#fic: betwixt the fallen

[silverdune]

betwixt the fallen, you saw him rise | l.yy

"tell me, guest.. what brings you here?"

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: supernatural thriller

character(s): liu yangyang (ft. you as an art critic)

tags: philosopher/statue!yangyang, art critic!reader, suspense, explicit language, existentialism, philosophical discussions, hostility

word count: 4.8k

summary: you, an art critic, have been invited to view the coveted new collection at le gallerie degli uffizi. what was initially a visit in exchange for a review, turns into the most bizarre experience you've ever had in your life when you come face to face with the sixteenth statue: fourth century philosopher, liu yangyang.

a/n: this is a fic i wrote about a year ago. i published it on my old blog but have since deleted that blog, so this is a reupload with some edits. le gallerie degli uffizi is a real gallery in florence, italy.

The Fallen Souls of Centuries Past

The sign feels daunting, as though it's a warning beacon, turning folks who dare to enter away from the secrets within.

The name itself raises so many questions. Which centuries past? How many fallen souls are there? In what way did they fall?

It's not lost that your first thought is a fall from grace.

You follow your tour guide into the room.

The floor is tiled in a similar mosaic style to that of the previous rooms, except this one demands that you keep off it by way of a long, narrow strip of mulberry velvet stretching the entire length of the room.

Before you take in the surrounding decoration, your eyes find the main exhibition.

Eight statues line up either side of the carpet, making sixteen in total, all sectioned off by gold braided cables boxing them in.

You glance back and forth at one statue, then the next, and the next, listening attentively to your tour guide.

This was the collection you had been invited to see. You feel so incredibly honoured to even be in this gallery in the first place, let alone receive a private tour of their newly coveted collection.

You arrive at the final statue, yet before you can even be told the name of who is sitting on the plinth, a manager enters the room to call your tour guide away. Turning to you, he apologises several times for this disruption.

Your brain ticks through the typical protocol. Smile in understanding. Reassure him it's okay. Nod appreciatively, thank him for the tour, almost thank him ten times over for allowing you to witness such significant pieces of art.

In frustration, your guide takes off a few yards ahead of you, flustered in light of being told to abandon his very important visitor, and leaves through the large set of double doors on the opposite side of the room.

Of course, you follow. It wouldn't be appropriate to stay behind all by yourself in-

"How charming is that? They did not even stop to learn anything about me.."

You freeze in place. Your body goes numb. Your spine locks.

Turning on the spot, you come face to face with the sixteenth statue. Your eyes flicker to the placard on the right.

Liu YangYang

"And instead of asking for my name, they read the goddamn placard.."

The statue.. scoffs.

Your brain freezes the moment you face him head-on.

A strip of black lace covers his eyes. His hair is platinum white, and he wears a black robe that covers his shoulders, arms and legs.

Among all the statues, his appearance stands out. Mostly for being the only one to be blindfolded, but also the way in which he is positioned on the plinth. Poised, chin tilted up, hands either side of the face as if preparing to remove the lace. Or perhaps, to show he’d just put it on..

The robe covers him entirely and almost drowns him in its material. If he were alive, it would certainly weigh him down.

Alive, you think. He wasn't alive, surely. Him talking is just a figment of your imagination. There is no way a statue could talk. You shake your head, an anxious laugh scuttling out of you before you begin to turn your back.

“And after all of that, they don't even want to stay! Cuh! How pleasant..”

You come to a hard stop. Your throat dries up and words desert you.

Bizarrely, it’s as though the world begins to close in around you. The lights grow dimmer, the door ahead seals shut. You’re trapped in this room, with this, frankly, hallucination.

You turn back and yell in a frightened whisper, “Whoever you are, you’re not scaring me!”

“Au contraire, guest. Your heart is racing. Your head is spinning. Every sense is heightened. You can feel my presence.” His tone is cool, marbled and perfectly haunting. Crisp like an autumn leaf dusted in winter’s snow.

Cracking your knuckles - an habitual reflex to combat the nerves - you find yourself taking a step towards the statue. You registered one thing: he remains motionless when he speaks, even his lips. Merely a disembodied voice.

"What the fuck.." You can't help but curse when faced with such a predicament. Here you are, in one of the many halls of this prestigious art gallery, and a statue is fucking talking to you.

"Tut, language. Keep that to yourself."

"Who do you think you are?" Your voice pipes up for a brief second, and reverberates off every wall. The acoustics drive the sound into the ceiling, and you shudder at the thought that the whole world could hear you.

This thought is only made worse when you remember that the tour guide is likely in the next room over, and a sudden exclamation like that would raise questions.

"I would not worry too much," he answers, seemingly avoiding your question, "he is too preoccupied with his phone call."

You make a sudden noise deep within your throat, a high-pitched scream as you grip your fists then throw your hands in the air. "This isn't real, this isn't happening- This voice is just in my head, this statue is not speaking to me-"

"You are an odd one, guest," he interrupts.

And you're just a fucking statue of an man who died centuries ago, your mind spits, face scowling to convey this.

He scoffs again. "You have a funny way of communicating, guest."

Your jaw drops. It's as though he read your mind.

You're too disoriented to ponder this right now.

"Why are you speaking to me?" you blurt out, emboldened by fear and a slight surge of confidence. "How are you speaking to me? This makes no sense, you're a statue!" You try your hardest to keep your voice at a whisper.

"I'm the only statue with a soul trapped within."

He says it so nonchalantly. The silence that follows shatters the atmosphere.

You chew on your bottom lip, shaking almost, clicking your fingers and cracking your knuckles again. You must think this is some kind of trick. Somewhere tucked beneath that robe is a speaker of some sort that was set up preemptively. An interactive gimmick they could market to the masses in order to sell the new exhibition.

Very clever, you think. Someone behind the scenes is probably working overtime to try and match all of Liu YangYang's "replies" to whatever the guest says. That's why he doesn't refer to you by name, he simply calls you, guest.

It is effective, though a voice in the back of your mind is telling you there's something rather strange about this whole setup.

"You are smirking, guest," YangYang quips.

"Yeah," you chuckle a bit, "this is really clever."

"Clever.." The inflection of a raised eyebrow.

With an overly confident snort, you roll your eyes and move to stand directly in front of him, arms folded. "You're an interaction. I don't know why I was so worried before, it's obvious."

"Interaction.." he mutters.

"Yeah, so.. you're a fallen soul.. what made you so?"

You figure that would be the standard kind of question to ask these statues.

However, YangYang doesn't answer for a while.

You stand there awkwardly. Is something broken? Has the person behind the scenes disappeared? You sigh; perhaps it's just playing into the natural feel of the conversation, to have the statue think on his answer.

Yeah, that's it.

You are about to say something else when you are cut off.

"What a pitiful question to ask, is there nothing more you want to learn?"

So aloof, so high and mighty. You scoff - wow - and fumble over your next words, "Ha- um.. right then.. okay.."

If the statue could move, he'd have certainly rolled his eyes. "Come on, guest, you know there are questions you could ask that are a damn sight more intriguing than that."

The comment leaves you a little winded. Unsure of how to respond, you stand idly, musing over what kind of question you could ask such a rude, ungracious-

"And leave any insults at the door, that's no way to speak of a soul such as myself."

Okay, now this statue is getting on your last nerve.

You try to remind yourself that he is replying in character, and that this is just a feature of the exhibition. Exhaling, you think of something else.

As you look around, you notice that no other statue has this element. Turning back to YangYang, you ask, "How come no one else can talk to me? Surely they all have their own interesting stories.. What makes you stand out?" Your tone is subtly sour but plenty noticeable. Part of the act, you surmise.

"..Like I said before. I am the only statue with a soul trapped within. How else do you think I am communicating with you?"

Owing to the idea that this is interactive, surely there is a logistical reason as to why not all of them have this feature. But in the moment, in the roleplay, you heighten your suspense of disbelief.

Before, it sounded like a legitimate answer to your frightened self wondering how a statue could talk.

Now, it is merely all part of the fun.

"So.. the other statues.. Their souls have left them?"

"Indeed," he says instantly. "Raptured to the world below, their vessels have no use for such.." - he pauses - "..élan vital."

"They must have suffered a fall so great their vessels couldn't keep them."

Silence.

Perhaps too bold a response? Too complex. You click your fingers.

Then, "'Twas all in the eye of the people who perceived them." You freeze in place. "But.. then again," he continues, a smirk in his voice, "there are many infinite ways a soul can fall."

You sit with the answer for a few seconds. You notice how he seemingly both dodged and didn't dodge your comment at the same time. You latch onto one word - perceived - and carry on.

"I suppose people perceived you to not have suffered such a fall. One that would require complete exile from their hosts."

No response. You groan to yourself; you need to stop coming up with such-

"I suppose you could say I was pardoned," he says, surprising you. "Those who looked upon me found someone they felt sorry for. Someone who fell victim to.." YangYang curbs on completing the sentence.

The cut off startles you more than the interruption.

YangYang stays silent for some time. You take a step closer.

Head spinning, you take a moment to contemplate the conversation you've had thus far. It has been.. strange.

You had become convinced that this was not real, but how was this exhibition able to respond to some of your more complex statements?

Somewhere in the back of your mind, alarm bells are ringing: the disembodied voice is YangYang.

Your shoulders hunch at this uncomfortable suggestion. The thought is spine chilling and thus, you pay it no mind. You want nothing to do with the supernatural, thanks.

Drumming your fingers on your arm, you mull over the next question to ask. You eye the other statues, then look back at YangYang.

The entrancing way in which he stands, lace draped over the eyes, something entirely unique to him, leads you to your next inquiry.

"You're the only one with lace covering your eyes. Why's that?"

"Mere metaphor of protection," he answers noncommittally.

"Are you protecting yourself? Or have you been protected by someone or something? Or, even, do you feel protected by someone or something?"

Seconds pass.

"Bravo, guest. You have asked a delightfully interesting question."

The mockery is not lost on you, and you roll your eyes. You pause then to acknowledge you had just rolled your eyes at a statue making fun of you, but decide not to dwell on it.

"In any case, the answer is an amalgamation of all three. I am protecting myself from something which is beyond reason. I have been protected by my host keeping its force within the vessel. I feel protected by the knowledge that no matter where I am, I am safe."

Oddly vague and yet strangely specific all at once.

You pounce unabashedly on his first statement, "What are you protecting yourself from?" The something in question has you guessing. Hatred? Fear? Anxiety?

Stillness echoes off every wall. You feel YangYang is contemplating his answer, though you realise quickly he does not intend to be truthful.

To your bewilderment, he exhales defeatedly.

"Is that something you really want to know, guest?"

The tone turns the cold marble to clay.

The pace of your heart grows inexplicably. In a short moment you feel stuck, nails digging into the flesh of your arms to the point it hurts.

Above it all, guilt rises.

You feel like an intern eyeing the front page of a file marked, CONFIDENTIAL, fingers trembling with the itch to merely peel back a dog ear and take the tiniest peek while your boss had their back turned. Even though you know you should walk away, because in no way are you privy to the information within.

Your mind is working overtime. There is a visceral hesitation, a not-so-subtle plea to skip over this subject and never speak of it again.

Out of respect, you choose not to push him.

"I'm sorry.." you say, and it sounds too wholehearted for an interaction with a speaker and a set of pre-recorded voice clips.

"Thank you, guest."

His reply sounds too genuine to be pre-recorded.

That familiar discomfort returns. Ice trickles up your backbone and sits on your shoulders. For some reason you want to.. cry?

Despite everything, your curiosity sparks. What could be so bad as to not be spoken of at all?

You clamp down on your tongue and ask no further questions.

Instead, Yangyang has one for you.

"Tell me, guest.. what brings you here?"

Truly unprecedented. A numbness sears the side of your head.

"In what sense?" you ask.

"The only sense: why have you come here?" he clarifies. "Business? Leisure? Lifelong dream?"

"I see.." You relax. A little. "I suppose, business primarily, though it has always been on my bucket list to visit this gallery once in my life."

Confusion sets in, "Pray tell, what is a bucket list?"

Caught off guard, you chuckle. Of course, modern language wouldn't be understood. "Oh, it's a list of things you want to do before you die, or 'kick the bucket'."

"'Kick the bucket'?" You hum affirmatively. "Language is strange."

"And always evolving," you add, conceding his comment.

"Indeed. When you live among the language in day to day life, you have no real perspective on how it will change or be perceived beyond you."

Perceived.

"Do you care about perception, then?"

YangYang is sharp. "Guest, we all care about perception, one way or another. We thrive off perception, whether good or bad."

And you too, do not miss. "But what if the perception is inaccurate?" You pause. He doesn't answer. "If we spend too long focusing on others' views of us, what do we get from that?"

The question catches him, and he doesn't like this trap.

"I see what you are doing, guest. You cannot fool me."

"Fool you?" you scoff in disbelief. "Fool you how?"

"You are trying to work your way around me so I can cave and answer the query sitting in that head of yours," he spits.

"I am not trying to do that!" you bite back.

"Then why are you stuck on this topic of perception? Why do you care so much for my views on it?"

The words leave before your brain can stop them, "Because you seem to care so much you criticised me for not asking a deeper question!"

The moment stills. You take a breath and come to your senses.

"I.. God, what the fuck am I doing..?" you mutter under your breath. Turning your back, you walk to the statue opposite.

This is completely ridiculous, you think to yourself. You're getting angry at a statue, a statue! A piece of art that just so happens to have an interactive element.

The more you try and convince yourself of the unreality, the more you are convinced it is perfectly real.

"Guest?"

Once again, you are numb.

"Guest.." YangYang sighs. "I suppose there is an element of truth to what you say.."

The hairs on your neck stand straight.

"You do raise an excellent point, I had told you to come up with a better question.."

Questions incessantly flood your mind, asking who is running this place, who is controlling his responses, who is behind all of this-

"And perhaps I sought those types of questions because, well.. I wanted someone to better understand me.."

You lift your head and turn back to look at him.

YangYang notices. "Guest, I apologise for my hostility. I asked, and you delivered. In fact, I can only be grateful for having had such a conversation."

Against your better judgement, you twist your body round to face him.

"You are right, I do care about perception. As I said before, I feel we all care about perception, one way or another. How we are perceived by others affects how we perceive ourselves."

You can't argue with that statement. You take a step closer.

"Per your question from before, 'what if the perception is inaccurate', then.. well, as I am sure you are familiar, it is often left to us to alter that inaccuracy. We are left with something to prove. We carry it with us until it is overturned."

You further close the distance, stomach churning, a coil wrapped around your heart waiting to be tightened.

"And as you often find.. you are left with nothing as a result of focusing too long. But the mind is not receptive like that. It merely sees the opinions and runs wild and free."

Much like before, the urge to cry becomes overwhelming. Tears reach your eyes and before you can break them, one falls.

You wipe it away, mind, trying not to bring too much attention to it, hoping YangYang didn't see that you had fallen victim to..

Oh.

Another second passes, then he says, "If you wish to ask me again, you may."

The words take a while to register, but when they do, your eyes widen.

He had just given you permission to breach that subject matter.

Had the walls come tumbling down?

Does he care for perception less, or has he come to trust you with his response?

Your mind circles back to the first thing you had asked.

What made you a fallen soul?

He had evaded that line of questioning. He had chastised you for not asking something more thought-provoking.

Then it hits you.

He took you down this path, so you could understand.

Your conversation with him had opened these exact doors.

You take a deep breath.

"What are you protecting yourself from? What made you a fallen soul?" Quivering lips make you choke a sob as you falter at the last step.

Though you cannot see, YangYang smiles. Sadly, but a smile nonetheless.

"I think you know the answer to that question, already, do you not?"

'Twas all in the eye of the people who perceived them..

"You fell victim to their inaccurate view of you. That's why you were pardoned. Protected. Kept safe in the vessel. You had no fall from grace, or fall from dignity.." The tears keep spilling. "You're kept safe in the vessel because the way they saw you.. was wrong."

.

.

The blindfold slips.

You take two steps back.

"Thank you, guest. I will never forget this conversation."

The door to your left clicks and swings open, and your head snaps in that direction.

Quickly, you compose yourself, wiping your cheeks rather harshly in a bid to stop the flow. You readjust your outfit and straighten your back.

Your tour guide storms over in frustration.

"Good God-" he utters, "these investors, do they not understand what an appropriate time is?" When he reaches you, he looks up to see you in a slightly frazzled state. "Gosh, are you okay? I'm so sorry for just leaving you here, I should have been more attentive.."

"Really, it's-" you're quick to interrupt, "it's okay." You put on a smile. "Truly, it's.. It's fine.."

"Are you sure?" he asks, a little concerned. You nod profusely, and he exhales. "Right, well.. Where were we?"

You both turn to the sixteenth statue, when you remember.. his blindfold.

The strip of black lace lies on the ground, just in front of the plinth, still behind the gold braided cables.

"Oh! The lace, it-" You catch your breath. "It slipped off the statue.."

The guide stares in complete shock. "Oh, good God-" He starts pondering on what exactly can be done, while you take a moment to look at the statue once again.

Even with the lace gone, YangYang's eyes remain closed.

You suppose he didn't even trust the blindfold to keep him protected all by itself.

Unsure of what to do, the tour guide pulls his phone out, taps a few things on his screen, then presses it to his ear. You pay him no mind, keeping your eyes on YangYang.

After a few seconds, the guide speaks, "Hi? Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to let you know, the sixteenth statue in your new collection- Yeah- Yeah, the one with the lace over its eyes.. Yeah, well, that bit of lace has fallen off. Yeah, just.. fallen off. Do I have someone with me?" You stand to attention. "Just a visitor, an art critic, yeah." You roll your eyes a little at his tone. "I don't think they would've touched it." This makes you turn on the spot. "Hold on-" He eyes you, then asks if you had moved the lace.

"No, sir, absolutely not," you state concretely.

"Well, they said they didn't do it," the guide says down the phone. "I don't know! It must have just fallen off, it's a little piece of lace, it's bound to slip off! Right.. Right, okay. Okay then, just- Got it. Thank you. Okay, thanks. Bye."

