks when I'm insulted"), his professional paralysis after a certain point of his research...issue solved! And he's rather repressed as a rule, trying to live up to his picture of himself he's built up in his head, so it makes sense that if his inhibitions are lowered in the slightest, he just goes a bit nuts with it, takes it too far, not least because Ford takes everything too far no matter how it feels, but also because he's, like...having fun for once. At least at first, anyway. Before we cross the fine line between 'taking it too far' and 'taking it too far" and then everyone ends up miserable and unwell.

Which also reminds me: I forgot about one portion of my original Ford Essay when I said last night that nothing in it had been definitely debunked. I proposed there that Ford may have had some vague approximation of a life in the years before Bill and the Blind Eye came along and messed up first him and then the whole town, but nah, apparently Ford was, indeed, lying through his teeth when he made a point of how happy he was at first in Gravity Falls and how he felt like he'd finally found a place where he fit in. Which also makes sense, since he and Stan are both to an extent putting on a show for the other's benefit in that scene in order to save face, but does make me kind of sad :( I wanted him and Manly Dan to be friendly, dangit. Don't know why, but I apparently was more invested in it than I'd realized, I guess.

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla CH.5 - 'Double Take'

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: the story of how you and Miguel met. From Peter's perspective art is not mine!!!! @ohitsujiza2.0 on instagram!!!!

------------------ Ch.5 - Double Take ------------------

‘Whatever happens we’ll make it work.’

When Gwen Stacy visited Peter B. Parker he was cradling Mayday to sleep in his New York Apartment. There was this fluorescent orange light that caught him by the corner of his eye. When he got up towards the window for a better look, he saw her standing there in front of a portal wearing a pleading, almost despairing look on her face. She didn't have to ask, he knew exactly why she was there. And he immediately moved to grab his web shooters and strapped his baby carrier to his chest. 

“This is super bad parenting,” he cooed, pinching Mayday’s cheek, earning a lively laugh from the baby, “Don’t tell your mom, okay?” He then opened the window and jumped down to meet the girl waiting for him below. 

         As cliche as it sounds, he remembers the day like it was yesterday. The day that turned Miguel from an endearing idealist into a cold and unyielding autocrat. You try witnessing the collapse of an entire alternate universe and see how easily you forget. That day was the only time he saw Miguel have a breakdown. He didn’t even think he was capable of having one, as silly as it sounds. Nonetheless there he was standing behind Miguel’s cowering frame, erratic coughs as he was gasping for breath in between harsh sobs. Peter remembers vividly as he stood there with hand hovering in mid air just above his back. At that moment he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort him. He didn’t know what to say. It all happened so fast. The more he tried to force himself to condole Miguel, the more and more the gravity of the situation began to weigh on him. His entire family. All those lives. Hundreds of millions of lives just...gone. 

 Peter was one of the few people who knew Miguel before and after the incident. To this day he still has a hard time explaining to people just how different of a person Miguel was when he had you and Gabriella. Not only was he happier but his approach to leadership and the culture of The Spider Society was unrecognizable. When Miguel found you and Gabi he had patience. He had hope. He had trust in himself and others. He was a team player. When Miguel had you he was a joy to talk to. He was never condescending or harsh. He was funny, like actually really funny. He’d laugh. He had this kind of booming cackle that you could hear from the next room over. The kind of laugh that would make you laugh. The difference from then and now was truly like night and day.

So naturally when Miguel came to him with his proposition to maintain the sanctity of the multiverse, how could he refuse? After everything that went down he at least owed him that much. That was the sentiment he had been riding on for ages and to a certain extent he still did. Call him stubborn, but the shock of that day weighed on him constantly. Blaming the incursion on broken canons was just easier than admitting that there was so much they just didn’t know about the multiverse. That theory had brought him a sense of security, a safety net he was too scared to abandon after what unfolded that day. The real reason he tagged along wasn’t because he had any interest in revolution, he tagged along to look after Miles. To make sure everyone would be okay. To act as a mediator of sorts when things eventually went sideways. 

         It was Peter who found out about your existence first. You were the local spiderman he had to contact when an anomaly appeared in your dimension and you were very good at what you did.

“Hey I don't usually do this,” He leaned on the horn of the now unconscious Rhino, “but there’s someone I really think you should meet. At HQ.” 

“At HQ?”

“That means headqua-”

“-I know what it means thanks,” you raised your hand to stop him, “So what? Are you gonna take me to your leader?” you joked sarcastically. 

“I guess you could say that, well he’s more like my boss. You’ll love him. He's super smart. And tall and strong. He also has great hair and-”

“-Why does any of that matter?” you cut him off confused

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean to- That’s not what I mean…,” He waved his hands frantically while thinking of a way to recover, “...I mean, maybe he’ll recruit you then you’ll get this sick watch!” He lifted up his wrist and pridefully pointed at the contraption on his wrist, “Miguel hates when we call it a watch though, so I just say Goober or Gizmo or whatever,” he twisted his wrist in the air, further examining the tool as if he was viewing it for the first time, “ He hates those too though, but I think they just roll off the tongue better than ‘multiversal-dimensional-travel-gadget of justice’ or whatever crap calls it.” 

You stood silently, mulling over the invitation. The longer you stayed quiet the more Peter would ramble like an amateur salesman and the more he was silently cursing at himself for doing it. ‘You idiot! She probably thinks you’re in some weird dimensional cult.” Just before he was about to admit defeat and take his leave you finally spoke up.

“Sure why not,” you gave in with a shrug, “What’s the worst that could happen.”

“That’s the spirit!” Peter quickly began pushing the buttons on his ‘gizmo’ until a portal appeared. 

“After you,” he said, stepping to the side with a bow while motioning you towards the portal. You took a moment to gawk at the mind bending site before you. It was the first time you had seen one afterall. After the shock wore off, you stepped through.

“Miguel?”

“What?” Miguel was bent over with his back to the two of you working on some tech laid out before him, wearing rimless rectangular glasses. “Can’t you see I’m busy.” 

“There’s something- well, someone I think you should meet.” Peter spoke with a grin and nudged your side playfully with his elbow.

Miguel however remained glued to his work, “A new recruit?” 

“Yeah.”

“Later,” he spoke curtly, ‘I’m working.”

“I think you can spare a few seconds dude, come on.” 

“Can't… I need to draft designs for new multiversal travel gear. The current design is too rudimentary and the exposed wires are causing too many problems.” 

“Miguel, man, you’re really gonna want to-”

“-Peter!” Miguel slammed his fists on the workbench, the sound startled the both of you. Regretful, he puts his head in his hands and composes himself, “Please,” he said in a softer, pleading tone but somehow just as demanding as earlier.

Parker turned to you apologetically, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “ He’s under a lot of stress right now-”

“-It’s okay,” you murmur back. Just then a fallen piece of Miguel’s experiment catches  your eye. You pick it up to examine it closer, “Is this the part of the watch you use for the projection feature?”

Miguel scoffs and slowly begins to turn towards you, “It’s a lot cooler than a-,”

He freezes the second he sees your face, looking you up and down as if to double and triple check to see if his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Once he was sure he wasn’t hallucinating he abruptly stood up from his chair with his mouth agape and finger weakly pointed in your direction.

“That’s pretty smart.” You nod, impressed, and oblivious to Miguel being practically starstruck by you. 

“You-you….”

“Oh here,” you spoke handing him back the piece, “Sorry it fell and I was just looking at it-”

“-Thank you.” He responded almost immediately, he never took his eyes off you. 

“No problem. Oh wait,” you realized, “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself I’m-”

“-I know who you are.”

“Oh...” You shot an alarmed look at Peter. The second hand embarrassment was strong from him. To be honest, he’s not sure what he expected would happen, but this was a lot more anti-climatic. ‘Maybe I should’ve thought this through’ he mentally chided himself. ‘I’ve got to do something, and fast.’

“Welp.” Peter clasped his hands together unceremoniously, “ I mean I’d love to chat! But I’m-I’m sure Miguel will want to tell you about everything and show you the ropes. That is if you want to join of course I would never put that kind of pressure on you. This isn’t like some weird spider cult or something like that- WHAT AM I SAYING? HAHAHA! I’ll be outside. Have fun!” then hastily slammed the door behind him and wiped the sweat off his brow. 

‘Man being a wingman is hard.’ 

Peter never knew for sure what you guys talked about after he left. He tried prying into Miguel afterward and was met with his usual curt demeanor, but considering the fact that you decided to join was a good sign. He and anyone with a pulse could tell you two liked each other. All that was left was for you guys to figure it out. 

        Peter and his fellow comrades sling through the smoggy air at high speeds until land on the roof of the now abandoned warehouse. Luckily, they manage to arrive just  before you guys so they pause to take a moment to absorb the view of the unfamiliar city.

        “Yeesh, this place is a nightmare.” Spider-Noir Spoke spoke, anchored on the wall with one hand looking out into the skyline      

“You’re telling me,” Peter Porker said, landing right after him, “I can see two completely separate buildings that are currently on fire.” 

        “I’m giving it to you square, Pork,” Noir uttered , “Imma need a couple put downs after this. I’ll be dog-gone-tired. Practically livin’ in the speakeasy.”

“Can you guys actually understand what he's saying?” Hobie interjected with his deep cockney drawl. 

“I know you’re not talking,” A certain blue toned holographic Spider-Byte quipped her hands on her hip. 

         “Quiet!,” Gwen whispered vehemently, “They're coming.”

Everyone quickly scrambles for a makeshift hiding spot just as you and Miguel jump through one of the various holes in the structure. After landing you do a slow 360 turn to get a full grasp of your surroundings. Each crunching step makes you hyper aware of the debris that litters the ground. Besides the obvious shambles and disarray there are many other oddities about this scene. Random colorful splatters of paint litter the wall, still wet to the touch, a work bench full of sophisticated tech and weaponry. Broken chains scattered all over the floor, and a heavily damaged punching bag that had a large divot in it, like some creature had taken a bite out of it.

As you and Miguel investigate, the eavesdropping spiders begin commuting in hushed whispers through the call features of their web watch. “Look at them.” Pavitir says peering through a hole in the roof  “This ‘will-they won’t they’ relationship they have going. So close yet so far.” He sighs dreamily, resting his chin on his hands “Don’t you guys just love a slow burn romance.” 

“Yeah,” Peter responds, full of endearment, " they're good for eachother.” 

 “Has Miguel told them ?” Pavitir continues, “ About, you know, their…history?” 

Peter lets out a small sigh, “No, he hasn't.” 

“Ugh, that somehow makes it even better.” Pavitir was now swaying his legs back and forth in the air, peering down at the lovers from his peephole on the roof.  “The tension between these two tensions is crazy. How can they even concentrate?” 

Gwen rolled her eyes, ”You say that about everyone.” 

“Only when it’s true, ” he proudly put his palm to his chest. “I'm very good at reading people. Like how you and Miles-”

“-Pav! Shut Up.” Gwen loudly whispered, now completely flustered.

Spider-Byte’s blue-toned avatar gave a small chuckle and rolled her eyes. “Peter, remind me again why you brought your baby on this very dangerous, high stakes mission.” 

“She’s learning. Everybody knows the best way to learn is under extreme pressure. Plus, she’ll be quiet.” Peter plants a small kiss to the top of Mayday's head then brings a finger to his lips, “Shhhhh”. 

“Shhhhhhhhhh.” The baby sputtered in response before giggling in her hands

“See? She’s a fast learner.” Peter then plants another kiss on her head. 

Gwen and Hobie exchanged amused looks from their shared hiding spot, “I'm not sure that-”

“Can we PLEASE be quiet?” Peni Parker sat in her giant collapsible robot hiding in the midst of the rubble just outside the building,

“Before we all become interdimensional wanted renegades.”

“Oh yeah, right, activating stealth mode.” Peter brings his attention back to the skylight that he established as his spying spot.”   As he silently eavesdrops Peter's thoughts drift to his protegee Miles.  “Hang in there kid,” Peter mumbled to himself with his eyes glued to the scene, “Wherever you are, just hang in there.”

[fattybattysblog]

Friend, Please (Chapter 13)

Fandom: Kirby/Kirby Right Back At Ya!

Gen | Teen

Characters: Meta Knight, Dark Meta Knight, Velka | Arcta Knight (OC)

Summary: They should be used to desperate people making horrible decisions by now, but somehow it always goes too far before anyone does anything about it. A person fell prey to the empty promises of dark, powerful hearts to become Arcta Knight. As they make their mark on Dreamland, Meta Knight grows anxious about the encroaching danger and leaves suddenly to prepare for a duel like no other.

AO3 | SqWA | Quotev

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Swordfighting, Original Villain Character, Gijinka Kirby Characters

@ocappreciationtag

(Cover art done by Dean, edited together by me)

Escape and Sacrifice

The hall felt emptier with the farewell given. A hollowness opened in his chest, one he couldn’t afford to dwell on—not yet. His shoulders slumped as he closed the door behind him, leaving Kirby and Dedede in the infirmary. A heavy sigh escaped him.

Dark leaned against the wall by the door, his cape pulled close around him. He gazed at the ceiling, avoiding direct eye contact with Meta.

“So, it’s happening, hm?” Dark asked, his tone indifferent.

“Yes. The time has arrived…” Meta replied solemnly. The Knights marched to the Halberd in silence, each step bringing them closer to certain doom. They knew the risks, yet they were determined to face them head-on.

They approached the helm, Magolor and Marx awaiting them to see them off. Magolor’s ears and shoulders drooped, his eyes silently pleading for them to reconsider. The decision was not made lightly and wouldn’t be wavered so easily.

“I sent the directions to Halberd’s computer,” Magolor said in a weak voice.

“Thank you. You’ve been a great help,” Meta said. He couldn’t blame Magolor for taking the parting hard. If Captain Vul were there, he’d ask Magolor to join them on their mission. More warriors would make their chances somewhat better. But no one else is able to fly the Starcutter.

Marx balanced on his colorful ball, seemingly unaware of the gravity hanging over the rest of the trio. That was fine. As long as he remained to help protect the Cappies, Meta didn’t ask anything more from him.

“Once we leave…” Magolor started, unable to finish his thought. Meta simply nodded, clapped his shoulder, and turned to leave. Dark gave them similar and followed behind him.

The doors sealed with a final, resonant thud, severing their connection. The faint hum of machinery indicated the ships were beginning to disengage. Metal groaned and shuddered as the vessels drifted apart, their once intertwined fates now diverging.

Meta watched from the observation deck, his eyes fixed on the Lor. A sense of profound finality washed over him. The oared starship hovered momentarily, its engines flaring to life. The shimmering portal of a star-shaped rift opened, its edges crackling with energy.

For a brief moment, the Lor hesitated at the threshold of the rift, as if saying its own silent goodbye. Meta's heart ached at the gesture. The unspoken words shared between them then and now were enough to break him, a shudder of sorrow rippling through him. He balled his fists to keep himself sturdy.

With a sudden burst of light, the Lor sailed into the rift, its form dissolving into a trail of luminescent particles. The portal closed behind it, leaving nothing but empty space in its wake. It vanished without a trace, taking with it the hopes and dreams of those aboard.

Meta stood there, the silence of the void pressing in on him. The enormity of their mission and the sacrifices yet to come loomed large in his mind. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battles ahead.

Turning away from the windows, he walked towards the command center of the Halberd. It was just the two of them now. NME far outnumbered them. Their chances were solidified and there was no turning back. The Halberd shakily came to life and started for the journey ahead.

The closer they got, the tighter the knot wound in his stomach. Everything unanswered, all the people lost, he would regret everything he should have done better. He wasn’t as diligent as he should have been. If he had been smarter, faster, maybe his crew would have survived. Maybe the Cappies would never have needed to evacuate.

He didn’t do anything right…

-----

The trek was slow. The Halberd could only do so much in her condition, yet she carted them along diligently. Meta Knight brushed a hand over the top of her control panel. If she could hold out until they got closer to NME’s ship, they could manage the rest on their own.

It was a Knight’s duty to protect their kingdom through any means necessary… this sacrifice would not be in vain.