You wait with bated breath as he replaces the phone in his jacket pocket. In your peripheral view, you can still see the lace sitting delicately on the ground.

An artefact in its own right.

The tour guide begins speaking, something, something, go ahead with the rest of the tour, leave the lace for now, but you zone out entirely.

The fact it slipped from his face once you said those words convinced you above all else, and now you're struggling to keep your emotions intact.

Whatever the tour guide has to say about Liu YangYang no longer matters. It doesn't matter for the other statues either.

You leave the gallery with a whole new perspective, fresh tears tucked under your jaw as you return home.

×-×

Sitting in front of your laptop, an empty word document taunts you for being void of anything except a title.

The Fallen Souls of Centuries Past: Review

It's merely a placeholder title until you can think of something more engaging, but the more you muse on the body of this text, the more you consider whether or not you should write anything at all.

It doesn't seem appropriate. You had a real, true, in-depth conversation with the ghost of Liu YangYang.

How could you write of such an experience?

It needed to be kept in the safest place, not made public for the world to see.

But, this is what you had agreed to. A tour of the new collection in exchange for a lengthy review.

The gallery allowed a week after your visit for the article to be written. It has been three days since you returned, and you are still undecided on what to do.

Standing up, you go to your kitchen to make a second cup of coffee. You pace back and forth, hoping the extra caffeine will help you think of something to write.

When you return to your desk, you set the coffee down and take a seat.

The empty document lies in wait.

You smile; you've got something up your sleeve.

×-×

Sixteen Statues and A Strip of Black Lace

On any average morning, my inbox would be flooded with emails from this company and that company, offering me something I could never be interested in.

That all changed a fortnight ago, when I received an email from one of the most famous art galleries in not just Italy, but the whole world: Le Gallerie degli Uffizi.

They asked if I was interested in coming to see their most recent, highly coveted collection, known as, The Fallen Souls of Centuries Past. Initially, I thought it was a mistake, but my name was on the email, and so I found myself a week later, standing outside the famed gallery, waiting to be shown this new exhibition.

First of all, the gallery is absolutely gorgeous. It is covered in the most ornate decoration, and it truly does breathe art from every surface. Ceiling to floor, wall to wall, even the framing of the windows, it is all built around the very essence of art.

After being shown the collections already in the gallery, I was taken to the room that held the newest display. I follow my tour guide in, and am instantly in awe of the design.

Sixteen statues sit atop their own plinth, eight each side of a velvet carpet drenched in a berry tone. Every statue is protected by a braided cable held by four posts, all of which are gold.

As the guide leads me down the length of the room, he talks briefly about each statue, telling me about them and their stories.

It's when we come to the last statue, that something changes.

The final statue is Liu YangYang, a philosopher from the 4th century.

Immediately I recognise that he is the only statue wearing a strip of black lace over his eyes.

I am grateful to have been afforded the time to better understand this particular soul, as it enabled me to look at so many aspects of life differently.

Liu YangYang took great interest in his time in how we as people, as humans, view others. He wrote many books and led many teachings on the word of how outlook, how perception, can affect us all.

His theory was that, at the end of the day, we all care about how we are perceived.

It seems so obvious to us today. Many of us pay a lot of attention to the thoughts and feelings of others. Sometimes we don't even recognise the emotional weight we place on these opinions.

But in a collection known as The Fallen Souls, it was well worth my time to understand a little more about how it can both do harm and.. protect us all the same.

And how we protect ourselves in the process.

I would like to thank everyone from Le Galleria degli Uffizi for this opportunity.

I will never forget it.

×-×

Dear [visitor],

We would like to thank you for your review of our newest collection, The Fallen Souls of Centuries Past, and for accepting our invitation to visit.

We understand from your review that you took much interest in one of the statues in particular, that of Liu YangYang, the 4th century philosopher. We also understand that during your visit, the lace you brought much attention to fell from the statue and onto the floor.

The owners of the gallery felt you would be interested to learn that we have moved the lace to a display box of its own, right next to the statue. Owing to its fragility, we imagined it would last longer that way.

Besides, we did not want to disturb him.

Thank you once again for visiting, and we hope to see you again soon.

Le Gallerie degli Uffizi

×-×

Six months later, you return to the gallery.

As you waltz through its many rooms, surrounded by art enthusiasts such as yourself, you are in equal parts nervous and excited to enter that room again.

After two hours of exploring, you glide through the open doorway, then stop to take a breath.

At the very end, in the same position, Liu YangYang stands tall and proud.

Before you even take a step you notice the display box encasing the blindfold he once wore.

Moving through the swarms of people entranced by the exhibit, you make your way over to the one philosopher you came back to visit.

Standing directly in front of him, you smile.

"It's nice to see you again, YangYang," you whisper to yourself.

And though you cannot see it, the philosopher smiles in return.

Welcome back, guest.

× tristeetconfus (ave) × do not repost ×

[villainsimpqueen]

Echos in Paradise Lost

Adam x readerx Eve

Reader is intersex

(All my fics are 18+)

Chaoter 6.

Chapter 6:

The judgment came too quickly for the humans, Yet it had been a long ordeal for the truly blessed ones.

an argument back and forth between them as their following assistants watched and only could help aid them with visuals of what had happened, to aid in the debate on what the punishment for the humans were to be as well for the traitors of heaven.

It had taken them a great while to come up with the decision, but once had been made following after the most holy ones lead of what the true father may have wanted.

It had been Michael's judgment to cast out the deceiver and fallen Lucifer out of the realms of heaven and the gardens, banishing him even from the realm of earth to somewhere far below into the unknown where Lucifer light would not shine. The traitor of heaven's wife had joined him, where to stay in that eternal darkness, Where neither will see the light again. He also had no mercy for the other created humans as he believed they too should be banished to such a place as heaven would not allow the damned to taint its unity as well the sacred Gardens of their mother who had become one with the galaxies that extended through the great beyonds above.

It had been Uriel's wisdom that influenced the other holy one's judgment to send the humans who had been tricked into sin to the new realm they had been creating. Earth.

It was her wise proposition to send the humans who had partaken in the fruit of the forbidden tree to be banished from heaven's grace and the safety of the Gardens to earth. Where they would face many trials and temptations in their remaining days and shall they resist them, they may prove that they were always loyal to heaven and at the end of their days they may be allowed to come back to their original blessed home.

As all the holy siblings bickered back and forth it was Raphael who brought up another issue that would have arrived, what to do with you.

"By our command, they were wrought into existence, fashioned to accompany Adam and Eve. As the young seraphims assembly, still pure as holy light, shall we punish them for the deeds of their partners? Do we comprehend the consequence should they be sundered from their counterparts?”

As he did not see reason for you to suffer for actions you did not commit, and what would your divine purpose be once the damned were removed from the gardens. Could a soul like yours even survive without your original purpose? His words only spurred a longer debate as others could only make assumptions, until all faces were turned to one in their union.

Azrael had leaned forward from their balcony in the court staring at the other faces of their siblings as they inhaled before exhaling wispful smoke from their lips.

"Verily, they would languish in torment, for 'tis the love betwixt Eve and Adam that binds them so. Their presence, their unyielding devotion to each other, sustains their corporeal form and tethers their souls. Yet, to cast a pure soul into a realm tainted by sin and darkness would cruelly rend its radiance asunder.” They spoke to the court smoke leaving their lips in small huffs as they placed their hands on balcony counter interlocking them as their silver white eyes glowed from the shadows of their veiled face

“Let us recall our pact: Eve, condemned for eternity for her transgression in partaking of the forbidden fruit, yet carrying within her womb a sorrowful child of heaven. And Adam, still bearing the promise of redemption to tread once more within heaven's gates.” They continued watching the faces of their siblings and even their appointed underlings, their eyes falling to one who scribed away at the meeting's contents to be stored in high security to be records of their final divine judgment. Azrael knew that their siblings, while always respectful, were wary of what they brought forth, what their divine purpose was in their fathers great work.

They brought death.

though death did not need to be cruel.

And Azreal had no ill will towards you, a being that they see to be a victim in all.

“Therefore, we must ponder: Do we dispatch Y/n to endure a protracted agony upon the earth, to wither before their beloved in anguished disarray, risking the erosion of Adam's devotion and steadfast faith? Or do we, in mercy, claim their life ourselves, sparing them the anguish of dissolution after banishing their spouses from the gardens?”

There was silence, besides the scribblings of ancient symbols on holy parchment before that too ceased in sound.

"We abstain from taking life, thus any course must tread delicately, so as not to affront the efforts of the Almighty. Having heard your deliberations, I propose a novel solution." The soft but yet firm voice of their sister metatron Spoke up her voice an echo of many as she commanded her siblings attention, her hand moving the feathered quill against the parchment she so Devotedly scribbled her words down as well of their reactions, her eyes prying key to detail.

“Let us conceal Eden from all eyes, ensconcing it in a realm of tranquil repose where Y/n's soul may find solace, shielded from the anguish of separation from their beloved.” Her words echoed through the courtroom, up the grand pillars that held it high. Her quill hand never ceasing as she took in the court guests' reactions to her words.

“There, let them slumber undisturbed, their souls unscathed by the torment of earthly parting. Permit their consciousness to wander, beholding the memories of their spouses through their eyes, so that their soul may never languish in solitude. Thus, poised betwixt life and death, their essence shall endure, harmoniously entwined, neither fading into oblivion nor sundered from existence.”

Her proposal backed by Uriel and Raphael nearly immediately and after details of how to make such a thing happen Azreal had brought forth a method to keep your soul in a soundless slumber between life and death.

A coma.

The angel of death had named it.

The holy siblings devine decisions of judgment had been made.

And young angels were sent to announce said judgment

The morning light had just started to rise when the air of the clearance of the forbidden tree was suffocated in its sudden combustion.

The noise of splintering wood and the feel of a heat of a million sourcing suns caused your eyes to fly open along with your wife and husbands.

Adam had reacted first, flying up and covering Eve's body underneath him as his golden eyes took in the blaze that consumed the forbidden trees.

The sound of batting wings came soon after

As Adam was pushed away from your and Eves bodies allowing you and your wife to scramble up to take sights of the flame engulfed tree as well the holy bright light swarming around figures concealing their faces from your eyes.

It was only the familiarity of them being the ones that created you was all you had to know what they were.

"You have defied the will of the Almighty and brought sin into this sacred place.” A voice of femininity spoke down to the three created humans, The other Angels following their lead stayed in the air above, witnesses to account the banishment and peaceful slumber was smooth and seamlessly.

The young Seraphim stared at the humans who one looked up with wide wondrously pure e/c eyes, the other two of corrupted gold.

She had taken hand at physically creating all three humans below, but she avoided looking at the one she had solely worked on alone, perhaps making his eyes.Reminding herself that he was not a child of hers, she had only made him, and he had failed heaven.

“"Disobedience hath marred the purity of this paradise. Henceforth, Eve, thou art banished from the Garden of Eden, forever estranged from its splendor and plenty, deemed a threat to the heavens, never to tread its sacred ground anew. Adam, likewise, art banished from these Gardens. May thy soul seek solace or be condemned alongside thy wife. Let the consequences of thy deeds serve as a solemn reminder of the dire ramifications of defying the Creator's decrees.”

Young Sera announced The holy one Divine Judgment that was written down and delivered to her by the Gabriel one of the younger of the holy ones for her to be bestowed the responsibility of announcing the Judgment and punishment towards the humans and to watch over to ensure the Banishment went without much resistance and that your peaceful rest would not be delayed a second after Adam and Eve's souls were casted out of the gardens.

It went as she expected it would go. and she turned her head away from the sight of the other angels forcing Adam and Eve away from you, angels holding you from running towards your spouses.

"RELEASE THY HOLD! PERMIT ME TO DEPART! ALLOW ME TO ACCOMPANY THEM! I BEG THEE, LET ME ABIDE WITH THEM! ADAM! EVE! I BESEECH THEE!” Your shrieks cut through the gardensas the other humans' screams did.

Adam fought back against the angel's much like how Sera would have thought he would, it was his purpose afterall to protect those he was married to, such a strong instinctive drive she made him have.

"Unhand them! Unhand my spouse! Grant us our beloved spouse!” Adam shouted, demanding what would have been his entire right if the holy ones had not come up with their decisions.

Sera had turned her head to sounds of your and Eves screams watching as the other angels finally managed to throw Adam off a cliff falling into a portal that would have him descend into the new realm Earth.

Your screams of pure terror left you as you tried struggling out of the other angels arms.

“ADAM!” your shrieks came with a heart shattering tone, You screamed and bucked in the angels hold as you watched them shove your wife down from the clift another shriek leaving your lips and it was as if Sera was seeing you began to unravel immediately.

“EVE!” Your high pitched scream echoed and you collapsed onto your knees a sob breaking from you quickly as your body began to tremble the hastily smoothed over seams of your flesh started to appear and began to split open making you scream more in agony as you clutched your chest screaming for Adam and Eve, your wife and your husband.

Blood seeped from you as you began to fall apart much like how it was predicted.

The angels moved quickly unveiling a blue powdery substance made by holy Azreal and blew it into your face. You choked on it, tears falling from your face before your eyes rolled back into your head, a deathless sleep coming over you. Sera let out a breath she did not know she held as she moved to you, watching the angels clean your body from the blood and smooth your skin back over your flesh to hood you together again.

They washed you clean before levitating your sleeping form up to take back to the small cave you humans had shared.

Sera had taken pity on you, gathering the fur you had covered yourself with and dusting it off before spreading it out over you like a blanket, she felt something hard in a pocket and pulled the object out seeing a seed.

Perhaps it was the empathy she had for your fate because she did not destroy the seed like they had been ordered to destroy the forbidden tree, instead she had placed it in one of your slumbering hands allowing you to hold it onto your chest.

She had stayed by your side as they moved you to your once shared home, shared caverned and laid you down in the furred bedding that still smelled of your husband and wife.

Once you were placed they all left the gardens of eden, Not one of them turning back as the Gardens vanished, the holy ones blessing to make it where no man, nor angel shall ever find it and disturb your rest taking effect immediately.

She had ignored the tears that streamed down your cheeks from closed eyes.

The first experience humans ever had on earth was a treacherous one. It had been cold, wet and surrounded by an angry storm that they were unequipped and unknowledgeable to be thrown in such conditions so quickly. Frigid cold rain pelted against their delicate skin harshly causing a sting as bitter icy winds burned past them. Adam and Eve had fallen into an area that was experiencing one of earth's firsts and many more to come hurricanes.

The wind was harsh, knocking them over causing them to fall into the mucky nature floors covering them in mud and other unknown substances. Lightning struck down harshly flashing the dark night around with a horrifying display of shadows of the unknown enough to throw them both into heuristics. Eve had kept screaming, she clung onto him tightly and Adam clung back to her Desperately as he tried to guide his wife to any form of safety.

The storm wasn't just the worst part of the night,

It was the feeling of being surrounded by Eyes.

So many eyes focused on them both, watching, judging, fueling their paranoia.

He had never felt so seen in a way that made him want to curl up and hide. A deep shame filled into his lower stomach and a nonstop dreaded feeling filled his chest on top of push aside mourning as he stumbled through the unknown lands with Eve right behind them.

He didn't even feel relief when he managed to find them both a measly shelter, a whittled down old tree with a hollow center. He had guided Eve inside of it first, letting her get into the deepest spot of the tree that managed to stay somewhat between damp and dry but kept her out of the cold unforgiving rains. He had taken the position nearest the opening having his back exposed and continued to be rained on and hit with cold bitter winds. He could only look down at his wife's face who hid into his chest, her arms clinging to his chest as she sobbed, something he wanted to do but wouldn't allow himself to.

He needed to be the strength between them, someone needed to be strong.

He couldn't allow himself to be weak, not in this unknowing yet cruel place.

when they were safe, truly safe, then he would cry.

So he squeezed his burning eyes shut and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the harshness of the storm pelting on his back, or how his body trembled from the cold, focusing more on how Eve's body trembled against his not just from her sobs Either.

He moved his arms trying to cover her, stroking her back and arms to build heat from.his own freezing body to warm her own.

Every crackling of lightning and thunder making them both jump, small screams leaving his wife's lips as she clung to him more, he only would tighten his grasp around her tightly, each time he felt how his heart seemed to get stuck in his scratchy throat pounding, hoe his chest would heave as the palpitations of his heart grew so did his need to breathe more quickly.

He was thankful the angels had spared you from this cruelty.

Eve clung onto Adam, burying her face into his chest as she cried, he was the only thing of familiarity and comfort she had here. She did not understand how the Angels could be so cruel. As the treacherous night continued they both could hear sounds of animals stalking through the storm, she felt how stiff Her husband grew as wretched calls neared their tree. He had turned from her, his back facing her as he peered out of the hollowed tree, his eyes watching through dense thick rain and dark shadows that would be flashed with bright light by those awful crackling noises. Eve would have never seen Adam so tense, his chest heaving so quickly, between the lightning flashed she saw how his hands gripped at the hollow tree entrance, how his knuckles drained of all color of his tanned skin. Another thought had crossed her mind and her chest was frantic with pain and worry.

You had always helped Adam take part in protecting the three of them, and that the gardens never had true danger except those who loved to deceive.

Adam had known every potentially dangerous animal in the gardens and even then they understood why he needed to hunt them, they never sought out to hunt them back.

But here,

It seemed the animals siblings did indeed want to hunt them back.

Another hellish sound other than the storm echoed and about hundreds more followed after making Adam take in a sharp inhale.

"Coyotes... They search for us…” Her husband wheezed out in realization. He took steps back pushing her deeper into the hollow until her bare back dug into the harshness of the hollow bark and despite this her husband was still more exposed than she.

She shivered against his freezing backside, tears burning her eyes as they fell, she wanted to seek out for more comfort but she knew she would not receive anymore from Adam that night. Her heart burned and ached as she longed to be buried into your arms, hearing your saccharine words of sweet comfort, that your shared husband would keep her safe and that you would as well.

she could no longer have such comfort from you and she blamed the angel's for that.

When morning light came, it should have brought peace, but it didn't, as both of them felt the true need of thirst and the pains of hunger. Their throats ached for clean water, their stomachs felt as if they were tearing through their other organs to satisfy its needs. Their skin felt extremely itchy from the dried muck and mud that were on their skin. Both felt true exhaustion start to take place, heaviness in their eyes from the first night of no sleep. Their bodies were already aching as they left the whittled old tree hollow into the seeming bright day.

The earth's lands had transformed into one of horrors to one of beauty in the sunlight which had been a slap to both humans sleep deprived faces.

Both had not spoken a word to each other, Eve merely following After Adam as he lead through the unknown land, it had not taken him.long to find animal trails that lead them to a river, the sight of clean rushing waters relieved them both as they moved towards it cupping their hands into the water and bringing it to their lips over and over gulping the water greedily. Both had taken the liberties to wash their bodies with the rushing waters clearing the muck from their blemishing skin.

Eve had turned watching Adam as he washed his hair, how dark circles rung around his tired eyes, she had never seen him so worn down, not knowing that this would be a common sight of her husband for her to lay her gaze upon.

Even with having time to allow relaxation to hit them, she watched as he did not allow it to come, he immediately worked on crafting a spear and a blade, to her surprise when he handed her a carved blade of her own. She had taken it and looked up at him with wide honey eyes for the only time she ever needed a blade was when preparing a meal shared between three.

He did not comment on it.

Merely handing her the blade and moved on,The first day Adam did not speak to her much, other than simple commands

“Come, wife.” when he moved forwards into the unknown land

"Stay thou here.” when he was unsure if a certain area was safe for them both to travel together.

She did not dare complain, even when her stomach was gnawing through her, because She knew well that he was too and yet he focused on finding them somewhere safe to stay.

A place he did eventually find hours after the first strokes of morning light as the sun hit noons peak. The cave he found brought familiar comfort as Eve moved inside of it with him, her eyes taking in the bare cave that's flooring was covered in small gravely stones and dead plant matter. She moved to start cleaning away at the cave's floor,quietly as she heard Adams command of her staying here and he turned and left.

To hopefully provide them a meal

She silently prayed as she focused on her task at hand.

He had not.

Instead of rushing to find food Adam had prioritized another concern, as Eve was greeted with him dragging logs back to the cave, as well vines wrapped around from his beholder to hip.

She watched as he began to stack the logs over the caves entrance before moving vines through them, weaving had never been her husbands strongest and she moved from the caves flooring to help him weave them through, she expected some words as he never did like being corrected, she had prepared praise on her tongue for him to soothe him.

But Adam had merely stayed quiet.

Accepting her help without a word, and with all the change they had been thrown in, Eve found herself wanting to hear her husband's typical complaining at not needing her aid.

The woven structure he made closed the caves entrance, she believed it was for added protection.

Which she would have been correct as Adam did not know what may come hunting after them now that their scents were all over the forest and lands. Letting predators know of a potential new prey to hunt and feast upon.

But it was also to hide away from the eyes that plagued him.

watched him, stared at his naked body relentlessly.

Inside the enclosed cave, he finally felt as if the eyes were off of him, allowing him peace and privacy only to bombard him again when he left the cave to gather clay from a nearby creek gathering it on a large rock he could pick up and carry back, quickly as he entered the cave he felt that lingering gaze on his body leave letting him shutter as he moved to the cave floor laying the cave down and started building it upwards until he had to leave for another gathering of clay trip and soon wood. The heat of the day grew and the sun beating down on him caused sweat to form against his hairline as he moved about underneath its gaze. Yet it meant the sun was hot enough to lay wood outside of the cave for it to dry so he could light a fire to keep his wife and himself warm when the harsh heated sun fell down for the moon to dance in the sky.

By sun down, they had a new home, they had a fire pit alive with a crackling fire, He had a spear and they both had blades, a place to gather clean water to drink and wash their bodies from.

And fish.

After a long day of work He still hunted even if he felt as if his body was going to collapse.

Adam after eating the smaller fish out of the two he had caught for Eve and him to eat upon that night he moved, falling onto a bed of leaves Eve had put together.

He felt her join him moments later.

"It is but little, I do apologize.” She softly spoke to him as she laid beside him, not joining on his chest, merely beside him. He did not complain as his body ached too much to have any added weight, his heavy eyelids already fighting to stay open as he turned his head to look at her.

“Thou needest not apologize, this sufficeth.” He gravely spoke, feeling the soreness of his throat now focused on it made him dry cough and move a hand to rub at the lump that stayed there. It had not yet left him, but he hoped it would soon if he drank more water to wash it away from.his throat.

Eve had spared him.a withering smile before looking at the ceiling of the cave, silence taking over them both momentarily.

“Dost thou reckon they art safe?” Eve softly whispered, making his ears slightly rang and his chest throbbed as he was forced to acknowledge your missing presence.

He had inhaled sharply beside her.

"In paradise they dwell, Beyond mere safety they reside.” He spoke, reminding Eve at how peaceful and safe the Gardens had been. He knew you were safe as long as you stayed in those gardens. Eve had gone quiet for a few moments only speaking once his eyelids had dropped, almost allowing him sleep, almost.

"Dost thou believe they shalt replace us, as did thy former wife?” She asked, it had made him freeze his eyes open as he turned to look at her.

She watched as Adam opened his mouth to speak before it fell closed, a new kind of pain moving through his eyes. Yet he did not speak any words.

Had he not thought of such things?

tears brimmed her eyes as she took one of his hands.

"Shall they forget us once a new pair of spouses doth grace their lives?” She weakly asked him, feeling how he squeezed her hand tightly a hitched breath taken in by his lips. She saw how his eyes began to water before he squeezed the shut turning to face the ceiling. She had suddenly felt cruel for asking such as she felt a tremble of his hand form.

He had not answered right away.

"They are our spouse, woven into our very being... They... They vowed to love us until their final breaths... Nay... My echo, our beloved, would not entertain the thought of another wife... nor husband. Our love endures, unyielding.” He spoke, a sting of uncertainty in his tone and yet a whole lot of beloved faith.

It had been his faith in you that made her cry silently as a wave of relief washed over her.

"Shall we ever behold them again?” she gasped out through hitching breaths. Adam had squeezed her hand pulling it up to his lips where he pressed it against them before he turned and looked at her with merely broken golden eyes.

Yet still so faithful

“"Thou canst not fathom the lengths I would traverse to ensure our reunion. I vow to make it so, my dear Eve.” His words broke and rebuilt her heart, and Eve decided if she was ever to have faith in something it was that promise.

Adams promised for you all to be together once again.

She would face whatever was thrown their way if it meant for you all to be in each other's embraces again.

she smiled at him, moving a hand to his cheek watching how his tired eyes fluttered close at her touch.

“"I harbor no doubts thou wouldst falter in such a pursuit.” She whispered. whispered her faith into him, into his promise, into the hope of once day of being with you together again.

It had taken them months to understand the new lands, months to build a simple mockery of the home they once shared, the missing of one's presence started to take its toll on the one who didn't allow themselves to mourn.

And Eve watched the cracking of your shared husband.

He had prayed everyday, still being so hopelessly devoted to the ones that abandoned them here.

He had given offerings to prove that they were still loyal followers.

Every day, every night, every meal, Adam prayed for them both, but it wasn't the same as praying in Eden. Where the sun would grow brighter after a prayer, the stars twinkle and rocket across the sky.

Here, Prayer seemed meaningless to Eve. As each time she saw how her husband would stare up to the heavens hopefully, ever waiting for something.

Something to show that they were being heard.

Yet nothing ever showed.

Frustration came from him as he hunted better offerings, he even aided in binding them clothing from what he hunted to cover them both up entirely, modestly, even offering some of her best workings to the heavens.

Until he became unmoving.

His skin dullen with his hair and nails.

His eyes drained from the scorching light in them, if he even had energy to open them.

an illness taken over him so quickly and no matter what herbs or mixtures Eve crafted to heal Adam, none deemed to work.

At night when perhaps he thought she was not awake she could hear his shuddering breaths, muffled painful weeping that came from him.

She could only hold him tighter pretending that shenwas in deep sleep, How his trembling arm would hold her so tightly as if he feared she too would be taken away like you had to both of them.

it hurt to know that she had once before.

This sickness consumed Adam, and she grew worried for him with each passing day as he went longer and longer from waking up. Her gentle shakes had begun to turn to panicked rushed ounces, her eyes brimming with tears of relief when he would finally make a sound and open his dull ringed eyes up to her honey ounces.

She wished for something that would heal her husband, to make him strong as he once was, to rebuild the dying hope into him.

And for the first time since her banishment with Adam, she had prayed. Sitting outside of their home on her knees as she could hear the soft intakes of shaking breaths that echoed in her ears of Adams' breaths, she leaned forward placing her hands in front of her palms flat onto the ground and prayed.

Prayed to anyone that would listen.

"I beseech thee... do not sever him from my side as well... grant Adam the vigor, the radiance to recover... I implore thee, withhold not him from me... I shall do all in my power... I beg of thee…” She whispered, she repeated over and over hoping to feel something, anything that she was heard, that her pleading words would be granted.

but she felt nothing.

It started with laughs leaving her lips, before she clawed at the ground sitting up and throwing whatever was in her hands around her, she screamed at the starry heavens.

"HAVE WE NOT ENDURED ENOUGH PUNISHMENT!? WHAT DOES HEAVEN REAP FROM OUR AGONY?! WHAT MEANING LIES IN FAITH IF THOU ABANDON US SWIFTLY?! HEAVEN'S LOVE, IT IS SAID, KNOWS NO FALTERING! YET THOU HAST FORSAKEN US AT OUR FIRST ERRORS! WHY ARE WE DENIED REDEMPTION WHEN THOU THYSELF ART CONSTANTLY IN FLUX?!” She screamed, a wail breaking from her lips as she clawed at her eyes.

"Pray, I acknowledge my transgressions, the anguish I have wrought. Even if thou shalt disregard me, if I am deemed unworthy of redemption in thine eyes, do not mete out such cruelty upon him. He is steadfast in his devotion, and thy averted gaze weighs heavily upon him. Thou art draining the life from him…” She pleaded, she cried the entire night, only joining back to Adam's side in the early morning's light where she held him close to her, her trembling fingers moving through his dull and brittle hair gently.

She weeped as she buried her face in his hair, hearing rasped breaths from him.

"Oh y/n, what wouldst thou do to mend our husband? To halt this unraveling?” She muttered as her tears soaked his hair, her eyes growing heavy for sleep at once and she feared when she awoke she would truly be alone.

Yet her dreams brought her peace, she was not in the realm of earth but back in paradise at the beautiful pond which the angels had blessed her and Adam with you.

She could hear laughter and she walked closer hearing splashing of water.

Her sights took in you and Adam in the crystal waters, your delighted shrills as you fumbled around with a fish in your arms, unsure of what to do as Adam clutched his knees laughing at your attempts of fishing.

"I do not joke, aid me! Husband!” you shrieked at him only making Adam laugh at your misfortune more, the sight bringing a wide smile to her lips as she neared the waters watching how Adam finally aided you in moving the fish to the shore banks with a small pile of four.

"Is this not an excessive burden?” she asked as she saw how your precious e/c eyes snapped to her, how they brightened with so much love and affection as you scrambled out of the waters to engulf her in your arms adoringly.

"My beloved wife, it is simply too much! Why dost thou walk in thy condition? It shall exhaust thee so. Permit me to carry thee back.” your tender loving words had shooker her and she pulled from you in confusion.

"Art I truly well?” She questioned hearing your soft giggles, Adam soon by your side his bright eyes burning strongly as he looked at her, concern forming on his face for a moment before a grin forming.

"Speak not so lightly, my beloved wife. Allow them to attend to thee. Our cherished spouse is filled with nothing but the purest joy at the prospect of the little one thou shalt bring unto us.” Adam spoke to her gentle words with a firmness she didn't quite understand.

little one?

Her hands moved against her own self aware thoughts to rest upon her stomach, which was slightly swollen. Shock seemed to burn through her distracting her as your arms moved under her knees around her back before she was picked up and pulled flush against your chest.

"Art thou hungry, my sweet wife? I shall gather thy favorite fruits.” You spoke to her as you walked down the familiar path to their beloved home the three of you shared, their true home.

“I…” Eve could not speak, her eyes falling over your shoulder to see Adam, a look of concern on his face, a look of pleading, to follow, to not question.

She broke their eye contact turning to look at you seeing how concern filled your eyes for a moment, how the world around you both started to seem as if it was fading.

“Yes! “ She spoke in a rush breathing thickly as she watched the world brighten and sharpen it its detail and color, she watched how your face changed to one of happiness*

You had placed her down on a thick fur mat during the fire, your hands moving into a bowl of cherries working on pushing a blade through them to remove the pits. Adam on the other side of the fire roasting the fish you both had caught. You and his chatter echoing over the fire and around the cave.

She watched you both.

Her hands rested on her stomach.

how it seemed to be real.

The fish had been heavenly, and the cherries sweeter than they ever had been on her tongue.

Everything seemed so perfect. blissful.

Your smiles had been bright, your words lovingly and tender as always.

Yet she felt pain, Eve still felt pain in this paradise…because she knew..

it could not be real.

She and Adam were banished.

You had been taken from them and them from you.

and Adan was slowly dying beside her.

Her thoughts had darken but she felt a hand on hers making her look up into bright e/c eyes, a soft sadden smile on your lips as you moved forward kissing her forehead so tenderly and softly.

"Thou must awaken now. Thou must seek sustenance for thyself and the little one.” you spoke so softly to her making her look at you in bewilderment, her eyes flicking over to Adam who seemed busy on doing something at the moment.

she felt your soft fingers against her cheek making her look at you.

"He shall press onward. Our beloved husband is resilient; this illness shall not claim him, my sweet wife. Thou shalt witness it soon, but thou must awaken.”

Your words drifted around her and the world was fading, she had desperately tried grasping onto you.

“Wait…” she gasped, feeling your hands slip from hers once again.

“Awaken.” Your words had echo.

Eve woken sharply sitting up breathing heavily, sweat pooling around her skin as she heaved, her hand moving to touch Adam's arm for comfort only meeting furrs instead. She turned, finding the furrs empty and a spout of worry formed in her soul as she scrambled up from the furrs moving to the cave entrance, shoving the thick logged door away.

“ADAM!?” She screamed in panic , filling her. She nearly screamed for him again until arms wrapped from behind her.

“I am here, beloved wife.” His words brought a tremendous comfort and a wave of relief as she turned to look up into his dull eyes, the rings around them seeming to forever stay there, but he looked at her softly.

She had so many questions and yet when she thought of them, she couldn't remember what she was going to ask. She only knew she had an experience unlike any other, she looked back into his eyes wilder on her own. She only felt his fingers find her chin tipping her face down so his lips pressed against her forehead. A sense of familiarity hit her even if she did not know why but she looked up at Adam as he pulled away a soft smile on his lips.

"All shall be well, my sun.” He assured her confidently, in such a way that was like his old self, that she could not have any other beliefs other than that everything will be well. She smiled at him as he led her back to the cave after she followed him to where he was skinning and cleaning rabbits. She watched as he shooed her away from taking over to cook the meat, watching how he stabbed the rabbit's flesh on sharpened skewers he had made and rested them over the fire pit he had built for them to roast the meat himself.

It was a tender feeling that took her as she watched Adam cook for her, a warmth filling her heart as she watched him lovingly.

Her hand unconsciously fell on her stomach as she focused on him.

His golden eyes finding her, dilling to her hand before looking at her bright honey eyes, he did not know why that sight was suddenly so important to him or why his head was filled with tender loving words of your voice, he just knew that for the first time in so many months he awoken feeling at peace, when he saw Eves tried and worried sleeping face he wanted to wash away her worries, that he felt as if they continue something tragic would happen that would make it feel as if everything is lost. So he had gotten up, washed himself from the creek and drank a fill of water before he hunted feeling light.

Feeling hopeful.

His catch was successful and he watched Eve eat the roasted meat with a sense of pride filling his chest as he ate his own much smaller portion.

And as the months continued with Adam's speedy recovery of such an illness, A new discovery made way to both his and Eve's knowledge, and Eve watched at how Adam took her in with so much pride and hope. Even as he returned from a hunt and fell to his knees in front of her his hands wiped clean on his robes she made from the leather and hide of animals to rest on her swollen stomach. scorching eyes looking at her in utter devotion as he placed his lips against her robed stomach.

His wife was creating new life.

Life that would be of you.

He pulled away a grin on his face as he looked up at Eve lovingly.

"I am so proud of thee, my beloved wife. Thou hast bestowed upon me great blessings.” He so adoringly spoke to her, making her heart warm.

No matter the outcome, love them as if they are mine own, As thine own, and thou shalt always feel my love beside thee.”

your words had echoed in his head.

chp 7

[merakiui]

Hi, mera! Lionfish anon here,, think tumblr gobbled up my previous attempts to send this, but 3rd time’s the charm!! :]

I read your alpha stalker Jade fic, and realized he reminds me of a video essay I watched recently, “The Horror of Having a Body” by Clark Elieson on YouTube (https://youtu.be/j0fucPpR1K0?si=mjtzEd58jT-aOQJh). The quote, “swapping bodily fluids like this clearly has some sexual undertone, albeit in a way that feels foreign to the act of sex itself” (18:38 - 18:46) reminds me of him, especially in DRU. While I’m not positive on how a sexual encounter between him and the reader would go, I don’t feel it would be sexual or arousing in the way many associate with the intimacy of the bedroom— instead, I imagine something closer to the concept of Jouissance discussed earlier in the video; something painful, overwhelming, and quite frankly traumatizing, yet so incredibly pleasurable, something you can’t get enough of no matter how much you hate it. He is an antagonizing pleasure, in my mind at least.

The main thing that made me think of this is alpha stalker Jade’s views on omegas, which led me to connecting him to the Bloodborne sections, of which are closely interlinked with sexuality and illness— things betwixt with the image of Jade I have in my mind. He’s a sick, twisted individual, apathetic to those he does not value, painted beautifully by yourself. “The love that is remorseless when he’s bruised and bloodied his knuckles,” he is remorseless, and if not for that ambrosial love he feels, it would (and has, with his original intent to leave you with the realization you’re in heat) apply to you too.