“We’re going to encounter Arcta Knight again,” Dark broke the silence, arms crossed over his chest. The name made Meta’s jaw tighten.

Meta took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing. “And this will be the last time. We are going to defeat her, I swear it,” he said, nodding sharply.

Dark agreed with a determined snort, his eyes reflecting the same resolve. “We’ve learned from our past encounters. This time, we’ll be ready.”

Meta’s gaze drifted to the star-filled void outside the viewport. Memories of his previous battles with Arcta Knight flashed through his mind. She had always been a formidable opponent, her icy demeanor and relentless attacks leaving a trail of devastation. He had long accepted that he’d never get his answers. He didn’t care about them now.

As long as she was dead, that was all he needed.

“We can’t afford any mistakes,” Meta continued, his voice steeled. “Every move must be precise. We’ve lost too much already.”

Dark uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Our strategy is sound. We’re prepared. We’ll strike her down and put an end to her destruction.”

Meta nodded, appreciating Dark’s unwavering confidence. “And once we’re through with her… we move on to Nightmare.”

His thoughts were heavy. Arcta Knight was more than just an enemy; she was a symbol of their greatest failures and their deepest fears. But this time, it would be different. This time, they would triumph. They had to. She wouldn’t have the chance to flee. If she struck him, she had better kill him. No more questions. No more wounds left behind.

His eyes flickered, tearing away from the stars and void, turning to his companion. “This day could be our last, Dark.”

“I know.”

Meta hesitated, searching for the right words. “Arcta isn’t your enemy. You don’t have to--”

“What? Trying to kick me out now? After all of this you think I’d run away now?” Dark’s expression hardened, his eyes meeting Meta’s with unwavering resolve. “If you die, there’s no point, right? I can’t get revenge on a corpse.”

Meta felt a mix of gratitude and concern. “I understand, but this battle is personal for me. You have no obligation to risk your life.”

Dark stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Meta’s shoulder. “We’re in this together. I’ve made my choice. We finish this fight side by side.”

Meta nodded, a sense of camaraderie and determination strengthening his resolve. “Then I’ll make sure we both come out of this alive.”

Dark smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Agreed. We’ll show Arcta the strength of a true Knight.”

The tension of the upcoming battle hung in the air, but the bond between Meta and Dark was unbreakable. As they prepared for the final confrontation, they knew that together, they could overcome any obstacle.

With a final look at the stars, Meta took a deep breath and hit the Halberd’s accelerator. The sooner they arrived, the sooner they could get the battle won.

They will win. They must.

(Previous Chapter) | (Next Chapter)

[elvenbeard]

Olives

Summary: V somehow survived a gig some deemed unsurviveable. Now all he needs to do is find his way back home - easy, right? (Post-Sun-Ending, Chapter 1/?, 4778 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V)

V pulled himself through the open hatch with all his might, groaning in pain, greeted by the blazing South California sun and a cloud of dust and sand stirred by the impact. He managed to only just find enough purchase on the hot, smooth metal to wriggle himself out of the escape pod and sat down at the rim of the hatch to catch his breath. His legs dangling into the capsule still, he once again made sure he had everything on him that he needed. An old-fashioned but hard to trace GPS tracking device in his pocket, the key to a car he still had to find, his sunglasses, his phone, his gun… Yes, that was it. Everything else would stay. His hand found the side of his chest, pressing down on his hurting ribs. Not everything had gone to plan. But things rarely did. In the grand scheme of things though… he’d pulled off the impossible. He laughed, almost desperately, closed his eyes and let his head fall back, feeling the suddenly so intense weight of his own body, gravity pulling him back down from the most insane high he’d felt in a long time.

Slowly and carefully, he pulled his legs up and swung around, slid down the side of the spacecraft, and landed more harshly than he would have liked on the rocky desert ground. He hissed, stumbling forwards, but managed to catch his balance only just. An annoying but familiar scratch made itself noticeable in his throat, maybe intensified by the sand surrounding him, and V pulled together all his willpower to suppress the urge to cough. He breathed slowly, deeply, and that alone hurt his ribs more than enough. He swallowed, even though his mouth was dry, then turned to walk around to the pod’s other side. He opened the cover of a small control panel and entered the code he had memorized to set up the self-destruct protocol. His fingers lingered on the “start” button for a moment longer as he once again went through all steps in his mind, making sure he’d thought of everything. He nodded to himself, then started the timer. Seven minutes. Enough to get himself into some distance from this thing, but hopefully not long enough for the SoCal military to find it. He was certain they were on high alert already. V put on his sunglasses, took out and turned on the GPS tracker, then started marching north.

The GPS signal showed that the car was a little over three miles away. Not too bad. Since he was not quite dressed in anything resembling hiking gear, he would still raise eyebrows if he ran into anyone, so he stayed away from the roads. The shuttle was already out of sight, had disappeared behind a hill, when the explosion tore through the silence of the desert. V was drenched in sweat, the sand he stirred up with each step sticking to his face and clothes, his head and eyes hurt, and his chest was sore. What he should have been thinking about was the next steps of the plan: how he’d get across the border, what to do if things went wrong, getting the data to Mr. B, getting rid of the car… but instead his thoughts revolved around how much he hated it that for safety reasons he couldn’t call Kerry yet. Tell him he was fine, all things considered. He hadn’t dared to promise it, but he’d come back in one piece. The thought to be finally able to tell him the whole story, explain why he’d been so distant lately, was the only thing that kept V going now.

In the distance, at first not recognizable as such in the heat haze, a gas station appeared. The GPS seemed to be leading him directly towards it. V was overcome with a sudden sense of dread. Again, for safety reasons (or so Mr. B had said) it had been better for him not to know where the getaway car would wait for him. V had expected it somewhere out there, maybe covered with a tarp, parked under an overhanging rock… not at a gas station, where not only the car would be hidden from view, but all kinds of undesirable people too. He slowed down just slightly, turned off the GPS tracker and slid it back into the pocket on his cargo pants. As he got closer, he saw that the windows of the shop were broken or boarded up, the road sign pointing to the station itself so scratched up by sand it was barely legible. There were no visible vehicles, but the walls of the building were, as he’d expected, covered in Raffen tags and symbols. The wind howled through the abandoned carcass, and V unholstered his Kenshin, just in case. He scanned the area for movement or other signs of life. There was a security camera above the entrance to the shop and another at the corner of the adjacent garage, but neither had power. The gas station seemed positively abandoned. Just in case he ducked as best as he managed to with his bruised ribs, peering around the backside of the building. If the Raffen Shiv used this as a hideout or meeting place, they weren’t here currently. Or ideally, Mr. B’s people on this side of the border had taken care of them before placing the car.

Still careful, but slightly more at ease, V made his way to the back entrance of the garage. The door was unlocked, the interior dark. His optics adjusted to the low light conditions quickly, but he still took off his sunglasses to look around. Dust and more dust covered the old tools and rusty machines this former repair shop still stored. At the heart of the room waited his ticket back home. A light blue Archer Quartz, old, but kept in good shape. V couldn’t help but chuckle. It looked a lot like his first car that he’d parted with not long after accepting the job at Arasaka. It wasn’t exactly the same, a newer model than his, but still. His heart sunk though when he remembered who had picked and placed the car here, who’d been playing mind games just like this with him for the past three months. V walked around the car, scanned it for any unwanted modifications, hard- or software that shouldn’t be there. Trackers, traps, anything… but it appeared clean. Before getting into the car, he carefully and slowly opened the garage gate, the area out front still quiet and abandoned. Only then he dared to unlock the driver’s side door and got behind the steering wheel. He didn’t need to adjust much, and he was thankful for a sixpack of water bottles waiting for him on the passenger seat. Without losing any more time he turned on the engine and set out.

The dusty desert highway had seen better days. The first road sign V came across was so covered in graffiti it was barely legible. He only just could make out “Night City – 29 miles”. At least he vaguely knew where he was now. Not long after the sign a couple of armored Militech SUVs breezed past him, heading south. He was sure to know where they were going and surprised it had taken them so long – but sometimes even V was granted some luck it seemed.

This little convoy remained the only other vehicles he encountered all the way up to the border station. His heartbeat sped up at the sight of Night City’s neon lights in the distance, gleaming bright even in the daytime. The line at the crossing was short, and V joined the queue like anyone else just passing through would, winding the window down as it was his turn.

“Good day,” the border patrol officer said, “Got anything to declare?”

“No, sir,” V said as friendly as he managed.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?”

“Comin’ home, visited family in L.A.,” he lied through his smile.

The soldier looked over his car briefly, but V knew this was routine. He had nothing to worry about yet.

“How long were you gone?”

“Two weeks,” V said, having memorized all important dates of his fake family trip to a T.

The officer looked something up on the data pad he was holding, taking a little too long for V’s taste, but he was good at not showing his growing nervousness. That was probably the most valuable skill his time with Counterintel had taught him. After a solid minute the soldier finally looked up from his datapad, turned it around and held it out to V.

“Please scan your SID-chip, sir, then we can proceed,” he said. V did as he was told, placing his thumb on the screen until a blip and green popup said the scan had completed.

“Thank you… Mr. McFarley?” the soldier said as he looked at the datapad, “Like the senator?”

“You wouldn’t believe how often I hear that,” V played his part, “Not related by blood or marriage.”

“I see…”

He tapped around on his screen a bit more, looking over the edge of the pad at V occasionally, who always just smiled and nodded back at him.

“Are you alright, sir?” the soldier then suddenly asked, taking V off guard.

“I am, yes?” he said after a moment of hesitation, his throbbing ribs and head saying otherwise.

“Just making sure. No offense, but you look a bit pale,” the soldier said.

“Just tired from the long drive,” V said, adjusting his sunglasses. Then, finally, the soldier stepped to the side.

“Everything in order,” he announced, lowering his datapad, “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, have a good day,” V nodded and sighed in relief as he left the shadow of the checkpoint, no obstacles between him and Night City anymore now.

He breezed past the Biotechnica protein farms on the left, the solar power station on the right. So many memories flooded his mind it made him dizzy briefly. It felt like all this had happened in a different lifetime – and well, in a way it had.

V pulled his phone out of his pocket, keeping his eyes on the road as best as he could as he finally turned it back on. Immediately he was flooded with missed calls and messages. It took less than ten seconds before he received a new incoming call, caller ID obscured, voice garbled as he picked up almost automatically.

“If someone could’ve done this, it was you,” Mr. B said, V recognizing his voice even through the distortion by now.

V had all manners of replies ready at the tip of his tongue as he finally crossed over the city limits and entered Santo Domingo. How one of their first conversations had been about V being a disappointment to him for example. He swallowed down his anger and took a right turn, first heading to the drop-off point for the car.

“I guess you don’t want me to send you the data right now, right?” he then asked.

“Yes, too insecure,” Mr. B said, “When can we meet in person?”

V wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“What about right after I dropped the car off?” he suggested, suppressing a cough, “I can be at The Afterlife in 30 minutes.”

“No, not there,” was the reply, and V’s palms grew sweaty, “Too many curious eyes. And I don’t want to crash the ‘welcome back’ party they’ll surely throw you?”

V scoffed. As if.

“Alright, have it your way then,” V said, adding ‘as always’ in his head, “Where and when?”

He pulled into the parking lot of an old auto repair shop, parked his car in a row of others that waited for “repairs”, and turned the engine off. He put the key behind the sun visor, grabbed his stuff and the two last remaining water bottles, then exited the car.

“Your penthouse, in an hour?” Mr. B then suggested.

“Absolutely not,” V snapped, not hiding his anger this time, “You can keep doin’ that kinda shit with the Peralezes and the likes, but I swear - …”

“I was joking,” Mr. B said calmly, “Besides… what would you do to stop us?”

V slammed the door of the car shut and started walking, leaving the premises of the repair shop without looking back.

“Where. And when,” V repeated.

 A brief pause of crackling static on the other end of the line.

“The North Oak Columbarium, in 30 minutes?”

V sighed. He would rather not. But it was not like he had a choice.

“Meet you there,” he said before hanging up.

His own car was parked in an alley a few blocks away. As he marched on, he pulled up his contacts. He checked the time, 5.32 p.m. – could be that he was busy, at the studio or another appointment, a few had been lined up this week… but V decided to try and give Kerry a call anyway. It rang a couple of times, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kerry’s voice, but it was just the mailbox after all.

“Hey, seems like ya missed me. Leave a message, I’ll call ya back later.”

 “Hey, um…” V started out slowly, “Just wanted to let you know, I’m back. Got a few more errands to run, but I’ll be home in an hour or two, so…”

He scratched his head, grasping for words that could get across what he was trying to say, without making it sound too dramatic or causing Kerry to worry.

“There’s a bunch of stuff I gotta tell you that… I couldn’t really talk about ‘til now. Not ‘over-the-holo’ stuff so, I’ll see ya later. I hope you’re havin’ a good day!”

With that he hung up, half-regretting it immediately. I hope you’re havin’ a good day… how fucking lame. He had wanted to say how much he’d missed him, that he thought of him constantly, that he couldn’t wait to see him, hold him again, just how much he loved him. But the words just wouldn’t come out, and he didn’t know why.

“Fuckin’ hell…” V cursed under his breath, and this time he couldn’t prevent another onset of coughing from shaking his body. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable, for a moment he thought he would collapse right then and there on the sidewalk. There were certainly more pathetic ways people had died in Night City, but maybe he would make the top ten on the list.

“Breathe, breathe…” he repeated over and over in his head, maybe he even said it out loud. Sometimes he couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore. Living with Johnny in his head for over two months had left its mark in many ways. He’d been without his annoyingly charming remarks and unwanted but entertaining commentary for longer again now than he’d ever been with him. Yet it still felt like he’d left something behind that would remain a part of V for the rest of his life… however much of it was left. One thing was clear though, and Johnny would agree: he hadn’t come this far to go down without putting up one hell of a fight, at the very least.

He caught his breath again, bracing himself against a dirty brick wall, his other hand at his side, holding his ribs. He slowly stood up straight, took another few deep breaths, then continued his walk, a little slower than before but just as determined.

His V-Tech still parked where he had left it two days ago, as instructed. The driver’s side door swung open as V approached, and he got in carefully, putting what he had been carrying on the passenger seat.

“Let’s get this over with…” he said to himself as the engine sprung on and he turned to drive to North Oak.

On the way to the Columbarium V went through his mailbox, listening to all the voice and holo messages in chronological order. Incredible how much could accumulate over the course of less than 48 hours. He made a mental note of who to call back and when, who he needed to pay a visit sooner or later, too. Admittedly, he was surprised at how random some of the messages were, people checking in to make sure he was okay… as if they’d sensed what he had set out to do.

Then he got to Kerry’s missed calls, and his chest grew tight… they hadn’t been that long ago, from this morning, left probably before he headed out to the studio. V’s heart broke at how sad he looked, even if just briefly. He’d always been good at glossing over it. Sad about how little time they spent with each other, just the two of them… somewhere between the lines V could even read blame for being forgetful about things he’d promised to do and didn’t stick to. That one hurt the most.

“Don’t take this the wrong way…” Kerry said, but it was hard not to… even more so because he was right. V had been so swept up in preparations for this gig for the last weeks, and even before… The last time it had been just the two of them doing something together, nothing else coming up all day, had been almost a month ago, V realized.

The Columbarium came into sight, but almost automatically V’s eyes wandered to Kerry’s villa visible on the rolling hills beyond. He most likely wasn’t there, but briefly V was tempted to stand Mr. B up and drive home right away instead. It wouldn’t make any sense, obviously, and achieve nothing. So, he pulled over, eyes on his goal, and got out of the car.

He was early, but Mr. B usually was, too. Yet, when he took a quick look around the tall rows of niches, enjoying the cool shade and quiet, trying his best to be respectful about the people here to mourn their loved ones, he could not see him yet. V stopped at the center of the premises, turning back to the entrance, assuming he’d get a call directing him where to go and what to do, as usual. As long as that hadn’t happened yet though, he decided to pay an old friend a visit.