He’s an enigma (and I love him for it), one so accustomed to his mind; no matter the web he must build, the months he must haunt, he will sink his teeth into you eventually. He will make you his.

His want to be gentle and composed is very interesting to me though! The line, “Although maybe it’s his own voice confessing such saccharine phrases” draws out how one sided this is. Despite the act he puts on, he can’t help the declaration, like a subconscious part of him acknowledges that this might not be you, that you might not feel the same, even when so sexual and heat-drunk. Though, in the end, he claims you. He feels whole, every piece of him coming together in what I assume is an ethereal chorus, for you are paradisiacal and he has attained something seraphic.

My mind has been lost, thank you for letting me share! Lionfish, out!

:O !!!! how dare tumblr keep such a wonderful message from me omg!!!! Lionfish, I adore your analysis aaaaaa!!!!! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

Comparing Jade to an "antagonizing pleasure" is such a good way to describe him, especially in the context of DRU!!! He's something that you know is bad for you in every sense, but you can't help it. He's all you have in this dreadful, traumatizing situation. The corpse lying stiff and cold in the bathtub won't provide the comfort that he can give you, however basic it may be. Jade's care is merely obligation; he does it because he can't let you die or risk spoiling any of your parts, and if you wanted to be cruel with the comparison,,, in a way it's as if he's a farmer raising livestock. Sure, he cares enough to feed you and make sure you're comfortable, but it doesn't go beyond that (for now). Jade's feelings are so complex and he's forever difficult to read, but it is very interesting all the same! I won't spoil anything regarding the sex scenes in DRU, but I will say that you make such good points. It's definitely more of a jouissance.

Aaaaaa alpha stalker Jade!!! He's such a menace, so cold and remorseless... Had he not fallen in love (read: obsession), his apathy most definitely extends to you (and it did, as you noted how willing he was to leave the poor Reader when they are in a bind). I think Jade is so set in his ways in that fic, so accustomed to being an alpha and being around alphas. He doesn't go out of his way to seek out omegas, and he doesn't fully grasp the appeal until he's experiencing it with someone he adores (the reader).

I really do love this sort of Jade! He only opens his heart for a select few, and when he does love he loves to suffocating extremes. >_< he's willing to play such a long waiting game if what lies at the end of that is the sole thing he's been aiming for: you. And if not, he'll do everything within his power to make it so. He's so stubbornly attached. Even if some part of him knows your judgment is clouded with heat, he gets avaricious and claims you anyway. There's some complex scheme hidden within his intentions and choices to do what he does when he does, but you'll never know it. :)

Thank you for sharing such a lovely message, Lionfish!!!! :D I love reading your thoughts and ramblings!!! Jade is just so enigmatic. How can we not love him? orz

[aziraphales-library]

Hi im not sure if this is where i can ask for this since i am not looking for a specific fic. I read two fics recently where aziraphale commits sins or falls. Both of them are after the apocadidnt. I want to find more fics with that. One of the fics was The Fifth World by Kita Kitsune (it's a supernatural Xover) and I didn't save the name of the other one.

Hello. We have some fics like this on our #fallen angel aziraphale tag, and I’ve got a few more now...

Falling Without Style by orphan_account (T)

We all have things we've regretted doing while drinking. For Aziraphale, Falling was one of them. Also known as: what the fuck did I do last night.

Betwixt and Between by milhouse (T)

Falling may feel like an eternity, although it really only lasts for a few seconds.

Ourselves under pressure by jessikast (T)

A thought coalesced in the back of Crowley’s head.

If someone was falling, you could catch them.

***** “Is there anything…that is to say, do I have any other, um, physical changes?” Aziraphale asked, simultaneously rolling up his sleeves to look at his arms, twisting to try to look at his own back and managing to turn in a circle, nearly stumbling over his feet.

Crowley looked at him critically. “Are you usually that short?”

*****

Aziraphale thinks about too much philosophy; Crowley catches him when he starts to fall.

The Bitter Chill of Being Forsaken by Cardinal_Daughter (T)

“Well I’ll be damned,” Aziraphale said once.

Eleven years later, he is.

wherever you are, i'll come to you by mutalune (T)

“Are you alright? What’s all this about then?”

“Ah. Well. I might have slipped.”

“Slipped?”

“Took a bit of a tumble, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said. “But, well. What’s done is done.”

“What’s done - ?”

“Now that I’m no longer beholden to a rather arbitrary moral code, I have to ask: Do you pay taxes? Actually, more importantly, do you think I can stop paying taxes now? That seems like a sufficiently demonic thing to do. Refusing to do my civic duty and whatnot. Quite devious, I’d argue.”

This was, in hindsight, not the most sensitive way of breaking the news.

beelzebub has a devil put aside for me by unbreakable_groundriot (M)

He does not saunter vaguely downward so much as he plummets in a barely controlled spiral.

He had felt it coming. Her Grace was slowly pulled from his body as if She was unraveling a loose string on an expensive sweater. He felt hot and cold all at the same time. There's a sudden stench of brimstone and butyric acid. The ground beneath him starts to grow hot. It's coming.

"Crowley, love, I need you in here." His voice does not waver.

And I think this is the fic you mention in your ask, but as always, correct author names or actual links are very helpful!

The Fifth World by Kisnau (M)

The Mayans predicted that The Fourth World would come to an end on December 21, 2012; the same Prophesized date for Michael and Lucifer's Final Battle. Team Free Will finds itself working with the queerest pair of unlikely allies, but, caught between angels and demons with No God In Sight, victory won't come easy. SPN-GO crossover AU. Slash.

That last one has a lot of tags, please read them!

- Mod D

[kiki-shortsnout]

Hey Kiki, who's ya doing? May I ask 7, 10, 11, 12, 27, 29 and 30 from Ao3 Wrapped? I know, that these are too many, but, pardon me, I couldn't help :D. Also, wish ya a great holidays ahead..🎄

Hi there! I’m doing well thank you! 🤗 Sorry for the time it took to respond! I’m trying to get a “small” Christmas fic written for Christmas Eve which is running away from me!🤣🤣

7: If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I don't use song lyrics in my stories I'm afraid, I listen to a lot of music, but I don't think I've ever included lyrics.... apart from that one-time Tony was singing to Stephen in Love, Dreams and Coffee Machines.

10: What work was the quickest to write?

Good question! @magicaltear asked this too and you can find the answer here!

11: What work took you the longest to write?

Betwixt. That took me six months to write, but there was probably about a month of planning and plotting before I sat down to write and edit it.

12: How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Currently only one. It’s a 50k IronStrange story that I’m hoping to have done by January (Real life and work permitting) I have a few ideas floating around for stories, but nothing concrete yet.

27: What do you listen to while writing?

I listen to a lot of Indie and K-pop music while I’m writing, occasionally some soundtracks from Anime and the games I’ve been playing (Persona 4 at the moment). When I’m editing it tends to be what I class as background music, instrumental and relaxing pieces to not distract me.

29: Favourite line/passage you wrote this year?

Ooo tricky question… it’s a toss-up between: All of us, we’re irreplaceable, unique, there isn’t anyone else like Stephen, and while I might have fallen in love again with someone else, I just…haven’t. From Without You. The other is: Tony Stark might have been breathtaking, but he was a poisoned chalice. From Betwixt, those are the two that stick out the most for me.

30: Biggest surprise while writing this year?

This one is easy, Fandral’s character in Betwixt. He was originally meant to make a play for Tony and serve no other purpose than to make Loki jealous, to be the stereotypical hot-headed Alpha who doesn’t say no. As I wrote the story an unlikely friendship bloomed between him and Tony and I changed his story arc into more of a supportive, while flirty friend, which I wasn’t expecting!

Thank you so much for the ask and please don’t apologise for the amount asked, honestly, I love interactions so thank you so much for asking! Take care and Happy Holidays!🎁  🎁

[ao3feed-lanaeve]

i wasn't lettin' up 'til the day he died

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/sxOEX4f by Alex2134 Perrin and Rand both took a seat near him, watching him. “What are we gonna do, Rand?” Perrin asked quietly, voicing the question Rand himself had had the entire drive home. “We'll help him. We can get Nynaeve, Moiraine, and Siuan, and even Dad here to help. That's all we can do. He's not going to take any of this well,” Rand said, combing his fingers through his short fiery hair anxiously. Perrin nodded dully, staring at Mat like one might at a fallen comrade. Rand patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, not entirely sure himself of how this would go. They sat in silence for a time before Rand’s stomach growled loudly. Perrin glanced at him and then unhurriedly got up to go to the kitchen to cook. Perrin’s meals were always hearty and filling, so hopefully Mat would eat something when he woke. Hopefully. ---------- A three-part saga following a two-fold journey: Mat, recovering from being raped, and Rand, being there for him while also planning to kill his rapist; betwixt all of this, they find themselves in love. Can they overcome the obstacles that come from this? We'll find out...together. Words: 4452, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Series: Part 4 of fics based on Taylor Swift Fandoms: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan, The Wheel of Time (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Rand al'Thor, Mat Cauthon, Perrin Aybara, Nynaeve al'Meara, Egwene al'Vere, Aviendha (Wheel of Time), Abell Cauthon, Natti Cauthon - Mentioned, Tam al'Thor, Moiraine Damodred, Siuan Sanche, Gawyn Trakand - Mentioned, Elayne Trakand, Birgitte Silverbow Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon, Egwene al'Vere/Aviendha, Nynaeve al'Meara/Lan Mandragoran, Moiraine Damodred/Siuan Sanche Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, world setup:, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Title from a Taylor Swift Song, Rand al'Thor is not the dragon reborn, read the notes, read the tags, both are important but the notes on the first chapter are more important, Actual fic tags now, Past Rape/Non-con, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Rape Recovery, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, The One Power (Wheel of Time), Aes Sedai (Wheel of Time), No Spoilers, one (1) hetero ship as a treat, Panic Attacks, touch sensitivity, why is that not a tag, Eating Disorders, but like something you'd expect from someone who hates themselves, speakin of, Self-Hatred, stupid Men read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/sxOEX4f

[dabis-girl]

Mine pt.2 | Dabi x Reader | Smut 18+

A/N: its been way too long my loves lets just say I’ve been busy. Anyways this is a follow up to the very first fic I ever published on here. Not sure if this will be come a whole thing but let’s just see where this goes. 

Warnings/ Tags: Dubcon, breeding kink, humiliation ( I think that it but let me know.

Word count: 2.5k 

Summary: After your last encounter you distance yourself from your evil lover and he doesn’t take too kindly to that.  

Read Part One Here

It had been 3 weeks since the last time you had seen Dabi, you had been ignoring his calls and texts. He had gone to far last time usually, you could keep up with his sadistic practices but you had never been okay with being fucking into of a stranger. It appeared that he realized that he had gone too far this time, he had even sent you a gift box filled with lace thongs the replace the one that he had given away. You couldn’t quite place your finger on what upset you the most about that night. What it how he made you into a spectacle or like his property, no one had ever treated you like that.

You tried your best to focus on training and trying to get recruited by a professional hero agency hopefully, you could get pick up as a sidekick. Training had fallen by the wayside after you met Dabi, proving that he was only a distraction. It’s not like he was too supportive of your hero dreams anyway, he always teased you about wanting to be a hero. He didn’t believe that you had it into, not with your weakness being you damned evil lover, there was no way you could hurt him on purpose even if you had to. It wasn’t easy, but you had to put all of that to the back of your mind while you completed your last year at UA.  

It had been so long since you had slept with the window open, you used to leave it open for Dabi to sneak in but you missed the way having a window open made the room less claustrophobic. You had meant to close it before you went to sleep but you have drifted off while watching a movie. You woke up in the middle of the night and the tv was off and the room was pitch black, the moonlight poured through the window reminding you that it needed to closed. It was too late, he was at the edge of the bed staring down at you with a starved look on his face. He had scared you making you retreat to the corner of the bed, he stood over you with a small blue flame sitting atop the palm of his hand. Weeks had passed since he’d slutted you out and completely embarrassed you in front of his colleague, that was the last night you two had seen each other. That night you told him you never wanted to see him again.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” He said as he looked down at you with a menacing grin. 

“I told you we have to stop, Dabi. “ You said clutching the blanket off the bed. In that same instant, he’d quickly put out the flame and harshly grasped your face with is rough scarred hand. 

“And why is that? Am I getting in the way of your hero dreams?” He teased keeping a firm grip on your jaw. “I bet you’re dripping right now, thinking about what I’m going to do to you.“ You shake your head and he tightens his grip. “Let me finish little girl.” He growled. “I know what you need, to make this all better.  You need me to drag your slutty ass out into that hallway and make you beg me to fuck you, in front of all of your stupid friends. “ He let out a laugh that scared you but also made you even wetter. “ Am I right?” This humiliation kink that he’d developed was one that you’d never be able to escape.

You knew that you were already wet, your cunt had started drooling the moment you laid eyes on him, it was out of your control. As much as you could try and deny it he knew that you were just as disturbed as he was. You tried your hardest to be opposed to his twisted fantasies, but he had no qualms about shoving his hand down your pants and seeing for himself. This is the reason he constantly taunted you because he knew your protests were empty.  

You didn’t answer and angered him so he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder heading for the door. You kicked and fought him until he finally released you. He gazed at you and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he began to cress your face and leaned in for a kiss, painting his lips on yours. He tased like ash and whiskey, his taste excited you as you leaned into his kiss. Just as he as placed a hand on your lower back you sank your teeth hard enough into his lip to draw blood. He reflexively pinned you to the wall, with a loud thud you could feel my slit silkening beneath him as the bulge in his pants strained against you.

“What the fuck?” He spat through gritted teeth. Licking the blood that oozed from his wound he smiled at you. “Playing hard to get tonight I see.” He chuckled 

“Get off of me.” You didn’t even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. Wiping away your saliva he wasn’t angry like you thought he’d be instead, the look on his face was one of amusement. He liked to chase, and you were playing his favorite game. 

“Tell me I’m wrong and you don’t want me. “ He said as his hand traveled down the length of your torso to your thin cotton underwear to tease your clit. “Come on say the word and I’ll stop.” He teased. You thought that you’d had more willpower than this, not a single word of protest left your mouth instead you soft moans peppered the air. He had instructed you to lay on the bed, you didn’t move. 

 Your hesitance perplexed him, by the point you had usually given in. Alas, here you were standing in the same place that he had left you. His eyes narrowed as you were challenging his authority. He took a stance in front of you and folded his arm across his chest, the ice glare of his turquoise eyes caused goosebumps to erupt over your skin. His patience was wearing thin, you had never seen him this angry at least not at you.

 “What now?’ His voice was flat and gravelly impatiently peering down at you. Your chest heaved as each breath was heavier than the next. 

“I told you that we have to stop Dabi.” You deified your body calling out for him. This performance wasn’t any more convincing than your last. “ Can you leave?” You managed to choke out with almost no conviction.   

 “This again?” He rolled his eyes. “ Fine, we’ll just have to do this the hard way, Doll.” He said just as his hand seized around your neck. “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled as he threw you onto the bed. 

You didn’t fight back, Dabi glared down at you as you laid on the bed with no further protests. He tormented you for being a slut and making him go through all this trouble, he called it a sick fantasy. Dabi was a sadistic lover and it made sense that he would all of this would just feed into the twisted mind. A feeling of unease washed over you as you thought about what you were doing, playing into his perverted delusions. As much as you’d hate to admit it you were just as sick as he was, enjoying yourself like this.      

He was standing over you while you had assumed your position on the bed, eyes pleading with him. He kneeled between your legs removing your panties and for a moment he just stared at your exposed mound in all its slick glory.  He reached out a finger nuzzling it betwixt your folds reveling in what he’d done to you. The twitching of your clit caught his attention, he said that it was if she was dancing for him. He was purposefully ignoring your needy clit,  causing you to thrust your hips towards him causing your throbbing bud to brush ever so slightly against the bridge of his nose. The sudden contact caused your body to shudder, craving more you buck your hips with even more force. Dabi had grown tired of your impatience, he grabbed roughly grabbed at your inner thighs forcefully pushing you back.

 “For someone that was so set on wanting me out of their life, you are acting a bit desperate now, aren’t you?” He taunted. “ I should make you beg for being a defiant little brat, make you submit to me finally. Maybe I’ll take you with me, this hero school is getting to your head.” He ranted still gripping your thighs. Your feral whines were making it hard for him to hold out.  “ Your pleasure is in my hands and I don’t hear any begging” He cupped his hand behind his ear.  You bit your lip in an effort to hold back your moans and pleas, angering him more.  It worked, he was livid, abruptly he let go of your legs and stood. “Fine, I’ll leave.” He said plainly, making his way to the window.

“Please.” You gasped scrambling to the edge of the bed following after him.  “Dabi... please stay.” You said  gripping at his shirt pulling back toward the bed. He looked down at you viciously before shrugging you off. 

“Why should I?” Dabi said coldly, your facial expression dropped at his words.  You pleaded with him apologizing for your actions. “With all the stunts you’ve pulled today you’re lucky I’ve kept my composure.” Dabi ranted, he was frustrated this dynamic was getting old. Tonight was going to be your last night in the dorms and you hadn’t the slightest idea. He began to unbutton his pants freeing his dick, allowing it to spring up and bounce off of his lean torso. The same one that had violated you so sweetly as you were bent over the armrest of a filthy sofa. “Show me your sorry slut.” He commanded.

You reached out and wrapped your fingers around his dick satisfied with the weight of him. Stroking him admiring the bulbous tip, you hungrily licked your lips as you watched a bead of precum dribble out of the tip. You took him into your mouth, he moaned as he watched his length disappear as you sucked him down allowing him to bottom out. In the back of your throat. 

“Fuck.” He moaned, grasping the top of your head as you bobbed up and down around him. He had begun to thrust his hips into your mouth causing you to sputter and drool.  He shoved himself down your throat savagely, wrecking your throat. Finally, he halted his assault letting you up for air admiring the thick string of saliva that connected the two of you. Looking up at him you could see the lust in his eyes, his gaze was it’s most ferocious as swooped you up laying down on your back, knees parted waiting for him to fill you.

He trailed his length over your slit coating his dick in your wetness before teasing at your entrance. It was apparent that things would go differently tonight, it wasn’t normal the way he was acting. Usually, he would devour quickly as he was a very busy man but now he seemed to want to take his time. At last, he sank into you at a devilishly slow-pace you let out a loud yelp as he entered you fully before withdrawing before slamming into you with no mercy. His hands moved to grip your ankles forcing your legs further apart and his thrusts seemed even deeper than before. Dabi was looking you in your eyes while he penetrated you, he watched your face contort as he pummeled into you.  

He withdrew himself from you and flipped you over onto your stomach. Planting his hands on your hips he pulled your ass into the air, you felt his tongue on your clit sucking and slurping up the juices that flowed out of you. Without warning he rammed into roughly once again picking up a vicious pace, he continued to reach around and grab you neck lifting your head off of the bed he adjusted his grip so that his hand grasped your jaw. The arch of you back deepened and Dabi leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead. It was abnormal for him to show this type of affection during sex but you weren’t opposed in fact you found your pussy clenching around him. Dabi continued to push you off of him, grabbing your hair to align your face with his pelvis he entered your mouth again.

“Look at you.” He gleamed. “You look so good cleaning up your mess.” He brushed his fingers through your hair while he watched you slobber on his dick. Having had enough he pushed you back onto the bed entering you with a primal force. He pushed himself into you repeatedly hitting your spongy core.

“Yes Dabi, please.” You begged for your release knowing that he’d give it to you. At this point, you were out of control writhing beneath him, your hands searched for something to grasp. At first, it was the sheets, but you had managed to pull them completely off the bed and they were now bunched around the bodies of you and your lover. The next attempts were the pillows but Dabi had snatched them away from you so that you’d end up gripping at his wrists. Your release was close and he could tell by the way that pussy was tightening around him. 

“Cum for me Doll. “ Dabi said before he kissed you. Like clockwork, you came undone beneath him. Seconds later he came himself thrusting harder into you to burry his seed, he let out a throaty groan as the walls of your cunt milked him. He’d never came inside of you before, it shocked you especially considering the be knew you weren’t on birth control. You jumped off of him and watched in disbelief as his seed dripped out of you. “Congratulations you’re gonna be a mommy.” He laughed. “Now get your things you’re coming with me.” He said. 

“What do you mean? “ You spoke with confusion. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You can either come with me now or wait a few months for your stomach to swell and people to start asking questions.” He said as he zipped his pants. “The choice is yours.” He shrugged. He hoped that his plan would work he didn’t know if you were actually pregnant but may you were shocked enough to take his words at face value. 

“You’re right. “ You said defeated. There was no way to pinpoint what you were feeling, the mix of emotions were bittersweet. On one hand, you were leaving behind everything you had worked so hard for, and on the other, you were going to be with the man that you love carrying his child maybe.    

Ultimately you decided that Dabi was too good to give up as if he’d ever let you go anyways. 

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 13

 Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 13 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 12 / Part 14

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, angst (no, this is not what i was on about a couple of weeks ago)

Historical Inaccuracies: 

Brian paused his Ph.D. in 1974, not 1975

I have no idea under what circumstances Queen met John Reid, or when exactly it was decided for him to manage them :)

Word Count: 4.9k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“For god’s sake, Freddie,” Roger hissed, “don’t wake them!”

“You’re the one who’s going to wake them, if you don’t shut up with that shrilly voice of yours.”

Roger gave an indignant cry, but I pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush, darling.”

He pushed my hand away, walking off, before I pulled him back, forcing him to look at the scene before us.

The dappled morning sunlight flooded through the unclosed curtains of the studio windows, washed over the two people who lay in each other’s arms at the foot of the sofa. Whether they slept there because they hadn’t made it to the sofa, or because they hadn’t meant to sleep at all was not outwardly obvious. Considering they were both still dressed, and considering the fact that Brian— the insomniac!— was asleep, the last was probably true.

“Should we not just leave them..?” But I tugged on his sleeve. He sighed, “What.”

“When was the last time you saw Brian sleeping?” I said.

Roger made a noise of amusement. “I try not to make a habit of watching my bandmates while they sleep, Fred.”

I rolled my eyes. “Roger, really. He sleeps less than three hours every night, and even then, we couldn’t have had a conversation in front of him without him waking up. But look at him now.” I gestured to Brian’s sleeping form.

He lay on the floor with his arms drawn around Y/N, his embrace protective, and his breaths deep and slow, while she was curled into his chest, her legs tangled with his. His chin rested on the top of her head, and as he shifted in his slumber, she nestled closer to him, her fingers clutching the material of his shirt.

Roger shook his head slowly. “He doesn’t sleep, he never sleeps. But he’s sleeping now.”

I smiled. “He is.” I threw an arm around Roger’s shoulders and pulled him from the room, leaving the two lovers to their much needed rest. “Oh, Rog,” I hugged him to my side in excitement. “I knew she’d be good for him!”

Roger laughed. “You always know, Freddie.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You awoke to an assault of sunlight on your eyes, and groaned at the thought of it being morning already.

You had the feeling that you hadn’t slept for many hours, but all the same, you knew you’d dreamt something. You couldn’t remember what it was you’d dreamt, only that it had been strange. And beautiful. Something about walking in starlight, across clouds, holding the hand of somebody tall. Someone as beautiful as the stars.

With a wince, you realised that you must have dreamt of Brian. It was just what you needed, for him to invade your dreams as well as your waking thoughts. If you told him of your dream, though, you thought with a little laugh, he’d probably apologise for trespassing.

You sighed and pressed your face into your bedsheets, breathing in the familiar comforts of soap and fresh air and brewed coffee and books and… and…

What..? Lilies?

You flexed your fingers, only to give a start when the surface beneath them moved.

You opened your eyes. Just as Brian opened his.

You inhaled sharply.

You’d been asleep against Brian’s chest.

Granted, his skin was not bare, and neither was yours, so in the very least it was a forgivable offence. But it was an offence all the same, wasn’t it?

His arms were around you, and you didn’t want him to let go of you, so, selfishly, you did not move.

He reached up to rub his eyes, and you remained motionless against his chest, at once both reluctant to move and yet trying desperately to figure out how it was you were going to talk your way out of this situation.

His hands left his eyes, and without anywhere else to put them, he returned them tentatively to where they had rested on the small of your back.

A shiver ran through you.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low in his throat, and achingly gentle to your ears. You dared to imagine that this was what he would sound like every early morning, sleepy and unaware of the world around him, direly lovely in all his softened beauty— half-lidded eyes, rosy lips chapped with disuse, his curly hair falling about his face in an unruly, untamed manner.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, unable to take your eyes off of his, hyper-aware of the rise and fall of his chest and the hum of his pulse beneath your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” said Brian, blinking in the brightness of the morning sun. “I can’t imagine you’ve slept well, atop this pile of skin and bones,” he chuckled. “I must have just fallen asleep.”

He still wasn’t quite awake, and nor were you, which was likely why the significance of this event didn’t occur to either of you for a moment.

Then your heart gave a little leap. Brian the insomniac…

“Bri, you fell asleep!”

“Yes? I fell asleep…” He frowned. Then his eyes widened. “I fell asleep?!”

He sat up at once, and you went with him as he laughed happily, hugging you to him.

“I can’t—” he stuttered into your hair, “I can’t believe it— I must have slept for hours!”

“Insomniac my arse,” you said with a scoff. “I woke up before you did!”

You snapped your mouth closed, realising how that must have sounded; you’d realised where you were and had continued to lie in his arms, as though you had a right to. Your cheeks flushed, but Brian didn’t notice.

He shook his head. “I am, I really am. I didn’t lie to you.” He glanced at his watch, and he was still holding you close, but this he didn’t seem to notice either. Or, if he did notice, it didn’t bother him. “And I’m not lying to you when I tell you, that was the most I’ve slept in weeks.” He smiled down at you, and you could do naught but gaze back up in response. “Guess you’ll just never have to leave me, Y/N.”

You snorted. “Is that a challenge? Because I’m not sure it can be done.”

“Oh sod off,” he pouted.

But you grinned. “Never.”

“Never?” he asked, the word made tender by the slope of his lips.

“I’ll never leave you.”

Something changed in his features, some subtle thing, you fancied. Perhaps the light in his eyes grew a little brighter, or his cheeks grew a little rosier, or his face moved a little closer to yours.

“Y/N,” Brian began slowly, “there’s something I have to tell you, and I hope you won’t think any less of me for it, but I… I’m—”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Deacy.

Brian leapt away from you as though your skin were on fire.

It was, a little. But only where he’d been touching you.

“John!” Brian said in surprise. He hastily pulled his legs to him and stood up, swaying slightly, so that he rather resembled Bambi on ice.

“Shh,” Deacy hummed, and you realised that he was carrying a bundle in his arms. A very small, human-sized bundle. “Can’t afford to wake him, now that Veronica’s finally asleep, you know.”

“Oh, Deacy,” you said. You made your way over to where he and Brian were now standing by the piano, absently folding Brian’s jacket over your arm.

“So this is him… her?” Brian whispered, peering at the tiny face that was snuggled between the blanket.

“Him. Veronica gave birth late last night.” John’s voice had taken on a warm, soft quality, similar to how Brian spoke when he was around animals. You supposed it was a voice of affection, reserved only for moments of awe, of unconditional and overflowing love. It made sense; you used the same voice when you spoke of the stars.

“Which reminds me,” Deacy rocked the child in his arms, “happy birthday, Brian.”

Brian smiled. “Thanks. Shame the little one wasn’t born just a few hours later. We could have shared birthdays.”

Deacy lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. “Oh well. Now you get to keep your special day for being even bossier than usual.”

You laughed while Brian muttered, “You have to be nice to me. It’s my birthday.”

“See what I mean?” Deacy said. “Anyway. You should go to the garden. Freddie and Roger have something for you, from the three of us.”

“Y/N, you didn’t chip in?” Brian teased.

“For the last time, how was I supposed to know?!”

“It’s also from Y/N, now,” John said, “seeing as somebody neglected to tell her that you were turning twenty-seven today.”

“Why does everyone keep repeating that number?” Brian grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I know I’m getting older, there’s no need to remind me.”

“Shush,” you gave him his jacket and a push toward the door, and Brian gave a little yelp of outrage. “The garden awaits, my liege.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Later,” Deacy responded for you. “Y/N and I are just going to take a walk to the kitchen.”

“We are?” you asked. You’d have liked to stay with Brian, to have his gaze rush across you every now and then, to see a small smile lingering on his lips when he looked at you. It was one of the best feelings in the world, to be looked at by Brian. Despite his tendency to daydream and just generally be far away, when he talked with you, he always surrendered his attention completely to you. He bled sincerity like a lifeblood, and you had never before met anyone like that.

“Yes.”

“Um, okay. See you later, Bri?” you wondered aloud.

There again was that little twinkle betwixt the hazel and green of his eyes, and your heart fluttered. If only he could see just what he did to you.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He disappeared out into the sunlit morning.

His jacket was still in your arms, and took a step to go after him, but Deacy touched your hand.

“Later.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Why are we here, Deacy?”

“To have a civil conversation,” he answered simply. “And for you to get me a cup of tea because I got absolutely no sleep last night.”

You narrowed your eyes before remembering that he’d spent the last many hours at a hospital. “Fair enough.”

Deacy sat down in a kitchen chair with a little sigh. He had purple shadows beneath his eyes that curled like smoke, and his shoulders sagged and his hair deserved the care of a brush, but he still had that look of permanent sunshine about his features, as if his body was tired, but his soul could have danced about the room.

He was cooing softly to the baby, and he was truly the picture of a doting parent; he had never looked more at home than he did with a child held gently in his arms.

“What’s his name?” you said as you set to making a cup of tea for John, and one for yourself.

John smiled down at the bundle, parting the swath of material to brush his fingers against the baby’s cheek. “Robert. Robert Deacon.”

You smiled as well, regarding John and Robert in their little bubble of father-and-son.

You allowed your thoughts to wander as you bustled about the kitchen, feeling unusually awake and generally quite happy.

The kettle had boiled and you’d begun steeping tea infusers in the two cups you’d taken from the kitchen cupboard. Now, you found yourself humming as you stirred Deacy’s tea with one sugar, and your own sugarless brew.

“What’s that you’re singing?” Deacy asked. “‘White Queen’?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Quite a sad song, for the mood you’re in.”

You shrugged, “Good song.” You continued stirring the two cups of tea as the corner of Deacy’s mouth quirked up.

“You’re biased, Y/N, and you’ve been stirring that tea for the past three minutes.”

“What?” you said. “Oh!” He was right. Some of your tea had even sloshed onto the kitchen counter. Hurriedly, you wiped away the offending tea with a cloth, then brought Deacy his cup, taking a seat next to him. You sipped your tea quietly until John interrupted politely,

“Sorry, Y/N, would you mind holding Robert a bit? I don’t want to go put him down and risk waking Ronnie.”

“Oh, of course,” you held out your arms and Deacy showed you how to properly hold a baby, in case you didn’t know.

You peered down at the little being in your hold, and you’d never seen anyone so small. A little life, who knew yet nothing about being alive, and still had everything to learn and everything to discover. The whole world awaited him.

You touched a gentle fingertip to Robert’s little nose, and when the boy’s eyelashes fluttered you could see why John was entirely sappy over his son.

“We need to talk about Brian.”

Your shoulders tensed.

“Why?” you mustered nonchalantly.

“Because, to use your own words, you’re quite starstruck these days.”

“Haven’t I always been,” you murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“Luckily for me, I heard you the first time. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions,” John sniffed, drinking his tea.

“Let’s talk about how you can’t seem to write a song for the album,” you countered, perhaps a little harshly. But you were desperate to get off the topic of Brian, before it began. Else it would drive you mad.

It seemed to work.

Deacy leaned his elbows on the dining table and put his head in his hands, successfully distracted. “I don’t know, I just, I have no ideas, and Freddie’s off writing these musical masterpieces, and Brian’s got his… three-and-a-half, and Roger’s got that silly car song of his, and I’ve just… I’ve got nothing.”

“Write what you know,” you said.

“We can’t all be Mark Twain,” Deacy mumbled into his hands. “And how do I know what I know?”

You shifted Robert in your grasp, pleasantly surprised that he had yet to take up crying, despite the stream of conversation around him. “Well, what’s constant in your life?”

Deacy straightened up, shaking his head. He reached out a hand to hold Robert’s tiny fingers in his grasp. “I don’t know. Nothing, right now. It’s never been like this before,” he breathed. “I joined Queen to have a bit of a hobby, really, but then we wrote albums and went touring, and people started to know us, and now we’re writing a fourth album, and Freddie says we’ve already got the audience for it in the bag. And now there’s this— there’s Robert— and I’ve never…” He trailed off, shaking his head again. He sighed. Then, a new energy burst forth in him as he said, “Veronica. For as long as I can remember, for as long as it’s mattered, I’ve had Veronica. She’s my best friend.”

You smiled. “Then write about her, Deacy.”

John seemed almost taken aback that he hadn’t thought about this in detail before. “You know, I’ve just had an idea.”

“Brilliant!” you said.

“Hang on to Robert a second, will you? I’ve just got to fetch something—”  Deacy was up and out of the room before you could object.

“I— okay then.”

You frowned, remembering the responsibility in your arms. You hoped he wouldn’t wake up, because then you would have no idea what to do.

You resolved to sit utterly still and silent until John returned, which would hopefully be sooner rather than later.

But the next person to enter the room wasn’t Deacy; it was Brian and Freddie and Roger.

“Oh, good morning, sleepyhead,” said Freddie, to which Roger smirked and Brian looked embarrassed.

“I thought you had to wait nine months for one of those,” Roger inclined his head in the direction of baby Robert.

Your mouth fell open.

“Roger darling, they only fell asleep together, they did not sleep together,” Freddie said. “Do you not know anything about the human body?”

Brian stared at his feet throughout this exchange, red as a strawberry and undoubtedly wishing he was far, far away from this place.

“Uh, how… how do you know about, um, that?” you asked timidly, thinking you were probably about as red in the face as Bri.

Freddie waved a hand. “Oh, Brian didn’t kiss and tell—”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Brian exclaimed.

“Look at them,” said Roger, gesturing to you and then Brian. “They’re like ten years old, there’s no way they’ve kissed.”

“Twenty-seven, now,” Brian muttered, “as you lovely people keep so faithfully reminding me.”

You, on the other hand, were too flustered to speak. Were your harboured affections for Brian so painfully obvious? And was he really so embarrassed at the prospect of kissing you that he was moved to shouting in denial?

That was when you knew for certain that there was nothing here, there. Brian did not want from you what you wanted from him, and though that was perfectly fair, you still felt like you’d been kicked in the abdomen, whilst already wounded by a heavy sword.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, “I’ve just got to go out— could— could somebody take the baby for me, please…”

“Where are the parents of that poor child, anyway?” tutted Freddie, looking like his greatest fear in the world was presently to hold Robert.

“Rog?” you asked despairingly.

“Ah, no, sweetheart,” he winced. “John might kill me.”

“Here, I’ll take him,” said Brian, ever the hero. “It’s okay, you go get some air.”

How he knew you needed air and not to be somewhere in particular was beyond you, but you said nothing as he slipped his arms beneath your own and took Robert from you.

Roger was staring at Brian peculiarly, but Freddie turned to you.

“Everything okay, darling?” he asked you with a frown.

“Peachy,” you replied, and left before anyone could question you further.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You’d been sitting on the steps that led from the patio to the garden for an hour when Brian joined you.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.” You tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

“May I sit down?”

You looked up at him, the willowy young man with the glittering eyes.