“Hey, Jackie,” he said quietly as he stopped in front of his niche. He hesitated, feeling silly to be talking to a pile of ashes that could neither hear him nor reply. But maybe that wasn’t the point.

“I know I don’t come by often. I’m tryin’ though. Maybe that counts for somethin’ in the grand scheme of things,” V said, then paused.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

He really didn’t. He took a deep breath, through his teeth, one hand at his side again.

“I still often think about our conversation back then. Before our big heist,” he said, “How you wished to die a legend, and how I kinda hoped it wouldn’t ever come to that, at least not yet… but I guess you got your wish granted, even if too soon. I didn’t know then if that’s what I would have wanted for myself, and honestly… I still don’t know if it’s what I want right now. Not for lack of trying.”

He paused for a moment upon this realization. Sometimes his situation felt so hopeless, so grim, only looking death in the eye still made him feel alive. Talking, walking, corpse he was… At least one thing was certain. After today, there was no way he’d end up being forgotten.

“You’re long gone, and I’m still standing, somehow, despite it all,” V continued, “I hope you’d be proud of how far I’ve come, ‘cause I sure as hell know you would have fought just as hard to make it here, had you been in my place. You’d probably be waiting at The Afterlife right now, disappointed as I walk in ‘cause even this crazy-ass gig didn’t kill me like it should’ve…”

V sighed and lowered his head.

“Maybe… I’m not done yet.”

His holo rang, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“See ya, Jackie,” he said, brushing along the edge of the niche before answering the call.

“Front third, turn left, the middle section,” the voice on the other side ordered before ending the call abruptly. V walked to the instructed area, recognizing it as the row where he once saw one of those glitching graffities. He no longer did. And he no longer believed Mr. B chose this spot at random, either. He awaited V there already, dressed in an all-black suit, fitting for the location. V was still covered in dust from head to toe, wore his combat boots, worn-out cargo pants, and a tactical vest over a tactical shirt. The hierarchy here, and who was the one to do the dirty work, was never clearer than in this moment.

“On time, as always. Perfect,” Mr. B said, intensely glowing blue eyes looking him up and down, “You look not nearly as roughed-up as I’d expected either.”

“Things rarely go 100% according to plan,” V said calmly, and Mr. B smiled coldly, fake almost.

“What matters is, the job is done, without raising alarms, and everything extracted you wanted,” he added.

Exhausted, physically and mentally, V didn’t want to engage in more small talk than was absolutely necessary. Small talk with Mr. B usually felt either like an interrogation, manipulation, or a mix of both.

“We’ll see about that,” Mr. B said, “Send me the data.”

“First,” V said sternly, “you tell me what happens next. ‘Cause you’ve been pretty damn elusive about just how exactly you’re gonna help me if I do this for you.”

Mr. B’s smile turned just slightly colder, sending a shiver down V’s spine.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“Trust gets you stabbed in the back quicker than you can say ‘Ceasar’,” V replied.

Mr. B chuckled.

“Fine,” he said, “Would an address suffice for now?”

“Of what?” V asked.

His question was answered by a notification blip and a map with coordinates showing up on his interface. An inconspicuous looking building appeared, not too far from here actually, in the south of Charter Hill by the looks of it.

“One of our many bases of operation,” Mr. B explained, “A small, brand-new lab we own, completely legal, up to the newest standards, not linked to any major corporations. You will find no better place to treat injuries of the brain, and we specialize in restoring damaged or even destroyed nervous systems.”

“How convenient…” V said slowly, the map minimizing and disappearing out of his vision again.

“We care for the people we invest in,” Mr. B said, “And if the data you have for us turns out to have been a good investment, we even more so have an interest to keep you around as long as possible.”

Or as long as I’m still profitable, V thought, but stayed silent.

“I am a man of my word, V,” Mr. B said after a short pause, “Are you one of yours?”

He wasn’t so sure of that himself anymore. But at least it used to be what V prided himself with, that he finished what he started, and that he kept his promises.

“Of course,” he said, feeling like he stepped right into the trap laid out for him, but tried not to let it show. He opened a secure communications channel to send the Crystal Palace client data to Mr. B.

“Much appreciated,” was the sly answer as the transfer was completed, “We will analyze the data and contact you in a few days about the next steps. Time, we tackle your little problem properly.”

“I’ll wait for your call,” V said briefly and with that Mr. B nodded, turned around, and disappeared around the corner. V lingered a moment longer, not even wanting to think about what they’d do with some of the world’s elite’s data, only glad that Kerry hadn’t been up there just yet. He still didn’t know if he wanted to tell him this part of the story, because he was so excited about the chance to play at the Crystal Palace one day, and V didn’t want to taint the idea to him.

He slowly walked back to the Columbarium’s entrance area, then got into his car. Despite craving nothing more right now than a long shower, V decided not to head back to Little China right away. Even if Kerry had already taken care of it, V was gonna go and get him his nasty olives. He’d shower him in them for the rest of his life if it meant it wasn’t too late yet to fix what he’d broken about their relationship recently. He turned the car around and drove back to Santo Domingo, stopping by Caliente’s to grab two cups of coffee to go. Then he headed to a nearby convenience store, picking up the biggest jar of olives they had on shelf, as well as some popcorn and a bottle of Bolshevik vodka.

Then finally it was time to drive home, the sun already setting. V sipped his coffee, hoping it would help soothe his still burning headache at least somewhat, but nothing seemed to help at this stage apart from trying to sleep it off. It wasn’t quite as bad as it had been with Johnny at times, but it still felt like the attacks were getting more frequent and worse the more time went on. It would have been the smarter choice probably to pull over and call Del for the rest of the trip, but V was all the way through Heywood already. Waiting for the cab to get here would take forever in the rush hour traffic. To distract himself from the pain he decided to try and give Kerry another call.

“Hey, seems like ya missed me. Leave a message, I’ll call ya back later.”

“Hey back at ya. Again,” V said, feeling a little more at ease now than during the last call, “Just wanted to say, I’m almost home now, just driving through Corpo Plaza. I’ve… been thinkin’ about you a lot, about us. I finally had a moment to listen to your messages from earlier today, too...”

He paused briefly, the endless ocean of neon lights breezing by not helping with his headache.

“I love you, Kerry, I hope you know that. ‘Cause I know I’ve been bad at showing it lately. So, I guess… I’ll see you soon!”

He hung up, then tried to call Rogue, but she was also busy, and he only reached her mailbox.

“Hey, I’m back. Guess you’ll have to deal with me a little while longer,” he said, “But I’ll give you a little break at least, take a bit of a breather. Depending on how things with the client progress, I might not be at my best for a while anyway. But we’ll see. Given how well things are running at the moment you probably won’t even notice I’m not there for a week or two. Just so you know… in case I don’t show up as regularly for a while.”

Not that Rogue would worry much if he went MIA for a couple of days, but he’d still rather tell her. Just as he hung up this call, he noticed a missed call from Kerry. Perfect timing.

V stopped his car at the last red stoplight before he would have reached the parking garage, pondering for a moment whether to call him back right away or to do it as soon as he was home. Maybe Kerry was there already anyway.

The decision was abruptly made for him as somewhere around the corner tires screeched, shots were fired, and police sirens began to blare. A blazing red sportscar covered in Tyger Claws imagery shot out of a side street, one ganger hanging out of the passenger side window firing a machine gun at the NCPD squad car giving chase. They were going way too fast to do anything about the sudden obstacle in the shape of V’s car appearing in front of them, still parked at the stoplight.

There were many pathetic ways to die in Night City. Being the victim of a car crash you didn’t even cause was surely among the top three on the list, especially right after pulling off the craziest heist a single merc had ever successfully completed. That was the last thought that went through V’s head as he braced himself for the impact.

(sorry for ending on such a cliffhanger... it's my specialty :D this is not a final version just yet probably, but I really wanted to share the angst... will put it up on ao3 when I'm 100% happy, maybe with some art or VP to go along with it)

>> Next Chapter

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 59: One Last Look Before The End

The repairs had been going well... Really well. Sure having magic on their side was always going to speed it up but, it felt like years of work were being finished in just a week, or even a mere few days. They had gotten a lot done throughout the months they had been on this planet, but for the first time, the station actually looked like it could work again. They even got the artificial gravity working again, so now the entire station was free at any time, no more dealing with the unbalancing or not having access to some rooms.

Though the solar panels still needed work, they along with a lot of the functions to actually get the rocket off the ground. Not to mention figuring out the fuel needed to launch them off. But on a planet filled with magic, it shouldn't be hard to find some substitute. Sven looked the most relieved he had been all year in the meeting going over all this. Sure it was going to take awhile, but they may actually be able to get back home before they spent a year on this planet. Maybe even before Spring came if they push hard enough. And surely the government wouldn't try again once they returned from the impossible.

There were still some issues that needed to be settled that didn't directly involve the station. Randy, oddly enough, being one of the biggest ones. He was part of a legend that belonged to this planet, but he was also a part of the clan. Was it right for him to come with them, or to stay? It was something they tried not to think about at first but it was clear it would be a bigger issue. Reginald had been thinking of a way to return in the future, but there was no promise it would work...

Another issue was Hat Girl, who had stumbled by the meeting room half way through it and started listening in. She found herself... quiet as she rested against the wall by the door, Rumbi beeping a bit by her side. She knew it was going to happen eventually. Leaving this planet again. She knew that since the day she first got here. She knew that for what felt like forever now. That all good things had to come to an end at some point, including her time here on this planet, with everyone...

So why was she suddenly so unwilling to accept it inside? It didn't make any sense. She was almost tearing up at the thought. She had to pick up Rumbi and rest him in her lap so she could take part of her mind off it. They all moved on without her before, and she thought she moved on from them. She should be able to again... Why was it so easy for her younger self to just leave without a trace? She couldn't take them all with her, and she couldn't just stay with them, she was the next in line after all...

"Hattie?" She blinked a few tears out of her eyes. She didn't even realize the door to the room had opened. They must have finished. She glanced at Reginald as she stood up, the man giving her a concerned look as he beckoned her over to the corner of the hall where it was a little more private. She headed over with him, Right staying by the door to the room as the others left, but kept his eyes on the two. "What's wrong? You look like you were crying. Did something happen while we were in the meeting.."

"No.. It's kinda silly." She said, forcing out a sad chuckle as she bent down to place Rumbi back on the floor, the robot having whined a bit while being carried. "I knew we were going to leave soon, but now that we're getting close to..."

"I think we're all going to miss them, Hattie." Reginald said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Hat Girl looked at him. She couldn't tell if he actually meant it, or if he was just saying it so she wouldn't feel alone. Most of the clan tried to stick to just themselves during the whole event, avoid forming connections to people here. And while her father did tag along on certain misadventures involving those here, he did try to stick close to the clan. "They're all wonderful people, and you knew them before."

"I just…don't know if I can say goodbye again. After everything..." She sighed as she glanced to the side. There was a faint spot in the wall where a crack used to be. She used to be able to peek out it during rainy days here. It was almost scary how quick things were changing now, and there was nothing she could really do. Not that trying to sabotage the process would do anything in the long run. "I'm scared I might forget them, forget the places. I forgot my biological family for years, who's to say I won't forget everyone here in four years time?"

"Just because you haven't gone on some grand adventure this time doesn't mean the memories you made are going to fade." Reginald claimed. And maybe he was right. He seemed to be about a lot of things. But who's to say what the future holds? No one, really. Even if she had a timepiece, she couldn't smash it to see her future, it only allowed you to go back. And alter things, like Mustache Girl did so long ago. "I know you're sad, dear, it's ok to be. This place is close to you after all."

"Know for a fact it's goin' to take years to get Snatcher's voice out of my 'ead." Right commented from nearby once everyone inside the meeting room had left, walking a bit closer to the two of them. Hat Girl chuckled and shook her head, Snatcher did have a voice that stuck out in one's memory. Although if you asked her, Macbeth would have the hardest time due to the spell. Right gave a hum. "Reg, don't we 'ave to go to Alpine again tomorrow? For t'e next bit of metal we need?"

"Yes, but we just talked about that during the meeting." Reginald said as he looked over. "I don't see why you're.." He paused as Right gestured his head to where Hat Girl was. Reginald looked at her, and seemed to put the pieces together. She blinked a little, confused before Reginald let his hand drop from her shoulder, gesturing to Right and then himself as he looked at her. "Why don't you come with us tomorrow, and if we have time, you can head around the planet a bit?"

"Really?" She asked, getting a nod from Reginald. Right let out a tiny sigh in the background, but she paid no mind to him. She gained a smile as she glanced down at Rumbi, who was just looking up at her before beginning to wander the hall looking for dirt. She couldn't let him come, to much of a risk it seemed. But he did give her an idea as she turned back to Reginald. "Can we have Platinum come too? He made some friends while here too, I'm sure he'll want to come say goodbye."

"T'e bot is goin' to drag us into a mess, isn't he?" Right asked, earning a shrug from the girl.

"Give our boy a break, he's been good lately." Reginald said before he looked at Hat Girl. "Why don't you get things ready for tomorrow. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day." Hat Girl nodded as she left, thinking about it. It was bittersweet. She still didn't want to say goodbye, especially since they weren't leaving right this second. But at the same time, doing it now would save her the pain of gathering everyone just to say goodbye. Or worse, not getting the chance at all...

Right sighed as he watched, before pausing as he heard a tap from the ground, looking down to see Rumbi bumping into his legs. "S'e went t'at way." Right pointed as he stepped out of the rumba's vision, who darted down the hallway with a jump. He shook his head and turned to Reginald, who was heading to a room nearby. He followed him, turning on the lights as they stepped in. "Are ya goin' to tell 'er about t'is?" He asked as he looked at the two, large circle machines on the ground.

"Not until I get it to work." Reginald said as he grabbed a screwdriver, opening a plate on the device. "And we won't know if it will until we get back."

"Do ya even know 'ow yer goin' to power it?" Right asked as he sat in a chair, resting his hands in his lap. He knew Reginald had been working on something for awhile, he woke up some nights to find the man gone from their bed. Reginald only showed him recently. How he was working on a device with some of Snatcher's magic input. One that, in theory, would be able to teleport whoever stood on it to the other’s direction in one piece. Even if they were galaxies apart. "We 'ave this tech on our planet, but no one could ever master it to this extreme."

"That's why I'm not telling her until I'm sure it can do so, I don't want to get her hopes up." Reginald sighed as he wiped his brow. "And to answer your question, Snatcher says it would take a lot of magic for it to run. More magic than most creatures hold." He signed as he got back to work. "Which means if I want this to work, I need to have it be as energized as possible, so it can run on less. It has to work, for her mental state... She can't be hurt again..."

-------

They ended up leaving earlier than planned that morning to try and get to Alpine as soon as possible. Going to every spot Hat Girl wanted to go see was going to be tight as it was, they were expecting it to be past midnight when they got back, even with using a newly repaired vehicle to do a lot of the heavy lifting. If they were going to have a realistic chance, they needed to be out as soon as possible. Even if it would mean they would end up being tired most of the day. It was something for future them to worry about.

Alpine Skyline had a lot less snow than Hat Girl expected. She thought it would have been covered since it was mountains up in the clouds but no. It had less than the forest. Then again, she supposed it was past a lot of the clouds that would have given off the snow... She would have loved to race around the whole skyline, but she and Platinum were told to just stick to the main one. They were told to go free looking around it, as long as they stayed away from the edges.

She was at least able to get a good look at the peaks using some of the telescopes that were dotted about. She began to wonder what she could have gotten up to if she could visit them again.

She suddenly felt a race behind them. "Oh hello you two!" A voice rang, Hat Girl holding onto her hat as she looked over at the cat, smiling. Adalyn rested on the fence nearby. She only had a winter jacket on over her fur, as well as boots to protect her feet from the cold. She did have fur to protect her from most of the cold, Hat Girl assumed. She tilted her head as she noticed them looking at the peak. "Hey, we could sneak away to get a better look at it, if you want." She said.