His lips were pressed together and it was obvious that he wouldn’t sit down if you made any sign of being bothered by his presence. But how could Brian’s presence ever bother you when he seemed to you the only kindred spirit you’d ever met?

“Be my guest.”

He sat down beside you, perhaps a little closer than you would have braved if the roles had been reversed. Then again, this morning, you’d awoken in his arms, so a little proximity should not matter to him, even if the air, to you, prickled when he was near.

You stared off across the rolling hills that were saturated in the green of summer, wishing you could think about anybody but the person who sat next to you.

“Do you want to see what you got me for my birthday?” he asked.

You smirked. “Go on, then.”

He placed a hefty book, bound in some sort of reddish-brown material, in his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Scrapbook. Of all my polaroids from this year, apparently.”

“Apparently?” you said.

Brian ran a finger along the spine of the book. “Yeah, well, I’ve got some pictures John and Roger and Freddie don’t know about.”

You blushed. “Oh.” Those kinds of pictures.

Brian barked a laugh. “No, no, not like that, no, just, y’know, like the one… The one I took of you? The one you gave me back?” He winced at his stammering, but you nodded in acknowledgement. “Yeah, no, they… They didn’t know about that one. I didn’t, uh, keep it with the others.” His fingertips tapped the side of his nose as he hung his head, his hair falling down to hide his face.

“Oh?” you said, for lack of other words.

Brian shook his head. “Actually, I have it here,” and to your bafflement, he pulled the photograph, the one of you, from his breast pocket. Then he opened the scrapbook across his knees, to a page toward the back that was only half-filled with pictures. It appeared that the last third or so of the book had been left empty. He tucked the photograph of you beside one of Fredddie and Roger and John grinning in the sunshine of the swimming pool. “They said that I should expect a scrapbook for each of my birthdays, from now on,” Brian explained, smoothing a palm across the page of photos. “This is the book for 1975.”

“And it’s not full?” you said. “I mean, I know the year isn’t over yet, but…”

Brian smiled understandingly. “Yeah, I know what you mean, what adventures could we possibly have this year still that will at all compare to Ridge Farm with you, hey?”

You laughed uneasily at your own slip of arrogance, but Brian shook his head again, his curls rustling. “No,” he said softly. “I know. I can’t think of how anything could compare to this.”

His words touched your heart, and you felt oddly as though he were saying goodbye.

Maybe he was.

“What was it you were going to tell me, this morning?” you whispered, fearing the answer you might receive. “You’ve been trying to tell me something for a while now, haven’t you?”

Brian nodded somberly, fiddling with the bookmark that ran down the centre of the scrapbook.

“What is it?” you prompted gently.

“Well, I…” He paused and gave a sigh. Then he closed the cover of the scrapbook in a decisive manner and turned to you as if he could only make himself say whatever it was if he was forced to look you in the eye. “I’ve made a decision that’s going to quite change the course of my life, I think, and I won’t know if it is a good decision or a bad one until I’ve seen it through.”

A sinking sensation stirred in you.

Brian took a deep breath. “I’ve made the decision to pull out of uni.”

And the air was knocked from your lungs. “What?”

“Reid’s booked us a tour following the release of this next album. There’s no way I can keep this up, this— this running back and forth between work and school.”

“But you’re brilliant, Brian. You’re top of our class.”

“Not quite brilliant, thank you, but yes, I know.”

You couldn’t contain your disbelief. Mostly, it was selfish, knowing that Brian— and not only Brian, but Freddie and Roger and Deacy too— would leave you for a very long time as soon as the summer was over. And if Heather’s staying at Ridge Farm with the lot of you was any indication, she’d be leaving with them, with Queen. You’d be alone in London, once more. Everything would go back to being what it had once been, cold and dreary and lonely and uncertain, and you didn’t know if you could handle that.

“But— but— I don’t—” You stopped because the words weren’t coming out the way you wanted them to. Then you tried again. “What about astrophysics? That could be your career too.”

Brian just about flinched, and you knew as soon as you’d said it that it was the worst thing you could have said.

You’d said what his father has said.

“No, I mean, what about the stars?” you said. “You’re in love with them, you wouldn’t— you can’t—” You were avoiding saying what it was you knew deep down you wanted to say. That you wanted him to stay. You needed him to stay.

But Brian took your hands in his grasp, and your breath faltered completely.

He was so close to you, and you were afraid he should hear the raucous beating of your heart.

His gentle exhale fanned across your face, and you wondered how it was that he could breathe so deeply when you could only manage a few strangled gasps, shuddering breaths that rattled your heart and your hands where they rested in his.

Your hands.

Your skin tingled where he touched you, it always did. But what of him? Did he feel anything when you touched him? A burst of emotions that left him gasping for breath and tingling? Or was this to remain one-sided, a fire that burned above the ice but never truly melted it..?

Brian didn’t blink, and you didn’t breathe. The only part of you that had not ceased to function, it seemed, was your heart; your pulse drummed in overtime.

“Look, Y/N, I know I can’t ask this of you, and god knows I don’t want to, because I know you’ll be asking yourself the same questions you’ve just asked me, but,” he squeezed your hands, “I have to ask… Because we’re not the same without you. Not me, not Freddie, not Roger— hell, just this morning, you’ve inspired even Deacy to come out of his shell and write us a song.”

You closed your eyes. “Brian…”

“No, shush,” he said gently. “Let me be the one to talk, for once. For once, don’t give me the perfect excuse to shut up and listen to you talk instead, because I’d do that forever if I could.”

His eyes searched yours with a gaze so sharp your heart skittered.

“I want you to come with us,” he said, and the sinking feeling in your stomach hurtled to a stop, having reached the bottom of a terrible pit. “I want you to come with us on tour.”

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t go with them, however much you wanted to.

And oh, how you wanted to.

You pulled your hands from his, knowing that the touch of his skin might very well be enough to change your resolute mind.

But you couldn’t let it. You owed as much to your own father. Your parents had always wanted better for you than a housewife running a pub, and a middle-aged man still trying to build a business from the ground up in a hopeless market. You couldn’t let them down. Your first loyalty lay to them.

“I’m sorry, Bri,” you breathed. “I can’t. I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Brian’s exhale was unsteady. “I know,” he said. “I knew. I knew before I asked you, but damn it,” he kicked his heel against the step in a spark of that legendary temper, “I had to ask.”

“Brian, I’m so sorry, I really am…” The promise of tears stung your eyes as your chest tightened.

Brian got up, the book under his arm, and you let out something like a sob as he turned to go. He was tearing you apart.

He clenched his fist at his side. “I just want you to know,” he said, and his jaw tensed, “that if it wasn’t for you, Reid never would have made the decision to manage us.”

“What?” you mustered, though your vision was blurry and you couldn’t keep your hands from shaking.

“No one told you, did they?” At your blank expression, he went on. “About playing at the Union Pub, that night back in February… You were the messenger to Freddie. Roger never left the house until thirty minutes before the gig, and Freddie told Deacy and me about the show. We wouldn’t have played there if it wasn’t for you, and that was the night that Reid happened to be in town, visiting some nephew at Imperial. If we hadn’t played that night, we’d never have got into contact with him. That bastard Norman Sheffield would have bled us dry, and we would’ve had no new manager to take us on. If it wasn’t for you, we’d not have been writing an album right now, let alone have had a place to do so.”

You were speechless. Such a small thing, to drop by Kensington Market and pass on Roger’s message to Freddie— and yet.

“So,” Brian loosed a breath, “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, but I do,” he said fiercely. “And so I have even less right to ask you to come with us. But I wanted you to know. And I wanted to ask.” He sighed, and his eyes seemed older than time; he was farther from you than the deepest reaches of the unending universe. He let out a mirthless laugh, and not even the echoes of humour existed in the sound. “That’s the last time I ever do anything for myself.”

He smiled sadly, and you found that you couldn’t breathe.

“Brian—”

“Please don’t,” he said. “Please don’t say anything. I owe you, and the very last thing you owe me is an apology.”

“You and I don’t want the same thing,” you murmured, in place of the apology you so desperately wanted to utter again.

Brian looked as though he was falling apart, and nearly as much as you were.

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But I thought we did.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: okay but the picture is me imagining what sleepy bri would look like mmm

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @sgt-stardust-killerqueen​ @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @iamsuperconfusedallthetime @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @onlyyoudarling @annajolras​

crossed out tags would not take; i’m sorry!

Masterpost / Part 12 / Part 14

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between (formerly ‘The Ghost of You’) – Updated

@tinyarmedtrex @violetreddie @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

PSA: I changed the name of this fic. It was once ‘The Ghost of You’ but I don’t think that fit the story anymore, so I changed it. Hope that isn’t too confusing!

Chapter 4 - Nothing Ever Becomes Real Until It Is Experienced

Read on AO3 HERE

A stream of lava-hot water hit Richie’s back, waging a brutal war against the knotted muscles of his back.

“SHE’S ALL I NEED ALL OF MY LIFE!”

He rubbed the bar of ivory coloured soap between his hands, before rubbing the soapy lather over his chest.

“I FEEL SO GOOOOD IF I JUST SAY THE WOOOOOORD”

Turning around, Richie closed his eyes against the torrent of water, letting it rush over his face and chest, the soapy suds disappearing down the drain.

“ SUH-SUH-SUSSUDIO”

Richie opened his eyes, mouth still half open from where he’d been singing, and, as if he had always been there, Eddie’s disembodied head looked back at him from where it was sticking directly through the shower curtain.

“Richie! The lambs have come back down off the hills and – oh good lord, you’re naked!”

“JESUS FUCK!”

A primal scream tore its way out of Richie’s throat as he unceremoniously tumbled to the floor of the shower, clasping helplessly at the shower curtain as he fell. The curtain ripped from its fastenings, and floated to the ground gently. Richie grabbed at it, yanking it towards him to cover what was left of his modesty.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

Eddie was standing in the bathroom, looking scandalized but also very mildly amused.

“I’m ever so sorry, Richie!”

“The door was locked, how the hell did you even get in here?!” Richie demanded, feeling his face bloom with blush, caused not only by the scalding temperature of the water.

“I – I didn’t use the door”

Richie blinked, incredulous.

“You didn’t use the door” he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows, an invitation. ‘Explain yourself’.

“I haven’t used a door in seventy years, and I don’t intend on starting now!”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Eddie has his arms crossed in what Richie imagines is supposed to be indignation, a silent ‘I’ve been here longer than you, this is more my house than it ever will be yours.” Richie can’t help but feel a pang in his chest, something so close to affection it’s uncanny, a cloying kind of feeling that envelops his heart and holds it hostage.

Eddie breaks first.

“It really was an accident, Richie, I sort of forgot – I forgot about …” he trails off before he can say it, but Richie knows.

I forgot what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to spend time with another person.

Richie’s annoyance melts like snow.

– X –

The house is almost finished. Nearly all of the major appliances have been installed, the water runs perfectly, and the electrics have been wired and approved. The only major task facing Richie now was decorating, which was unfortunate because Richie had been cursed with perpetually shaky hands meaning that his lines were never straight or clean enough. He’d been complaining about it to Eddie one evening, sat out on the porch, wind rustling Richie’s hair like autumn leaves, but leaving Eddie’s untouched, each hair frozen in time and space.

Richie had fallen asleep outside, a combination of the lake’s lullaby-ripples, and the warmth of the balmy night. He’d slept deeply, watched over by the moon and the stars, and woken up with a crick in his neck and freezing hands.

Eddie was no-where to be seen, but Richie was unbothered. Eddie made a habit of wandering the moors at night, unbound by the mortal need to sleep, dream and recharge. He was free to roam as he saw fit, truly a being of the night, drifting amongst the dreaming lambs and the trees that stretched humbly towards the moon. He always returned, though. Returned to the house that he’d died in, and, by association, to Richie.

Richie hauled his heavy bones into the house, and up the rickety stair case, desperate to change out of the stale smelling clothes from the night before. He could hear the clanging of something metallic, and Eddie’s high and bright whistling, like a bell beckoning Richie into the room. When Richie cautiously pushed the door open, his mouth opened in shock.

While he slept, the summer sky had materialised on his bedroom walls. Fluffy marshmallow clouds on a cornflower blue sky.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the room, paintbrush in hand, looking somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up yet. You don’t normally wake up before 7 or so”

“Eddie what the hellllll” Richie drawled, eyes scanning the room in astonishment.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, eyes and voice earnest and so sugary sweet Richie couldn’t take it.

“I so wish I could hug you right now, this is fuckin’ torture, s’what it is. This is beautiful, Eds. It’s – I don’t have the words”

“Heh. The oven mitts are downstairs, so, I suppose … I’m glad you like it, though. I was worried you’d hate it and think that I’d over-stepped, or something”

“No! Not at all. It’s … thank you, Eddie. Seriously, thank you. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”

“I know you hate painting and I used to paint a bit, when I was, y’know, so … I thought I’d help you out a bit”

“You’ve done more than just help me out, Eds, yowza!”

Richie sincerely wished Eddie was wearing those damn oven gloves, as he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand and never let go.

– X –

The kitchen hated Richie, and, by all accounts, the feeling was pretty mutual. Laying a new floor down had been an absolute nightmare, considering the fact that the room was bizarrely shaped, so Richie had had to painstakingly cut each piece of timber out with a circle-saw to the exact measurements. This had taken longer than Richie cared to admit, but he had eventually finished, and the glossy oak floorboards smiled up at him, thanking him for his time and effort. Painting the kitchen was a breeze in comparison, throwing a white emulsion onto the walls before covering it with a blueish-grey, light and bright enough for a kitchen, but not an emotionless white. The back wall was the only one that was still just white emulsion, and Richie had planned to paint it grey in the afternoon.

That had been his plan, before he heard an almighty crash echo throughout the house, a metallic clang, and then a horrified yell.

“Eddie?! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie shouted, running down the stairs at light speed, expecting to find Eddie contorted in pain, or gone from the house entirely, or a number of equally as horrifying possibilities.

What he found when he rounded the corner, and burst into the kitchen, was blueish-grey paint covering practically every surface in the kitchen, and a very forlorn looking Eddie staring at the mess.

“What – What happened in here?!”

Eddie looked up at Richie with pleading, guilty eyes, wringing his hands together.

“I… I tried to walk through the wall carrying the paint and … Well, I suppose paint cannot travel through walls”

“What have I told you about using the effing doors!” Richie bellowed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to the door that he had just sprinted through.

His new floor, his expensive oak floorboards that he had laboured over for weeks, ruined. The oven had thankfully not been installed yet, and sat in its protective plastic packaging, but even that was splattered with paint. The clock was covered in paint. The gas stove that Richie had been using to cook was covered in paint. In short, everything was covered in a sheen of grey paint.

“I was trying to help,” Eddie mumbled, mouse-small, “You said you loved your new bedroom walls and I thought – I thought I’d save you some work because I know how much you hate painting and – I am a catastrophe”

Richie felt awful.

“Naw, Eds, you’re not. C’mon, it’s not that bad. I can get some white spirit on the floor, that’ll probably lift most of it, and maybe Mike will let me borrow his electric sander. Hey now, Eds, c’mon, you look like you’re going to cry, you’re killing me”

“I would cry if I could”

“Can you cry?”

“No, because if I could, I would be doing so now”

Richie opened one of the now grey kitchen drawers, and pulled out Eddie’s oven mitts. He passed them over to Eddie, who reluctantly slipped them onto his hands, the scrunch of concentration that Richie had grown so fond of etched onto his face.

“I’m gonna hold your hand now,” Richie announced, before taking Eddie’s hand in his, “I promise that I’m not mad with you. I’m just – I’m just a bit frustrated but it’s not the end of the world. Kitchens come and go but Eddie Spaghetti’s are forever”

“Is that a joke … because I am dead?” Eddie asked, voice hesitant but Richie watched as a smile formed on his face, slowly, like a flower opening to pray to the sun.  

“It wasn’t ‘sposed to be” Richie shrugged, hand still gripping onto Eddie’s mitted-hand tightly.

“Are you sure you’re not mad with me?”

“I promise”

– X –

One thing that Richie soon came to learn was that Eddie loved music. Richie often heard Eddie’s ethereal whistling echoing around the house, or heard him humming little ditty’s that Richie didn’t recognise. Sometimes Eddie sang properly, a surprisingly rich and strong tenor that stirred things in Richie’s heart that had been dormant for years.

One day, when Richie was sanding the grey paint off the floorboards in the kitchen and singing along to Higher Ground by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eddie’s voice announced his presence before Richie was even aware of him being in the room, a habit of Eddie’s that he was growing slowly used to.

“This music sounds so different to the kind of things I used to listen to when I was younger”

Richie turned off the electric sander, before turning the radio up, Anthony Kiedis’ voice booming out of the speaker. Eddie looked vaguely alarmed, before tapping the toe of his boot slightly, face screwed in concentration, as if he was sampling the music like wine, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the beat or not. Richie hopped around on alternate feet, pretending to slap an imaginary bass, his face screwed up in his best approximation of ‘bass face’. He wasn’t sure that Eddie would know what bass face was, but he didn’t care. Eddie watched Richie with wide, half-confused half-amused eyes, the toe of his left boot still tap-tap-tapping away to the beat.

The song drew to a close soon after, and Richie bounced over to the radio and turned it off.

“So, d’ya like it?”

“It’s … interesting. It’s different, absolutely, but … it’s good. It’s got a good beat, I like the rhythm. I … rather liked his voice,” Eddie stuttered, and Richie was sure that if it were possible for Eddie’s face to flush with embarrassment, it would be doing so right now, “but one thing I don’t understand is where you put the records in that tiny machine? Are records really tiny now?”

“Records? Why would there be records?” Richie asked as confusion washed over him in waves, before realising that Eddie had no idea what a twenty-first century radio looked like.

“Oh, no, this is a radio, not a record player. Some people still use records, but those people are called ‘hipsters’ and you wouldn’t like them. But this is a radio, you know what a radio is, right?”

“Yes, Richard, I know what a radio is. I wasn’t born 700 years ago” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’. So you know how radios work, right? Like … the music is in the air? Radio waves and all that jazz?”

“The music is in the air?!” Eddie spluttered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“I thought you said you knew what radios were?!”

“Well, I know what they are, I never professed to know how they work”

Richie can’t help but laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face, a picture of exasperation mixed with confusion, and he is semi-horrified by the realisation that he wants to kiss it off Eddie’s face.

Well that’s new.

Richie tries to squash all ghost-kissing desires deep into his brain into a box marked ‘bad idea’ but he knows that that box has a habit of refusing to remain closed and springing open unexpectedly.

In his desperation to sway his attention from Eddie’s grumpy, kissable face, Richie cranks the radio up even further, switching the station to the all-day 80s bangers station he’d found a few weeks ago. Bonnie Tyler’s voice filtered out of the speakers, and Richie lip-synced along with her as she lamented about the fact that she didn’t have a street-wise Hercules. Eddie watched as if transfixed, eyes following the minutia of Richie’s movements but standing on the side lines, not joining in Richie’s one-man dance party.

“Dance with me!” Richie yelled, waving his arms erratically in the air as Bonnie’s voice howled around the room.

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

“I can’t!”

“YOU CAN!” Richie practically screamed, “dance with me, Eds! Please!”

Richie’s pestering finally broke Eddie’s resolve, and just as the song peaked, Eddie started to dance.

Now it was Richie’s turn to gawp.

Eddie threw himself around the room wildly, feet a blur as he alternated between rhythmic walking, jumping and kicking his feet , whilst waving his arms in a jaunty swing, occasionally snapping his fingers or clapping his hands in time with the music.

“You’ve been holding out on me, you sneak! Look at you go!” Richie yelled over the music, hardly moving, just watching Eddie spin and twist and jump.

“I may or may not have been quite the accomplished swing dancer when I was … y’know …” Eddie gasped, mid spin.

“I fuckin’ bet you were! Look at your fancy feet!”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Eddie laughed, performing a particularly complicated piece of footwork, and peeking up at Richie with his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Damn straight, look at us, a couple-a movers and shakers, but damn, Eds, you shake it the best. You gotta teach me.”

Eddie laughed as he span past Richie, and Richie followed him, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips in a way that he assumed looked ridiculous, but the way Eddie’s eyes lingered on the swivel of his hips suggested otherwise.

The song finished, and a slow ballad started to play – all slow, smooth guitar and mellow vocals.

Richie, gasping from exertion, stopped dancing, and so did Eddie, who looked exactly the same as he always did, not a hair or piece of fluff out of place.

“How do we dance to this one? It’s a bit slow, Rich”

An idea crashed into Richie’s brain at warp speeds.

“Hang on”

Richie disappeared downstairs, and returned clasping Eddie’s oven mitts in his hands.

“Put these on” Richie instructed Eddie, like he always did, and once Eddie had put the mitts on, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“We gotta slow dance to songs like this, them’s the rules”

“Uh … but we’re both … you aren’t a … I’m not a woman”

“I won’t tell if you won’t”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t move his hands, either. Knowing that he couldn’t put his hands on Eddie’s waist like he wanted to, Richie settled for placing his hands over Eddie’s mitts, on his shoulders. They swayed back and forth.

“Are you like me?” Eddie whispered, voice barely loud enough for Richie to hear over the music.

“Depends what you mean by that, Spaghetti. Am I dead? No. Am I a wicked dancer? Yes. You gotta be more specific”

“You are a brute! You know exactly what I mean”

“Do you mean ‘do I fall in love with men’?”

Eddie hesitated for a second, before nodding the affirmative.

“Then yes, I am like you. But I also fall in love with women. I like ‘em both. Greedy like that”

“Is that … is that possible?”

“Sure is, sugar!”

Eddie closed his eyes, and Richie was sure that if Eddie could cry, this would be another occasion where he would be doing so.

“I only … I only fall in love with men. I had – Rupert. We – he died. I never got to say goodbye”

A heavy sort of sadness settled in the room. Eddie’s eyes, downcast and lidded, refused to meet Richie’s. They stood in the middle of the room, touching but not really, dancing but not really, in silence.

“I hate that I can’t hold you, Eddie”

“I hate that you can’t hold me, too”

– X –

Something changed after they danced together. Not a seismic shift, but a small tremor. Eddie told Richie about Rupert, and how they’d lived together in relative sin, and as he spoke, he’d screwed up his face as if willing himself to cry, to feel something. Richie cried enough for the both of them.

A few days later, it was a lazy Sunday, and Richie is listening to a local Scottish radio station sat out on the porch with Eddie in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are for the afternoon, but I’m off to have a lovely roast dinner!” the radio host announces, before signing off for the day.

“Oh, I do miss a roast dinner” Eddie announces wistfully, rubbing at his stomach comically.

“What’s a roast dinner?”

“You’ve never had a roast dinner?!”

“Uh… no? Should I have? What is it?”

Eddie abruptly stands up, and walks back into the house, listing off all the components of a roast dinner as he walks. When they get to the kitchen, Eddie marches straight over to the fridge and, without opening it, sticks his head right through the door, before also sticking his left hand straight through the metal, as if the fridge was not a solid object at all. Richie is sure that there will never be a day that he doesn’t find that unbelievably funny.

“You have all the vegetables, but the only meat you have is … this!” Eddie pulls his head back through the fridge door, looking at his hand triumphantly, only to find that his hand is empty.

“I keep forgetting I cannot move things through other solid objects” Eddie deadpans, smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

Richie cackles at him, before moving to open the fridge himself, and seeing a lonely looking peperami lying on the bottom of the fridge. With Eddie’s help, Richie manages to cook the roast dinner without too much issue. The only time Eddie screeches at him is when he pours way too much oil into the roasting pan for the potatoes, but that issue is quickly rectified. After a few hours, the meal is prepared, and Richie plates up feeling overwhelmingly guilty that Eddie can’t share in the meal that he helped to prepare. Eddie assures him that he doesn’t miss eating that much, and ushers Richie into the dining room, where the new dining table stands proudly in the middle of the room. Richie places his plate on the table, before realising that he’d forgotten cutlery and a glass of water. Eddie, who had been standing behind his chair, follows him into the kitchen, walking straight through the table, and babbling nonsense about how Richie was about to experience something truly magical.

When Richie returned to the dining table, he found that his food was now burnt beyond recognition, the fresh vegetables that had been lying on his plate mere seconds ago now transformed into a smoky black sludge.

“What in God’s name …” Richie muttered, staring at the burnt food in disbelief as the cutlery slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Richie looks at Eddie, then back to the ruined food on his plate, then back to Eddie. Without saying anything, he ran back into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of broccoli, before charging back into the living room and throwing the broccoli directly at Eddie’s head.

The broccoli fell to the floor.

Or, more accurately, the broccoli that was now a black, burnt sludge fell to the floor.

“For fucks sake!”

– X –

Richie stays up late that night, sleepy eyes glued to his computer, scrolling through useless website after useless website before he lands on the first thing that looks even remotely promising 16 pages into the google search.

Stanley Uris – Corporeal Reanimator

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Seven

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the seventh chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 7 ~~

I wake eager to start the day with a list of tasks to accomplish. Having slept late after our late night of revelry, I haven’t as much time as I would like. I prepare in my head the things I wish to discuss with Robert. There is the obvious issue of my home and my need to return soon, but there is also the matter of Peeta.

After much thinking, I have determined that perhaps I have not been as kind to Peeta as I ought. He did help me that day in the rain, and he means a great deal to Robert, perhaps as much as Prim means to me. I cannot fathom severing their bonds as brothers and add making amends with Peeta to my list of tasks needing my attention.

Only, there is no word from Sir Robert. No love letters or sonnets. No pink roses waiting for me at the breakfast table and no cards announcing a visit, at least not any from the man I kissed last night.

The longer the day stretches with no word from him, the more agitated I become, especially given the looks of concern Madge continues to send me throughout the day. Effie begins the day with a wide smile, but by the end she is more distraught than I. Before the effernoon of visitors even ends, she retreats to her room to nurse a headache and leaves the remainder of the entertaining to Madge and I. I find myself in the awkward position of chaperoning a visit from three different gentlemen… who clearly have come to see Madge, not I. Technically I am not supposed to chaperone as I have never been married, but since I allowed a man to kiss me and half undress me in the gardens last night, I suppose it is apparent that I do not much care for technicalities and propriety anyways.

Uncle Haymitch joins us for dinner, adding another face of concern. It is more than I can stand.

“Perhaps he drank too much and was recovering today,” Effie suggests in a whisper and I bow my head, unable to tell them that if that is the case, then he went elsewhere to drink after the ball. He was perfectly sober when he left me in the gardens. “Tell me again everything that he said.”

I sigh and give Effie the highly redacted version of my night that I gave her less than an hour ago.

“There must be a reason,” she insists. “If there is no word tomorrow, Haymitch will pay a visit to him. Or to the Marquis!”

“I will not go see the Marquis unless it is to greet him at the gates of hell.”

“Honestly Haymitch, I do not know what your issue is with the man, but you must set it aside for the sake of our niece!”

“Madame. I warned you not to tangle with that family,” he snarls at her and stands, squeezing my shoulder once before leaving the dining room. Effie huffs and I can barely summon the energy to wonder at his words. Whatever his reasoning for not wanting me to pursue Sir Robert, it appears that perhaps he was right.

The sun sets and then another day passes. That is all the pouting I allow myself. I need to return home. I long for it in a way I cannot describe, but I cannot leave the city with no resolution betwixt me and my betrothed. I resolve to not sit on my haunches. With Madge fast asleep, I light a candle and pen a note to Sir Robert.

As the ink dries, I read through my words and scowl. That won’t do. I sound angry and petulant. I crumple it up and throw it in the grate, gnashing my teeth to release the anger into the air and not into my missive to him.

The next is discarded for sounding too lovesick. Another for containing one too many complaints. Another comes out accusatory and while I think it justified, the words may not inspire much passion on his part.

It is early in the morning when I throw away my tenth attempt and climb into bed, defeated. I have no idea how to pen a decent love letter. I shall simply have to throw another convention to the winds and visit him myself tomorrow.

My sleep is terrible as I spend the rest of the night reliving our time at the masquerade, searching for clues and only confusing myself more. All those beautiful things he said about dancing a thousand dances on a broken leg for me and he can’t even be bothered to send a note.

Perhaps he has fallen ill. As awful a person as it makes me for even thinking it, I hope that this is the case. It is uncharitable of me, yes but it is a decent explanation that satisfies my vanity and gives me the courage to brave the world in the morning.

I know that I still look ghastly when I finally make it downstairs, seeking food and nothing more, only to be accosted by Aunt Effie in a fit of screams.

“Look, my darling, darling girl!” She shoves a newspaper at me and hurries up the stairs. “I am going to wake Haymitch! He needs to see this! I knew that young man would turn up! He is besotted with you, after all!”

I glance half hearted at the newspaper and the words in the weekly society pages that have Effie so elated.

“Katniss! Go put on a different dress! That one is making your complexion look sallow. You cannot greet the Marquis or Sir Robert thus!”

“The Marquis is visiting today?” Madge asks as she emerges from the library with a book in her hands and a hopeful smile on her face.

“No card yet, but an engagement announcement in the papers! He cannot ignore you now!”

I shove the papers at Madge and walk into the breakfast room, loading a plate to overflowing as she reads the words aloud, announcing to the world that a Miss Katniss Everdeen of Southeastern Panem, daughter of Mr. Kent Everdeen and his wife Mrs. Elise Everdeen, shall soon wed Sir Robert K. Mellark, third son of the Marquis and Marchioness de Vale, Lord Reginald and his wife, Lady Tabitha Mellark.

“This is good news!” she says as I drop my plate on the table with an unladylike amount of vigour and noise.

“I do not understand it.”

“It was only two days without word, perhaps he was seeing to the papers and license,” Madge soothes and takes my hand in hers.

“Not even a note? No word for days, Madge.”

“You disturb my sleep for this?” Haymitch shouts.

“Tell your niece to put on the blue dress. It brings out her eyes and she won’t listen to me this morning! She must look her best today!”

I groan and stand to pour myself some coffee. I do not usually drink the stuff, but I think I might need it today.

“Katniss, sweetheart, if you have an ounce of affection for me, you will do as your aunt says so that she stops harping at me about something as trivial as the shade of your dress!”

Before a decent argument begins, there is a knock at the door.

“Oh! That will be Matilda. She will have seen the announcement!”

Chaos ensues as Effie attempts to push me up the stairs to change, before I am done with my breakfast.

“I do not need to see Matilda. She is your friend.”

“She will want to see the bride to be! I do not often get the chance to gloat and show you off, darling!” Effie gushes and Haymitch attempts to use a silver platter as a mirror to tie his cravat. “Margaret! A little help.”

“At least let her finish her toast, Aunt Effie.”

“Ahem.” We all turn to stare at the butler as he bows. “I beg your pardon. The Marquis de Vale and a Mr. Peeta Mellark await you in the study, Mr. Abernathy.”

“The study?”

“Peeta?”

“Not Sir Robert?”

The butler’s head swivels between the three of us ladies and finally settles on looking at Haymitch.

“They wish an audience with Mr. Abernathy and Miss Everdeen.”

“Not in the parlor?” Effie squeaks and Haymitch sets his hands on her shoulders. “That is not sociable at all. What is going on, Haymitch?”

“Compose yourself and let us deal with this. Take no visitors until we return. Not even Matilda.”

“But Haymitch!”

“Not one visitor, Madame. Katniss, come with me and hope you do not regret listening to your aunt’s courtship advice.”

I wipe my hands clean and then rub my palms on my skirt. They’ve begun to sweat horribly. Haymitch leads me to the study and opens the door for me. I walk in with as much dignity as my churning stomach allows.

Peeta paces the carpet and a man I can only assume is the Marquis stands in front of the window, staring out on the world with his hands folded behind his back. There is a third man I do not recognize, seated and paging through a stack of papers.

“Miss Everdeen,” Peeta says and takes two steps towards me before his father coughs in an annoying manner and Peeta halts. I stare at him as he bows to me, slow and sedate. “Good morning.”

“Abernathy,” the Marquis says and I turn slightly to examine the father.

Good lord, there’s more of them.

I almost blurt the words out as my eyes dart from one Mellark to the other. If Peeta and Robert look as though they could be twins, despite their difference in age, there is no denying that the man who turns from the window to examine me is most definitely their father. I feel as though I could be looking at one of the brothers forty years from now, with lightened hair at the temples and grooves carved into his face.

Peeta’s lips curl up on one side in a wry smile at my reaction, as though echoing Robert’s words from the other night. Impossible to deny, given the physical similarities. I almost laugh, but manage to contain what I am sure would be a crazed sound.

“Mellark,” Haymitch says and I swear I can hear Effie fainting upstairs at the subtle snub in not using his title. It stuns even me, although the Marquis does not even blink at it.

“It has been some time.”

“Not long enough.”

“Indeed.”

“To what do we owe the honour of your visit?”

“Cease the act, Abernathy. There was an engagement announcement in the papers today and we need to sort it out before it gets out of hand.”

“What is to sort? The announcement is true,” I say and the Marquis arches a brow at me, the lines on his face deepening with his scowl.

“Is it now?”

“Your son Robert proposed to my niece three days ago,” Haymitch says, stepping protectively between myself and the Marquis. The protective gesture annoys me.

“He did not,” the Marquis proclaims confidently.

For some reason, my eyes jump to Peeta. Anger leaps high in me at how he stands there, silent. Surely Robert told him? But no defence is forthcoming from the bastard as the father continues.

“My son,” he sighs deeply and sinks into the chair behind Haymitch’s desk. “Has made a number of costly and foolish choices recently, but proposing to this bit of fluff cannot be one of them. Furthermore, it is most vicious of your family to run this announcement without my approval.”

Anger and indignation rise in me, burning hot as the insinuations sink in.

“We did not run the announcement!”

“And yet here it is in print.”

“Robert must have–” my words are cut short by a solid hand slamming on the desk. I flinch and glance nervously at Peeta to see if the noise had any affect on him at all. He remains a stone wall, unresponsive, just like his horse. But now that I am getting a good look at him, I see that he appears as awful as I feel. Dark circles ring his eyes and his skin appears pale, unnourished.

Something dreadful has happened.

“Robert could not,” the Marquis insists, his face turning purple as he seems to be stumbling through his words, starting half a dozen sentences and failing to complete them before Peeta finally speaks.

“Robert is gone.”

In the silence that follows, we listen to the ticking clock in the corner and the third man coughs.

“Gone? Gone how?” I ask, thinking a hundred horrible thoughts of him dead along a roadside, murdered by a highwayman, killed by an overturned carriage, lost to a fever. Perhaps it is cruel of me, but in the moment, death would be welcome to the thought that he courted me, kissed me, and then discarded me so carelessly. My stomach sinks as the Marquis sighs.

“That is not for you to reveal, boy.”

“She deserves to know,” Peeta says and stares his father down. “Whether you wish to admit it or not, Robert was, for all appearances, courting her, and there are any number of witnesses to it. She deserves to know.”

For one second, I am struck with the impression of two colliding thunderstorms and then the Marquis relents. “Very well, then. You claim to know the tart, you tell her.”

I gasp at the insult and Haymitch steps forward, but Peeta comes between the two older men, a contrite look on his face.

“May I speak with your niece, Mr. Abernathy?”

“She is standing right there. No need for permission,” the Marquis says. He is lucky his son stands guard because I have half a mind to fetch a weapon and split his skull for his rude behavior.

“Please,” Peeta says softly. Something in his voice draws my attention to him, and I am frozen in place by his pleading gaze. There is pain in his eyes and curiosity gets the better of me. I squeeze my uncle’s arm. Haymitch nods his silent permission and Peeta takes a deep breath before explaining. “He has eloped with someone. My brother Ethan and several others went after him, but they were…”

I stare at him as though he’s speaking another language, unable to believe the words or what they mean for me.

“Too late. He’s already married the trollop and made annulment impossible, God help him,” the Marquis growls and launches into a tirade that I cannot follow. My head swims with the news.