"We don't have time today." Platinum said with a sigh. "Sadly." He added, making the Cat tilt her head.

"Our station is getting close to being done.. We could be gone by spring." Hat Girl said, giving a small smile. Adalyn seemed to pause, but gave a small nod once she seemed to have thought it over. She had been to the station a few times, she had seen the prograss. Hat Girl looked over at the peaks again. It would be fun to sneak away, but like Platinum said, they just didn't have time. "We wanted to try and see places again. Before we leave for good... And say goodbye in case we don't get another chance.:

"Dang.." She gave a small smile as she got off the fence. "Well, at least I got the chance to know you while you were here this time around. Even if it wasn't too much."

"Hey, you helped us during the metro situation." Platinum said as Hat Girl glanced to the side slightly. "Don't undersell yourself." Adalyn rolled her eyes at that comment. Then she began to walk, gesturing for the two to follow her. She began to lead them higher up the mountain top they were on so they could get a better view. Platinum was in awe. He hadn't seen sights like this in awhile. "Man... you're trying to make us miss this planet more, aren't you?" He asked as he rose a brow.

Adalyn gave a shrug as Hat Girl giggled. "Well, thanks either way. It is nice to see this." She said as she began to look around all the skyline. She gave a tiny chuckle. She had no idea how her younger self had been able to race around all these peaks without a care in the world. "Almost odd to believe this place used to be covered by sickness." She said as Platinum looked at her confused.

"Man, have I still not learn about all you did here? Or did I just forget?" Platinum asked as he looked at her. Hat Girl shrugged. She didn't remember. No point wasting time trying to remember a specific detail like that. Platinum shrugged a bit, deciding it was something not to worry about. After all, he could always ask her later if he was really curious. He leaned against the wall and glanced over. "This is a nice place to stay..." he suddenly looked like he was holding in a laugh, making Hat Girl tilt her head.

A head that soon lacked the feeling of a hat on it. "Whoops." Adalyn said, before she went invisible. Hat Girl glanced at where her voice was, before she quickly grabbed her umbrella. She looked down to see footprints in the snow.

Hat Girl turned to Platinum as he began to laugh. "Help me find her, or I'm going to add more sensory to your blush function." She said with a small smirk as she pointed her umbrella at him. Platinum's voice box cut out after she said that, returning with a mumble as he walked over and they began to follow the footprints in the snow, Hat Girl keeping ears open for any sounds Adalyn made. "You know you can't do this for long, we do need to get going once Dad and Papa are done."

"Come on out so I can get back to laughing!" Platinum called as he looked around, pausing as he thought he heard something. He turned to Hat Girl and gave a quick 'shush', before walking over to a small bench nearby. The bench had a bell tied to it. It chiming softly as if something just kept barely hitting it. He reached for the air and felt himself get ahold of the hat, before it slipped from his grip. "Come on!" He shouted as he jumped to try and grab the cat, only to fall face first onto the floor, Hat Girl bursting into laughter.

"Oh, it's been a good while since something like that happened." She said as she headed forward, following the new track of footprints in the show until it ended near some buildings. She began to hum as she walked around, her ears wide open. She eventually heard the faintest snicker from behind her, and quickly turned around and grabbed Adalyn's arm with one hand and her stolen hat with another. "Ha!" She said as she placed it back on her hat, giving a small smirk. "You can't keep me from it forever."

Adalyn gave a small chuckle as she shook her head. "It appears I cannot. Oh, but just you wait. One of these days I might be known as the quickest thief in the galaxy." She hummed before giving a shrug. "Or the sneakiest. Whichever suits me better." They earned a small chuckle from the two of them as she rested against a post. She then paused as she turned her head to the side. "I think I hear your parents coming over. Guess it's about time for you to go." She said as she began to leave.

"Adalyn." Hat Girl called. "Be safe, alright?" She said, getting a nod before the cat disappeared from view.

Right turned the corner and looked at them. "Were ya two talkin' to someone?" He asked, Hat Girl turning and giving a nod in response. Right took a quick scan around but didn't see anyone. He glanced at Reginald as he came beside him, then gestured for Hat Girl and Platinum to head back to the lift. "We've already got everyt'in' loaded up. We need to get down and get it in the truck." Right pause as Reginald gave him an odd look. "Look, I don't know every vehicle type by name."

"It doesn't even look remotely like a truck... does it?" Reginald asked as he turned to the kids. Platinum and Hat Girl both shrug. It looked like a mix of a truck and a van. It honestly looked like a frankenstein monster of car parts when you look at it from certain angels. Reginald sighed and just gestured for them to follow them again, locking eyes with Hat Girl. "Have you decided where you want to go next?" He asked.

She nodded. "The harbor. We only got to see the seals and captain once. Plus, they'd like to know how Hydartic is."

Right rolled his eyes at the mention of the electrical being's name. He swore he kept trying to mess with anything he owned specifically. Why couldn't he just be calm like the rest of the Moonjumper pieces?

Regardless, they all headed to the lift and started heading down. Hat Girl watching as Alpine faded more and more from view. She reached for it for a moment, watching until it could be hidden comptelly behind her hand. The human or, alien, eye really was something, wasn't it?

-------

There was a lot more snow at the harbor, Right had to set something on fire for a moment before they got near the ship just so they could all warm themselves up. Luckily he had prepared something in advance, but it was still a bit annoying for him. But, it's for Hattie. She smiled once they were free to head closer to the ship. She could see Seals bringing in boxes and faintly see some cleaning windows inside. They must be getting ready for another cruise trip soon. Good thing they came when they did. Who knows if she would have gotten another chance.

She saw the Captain near the walkway onto the ship, marking something down on the checklist while mumbling under his breath. He kept glancing at a TV set that had been placed nearby, as if expecting it to come to life at any moment. Platinum began to try and sneak up, but Right garbed his shoulder and shook his head. Platinum stuck his tongue out in response but listened. Hat Girl smiled as she walked over to where the captain was, making a quick salute once she got there. It took a minute for him to notice her, raising a brow once he did.

"Pup? What brings you and your family out here? Did Hydartic make you come?" He asked, getting a small head shake from her as she lowered her arm, Platinum going over to the edge to watch the seals. The Captain gave a small nod as he took his cigarette out from his mouth and stuffed it out before letting it rest on a box. Someone else could clean it off later. "Is he alright?" He got another nod of confirmation and he sighed. "Good... It's been too quiet since he left for that trip."

"Oh, trust me, ya aren't missin' anythin'." Right Hand Man said as he rolled his eyes as he looked up, as if trying to find something to amuse himself.

"It must be the best time of the year for all you guys, huh?" Platinum asked as he looked back with a smile. The Captain just gave a tired sign as he looked over at Hat Girl, who was looking up at the ship, then at the water past it. She hummed in what felt like a nostalgistic tone, making the Captain raise a brow as he turned back to the others, Platinum getting up. "Our station is close to finishing. We'll be gone by spring, probably. We just wanted to come by and look around while we had time."

"...You know. It did just hit me how weird it is this whole planet has one season at a time." Reginald commented aloud, earning some quick chuckles from Platinum and Hat Girl. The Captain just blinked as he tried to keep an eye on the seals as they gathered more boxes they needed to carry in. Reginald looked over at Hat Girl who just have a simple shrug as he shook his head. "On our planet, usually two seasons exist at the same time, just in different places. Winter at one place and summer in another... That must sound confusing to you."

"I can see why." Hat Girl stated as she chuckled a little, sighing as she thought back to the day she raced around the ship. Looking back, she wondered if Hydartic was there during the original cruise. She could always swear she saw something on the glitching TVs... her train of thought was cut off by a sudden crash, turning over to see the Seals by a box with a lot of gears and parts spread over the ground by them, one rubbing their head. "Oh no, are you all ok?" She asked as she came over.

"It's not that hard to imagine." The Captain said before he turned his attention back to Hat Girl. "Well, just promise us all you'll be careful when you leave. Don't want to get stuck on another planet." Hat Girl gave a nod to his claim as he turned his attention back to the TV, giving a hum for a moment as he glanced up at some clouds nearby, then back to

her. "Also, make sure Hydartic gets back before you do leave. I don't want to risk losing him for good. The seals like him too much."

"Miss!" One gasped as she looked over at her, before turning her attention back to the parts, trying to pick one near her up. "Oh, we swipped on a cuwp someone had waid ouwt. Suwch a mess..."

"Here, let me help." Like old times, she added quietly. It was an odd thought, she only did it twice. She began to pick up the gears for the seals, especially the heavier ones. Sometimes she forgot her own strength as she carried a good pile back to the box, some other seals gathering small pieces and placing them in. She caught Platinum trying to make a pile of his own in the corner of her eye, turning to him. "Are you trying to set up some sort of competition again, brother? You know you'll lose."

"Well it's not fair you're the one who always... I forget where I was going with that sentence." Platinum blanked and Hat Girl giggled. Still, he tried to quickly grab pieces before she could to build the pile in his hands before he would drop it in the box. Hat Girl let him, just making sure to grab any that slip from his grip wherever they happened to pass by each other. "Wait, hey-!" Platinum called once he caught her, giving a glare. "That was in my pile, give it back to me."

"Isn't it stiww going in the box eithew way?" One of the seals asked, and Platinum sighed and gave a nod. He had his recording feature going silently as he placed some pieces back in the box. "Thank u, miss and siw!"

Platinum placed a hand to his chest. "It's too cute, I'm not going to be able to take it. Still can't believe they speak OwO seriously." Platinum claimed as Hat Girl held in a giggle. The seals glanced at each other slightly confused as she went ahead and got the last little bits in a box, helping some Seals get it to the pathway before she trusted them to take it the rest of the way. "Why is it this stuff that messes with my heart? I'm programmed to deal with cuteness, I'm going to experience an overload."

"I programmed you to handle it, I didn't program you to be immune to it." Reginald chuckled as the two started to head back over. Hat Girl took a chance to look up as some of the clouds parted in the sky, allowing her to see the sun. It was already high, near the top of the sky. She paused, a bit of worry filling her. Did they already spend that much time out? Reginald seemed to notice her worried look. "We should probably get going if you wish to see more. Although, everything else is close to the station."

"Not close enoug' some days." Right sighed as he rubbed his eyes. "Swear t'at desert takes a year to even fly across."

"It's attached to the same piece of land Subcon and the clearing is in. So it would probably be best if we saved it for last." Hat Girl said as she thought about her choices. They already agreed that since Subcon was right by where the toppats were, there wasn't a need to go to it today since they would have many chances in the following days alone. She gave a nod as she came to her destination. "Let's head to Mafia Town then. I don't think we've seen Mu since Winter has started."

"I hope she's alright." Reginald stated as the red hooded girl came to mind. He didn't like to speak, or even think much about her. But he felt so bad. The girl barely got to live her childhood, a protector of a town who didn't want one. He honestly thought it would be better if she just left, but he knew she had nowhere to go too... On this planet at least... He shook his head and looked at Hat Girl. "Well, let's get going then, the sooner we get there the better."

She nodded, and gave a quick wave to the Captain and the seals. "Be careful out there, Pup."

"Have a nice twip home, miss!" One of the seals called as they began to walk away. Platinum stopped recording and let out a small 'aww', earning a quiet chuckle.

Hat Girl glanced at the snow on the ground nearby, and then she paused mentally. She hadn't really thought about Mu much. She just was focused on her own things. It was funny, outside of Snatcher she was probably the person she saw the most on this planet, but now they hadn't even talked in awhile... Did her cave provide her enough shelter to deal with the cold of winter?

-------

Something felt off, almost wrong as they roamed the streets of Mafia Town. Right was on high alert, keeping an eye locked onto every Mafia Goon they passed. There was nothing wrong. They didn't even see the Mafia doing anything wrong. Nothing even crime worthy. It seemed peaceful. The place even looked pretty with the faint hits of snow dotted about. So why were all four of them filled with the feeling something was off? They tried to joke and laugh it off, but nothing seemed to work...

They got around the beach line, the snow fading with only a few hints dotted about. It was then they heard what sounded like conflict. Hat Girl could tell just by listing where it was coming from. She dashed in the direction, and she didn't have to dash long before she saw Mu tossed to the ground, coughing as she tried to stand up, a group of Mafia Goons and their boss nearby, the Boss letting out a laugh of joy. It was the first time he ever sounded evil, truly evil. Mu seemed to be in pain.

Hat Girl raced over to help Mu onto her feet. She paused when she saw Mu's black eye, and the blood that poured faintly from her mouth. Her hands were as cold as ice. Hat Girl glared at the boss.

"Girl with the hat?!" Mafia Boss growled as soon as he noticed her. She pulled Mu closer to her as he floated over. "Why are you here? This is no time for you!" She ignored his stare, instead looking at the Mafia Goons that were by Mu's cave. All seemed to have a hint of guilt in their eyes. She couldn't tell if it was genuine, or if it was just because she caught them in the act. "I am doing what I should have long ago, getting rid of Red Hooded Girl. And you believe it is your-"

"Excuse me?!" Reginald came between the two suddenly, Right getting behind him. Mu coughed a bit as she looked at them all, then brought the timepiece she held closer to her. She looked half tempted to smash it, but at the same time, she seemed to know it would do no good. "This girl has next to nothing already." Reginald stated as he gestured to her, keeping his eyes locked onto the jar. "And you want to throw her out of the only shelter she had, during Winter of all times?!"

"You can go." Mu managed to mumble out as she glanced over at him. "I can handle this myself, I always do. He'll forget in the morning anyway.."

"HUSH!" Mafia Boss shouted as her. She barely flinched. He turned his attention back to Reginald. "Red Hooded Girl has been nothing but a pest to this town. Even those from before Mafia came hate her. Girl needs to get lost!" Hat Girl pause as she remember those words. Once upon a time it was just to get her out of the position of power she had gotten herself into... She held Mu's hand. "Two hatted man claims to be a man of crime as well. Surely he must understands why this must be done."

"Just because I'm a criminal doesn't mean I'm a monster!" Reginald said. He step forward and Right garbed his arm, kept him in a safe distance. "Sure, I may have thought similarly once. All about myself and the grand picture of the clan. But that ended up hurting myself and my family. I learnt to get off my ego, my high horse, and I'd suggest you do the same." He glared as he began to back away, keeping his eyes locked with the jar. "And at least I've never taken a home away."

"Don't follow us." Right warned as he got in front of Reginald, Reginald gesturing to the teens to follow him. Hat Girl and Platinum did with no issue. Mu tried to pull herself from Hat Girl's grasp at first, mumbling about showing them. But she didn't. They ended up heading back to the vehicle, now in some type of water mode. Reginald really needed to find who made this.. he shook his head clear as he grabbed a first aid kit and looked at Mu. "Can you stay at Cooking Cat's for the time?" he asked.

"Cooking Cat isn't here right now. On a trip somewhere for…something. I don't remember." Mu sighed as she looked at Hat Girl. "Sorry you can't see her." Hat Girl glanced to the side. She did want to stop by and speak to her but, that wasn't the focus now. Mu took an icepack to her eyes as Reginald began to bandage some wounds he had spotted around her body. "They just got the jump on me, that's all. Would have noticed quicker but I was focused on my fire. It wasn't burning."

"Mu, you should stay, let us help." Hat Girl said as she looked back in the direction she came. "I can put up a good fight."

"No. You've done more than enough as it is. I-I'm the hero of Mafia town. It's my job to deal with these things.." She tried putting on a smirk, but it just fell flat. Platinum was pacing back and forth on the doc, trying to calculate why she would keep all this up in his head. Hat Girl just gave a sadden look at her as she looked at her timepiece, placing it to her side. "It's all I've ever been. The lone hero. The one who fights for the justice of this place. To return it to its former glory."

"Mu, listen." Right said as he looked at her. She gave him a slight glare, she didn't want to take orders. But she didn't feel like she had a choice. "If t'e people before t'e Mafia really wanted c'ange, t'e least t'ey would 'ave done is taken care of you. Not leave ya alone in a cave for over a decade."

"You don't understand." Mu started, before sighing. Maybe to some extent, he was right. She didn't want to admit it. But maybe he had a point. It's just, there were so many Mafia's... And only she had been fighting them... What if something bad happened and she didn't have a chance to save them... Maybe she needed a small break. Just a small one. One night at most. "Can I... stay with you all, just for tonight? So I can rest?" She asked. Even if she hated how those words came from her mouth.

"Of course." Reginald spoke without question.

"We probably should be heading back now. We can probably make time to visit the birds later." Platinum said. Mu glanced over as she tilted her head, Reginald leading her to a more comfortable spot to rest. Platinum hopped back into the ship, looking at Hat Girl who nodded at his statement. He sighed as he rested in the corner, then looked up as he noticed Mu's confused look. "Oh, the station is going to be repaired by Spring, so we were making sure we got to see everything again, at least one more time."

"Oh, well, don't let me stop you. I'm just the guest." Mu said as she looked over at Hat Girl. "It could be the last chance you all ever get. I don't want to ruin that."

"Are you sure?" Hat Girl asked as she looked at Mu, who nodded. Hat Girl gave an unsure look to her fathers, who glanced at each other before looking back to her. It was clear they all didn't think it was the best idea, but at the same time, they didn't want Mu to feel bad over a change of plan that wouldn't hurt anyone. Besides, with the vehicle, it wouldn't take that much extra time. "Well, I suppose we could at least stop by for a quick chat. If they are there to chat with."

"I'll go ahead and make sure the engines working." Platinum said as he went to the back of the ship-car thing. "Seriously, who made this thing? It's like they were trying to recreate a superhero vehicle." Hat Girl let out a tiny chuckle at that, Mu giving a small smile as she rolled her eyes. Platinum smiled at that. It made him feel better. "Maybe we can track them down together, if you're interested."

Mu gave a small shrug as Hat Girl looked back over at Mafia town as they started to leave. It was still pretty... despite the pain it clearly caused. She just wished the Mafia could treat her friend well. She knew Mu rewrote history once, but it never would have happened if they hadn't hurt her in the first place.

-------

It was warm when they got to the desert, as expected. Still colder compared to the rest of the year, but noticeably warm compared to everywhere else they had visited today. Mu was quiet for the most part on the way over, and even as they got out of the vehicle. She offered to stay by and watch it for them, make sure no one would steal it. But they told her to come with. They didn't want to take her out of their sights until they got to the station. Just in case her wounds got worse before they noticed.

They walked into the building, and saw Grooves and Conductor talking to each other. It didn't sound like a fight. They didn't even sound that annoyed. Grooves had Dinenna with him, who was the first to notice the group, looking over and reaching in Hat Girl's direction. She gave a smile and a wave as she looked at her. She was a sweetheart.

It didn't take long for Grooves to turn his attention over to her once he noticed his daughter wasn't just looking at air. "Oh, darling! What a surprise, did you invite her here,Conductor?" He asked the bird, getting a head shake. He gave a small shrug as he looked back at the family, raising a small brow to Mu's presence before he put his full attention back on Hat Girl. "Me and Conductor were just talking about plans for a collaboration movie between us. We were actually thinking of seeing if you wanted to cameo."

"Well, as nice as that would be, the reason I came by was because I wanted to be sure I saw the studio one last time." Hat Girl said. Both birds shot her worried looks before the toppat's situation came back to them. It would only be a few months until the anniversary of the day they met her again in Subcon. It was going to be odd not having her around again. "I'm sure we might be able to make it work but I wouldn't get your hopes up..."

"Oh, no need to worry then Lassie. Even I wouldn't want to stress ye out before yer big move back!" Conductor smiled as he glanced up at her, her giving a small nod as she could hear one of her fathers breath a sigh of relief in the back. He then hummed and snapped his fingers, before heading to one of the doors and gesturing to them to follow him as he began to head to one of the rooms. "Why don't we let you have some disk copies of the movies ye made while you were here. We got more then we know what to do with!"

"Isn't that a good thing?" Platinum asked as he followed them all, briefly glancing at Mu who was following behind them slowly. It was like she didn't want to risk bothering them. It made him feel guilty. Why did she go through so much, it seemed? He tried to clear his mind from it, but did slow their speeds so at the very least they would be walking close together. "You can make a lot from selling them? And having extra just means if someone breaks theirs they can go buy a new one?" He asked as Conductor opened a door, Grooves reaching and and turning on the light.

"Well, here we are!" Grooves said as he walked in. Hat Girl looked around, seeing a lot of machines she didn't know the purposes of, as well as film reels laying about. Also, many cases that seemed to be filled with disks. Grooves placed Dinenna on a chair and she looked over at Hat Girl, reaching over for her a bit. She smiled and patted her on the head as Grooves began to get some out. "I'll probably throw some copies of my best box office hits in as well, I'm assuming it will be a long trip back."

"No, your too kind but there's no need. We'll have ways to entertain ourselves as it is." Reginald said with a smile, hearing a faint grone from Platinum as he turned to look back at him a bit. Platinum turned his attention back to talking to Mu, and it made him pause as he saw the girl, thinking about her state again. He walked a little closer to one of the corners of the room so his voice didn't travel as far. "Don't mind her. Mafia Boss wanted to kick her from her cave, so she's staying with us a little."

"He tried to what-" Conductor started, only to quickly be shushed by Grooves who dragged him over to the corner. Hat Girl stayed by Dinenna. "Isn't that the one thing the lass has?"

Reginald nodded and Grooves sighed, looking over at where the girl and robot were talking. "That's not right.." He still remembered the fight all those years ago, back when Mu had rewritten history to put herself in change. Or at least, everything he could remember before it went black. Mu might have caused a lot of pain if she hadn't been stopped, but he didn't wish her to live on the streets. "She deserves a good home. It's almost dreadful how she looks some days."

"Was that comment necessary?" Conductor asked, Grooves just looking at him. It wasn't like he was wrong. He swore there wasn't a day anymore where she didn't have bags under her eyes or sand in her hair. Her cloaked looked somewhat soaked in what Grooves could only assume as ocean water or snow. Conductor shook his head as he looked down at the ground, tapping the floor. "The lass has grown since then. We may still not like her fer what she did but, she doesn't deserve to have nothing."

"I know." Hat Girl said from nearby, letting Dinenna hold her hat as she looked over. "She's grown... maybe too much."

"What character are you guys talking about?" Platinum called in. "I can't hear too much but I can hear a bit." Quiet down before Mu hears, if she didn't already. Hat Girl went ahead and picked up Dinenna and walked back over to the others, handing her over to Grooves. The little penguin just gave a giggle as she tried to put Hat Girl's hat back onto her head as Hat Girl bent down. "Anyway, Mu, you should have seen it when it happened. It made me and Hattie so annoyed.." They heard footsteps go slightly down the hall and his voice faded slightly.

"We probably should let you go. We don't want to keep you here until Midnight." Grooves said as he quickly gestured for Conductor to start grabbing things. The bird let out a small huff but got to work, quickly putting dvd cases inside of an envelope style bag and handing it over. Hat Girl smile as she took it. They probably should be going home... She glanced around a bit. "Oh, don't worry about us, Darling." Grooves said as she turned back to him. "We're all going to be just fine. We've always been."

"I know you all will be... It's just…going to be sad not getting to see you again.." She admitted with a sigh, not noticing the faint look Right gave Reginald. She looked at Dinenna and gave her a quick little 'boop' on her beak as she smiled at her. "Take care." She said. She knew she should have been saying goodbye all day. It was just hard to get those words out. "Make movies so grand they will have to be shown across the universe" she told the birds as she stood up.

-------

She offered them a smile before she gathered the others and headed out.. She needed to let everyone rest then they get home

so they could rest...

H̶̨͍̝̙͕̜͇̃͊̏́e̷̢̲̰̫̝̓̋ ̵͉͇͖͍̺̉̓̋̃̈́̌́͊͋͝͠c̴̳̱̲̼͉̣̯̝͈̲̋̽̐̌̏͂̌̕̚͘͜ͅo̵͚̠̝̦̬̮̱͎̤̹̓̑͐͂͛̅̋̓͒́̾̌̓͠ͅͅu̶̡̨̢̡̖͕̞̳̜̣͔̻̲̲͋͊͊͂͊̂̆́͑̋̏͘͘̕͝ͅl̵̛̛̬͍̒̈́̿̀̽͒̃̓̋̈́̓̌͐ḍ̵̢̨̨̮͖̙͕̱͕̤͓̙̓̅̿͌͌͑̊̈́̿͐͛̊̃̕̕ ̴̟̈́̄́̈́͛f̸̪̹̑̑̋̎̇̎͝ḙ̴͕̟̘̬̝̊͜͜ę̵̪̦̯̝͕͍͍͇̺̤͎̰̀͛̿̏̓̓̌̃̽̕l̷̢̧̼̖͈͖̘͚̤̺̳͚̠͂͋̏̅̃̕͝͠͠ ̸̧̢̨̘̬͔̞͎͇͕̎̌̈́͊͌̌͆̆̽̎̄͘̚̕t̸̡̘͈͓͎͓̑̋͒̂͜ͅh̸̞̦̹͙̱̫͇̮̲̬̞̖͊͑̑̀̏̂̉͋̂̽̌͌̊̌͠ȇ̵͉̊͗̽̉̚͜ ̴̨̨̡̨͓͚̘̹͓̰̦̯͙̮̲͊̌̏̈́̍͂͒̐͝l̴͈͊̃͑̏̋́̅̈̄͛̈́̕ͅa̸̡̳̗̘̾̆͗̕̚͠s̸̨͙̬̥̠̲͂̇̃͗͛̉͝͠ț̵̢̯͓̱̤̰̼̞̼͍̞̾̐̾̎̄͝͝ ̷̨̧̥͍͉̝̝͎͈̈́̈́͐͊̔̋f̶̛͎̖͇͍̹̟͎͔̩̼̱̬̹e̷̡̮͉͛̂́̓̚w̵̘͔͎̰̖̬̺̉̾͋̒̈́͠͝ͅ ̷͍̜̼̪̩͇̘̜͉̪̽̅f̴̨̦̺̝͍̥̥̳̩͓̱͓͓̻̔̿̿̎͒͌̒͋͠͠a̸͙̗̜̹̟̔̕ͅd̶̨͉͈͔͉̤͉͍̘̞̣̜̍̄̈́̈́̽̈́̚ĩ̶̧̡̨̛̳̜͔̤͙͍͑̈́͗̑̓̀̅̀ṋ̷̢͚̞̗̌̎͌͗̄͗͒͆̈́̓̂͛͝ģ̵̼͇̰̿̉̂̌̆̔͘͘.̶̧̂̌͐̀͠ͅ ̴͓̗̹̞̟̺̩̣͔̏̑͛̀̆̎̊̍̊̓̍͆͝Ģ̶̟͔̱̝̺̰̞͑͗͒̆̎̀͑͒̓̓̔̕̚͠ę̷͖̫͈͔͕̪̪̉́̀̋̉͝t̷̛̞͇̰̱̞̺̹̜̲͓͉̪̺̬̄̀̊̑̈͛̈́̈́͂̈͘ẗ̵̙̋̋̀͋̍̒́i̴̧̻̱̪͙̮̻̊͛n̸̝̟͙̺͉̹̟͉̭̼̼̭͑̋͒̔̇͆͌̏̑̈́͋̔̚̕g̴̢͎͈̞̖͔̫̏͐͋̀͜ ̴̛̖͎̦̯͔͈͈͛̎͗͂̔͘͜ͅr̷͓̔̊͊͊́̔̈́̆̑̂̈́̀͘͘͠ȩ̶̣͎̺̱̼̀́́͒̃͌͂͘͜a̸̱͙̎̀͠d̵̤̮̬̯͗̊͋̈́̈̌̅̾̚͝͝y̴͓̜̭̹̙̞̾͐͛͛̕͝.̶̡̼̮͔̜͔̘̰̤̗̍͗̾͋̃̾͐̈́̎͑

̴̶̡̛͚̬̫̳̫̞͕̳̋̃̀̾̈́͂̂̌͐̽̊͒̄̓͐̋̐̅̕͠͝

̷̛̙̝̫̼͓̀̈̓͗͋́̾I̸̡͈͎̱̽̊͂͑̍̉͛̈Ṭ̸̰̣̟͎̗̺̜̝̯̬̩̳̱͒̄̈̑̑͒̈́̎̎͜͝ ̶̨͖̪̖͍̝̲̯̥̭̒A̶̮͆̓̕G̶̨̛̹͎̎́̌̋͝ͅͅͅȎ̵͔̤̪̬̥̳͐̌̄́̌̅͒͌̍͐̅̈́̕͘N̷̡̢̝̫̜̪͙͔̝̪̫̦͇̋̍͋̎̾̐̆́̌̈́̎ͅȨ̸̨̯͍̞̕͠Y̷̧̰̠̫̻̱̣̟̳̤͎̤̯͋̅͗̌̎̉̍̓̍̀̕̕̚͠.̷̛̩̘̓̆̓̋͂͗̋̅̿̓̅̀͠

[lobster-tales]

Lux's Adventures in Underland

Chapter 1 This work is available here on AO3

Chapter 2: Advice from a Caterpillar

Down and down she tumbled, too shocked even to cry out. The darkness gave way to warm light, and objects flew by as she went: clocks and teapots and playing cards and candles. Lux saw a maroon chaise and reached for it, catching herself on the arm. She found that the chaise itself was not affected by the same gravity, even when she pulled herself into it, and floated through the air like an autumn leaf. Lux took a moment, lying back, getting her bearings as she sank down at a speed that was much slower and easier to comprehend.

The chaise seemed to sense once she'd caught her breath, because as soon as she did, the lounger upended her and she was falling again. Lux grabbed onto more objects to slow her descent: a side-table, a grandfather clock, a desk. But she found the further she went, the slower her fall. In fact, when she reached the bottom, she easily righted her feet and landed gently on the checkerboard tiled floor.

No longer panicking, Lux assessed her surroundings. A hallway full of doors. Some large, some small, and in the center was a glass table with a key and a vial of liquid.

A thrill rose inside of her. It was like coming home to a place she had never been before.

She knew all the doors would be locked, but she tried anyway. She knew the key would only match one door, the smallest door, only ten inches high. She knew that the vial would have a tag that read "Drink Me", that it would make her smaller. However, instead of accidentally leaving the key on the table while she shrank, she made sure to set the key on the ground first, where she could then grab it to turn the lock.

The door opened into a garden. Being only six inches tall, Lux was dwarfed by the plants, of which there was a great variety. Flowers stretched skyward in all shapes and colors, bright and bold. Branches and ferns bent over the cobbled path. The strange thing about it all was that as soon as Lux looked at something directly, the object would shimmer and shift into something just slightly different. A fern would become a cluster of tall grass, or a cobblestone would morph into a mosaic tile.

Despite the bizarreness of the situation, Lux felt... calm. "Right," she said to herself, softly at first in case anyone was listening. "So this is Wonderland. Except instead of a rabbit hole, it was an owl burrow. Curious that, but perhaps certain things got lost in translation."

There was too much foliage to be able to get her bearings, so she made for a shrub and climbed inside, hoping to get a better view from the top. "The story was true, then," she mused as she went. "Perhaps there really was an Alice who fell down the rabbit hole or owl burrow or what have you, and she was simply not believed when she returned home. Or Mr. Lewis Carroll himself had these adventures as a child and decided to profit off of it. Or perhaps I'm no longer Luxanna Crownguard and I myself have become Alice, like some sort of Sisyphean task that gets passed on to young blonde ladies who run from adulthood and marriage."

Through the leaves, she spotted a bread-and-butterfly as it fluttered past.

"Or maybe I'm mad and this is all in my head," she admitted. "And my real self fainted somewhere and in a few moments I'll wake up to Ezreal fanning me and Mum screaming." She allowed herself a chuckle at that. Lux reached for another branch, squeezing through an opening and poking her head above the leaves.

The tall shrubs and grass of the garden lined the path, which she now saw led into a densely wooded forest. Beyond that was a valley: between the shifting trees and fields, she spotted a large farm, a checkerboard plain, and some sort of tower. The only other discernible landmark was the massive castle in the distance, spires piercing the vivid blue sky, the arches of the building forming an asymmetrical, but distinct, heart shape.

"The Queen of Heart's castle," she said. Lux rested her arms on one of the shrub's branches, taking a moment to catch her breath, exerted from the climb. As she did so, she reviewed the information at her disposal. "I suppose it's no surprise that someone like me would wander into Wonderland. If anything, I'm more surprised it hasn't happened sooner. But Caitlyn never seemed like the type to chase owls into fairy worlds. She was always so grounded and rational. A sharpshooter, a detective," she recalled fondly.

She heard a soft nicker, and saw that the sound had come from a nearby rocking horsefly. "I mean it," said Lux as if the strange bug had inquired further. "She's a deadeye with a rifle, and when we were children, she solved the case of the missing meat pies. She noticed the crumbs near the stables, where my brother Garen would often spend time with the horses. We laid a trap for him and caught him red-handed." She chuckled. "He was forbidden desserts for a month."

The rocking horsefly snorted, wings buzzing like a bee's.

"Now it's my turn to be a detective, I fear," sighed Lux. "So let's think. Why would Caitlyn come to Wonderland?" She gazed off towards the forest. "Ekko. He said she sent for me, so perhaps someone else sent Ekko for her. Lady Kiramman mentioned Jayce and the prizefighter 'friend'." She raised her fingers to quote the word. "They all disappeared. And have not returned, so it's likely they're trapped here."

The weight of the situation settled in the air, and Lux began to understand what a true burden it was. Here she had been, ready to enjoy her romp in a fantasy land, when she ought to be preparing for a rescue mission. She regretted her haste now. Ezreal would have been the ideal candidate for such an adventure, or even Garen. Perhaps even, if she had explained, either one might have let her join...

But she knew that wasn't true. They both would have left her behind, left her with her mother and Lady Kiramman. All she would be permitted to do was wait.

The rocking horsefly had rocked closer, curious at her sudden silence. Lux reached out and gently pressed her fingers to the creature's snout, allowing it to sniff her. With a delighted squeal, the rocking horsefly took off, bucking through the air.

Lux surveyed the land once more, squaring her shoulders. If anyone could traverse Wonderland, it would be her. Perhaps that's why the others failed. Perhaps that's why she would succeed.

She descended back down through the branches, confidence growing with every step. When she was right above the ground, the twig under her foot snapped, and she fell with a short shriek.

There was no pain when she hit the ground, nor anyone nearby to see the blunder, but she still felt embarrassed. Lux dusted off her skirts as she rose to her feet, doubt settling in like ice between cracks in the rock.

Caitlyn was a sharpshooter and detective, her 'friend' a prizefighter, and even Jayce himself was a scientist and, according to Caitlyn's stories, the youngest in a long line of blacksmiths. If none of them could make it out of Wonderland, then what chance did a dreamer have?

"Steady on, Lux," she muttered to herself. "Just take it one step at a time."

She caught a whiff of tobacco. Of course, the blue caterpillar. Perhaps he might give her some direction. Lux collected her memories, piecing together the caterpillar's chapter from the book. While she might not entertain any nonsensical poetry reciting, she certainly could do with a bite or two of mushroom: "'One side will make you grow taller'," she quoted aloud. "'The other side will make you grow shorter.'" After all, she was hardly making much progress at this height.

As she walked, the flowers above her bent down, peering at her with their petaled faces. "You there!" a red rose called. "What kind of flower are you?"

Lux paused, debating on whether to ignore them as she really ought not to delay, but ultimately she chose to curtsy. "I'm not a flower, madam. I'm a person."

"A Persian?" a daisy chimed in. "Like a Persian buttercup? I think not, you've not nearly enough petals."

A poppy scoffed, "Not a Persian, a penstemon."

"Ah," said the rose sympathetically. "A beardtongue, of course. You can tell by the way her petals face down."

Lux smoothed out her dress subconsciously. "Um, sure. By the way, have any of you seen a few friends of mine?"

"No beardtongues in our garden," tutted the daisy. "You might try the Duchess's, though."

"No," Lux said, knowing this was futile but asking anyway. "I'm looking for people. Human people like... like the Duchess or the Queen of Hearts." It was a gamble: there was no telling if in this version of Wonderland, either figure would resemble a human.

But the flowers pondered for a long moment, and the rose eventually said, "The Cat can take you to humans. He'll find you in the woods."

"... Don't you mean I'll find him?"

The flowers scoffed and laughed at her. "No one can find the Cat," the poppy said sourly. "He finds you."

"Right." Lux curtsied again. "Thank you all. I'm off to the caterpillar."

The flowers muttered to each other and pulled away, deciding she was no longer worth the attention.

As Lux expected, the caterpillar was perched on a flat mushroom, hookah in mouth. He was fuzzy, which surprised her, as the caterpillar from the book seemed rather hairless. He wore a monocle over one of his bright, curious eyes, and his antennae were wide at the base like ears, pinching into long thin ends.

He seemed delighted to see her, which was quite the relief after the judgmental flowers. "Ah, my dear!" he said, one pair of his many legs linking behind his back. "And who are you?" She knew he would ask.

Lux curtsied. Something about his demeanor made her want to trust him, and she finally released the concern she had been keeping inside. "Well, I knew who I was this morning, though I'm beginning to doubt it now."

"And who were you this morning?"

"Luxanna Crownguard."

"I see," he mused, taking a deep puff. When he released the breath, the purple smoke rose in delicate rings. "And who are you now?"

"I appear to be Alice."

He grinned, the tips of his full mustache quirking as he did so. "Of course you are. They all are, aren't they?"

"All?" she asked, perking up. "So there have been other Alices?"

"Oh yes, my dear. Too many, I'm afraid."

"Were any of them named Caitlyn? Or Jayce?"

"I don't quite recall, I'm afraid." He peered at her through the monocle. "What I can tell you is that you've been the quickest and calmest Alice so far. The others were in quite a state of distress by the time they arrived at the mushroom bed."

She saw then that they were, in fact, surrounded by mushrooms, their tops red with white spots one moment, then beige or gray the next. She saw that the caterpillar's mushroom changed too, from purple to blue to green. "Speaking of which," she asked, "that mushroom you're sitting on, do you happen to know which side will make you grow taller, and which will make you grow smaller?"

One of his little legs waved towards the other mushrooms. "Any of them will do so, my dear. But it will take some trial and error, I'm afraid. Consistency is rather lacking in this world."

"Right." Determined, Lux approached a mushroom, taking a bit from either side.

Before she could lift it to her lips, the caterpillar said, "I must say, I'm impressed with your studiousness."

She frowned at him. "You mean my years of reading a children's story? Hardly laudable research."

"My dear," he said. "Dedication is simply another form of love." He took another deep puff of the hookah, and when the smoke rose, this time it formed a teal heart. "And love is never wasted."

Lux found herself returning his smile, comforted. Returning her focus to the mushroom, she took a small bite.

She shot upwards, nearly losing her balance at the change of altitude. Lux smoothed out her skirt, trying to decide if she was the right height. But she saw a tree nearby that looked more like a tall shrub, and took a nibble of the other side of the mushroom.

As the caterpillar had said, there was a bit of trial and error, but she eventually reached her preferred state.

Satisfied, she popped one of the mushrooms in her pocket, and curtsied down. "Thank you, Mr. Caterpillar."

A small purple cloud rose, reading out the word, "WAIT". Lux hesitated, feeling as though she had already postponed long enough, but knelt down before him. He waved her closer, and she rested her ear beside his little mushroom.

His voice was barely above a whisper:

Secrets trapped in an enchanted cage

Locked in a cellar where wine cannot age

When she was sure he was finished, Lux thanked him again and rose to her feet, contemplating what his cryptic message might mean.

❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢ ❤︎ ♢

At her normal height, the pathway through the garden was much less intimidating, the forest much closer than it looked before. As she approached, she saw the white owl perched in one of the branches: it lifted it's wings and glided into the trees. Reassured, she pressed on.

Like everything else, the woods kept shifting and changing. One moment they were bare trees in the middle of winter, the next they were thick evergreens. Beneath her feet were leaves, or sometimes ferns, but when she looked again, it was mushrooms or twigs.

She pondered where to search for the Cheshire Cat. In the book, he had been at the Duchess's house, though Lux rather preferred not to go there. It had been one of her least favorite chapters, especially with the baby that turned into a pig.

But the flowers had said the Cat would find her. So there was a possibility that even if she did go to the Duchess's chaotic home, he would not even be there.

She decided that the only thing she could do was follow the signs: painted arrows scrawled on splitting boards, nailed to branches and tree trunks. Lux felt quite confident at first, feeling that she was headed in the right direction. But after one crossroads, she turned back from a dead end, only to see that the arrow on the sign had melted and changed direction.

Her nerves rising, she went back even further and found that some signs had flipped around, or disappeared, and one even sprouted legs and ran into the underbrush. She attempted to climb a tree to get her bearings, but it was no use: she was lost. Most assuredly lost.

At one point, Lux tripped on a protruding root that disappeared right after she made contact with it.

"This is bollocks," she muttered, wiping the dirt off her skirt.

An accented voice startled her. "Well, you certainly lasted longer than the rest of them."

She scanned the trees, pausing as a face slowly started to appear. A smiling face. "Finally," she said, relieved.

Unlike the Cat from the book, his grin was toothless, his little mouth lifting his whiskers just slightly. He was rather fluffy for a cat, a soft brown color.

"Aww!" Lux said without meaning to. She regretted it immediately, worried that she had offended him. "I mean... that is-"

"It's alright." He stretched out on the limb, rolling onto his back. "You can rub my belly if you'd like."

Lux, delighted, pressed her hand into the heavy fur on his stomach. She scratched beneath his chin and he purred. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. the Cat, why do you sound Russian?"

"Because I'm a Siberian." He winked one amber eye. "Cheshire was all out of cats."

Something about his tone gave her the sense that he was lying. She studied his face, which like everything else shifted just slightly. The longer she stared, the more distinct his features seemed to be, and in one clear moment, she was certain that his face was almost that of a man. A thin man, with sharp cheekbones and heavy bags under his eyes, his brown hair sticking out on either side of his head. She blinked, and he was a cat again. Lux was puzzled, but decided that the task at hand deserved her focus more. "The flowers said you'd find me. Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to walk from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," he said, leaning into her belly scratches. He rolled off the branch and Lux gasped, fearing that he'd fall, but instead he floated through the air, twisting around to give her a better angle behind his ears.

"I'm looking for a friend. Her name is Kiramman, Caitlyn Kiramman. And there are others, too. I fear they're trapped here somewhere."

"Are they?"

"Are they what?"

"Trapped." He rolled again in midair, folding his paws beneath his face.

"I... I don't know for certain, I suppose." Lux frowned. "It rather looks that way."

"In this world," he purred, "Things are not always what they seem."

She thought back to the ever-changing signs. But, frustrated by her lack of progress, Lux protested, "No, I'm sure they're trapped, they must be. Ekko said that if I want to find Caitlyn-"

"Ah, the white owl. You followed him?"

"Yes."

He pawed through the air, alighting on her shoulders. Lux expected him to be much heavier, but the thick fur concealed a small body. The Cat nestled his body around her neck, and asked in her ear, "Then why did you waste so much time following the signs?"

"I lost him," she insisted. "I tried to follow the owl, but he's... well, he's a bloody owl! He can fly."

"Perhaps the owl does not want to be found."

Lux, angered, was ready to come back at him, but she paused. The Cat was grinning up at her: not the toothy grin from her book, but a sly grin.

That's what Wonderland was all about, wasn't it? The frustration, being turned around. Shifting trees, shifting signs, it all came with the territory, and she knew better than to let it get to her.

She sighed, and scratched the top of his head, resigned. "I was doing so well, wasn't I?"

"Eh, better than the others."

She took a deep breath. "Where should I go next?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Well, there's the mad tea party, and the queen's castle." Lux paused. "The caterpillar said something about a cellar, which is more likely in the castle. But..."

"But?"

"... I rather could go for a spot of tea."

He purred again, and the sensation felt lovely against her neck. "Good answer. Take a right here."

The Cat guided her through the woods, even warned her about the shifting roots to ensure that she would not trip. He advised which signs to follow and which to ignore, until finally they emerged to a meadow.

There was a house, or perhaps it was a windmill or a parapet, it kept changing. But it was undeniably tower-shaped, slightly larger at the bottom. Before it was a long table, spread out in a great array of various kettles, cups, trays and plates, all shifting and reshaping into various items.

Off one side of the table sat a hare with dark brown fur and wearing a white waistcoat, his paws tinkering with a pocket-watch. He was using a knife to spread butter into the gears, but treated the task with the utmost delicacy. Once finished, he humphed in triumph, then offered it to a smaller creature that Lux could barely make out. The dormouse, she surmised, pink and barely taller than the pocket-watch itself, nodded in approval. The dormouse then grabbed the handle of a nearby teacup and slammed it down ferociously against a platter, sending shattered porcelain everywhere.

The hare and dormouse howled with laughter, but Lux flinched and said aloud, "Good lord." The two creatures froze and stared at her from the table, and the door to the dwelling creaked open.

A new creature emerged, this one human, taller than average even without the top hat perched on her silky hair, which was a rich cobalt color. "Right," said the woman in a familiar voice. "Who's ready for earl grey?"

She, too, froze at the sight of Lux.

Lux breathed, "Caitlyn?"

[itsgeecheebitch]

TITLE: Until Darkness Descends

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

CHAPTER: 31

MAIN PAIR: Ardyn Izunia x Reader

SEC PAIR: Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader

RATING: Explicit

           Well, you wanted a place to rest and you got one. You just didn’t think it would take the form of a smelly forgotten room, but you were grateful nonetheless. A desk sat in the middle of the room, on top of it laid a thick black book. Curiosity pulled you forward and you slid your finger down the coarse brittle surface of the book. It had no title, flipping it over revealed no summary or blurb. 

         When you opened it you weren’t surprised to find water stained pages. Yellow and brittle, you handled the book with care. The pages were so thin and dry you were certain they would crumble to dust if you pinched the pages too hard.  

         Most of the passages were also unreadable. Sentences were smudged beyond recognition and others were so faded there was no point in trying to decipher the words. You flew through the pages, searching for even a single word that was readable. 

         Your efforts brought you to a page in the middle of the book. A full block of text greeted your eyes, each word was crisp and bold against the faded paper. One problem, the words looked foreign. But for some reason the longer you looked at the paragraph, the more you were able to understand it. You couldn’t explain it, you don’t know how to speak or read any other language but your mother tongue, but here you were reading the paragraph as though it was written in Lucian. 

        It said, ‘O great black star whose might descended upon the world, laying waste upon the cobblestone of man's feeble creations. Whose vengeance defied the will of the heavens to deliver man our judgment.’

         The words brought a chill down your spine. You have no idea what the passage is referring to but for some reason it spoke to you, spoke to some deep dark part of yourself that grew weak at the knees and faint at the phrase ‘black star’. 

          ‘O great black star, who detested the wickedness of man and revealed his sins upon his flesh. Whose vengeance knew no mercy, detected no purity of soul. Be it child or thief, not even the white robes of the temple could provide protection from the wrath of the heavens. Although he prays, his pleas go unanswered. Although she weeps, her child's skin blackens. Not even the healing touch of the gods' true people could deliver their souls from damnation. Their only deliverance was in the flames of Somnus, may his reign last forever more.’

          Confusion pulled your brows together. What did the passage mean by ‘revealing his sins upon his flesh’? You bit your bottom lip. Perhaps the book is talking about a disease, a plague the author was attributing to holy retribution. That made the most sense, but for some reason you felt like you were off the mark. You reread the passage and took mental notes. So this event took place during the Founding King era, you don’t remember learning about a plague during history class. But if this book was indeed a primary source then it was worth looking up. 

          Flipping the page brought you to faded passages and empty spaces. You continued to flip through the book until you landed upon a tiny passage. ‘Adagium, wickedness made flesh, the incarnation of scorn, whose very name strikes fear in the hearts of man. Adagium, whose skin rots with the weight of the world's sins, lies waiting in the dark to descend upon the world once more.'

        Adagium. The word whispered over your skin. You heard that word before but you couldn’t recall when or why you knew it. Flattening your lips into a thin line, you decided to bring the book with you. It was a collection of faded ancient text but you couldn’t deny the gravity it left you with. It was important to you somehow, maybe the boys could help you understand it better.

        Closing the book, you rested for a moment until you felt strong enough to move on. You approached the secret passage and felt the wall for a mechanism that would trigger the wall to slide open. So far all that met your fingers was dirt, sharp pieces of ice, and jagged rocks. You yanked on the torches next, lifted the books from the book shelves, until you found what you were looking for. 

        The wall rumbled the moment the book you reached for clicked into place. Elated, you crossed the threshold with the black book in your hand and watched as the wall shifted back into place. 

        You sighed. You weren’t as tired as you were before and most of your wounds have clotted, but you were still alone, still one attack away from the grave, and you had no idea where to start your search for the boys. Dread chased down your spine. What if you never find them? What if you get attacked before you could even reach them. Your stomach dropped like a stone in the water, they could’ve already left the cave.

’        What if they thought you were dead and decided to leave the cave once they found the tomb? You don’t know how much time had passed between the fall and your awakening, it could’ve been hours, or days, or months. The boys are probably not even here anymore. You’re all alone.

         A tear escaped and dribbled down your cheek. You had no time to feel sorry for yourself, you were still alone in a dangerous cave and needed to find the closest exit. Summoning a dagger, you began to walk.

        Just like before, a million unseen eyes, like arrows, pierced you from every direction. A knot formed in your throat and you struggled to swallow around it. You counted the seconds in your mind, waiting for the ground to turn blue and for a band of monsters to emerge from the dirt. 

        Instead of daemons, you heard voices. They were distant, unintelligible at first, until the voices gave way to coherent words as they grew closer and closer. “We don’t have time for this! Aera’s out there on her own, we need to find her.” An angry voice yelled. Joy sprouted in your chest, that was your boyfriend. The boys were closeby!

       “We feel as anxious to find her as you are, but we must rest. We’ve been searching endlessly for the past 24 hours.” So only a full day had passed. Instead of spending it looking for the tomb, they dedicated it to searching for you. Your eyes glistened with tears and you took off in the direction of their voices. 

        Your lungs burned from the exertion and the wounds covering you from head to toe prickled as they reopened. You hissed at a particularly sharp painful sensation that ran down your legs, but that wasn’t enough to deter you. The boys were right there, so close! Opening your mouth you shouted, “Gladio!” 

       A few moments passed before you heard, “Aera!” Renewed vigor surged through your limbs and you propelled forward. 

        He sounded close. You shouted his name again and he shouted yours, getting closer and closer. Turning the corner, a group of monsters emerged from the earth. Your fast momentum fought against you as you sunk your heels into the ground. You cried out as you fell. 

         But that was the least of your worries. You couldn’t grab your dagger in time to block the claws that sliced the side of your face. Sharp blistering pain erupted from your injuries, you barely had enough time to react when the second daemon grabbed your leg. Rows upon rows of fangs gleamed menacingly from its mouth as it brought your limb to its face.

         Your heart parachuted out of your chest. They were going to eat you. Fear rotted you from the inside out as nausea incinerated your gut. Before those angry looking teeth could graze your skin, an enormous sword sliced clean through the monster. Malodorous green blood spattered across your cheek. 

          “She’s over here, Noct!” You looked behind Gladiolus to find Prompto and the others running towards the scene. The boys worked in perfect synchrony with each other. Once the last daemon fell, Gladiolus dropped to his knees and pulled you into his embrace.

           Powerful arms wrapped around your frame and his heart fluttered against your ear. He kissed the top of your head. “I thought I lost you.” He whispered, “I should’ve seen it coming. Never again. You have my word I won’t let this happen again.” 

           Gladiolus held you tighter. You thought back on the fall, back to the enormous entity that plunged through the ice and dragged you into the dark. It came out of nowhere, it wasn't anyone's fault. “We had no way of knowing that would happen. It’s not your fault, I’m just glad you’re here.” Your lips found his and fireworks went off in your body. His lips molded perfectly over yours, his desperation and fear was evident in his touch. 

            Relief was a sweet drug that you found in his embrace. When the two of you parted you were suddenly encased in another set of arms. "Aera!" Your blond friend cried in your ear. "We thought you died, don't ever scare us like that again!" You chuckled at his histerics before wincing from the wound on your cheek. 

           "Careful Prompto, she's injured." Ignis chided.

          "O-oh I'm sorry did I hurt you?" He asked sheepishly, unwinding his arms from around your shoulders.

           You gave him a smile you hoped would ease his worries. "I'm fine, this is mostly old blood." You gestured towards your messy tattered clothes.

          "So how exactly did you survive?" You turned your head to find the prince towering over you. Gladiolus helped you stand as you mulled over the question. 

         "To be honest, I don't know. I should be dead." You thought about the mind numbing pain that fileted the skin off your bones the moment you regained consciousness, the bones that protruded from your broken body, and the organs that spilled from your ripped flesh. "I think I was…" 

          "But obviously you're still here." Gladiolus said.  

          You turned to him, "that's what I'm trying to understand."

           Ignis hummed and rubbed his chin, you could practically see the puzzle pieces falling into place in his head. "Could it have been the gods that have allowed you to survive?"

          "You think so?" Noctis asked.

          "It's a possibility, there is no other explanation for how Aera survived such a fall."

          "In that case, way to go, Astrals!" Prompto cheered.

          Noctis dug into his pocket and tossed a cylindrical object at you. You fumbled before getting a good grip on it. "What's this?"

          "A Hi-Potion. I stocked up on some before we got here. Looks like you could use one."

            A myriad of emotions slammed into you all at once, you looked down at the potion with equal parts appreciation, anger, and fear. After everything you've done to cement your place by their side you still couldn't measure up to what they needed you to be. You looked down at your blood soaked form, at the dried rivers of crimson that flaked off your body like dead skin. Maybe their assessment was right. Your healing reserves were dried up, and you could barely stand on your own two feet. You weren't indestructible, and no matter how much you wanted your friends to rely on you, they couldn't depend on you during times of danger.

            Sensing your changed disposition Ignis added, "Noct thought it best to procure a stockpile in case of emergencies. You have our word they will only be used as a safety net and not as a solution to every problem."

            Prompto chimed in, "yeah and besides, they don’t work as good as you do. Look, my wound is barely healed. Not to mention they’re expensive, how much did you spend on these, Noct?"

            The man in question sighed. "Half our savings."

            "What?! Ugh, looks like we're camping tonight."

            "I see no harm in that." Gladiolus said.

            "So what do you say, Aera?" You glanced at Ignis before looking back at the potion in your hand. After a moment you cracked the bottle over your form, a shower of green light rained down over your body. The pain from your injuries lessened a bit and some of your wounds clotted but never closed. You took comfort in that. It was true, the hi-potion didn't work as good as your abilities did. It was barely even a band-aid, just a temporary fix before the real help arrived. 

         There was no way these potions could ever replace you, not after the boys got a taste of what real healing was like, and for free too. "Wow, this thing really sucks." You chuckled. "But I guess it would be good for emergencies, but only emergencies."

        "You got it." Noctis agreed.

        "No arguments here." Prompto said.

        Your boyfriend grabbed your hand. "C'mon, we got a tomb to find."

[commehter]

Between of Dimensions - Gravity Falls Fanfic

Rating: General Genre: Angst Pairings: None Characters: Ford, Stan Summary: There are some places in the multiverse that the human race was never meant to be. Fiddleford McGucket could attest to the fact that what lays beyond the portal is just such a place. And, now, so can Stanford Pines.

~.~.~.~.~

Chapter 1: Fragmented

Dimension 0 Gravity Falls, OR February 22, 1982

"Stan! Stanley! Help me!"

Terror. Terror so thick he can't think.

The portal roars behind him, perverting gravity, twisting spacetime, opening the door to horrors beyond human comprehension.

"Stanley! Do something! STANLEY!"

He doesn't know what he expects Stan to do. It's already too late, but desperation argues that there must be something that can be done.

Then he remembers.

'The first journal! I still have it!'

And it changes his priorities.

'I can't let it be lost with me! It's too important!'

Ford flings the precious book as far away as he can. Maybe it will be enough. Maybe it can still be used to fix some of his mistakes.

Light engulfs him.

Dimension 1 Somewhere and Nowhere Time is an Illusion

He looks but the image before his eyes twists and writhes in impossible ways. He tries to listen but his ears can hear nothing over the laughter in his head and the screaming in his heart. He wants to move but he can't. There's something latching onto his legs, holding him down, or maybe there's nothing at all and he's just forgotten how to move them. He can no longer be certain. Common and physical senses are all suddenly unreliable. Or perhaps they have always been? He does not know.

There is still something. Something that he needs to do. It is important. Terribly so. But he can't think! What is it? What is it? What? What? WHA--

Glasses.

The thought drifts beneath the frenzied panic for a moment before it rises above the mad laughter and he remembers. His final gambit. It will not save him now -- not now, should have thought sooner -- but it may still be able to save his dimension.

Ford fumbles, normally nimble fingers made clumsy -- or maybe it is his mind that has become clumsy -- by the way reality is folding in on itself, but he manages to grab hold of his glasses in both hands. His body betrays him and finds the little buttons hidden in the metal frame too soon. He isn't ready, but that changes nothing.

He focuses on the light he fell through. The portal is a bright, shining beacon in this otherwise senseless plane. It promises salvation from the surrounding insanity already digging its claws into his fragile human mind. It is a beautiful lie. It needs to be destroyed. There is no other recourse left.

Ford fights to concentrate through the confusion pressing in on him. He pulls his arm back, throws his glasses at the vortex, and hopes that his aim will be true.

For a moment, nothing seems to happen and there is fear, panic, too late, not enough, usele--

The moment passes.

The portal begins to expand violently only to immediate implode instead, winking out of being entirely.

The laughter in his head changes to enraged screeching. It is not just him to whom the portal promised salvation. His heart begins to sing in triumph even as his body shivers in fear. Even though he is lost, he has still won. His home remains out of the demon's reach.

With the distraction of his task now spent, it isn't long before the madness begins to affect him even more strongly than before. Worse, he can feel his sanity being torn from him. Rational thought is soon beyond him as the Between of Dimensions takes him for one of its own.

He's afraid and ecstatic. This is everything he's worked for and against. All the worlds are in front of him and yet lost to him. He knows everything in this moment but it's too much, Too Much, TOO MUCH! -- and so he is blinded with the knowledge until he knows nothing at all.

This plane of existence -- It does not exist! It is neither possible nor real! It is absence! It is the Between! -- will destroy him. No human should be here. His mind is breaking, fragmenting under the strain. He is lost. He is damned. He is nothing.

Light engulfs him.

Dimension 2 Gravity Falls, OR April 17, 1989

"Stanford? ... No. No, you're not him. You're not my brother. You're some other Stan's twin, aren't you?"

~.~.~.~.~

You can read the rest of the story on AO3.

2 Chapters

1.3K Words

Completed 09/03/2016

Happy reading!

[orangeoctopi7]

Take the Long Way Home

Previous Chapter

AO3 link

Gravity Falls

For the third time that night, Zane closed his eyes to better concentrate on his magic sensor. He could definitely sense some magic in this basement lab, especially coming from the control console on the other side of the blast doors, but nothing as powerful as the Scroll of Forbidden Spinjitzu.

So far in their search of the basement lab, they had found a book and a pair of glasses, both of which Stan said belong to his brother, but nothing else out of place, as far as they could tell. 

"It's not here." Zane finally concluded. "Perhaps it somehow was transported upstairs?"

"How would that even happen?" Stan asked. "Upstairs is a mess, we'd never find it." He was obviously eager to get going with the portal. "You're sure you had it with you when you fell through?"

"Yes." Zane insisted. It had only been earlier today. There was no way his memories could defrag that fast. 

"Well, Ford had his journal and his glasses with him when he went through. Maybe stuff like that just doesn't go through portals."

"Perhaps…" Zane agreed. He wished he could know for sure. This was too dangerous of an artifact to just leave behind in another realm. "If you do find it, don't open it. It has a powerful corrupting influence. If you can't send it back to Ninjago where it belongs, then destroy it."

"Sure." Stan nodded. "Now let's get that portal up and running."

He walked over to the large red lever standing in the middle of the lab and pulled it. Nothing happened. Stan grunted in frustration and pulled it again.

"Are you certain you know how to turn it on?"

"No, I don't know how to turn it on! I just got here earlier today!"

Zane sighed. Despite the fact that this was supposedly his brother’s home, Stanley knew very little about the place or how it operated. Although, he supposed that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. If Cole or Kai found themselves in a similar situation, they probably wouldn’t have a clue about such technical operations either. 

The nindroid decided to check out the control console on the other side of the blast doors. Hopefully that would give him some kind of clue of how this portal worked. He was taken aback by how old the computer equipment was. He himself was almost 40 years old, he’d been built not long after the old Serpentine War, but he hadn’t ever left the birchwood forest until his father’s supposed death. Up until about 8 years ago, the only technology he’d been familiar with had been his father’s other inventions. 

Obviously this portal was decades behind what Zane was used to. He was at a loss how he was supposed to interface with this computer. He didn’t see any access ports or cables. The best he could find was a sort of printer off to one side, and a continuous sheet of paper with data printed out on it. There had to be at least ten pages worth here, and while he could read faster than any human, it was still going to be much slower than being able to connect himself directly to the mainframe. 

Still, it was the best he could do for now, without attempting some creative wire splicing, which he was reluctant to do on his own. The data readouts were certainly interesting. The amount of energy it took to operate was tremendous, and the amount of strain it put on the fabric of the universe was concerning, but he trusted that whoever built this had taken this strain into account and had safety measures in place to counter it. Unfortunately, the readouts did not give him any hints as to how to turn the portal back on.

“Any luck?” Stan asked. He looked as worried as Zane felt. 

“I’m not familiar with this technology. I can’t find a way to connect myself to it. How was it turned on before?” He half expected Stan to simply say that his brother did it.

Instead, the stranger cast his gaze to the floor, almost like he was ashamed. “W-we were fighting. Knocked into a few consoles, must have pushed some buttons or something.”

“Do you remember which consoles you ‘knocked into’?”

Stan flinched and rubbed his shoulder, where Zane now noticed there was a serious, fresh burn. How had he missed that before?

“That one there, for sure.” Stan pointed to a console near the blast door with a red hot symbol embossed into the side. 

“Let me see your shoulder.” Zane changed the subject.

“It’s fine. I’ll worry about it after we get this portal turned on.”

The nindroid ignored him and walked over to take a closer look. A mirror image of the symbol was burned into his skin. Stan grumbled but didn’t pull away. It was bad, at least a second degree burn, and there were still bits of fabric welded to his skin. It was pink and puckered and starting to blister.

Luckily, Zane had plenty of practice treating burns. Over the years, Kai had occasionally been careless when practicing his elemental powers, especially when he was first getting used to them. He knew applying ice directly to the wound would do more harm than good, but something cold could help sooth the pain. He carefully laid a hand over the burn, lowering the temperature, but not actually generating any ice. Stan flinched at the initial contact, but soon let out a sigh of relief. 

“How’re you doing that? Is that a robot thing?”

“No, it’s not a nindroid thing. I’m an elemental Master of Ice.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

It was easier to show him than explain it. Zane reached his other hand out where Stan could see it and generated a small block of ice. 

“...Holy Moses.” Stan said with wide eyes. Apparently he’d reached his limit for being surprised by what Zane could do. “We’re wasting time, we gotta get that portal back on.”

“This burn needs to be treated. You’ve got pieces of fabric welded to your skin, it will get infected if it isn’t cleaned.”

“It can wait!” Stan insisted. “My brother’s in danger! Your friends are in danger! Every second counts!”

“...Alright.” Zane conceded with an annoyed sigh. “But if it still isn’t running after an hour, we need to take a break and clean that wound. I doubt your brother would be happy to come back to find you injured.”

A mixture of emotions Zane couldn’t parse flickered across Stan’s face at that comment. He strode over to one of the other consoles abruptly. 

“I’m pretty sure we knocked into this one first.”

Stan led him from one console to the next, trying his best to remember which ones he had knocked into during his fight with his brother. Zane did his best to examine each one for any clue of which button or lever or switch had been turned on. Finally, they tried to turn the portal on again. 

It still remained dormant.

The Never Realm

The engine Stanford had pulled from the mech wasn’t a normal combustion engine like he’d hoped. It seemed to be closer to some sort of fuel cell. But it still gave off heat, which was his main concern in this frozen canyon. It seemed like it could run for a long time on little fuel, which was good, because he had no idea what it ran on. 

Ford’s stomach grumbled and he looked down at the fish he’d taken from Vex. He hadn’t been eating much since Bill’s betrayal. It was easier to stay awake when you were hungry. But he had to be careful to at least eat enough to keep him going. Passing out from a lack of nutrients would be just as bad as falling asleep. Now that he was stranded out here, he’d also have to try and ration what little food he had. Luckily, with the freezing temperatures, the fish would keep for a while. He had no firewood, so there was no way to cook them, but he’d had sushi a couple of times and liked it just fine. Of course, he supposed this would actually be sashimi, since there was no rice. 

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking about food. Instead the researcher turned his attention to the scroll he had found, and began to do his best to decipher it. 

It was a symbol substitution cipher, not unlike the one Bill had taught him soon after they met. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but at least it was easy to translate. The first section of the scroll simply said “The Forbidden Art”, but he found more information as he unrolled it. It started with a warning that the scroll had a corrupting influence, which supposedly was why it was forbidden. Ford scoffed. He hadn’t felt any such influence using the thing. 

He hesitated as he thought back to the cave paintings where he’d first learned of Bill. Oh how he wished he’d heeded those warnings. Maybe he should heed this one. But when he looked back down at the scroll, those worries immediately washed away, like he’d never had them in the first place. 

As he continued to read, it went into detail describing the proper positioning, stances, and movements to perform the forbidden art. It was interesting, reading it when the magic of the scroll had already enabled him to perform it without a thought. He wondered if this description was a necessary part of the magic, if it somehow engrained this description into his mind subliminally. 

Eventually, he began to feel his eyes droop, despite his hunger and the cold. Ford shot up, intending to start pacing, but instead he felt dizzy, and his vision almost blacked out. So maybe he did need to eat. 

He did his best to clean the fish using his pocket knife and some scraps from the machine. It probably wasn’t sanitary, but he didn’t have a lot of options. The fish was rich and fatty, and he had to stop himself from eating the whole thing. 

As he’d feared, he was even more sleepy after eating. Even the fear racing through him at the thought of sleep wasn’t enough to drive off the drowsiness. He had to wonder if Bill would even bother with him now that he had no access to the portal. He shivered. He didn’t want to find out. 

Eventually, though, sleep did come. He was surprised when he woke with the sunrise the next morning. No unexpected pain, no bleeding from his eye, no nightmares even. The cave was untouched. Bill had actually left him alone!

The Nightmare Realm

“Why are we not going after your enemy?!” Vex complained loudly, his spirit floating along after him as Bill piloted his body back towards the ice castle he’d fled just days ago.

“YOU’VE SEEN WHAT SIXER IS PACKING. YOU REALLY WANT TO GO UP AGAINST HIM WITH THAT SCROLL MANO A MANO? YOU’D BE A SPOT OF SOOT ON THE ICE. WE’RE GETTING SOME REINFORCEMENTS.”

“The warriors of the north want nothing to do with me, how could you possibly hope to make them my reinforcements?”

“OH, YOU’LL SEE!” Bill replied in a singsong voice. 

It wasn’t long before a couple of guards found Vex, and dragged him before their king yet again. 

“Vex.” Grimfax glowered. “When you were last here, you had the gall to try and replace my advisor and stir up conflict with the Formlings. Out of courtesy and compassion, I offered you warm food, drink, and clothing before sending you on your way, but you rejected my hospitality, and even threatened that I would regret not treating you better. If you are not here for an apology, you will be the one who regrets your actions.”

“You see? You see how he treats me?” Vex whined, although Bill was the only one who could hear him. “Make good on our deal, and make him pay!”

“OH, BUDDY, YOU’VE GOT ME ALL WRONG!” Bill ignored Vex’s complaints and strode forward towards the king. Several warriors sprang to action and barred his way, but Bill just walked around them, lazily dodging each attack. “I THINK WE GOT OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT THE OTHER DAY, AND I JUST WANTED TO COME BY AND SAY I’M SORRY.”

“What!? No I am not! Stop your nonsense this instant!” Vex cried.

Grimfax raised a brow in surprise. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. He hated to turn people away in this harsh climate, so he wanted to believe that Vex’s apology was sincere. But his behavior was suspicious, to say the least. 

“LET’S MAKE A DEAL. I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON YOUR OFFER FOR FOOD AND DRINK, THEN YOU WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME AGAIN. IN FACT, TO SHOW THERE’S NO HARD FEELINGS, LET’S SHAKE ON IT!”

Grimfax hesitated. This definitely seemed like a trap. But he was a warrior, heavily armored and well trained. Even if Vex tried to stab him while they shook hands, he knew how to protect himself against such things. And then he would have a good reason to throw this troublesome wanderer in the dungeon before he caused more problems. He cautiously extended his hand, on his guard.

He’d been expecting Vex to pull out a dagger, or to have some kind of poison barb hidden on his person, but all he did was shake his hand. Then Grimfax felt an odd pulling sensation, and suddenly he was having an out-of-body experience. He looked down at himself, standing perfectly still, and at Vex, who had started sputtering indignantly. With a sickly flash of yellow, Grimfax saw his own eyes open, and an unfamiliar voice came out of his mouth.

"RELAX, VEXY, YOU'LL GET WHAT YOU WANT." Bill piloted his new puppet to stand and turned to the man standing just off to his right. "LET ME GUESS, YOU'RE THE ADVISOR?" 

The advisor nodded, confused.

"THOUGHT SO. YOU'RE FIRED."

Now it was the advisor's turn to sputter. "My Lord, what… why?!'

"IT'S TIME FOR A CHANGE IN MANAGEMENT, FOLKS!"

Gravity Falls

Stan wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break down and cry. He wanted to bang his head against that portal until it started working, not sit here while a strange robot from another world insisted on treating his burn. All those years of his father pounding "Men don't cry" into his head and the complete stranger standing behind him prevented him from doing any of it.

Zane obviously knew what he was doing when it came to treating this kind of burn. Stan was actually a little annoyed at how gentle and careful the robot was being. He needed something to take his frustrations out on.

With that thought, Stan suddenly jerked his arm to see what would happen, and immediately regretted it.

"Gah!"

"Please try not to move."

"I've been sitting here not moving for ten minutes, how much longer is this gonna take?"

"It will take longer if you continue to squirm and complain."

"We should be working on fixing the portal!"

"We have been trying to get it turned back on for over an hour. At this point, the extra time it takes to treat your burn now will prevent losing more time over the next several days. And, as I said before, the longer you continue to squirm and complain, the longer this will take."

Stan hated that this guy could just logic his way through Stan's argument so easily, it reminded him too much of Ford. The way Ford used to be when they were teens, not the hollow-eyed mess that had called his brother all the way out to the middle of nowhere only to send him away again with nothing but a book and instructions to get as far away as possible. It was like the universe had decided to send him a replacement as a cruel joke.

"Hold on, several days!?" Stan exclaimed while still trying to stay perfectly still. "This – this isn't going to take that long, is it?"

"I should be able to finish cleaning your wound in just a few more minutes."

"That's not what I mean! I mean the portal! If I was just working on it by myself, I could see it taking weeks, maybe even months, but – but you're a robot, you're smarter than me, you should be able to figure out how that thing works!"

"I am a Nindroid. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves, not to repair machines. I've had a little experience with building, but never anything as sophisticated as this."

Stan couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't want to hear it.

"So you're useless? Is that what you're saying!? I've got a freaking robot here and all you can do is make some stupid ice!? It's a blizzard out there, I can get that myself!" Stan yelled.

"I am not useless, and I'll continue to do my best to help you. I only want to manage your expectations."

Zane's voice was as level as ever. Maybe a little concerned. Maybe a little exasperated. But despite Stan's growing anger, the robot never raised his voice, and that only fueled Stan's rage.

"Manage my expectations!? This isn't some car repair! My brother is gone! And what did I get in his place, an emotionless hunk of chrome? Do you even care?"

"Of course I care." Zane still didn't raise his voice, but he at least had the decency to sound hurt by Stan's words. "I was separated from my friends when we were under attack, and I'm sure being separated from your brother hurts just as much. But as much as I want to fix this portal right away, that doesn't change the fact that I don't know how." He looked down and sighed, more to himself than to Stan. "I wish PIXAL was here. Or Nya or Jay. Any of them would be better at this than me."

That gave Stan pause. Zane seemed to have his act together. He'd been ripped from his home by a sorceress and he was calmer than Stan was when the Stanleymobile was running low on gas. And yet, the robot was sitting here, feeling completely inadequate for the job he now had no choice but to do himself, knowing someone else who could do it so much better. Someone who wasn't even in the same dimension anymore. 

Just like Stan.

"...Sorry." The anger slowly drained out of Stan. "I didn't mean – I know you must care, you attacked me when you showed up trying to figure out where you were."

"You attacked me first." Zane corrected him.

"Whatever." Stan waved his comment off. "So how long is this gonna take then?"

Zane was quiet for a moment before answering. "It's impossible to say when I know so little. I need more data. That book your brother left behind, would it have more information on the portal?"

Stan tried to think back to what Ford had said about the journal earlier that day. He'd kind of been fixated on the part where Ford told him to take the book and get on a boat and sail as far away as possible. But he had said something…

"I remember Ford said the journals, plural, explain how to operate the portal. And this was the last one left."

Zane smiled with relief. "So we do at least have some information available to us. Where are the other journals? How many are there?"

"I dunno." Maybe Ford had convinced some other estranged friends to get as far away as possible with them.

"Oh." There was a hint of annoyance in Zane's voice. "Well, hopefully the information in this first journal will be enough. And I'm sure there is more information in this lab and upstairs as well."

"Right. Uh, I'll look upstairs, you can search the lab."

Zane lightly patted the edge of the bandage he'd just finished tying on Stan's shoulder. "You should rest. This needs time to heal." Stan opened his mouth to protest but Zane cut him off. "If you feel you must keep working on the portal, at least do something that you can do lying down. You read through this journal, I will look for more information upstairs."

Stan grimaced. Upstairs was a mess. Like, murder hut mess. And it felt wrong to let a stranger just sift through the shambles of his brother's life when Stan himself didn't know what had happened to make Ford leave his house in such a state. Ford had always been more cluttered than clean, but whatever was going on upstairs was well beyond even the worst clutter.

But at the same time, Stan was exhausted, physically and mentally. He doubted he could sleep, but just sitting and reading seemed a lot more doable than trying to find anything useful upstairs.

"Alright." 

Stan picked up the journal and Ford's glasses, then showed Zane the way upstairs. After more searching than he would have liked, Stan found a couch they could clear off. He laid on his side opposite of the newly bandaged burn and started reading. Zane must have thought Stan needed privacy, because he left as soon as Stan was situated.

For the first time that day, Stan allowed himself to cry. At first he tried to hold it back, but what he read in this journal was just so Ford, so excited to discover new things, filled with needlessly long vocabulary and stupid puns on the same page. And it all served as a reminder that he hadn't seen his brother in over ten years before today, and now he was gone.

Soon Stan was sobbing so hard he couldn't keep reading, and he knew Zane must be able to hear him, but now that he'd started it was impossible to stop. If the robot came in to check on him, he was too busy bawling to notice. It felt like hours before finally, he cried himself into an uneasy sleep.

[burning-bubble-tea]

I like writing and reading fanfiction cause frankly sometimes media is lightning in a bottle good when it’s long running.

Like idw transformers, I still need to start reading the current comics but I doubt if anything can really capture how much my brain latched onto it. Like even if the writing is objectively better in the current iteration, I do wonder if it’ll peak my interest the way idw transformers did.

Like with large media franchises, it really is me picking and choosing what I really like.

With dc comics I love all the cartoons. Some of the animated movies, none of the live action movies and none of the tv shows. But I still like the characters. So like fanfics can sorta capture what I’m looking for in a certain iteration of a character.

But also it kinda has to have this sense of imperfection or desire for more to make me actually search for fan works. Cause like I love you idw transformers but the ending was rushed/also the ending was open ended with one of the cut panels saying “over to you” instead of “the end” to signify that the fans could do what they wanted now with the lost light in the new universe. And like ever after high, I love it but it’s like objectively a bunch of interesting half baked ideas that just got cancelled out of nowhere.

Something tight and clean and satisfying like gravity falls for me does not make me desire to read fanfics. Like maybe a short fancomic n what not but I feel the story had a satisfying beginning middle n end so I feel like I can move on fully satisfied.

So there is something so nice about satisfying media. I think Hilda is also super satisfying, it got a bunch of seasons, a movie and got a finale that didn’t feel rushed. But also, there’s something so fun about being ravenous for more, for being not satisfied and looking for places to become satisfied.

First Aid will never be the main character for more than a chapter or episode. But hey, there were like almost one hundred fics I read where he was the main character. And plenty more if I wanted to read smut but I do not so almost one hundred first aid fics for me.

Like the reason why I’ve been so into Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent stories is that the movie that featured both of them was good but also too short and doesn’t have a sequel. It planted the seeds that its short run time didn’t allow to fully grow.

Or similarly, I’ve heard that dc comics kinda aged up Jonathan to move him into a different comic series away from the super sons series but Damian is still a kid to keep with Batman continuity and it sounds convoluted and confusing and it sounds like the relationship of Damian and Jon was kinda thrown away to have Jon be an adult now because of space shenanigans. So people have been writing under the tag of “naturally aged Jon Kent” to have Damian and Jon grow up together.

But yeah side rant off of this side rant, even though I’ve never read the comics, a part of me definitely wonders if there is room for multiple different continuities to exist at the same time. But also I think crisis on infinite earth’s literally existed to merge all the ips into one universe and it’s cool and all but it does sorta create those odd situations where a character is thought to be better in a different series so they figure out a way for the character to leave the storyline of the current comic series they are a part of so they can go to a different one. Which is from my understanding what Superboy did by going from super sons to like legion of superheroes or something ?? I don’t know. I don’t read the comics.

Anyways so while I do really love shared universes, I do kinda like it when they have little to no impact on each other so they can stay in their lanes. Cause sometimes it really does feel like a crossover more than an integrated universe. And I don’t really like crossovers all that much. Thought I appreciate the creativity. I do filter out crossovers in ao3 HAHAHAH but that’s mainly cause in crossovers I usually have only interacted with one of the medias.

Like one time I wanted to find any fix it fics or extended fics on that movie Epic that came out in the 2010’s and like I found maybe three that fit my very strict filters hahahahahahha. A lot of the fics that used epic was crossover as I think it was lumped into Brave, how to train your dragon, and Frozen, rise of the guardians crossover stuff. Which I’m not a big fan of.

Anyways this post has ran wildly out of control.

The best kind of post.

But yeah love it when things hit the sweet spot of either, “so good that I desperately need more” (Baulder’s Gate 3, IDW transformers), and/or “I love this media with all my heart but I don’t think they did enough with it/it got cancelled/felt like it had a rushed conclusion” (IDW transformers, Damian Wayne and Jon Kent, Ever After High).