Robert eloped and already married someone else. For an instant, I feel as though my soul separates from my body. I cannot process this news, cannot reconcile it with the events of the masquerade. How could this happen? I saw him only a few days ago and the man I spent the night with at the masquerade seemed enthralled with me. The things he said, the way he kissed me! How could he already have married someone else? I know that Peeta said Robert falls in love easily but who could he have fallen in love with that quickly?

Peeta. Peeta would know with who and how this happened.

I refocus my attention on him. Oddly, he seems to be the only person I can focus on right now as he whispers. “I am…sorry, Miss Everdeen.”

“I have restricted my son and his…wife to remain far from town until this has time to fade out of interest. It would have not been an issue at all were it not for this travesty.” The Marquis lifts the paper and smacks it down on the desk. “You people–”

“Who ran the announcement is of little consequence,” Peeta interrupts and his father glares hotly at him. “The damage is done and the important matter now is repairing it.”

“Indeed,” the third man finally dares to speak, but I’ve no time to ask who he is or why he’s here.

“I do not see how this is our concern. Your boy is the one who ran off and broke the engagement. Katniss has done nothing wrong,” Haymitch says and the Marquis smiles. The expression is repulsive, almost sadistic and I have to force myself not to reach for Haymitch’s hand.

“Do you really wish to test that theory, Abernathy?”

I wait for Haymitch to leap to my defense, to tell this man to go to hell. The silence stretches to unbearable until the Marquis stands and spreads his hands on the desk.

“I thought not. Here is what is to be done. Robert is now married and obviously cannot have two wives. We have an engagement announcement in the papers that will destroy his status as a gentleman if allowed to stand, and I cannot allow that, no matter how beneath his rank he has chosen to wed. Luckily, I still have one unmarried son. A retraction, a correction will run in the society papers next week. I have already submitted it for print, announcing that your…Katrina–”

“Katniss,” Peeta corrects.

“No matter. Announcing that today’s paper contained a mistake and she is to marry Peeta here instead.”

“I will not!” I shout. I have been insulted, accused, and abused this morning. I will not stand for having my life decided for me as well.

“Sweetheart, hush,” Haymitch tries to soothe and I turn my anger on him, glaring daggers that he seems willing to roll over and take orders from this pompous ass.

“My solicitor, Mr. Cameron,” the Marquis waves towards the third man in the room, “has already drawn up the papers. You will sign today and then you and your family will tell every caller to your house of the mistake. Play it for a lark or a joke. An amusing misunderstanding if you must. You will not breathe so much as a word of Robert’s marriage. Tell them whatever they need to hear. Perhaps that your niece fell madly in love with Peeta instead of Robert. There is precedence for that sort of claim to a fickle heart in your family after all.”

Fury contained burns hot in my blood as he speaks. Ruthless, manipulative, cold and demanding. My mother was too kind in her description of him when she only used one of those words. I hate him already and my fingers itch to claw his eyes out before he even delivers the worst of his verdict.

“My son and your niece will be married as soon as feasible. Afterwards, I will announce Robert’s marriage in such a way that it will not seem that his marriage prompted this fiasco, and then this mess will disappear, no permanent harm done,” the Marquis finishes and runs his hands over his waistcoat.

“No permanent harm done?” I take a step towards him with murder in my mind, but Haymitch intercepts.

“I would have a word with my niece,” he says as I struggle to free myself from his grip and not cry in front of these bastards who would decide my life for me.

“Of course. We will wait here.” The Marquis waves his hand, dismissing us and my anger nearly bubbles over into screeching at his treatment of my uncle in his own home, at his cold assurance that he will get exactly his way.

Haymitch drags me down the hall and practically slams me into a wall as my tears break free. “How can you let him speak to you so? How did this happen?”

“Katniss, get ahold of yourself! You’ve gotten embroiled in a scandal with the wrong family, that is what happened. God damnit! I should have listened to my instincts and not Effie’s insistence.”

“Explain now.”

“Twenty-eight years ago, that man in there courted your mother and proposed to her. She refused because she was already in love with someone else, and two days later her engagement to your father appeared in the papers. She was lucky to walk away unscathed. She had no sisters to protect, no obvious weak spots for him to exploit. He had not come into his title yet, he found another poor wretch to marry him instead, and his father was slightly more forgiving. Elise has no idea what she narrowly escaped. You are not going to be so lucky as your mother, Katniss.”

“I won’t marry his bastard son to salvage the reputation of a man who proposed and then reneged! It won’t damage Robert that much anyways! Ha-ha! He realised too late how unsuitable the poor, untitled farmer’s daughter was for him!”

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch shakes his head and his face twists in pain. “I hate this for you as much as you do. But you do not comprehend the danger. Just a word or two, even a whisper of a scandal out of that man’s mouth and both you and Prim will suffer.”

“Prim?” I ask, freezing in horror. “It would be lies!”

“It matters not. All that will matter is who chooses to believe him. His is not the sort of power you can enrage without consequence. Do you understand?”

My tears and heaving slows. I still do not understand what happened between the masquerade and the morning after to so change Robert’s affections towards me. I feel as though a knife has been lodged between my ribs, but I can understand what Haymitch is saying. Lord Mellark could make it so that no one decent will marry Prim or myself.

In other words, will have to marry Peeta. I have no choice.

************************

Details are finalised. Mr Cameron adjusts the contract as appropriate. Lord Mellark makes a point of telling me how Peeta will now receive half of the amount meant for Sir Robert upon marriage as well as the amount intended for Peeta himself, since the youngest legitimate Mellark has caused his father and his family such embarrassment and trouble.

“Does that satisfy, Miss Everdeen?” Lord Mellark asks as Haymitch signs the paperwork in my father’s stead and hands the quill to me so that I may also sign.

“It is most generous,” I say, certain when he nods that Lord Mellark missed my sarcasm.

The last signature sealing my fate belongs to Peeta. He accepts the quill from me and nearly drops it with how hard he tries to keep from touching me in the exchange. A sickening feeling fills me as I wonder what, if anything, Robert told him about that night at the masquerade. My eyes jump to the scars on his face. Annoyance that he would so judge me when he is clearly marked as I am churns in my gut. Or perhaps there are other reasons he now acts as though I have leprosy.

Then I cannot watch as he bends over the desk to sign. I stare unseeing out the window and wait for the scratching of quill tip on parchment. It does not arrive. Peeta stands and sets the quill back in its jar.

“May I speak to you a moment, Miss Everdeen?”

“I think you have spoken enough,” I say.

“There will be time for that later. Sign the papers.” I truly wish I could challenge his blasted father to a duel.

“After then? Perhaps a walk in the garden?” Peeta persists.

“I would not foul the pathways so,” I say, furious that he would suggest such a thing, even if he is unaware of what passed between Robert and I three days ago. A proposal in one garden and a kiss in another. I don’t care if it was not real, I won’t allow this bastard to further sully my memories of that day. The Marquis makes an odd noise in his throat.

“You are a nasty piece, aren’t you? No wonder my son had no real interest in you.”

The words strike deep and cause such pain. When I was eight, my mare was spooked by a snake and threw me. I laid on the ground gasping for air, my chest tighter than a corset. I thought I might die and this feeling that Lord Mellark imposes on me with his words is far worse than that feeling.

Because it must be true. Regardless of what happened at the masquerade, Robert would not have eloped and married another with such haste and no word of explanation to me if he felt any true regard for either myself or my feelings. Whatever I felt that night was truly one sided.

“Enough insults, Mellark. She has signed your damn papers. Allow the girl some anger and upset for the way things have turned out,” Haymitch says.

Lord Mellark grunts and begins to gather his things. “I haven’t time for this, boy. Already I have wasted an entire morning on this mess. Either sign or I will pursue my initial plans.”

I have no idea what he means, but whatever it is spurs Peeta into action. I’ve never seen anyone sign their name so fast nor with so much restrained rage. The glare he sends his own father leaves me breathless. I feel a slight twinge of pity as I realise that I am not the only one being forced into this travesty of marriage against my will.

Then I crush it. I have no space in my shattered heart for Peeta’s pain. I’ve enough of my own to carry.

“Excellent. I’m off. Good day, Abernathy.” The Marquis departs with his solicitor and his papers.

The three of us left in the room linger in charged silence until the carriage leaves.

“Why are you still here?” I snarl at Peeta.

“I should go explain things to your aunt,” Haymitch says and practically runs from the room. I scowl after him, furious at his cowardice in leaving me alone with this bastard. Shouldn’t he at least punch Peeta to defend my honour?

I doubt that you need his help. Robert’s words about me not needing Haymitch to defend my honour rise up in my memory to taunt me. Very well then. I shall do it myself.

“There is something I must tell you,” Peeta says before I can so much as make a fist.

“I’ve no wish to entertain a bastard this afternoon. If you’ll be so good as to see yourself out.” I spin and march from the room. I make it to the stairs before the tears start and then I run.

***************************

I lay with eyes fixed on the window, the curtains parted just enough to admit the glow of the moon. So beautiful and cold in the night sky. I wonder if Prim or my mother were able to enjoy their evening. It has been several days since I heard from them. I never told them of my engagement, thankfully. At first distracted by the masquerade and then by Sir Robert’s silence, I never sent word. Now I am glad that I did not, for explaining that mess would only make this entire situation worse. And to think just three nights ago, I squealed with foolish, girlish joy over a few kisses, thinking myself to be falling in love.

My eyes ache, tormented by the need to contain my tears all day while I was forced to sit in the parlor between Aunt Effie and Madge. Forced to drink tea and laugh at the “mistake.” Forced to pretend joy at my betrothal to a man I despise and who I am certain despises me.

Of course every known acquaintance would choose today to visit, tempted here by that blasted announcement to offer their congratulations. Effie insists it was not her who ran the announcement. That leaves only Robert himself, but that makes no sense either and unfortunately, Peeta was right. It matters not who sent in the announcement. What matters now is repairing the damage.

While I have been mourning for my loss of something I am not certain I ever possessed, barely able to speak and instead hiding behind a false smile of speechless fake joy, Madge and Effie had the difficult task of explaining that no, Katniss shan’t be wedding the charming Sir Robert but the other brother, with whom I am apparently madly in love.

I could release them now. The tears. I’ve enough of a broken heart to fill the night with sobs aplenty and give myself a headache, but I refuse to give the trio of Mellark bastards determining my future the satisfaction.

“Katniss…” Madge whispers. Her voice sounds choked, as though she too is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry. I… I was so concerned about returning to Maysilee as soon as possible. So happy when it seemed that we might find you a decent man for a husband with such ease that I was—“ she sniffles as tears slip from my eyes. I know she is crying as well. “I’m so sorry. I do not want your marriage to be anything like mine was.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and summon as much cheer as I can manage.

“Perhaps Mr. Mellark suffers a terminal illness and will make me a widow by the end of the year.”

“Perhaps,” Madge says although she does not sound convinced.

“It is not your fault, Madge,” I whisper, my voice a detached monotone. “You did not elope with Robert, nor did you encourage him to do so.”

“No. But I ignored the warnings in his behaviour.”

“What warnings?” I turn slightly in bed, a sudden cold feeling sweeping over me.

“I do not know how to explain it and perhaps it is the clarity of viewing past events and knowing the outcome now speaking, but Sir Robert’s suit was… lukewarm at best. So little passion for such haste. In truth, now that I think on it, Peeta showed more interest in you than Robert did.”

“Until the masquerade,” I remind her, ignoring what she says about Peeta. She sighs.

“Yes. That I cannot yet explain.”

I do not answer, unable to do so without expelling a torrent of sobs. I wait until I have control and by then, I am certain she is asleep and unable to hear me.

“Nor I.”

************************

I survive the second day of my engagement to Peeta Mellark and escape to the garden after the visitors cease their torment, using the excuse of cutting flowers for the dinner table. The gardner who would usually attend the task gave no resistance when I asked, handing over her shears and basket with a soft look of pity. Bah. Does everyone know of my misfortunes in romance?

I need a distraction and the flowers oblige. I have half filled the basket when a sound alerts me to the presence of another. I expect Madge and scowl when I see Peeta walking towards me. His gait is uneven and he moves with a pronounced limp. Good. While I do not know the source of his injury, I do know that he deserves some pain for what he and his brother have done to me.

“You are late for visits. We are fresh out of tea, and I will not be inviting you to dinner.”

“Miss Everdeen,” he says as he stops near me.

“Have you come to make more demands then? Is marrying you not enough?”

“I did not want this any more than you.”

I do not even try to contain my sound of disbelief. “You did not want Robert to marry me. You made no secret of that, and now you have exactly what you wanted.”

“Not like this. I did not want this,” he insists. I choose to ignore him now. Maybe then he will leave. “I merely wanted to be sure that he would not fall in love with someone who could not and would not love him in return.”

The silence the stretches between us, broken only by the songs of birds and the faint noises of traffic on the street in front of the house.

“You garden as a hobby?” Peeta asks, clearly not taking my hints that I wish him to be gone. I resign myself to attempting conversation.

“I suppose that is not a suitable hobby for the wife of a Marquis’ illegitimate son in your mind?”

“I have nothing against gardening.”

“Thank goodness. My continuation of my favorite activities was hanging by the thin thread of your approval.”

“You dislike me.”

“No more than you dislike me,” I say and examine a few stems instead of looking at him.

“I do not dislike you at all, Miss Everdeen,” he says softly.

“Good heavens!” I say and lean back, sheltering my eyes from the sun with one hand to look up at him. “Such high praise! I would hate to see how you treat someone who has earned your disdain.”

He makes a strange growling noise of frustration in his throat. “Despite what you may think, I find you…intriguing and…enchanting. I do not wish for either of us to be miserable in our lives together. If you could find it in your heart to give me a chance—“

The snorting, indignant huff of disbelief I make cuts off his words and he finally ceases. I am quite tired of seeing Peeta Mellark, I think as I stand, brushing dirt off my hands onto my skirts since in my haste to escape, I forgot gloves. Effie would be furious at the dirt I leave on my skirts, especially in the presence of a gentleman, but if we’re going to be married, he might as well know what he’s getting.

I have always preferred feeling the plants and the soil, the life between my fingers anyways.

“A chance to do what?”

“Tell you the truth, for starters.”

“By all means, do share,” I throw my arms wide and let them fall to my sides. “I cannot see how it could possibly make anything worse. What excuse will you give for your brother courting and misleading a lady only to discard her the day after he proposes, I wonder. It is certain to be quite entertaining.”

“Robert was gone mere hours after he proposed to you.” A stab of pain lances across my chest at this. I shake my head to deny the words that pour from Peeta’s mouth. “He never made it to the masquerade at all.”

“No.” I keep shaking my head, hoping that it will make this nightmare stop. “No I saw him there. He…”

“That wasn’t Robert,” Peeta whispers and his fingers trace mine, exactly as the man in the mask did that night. My heart revolts against what he is saying. “Katniss—“

“No!” I shout and step away from him, snatching up my shears again. “You are not allowed to address me so! You and your kin have lied to me, used me most horribly, insulted me, and played with my heart! You have taken away what little choice I had in to whom and when I am married! You are not allowed to speak my name thus!”

I spin back to my plants and grasp a rose by the stem then yelp as the thorns pricks me.

“Bastard roses!” I screech, bringing my hand to my chest and dropping the shears.

“Even the flowers meet your disapproval in their wanton ways of pollinating.” Peeta reaches out and grasps my hand. We engage in a brief tussle for control of my wrist, but he unfortunately wins with a glare reminiscent of the way my mother used to look at me when I would not sit still to have a scrape cleaned and dressed. “You have gotten a pair of thorns embedded in your palm. Come with me.”

Pain and heartache make me too weak to resist. I should kick him but am suddenly sapped of the strength to do so. Surely an effect of my outburst.

He leads me towards a rain barrel and produces a handkerchief and after assuring me that it is clean, dips the elegant cloth into the rain water. He gently cleans the cuts on my palm. My pulse turns erratic as he blows on the cuts to dry them, wiping away more dirt. I watch as his pristine white cloth grows dark with earth and my blood.

“This may hurt a little,” he warns and he slides a knife out from I’ve no idea where. I gasp, stunned at the quick flash of metal. “Apologies. Habit from–”

“The infantry?” I ask and he nods. I take a deep breath and give him permission. “Proceed.”

I turn my head away so I need not watch. As comfortable as I am with the blood of animals, human blood – in particular mine or that of anyone I love – never fails to make me nauseous.

“For shame on the flowers. Cavorting with the bees,” he murmurs as I barely feel a prick or two and then slight pressure.

I snort at this and shove the laughter down deep. I will not give him the satisfaction of my laughter as his warm palm cradles mine, loose enough to not hurt me but tight enough to prevent my escape. For me to feel the calluses on his skin and the caress of his thumb over mine in a soothing gesture. The touch feels familiar although I dismiss that as a trick caused by his words. I refuse to believe it was Peeta at the masquerade that night. I can only withstand so many blows to my heart.

“They are Aunt Effie’s favorite but, I am not fond of roses,” I gasp out and he lifts his head to look at me.

“Because they are so…scandalous?” he asks with a teasing smile lifting the corner of his lips. I fight back my own smile. I will not smile for him. I will not fall for more of his deception.

“No. Because their scent is overwhelming and sticks in the nostrils, eventually growing foul. They are quite common. Everyone seems to hand them out as gifts and has them planted in their gardens.”

“So you prefer more extraordinary blooms.”

“No.” I say, and he seems to be waiting for more.

“Perhaps something more wild and native to your home then.”

I cannot breathe. The intense way he looks at me wraps around me and squeezes the air from my lungs.

“Why do you care?”

“Because like you, I do not wish to marry a stranger, nor a person who cannot even stand my presence, regardless of the circumstances of engagement.”

He has been holding my hand for longer than necessary and gazing into my eyes for certainly much too long and yet I cannot seem to break the connections. I cough and nod towards our hands. “Are the thorns out?”

“Yes.” He lets go my hand then and steps away from me, only to remove his cravat. I am too speechless to ask what the devil he is doing. “And I do believe that you will live.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” I say and Peeta laughs. At my words or my tone, I cannot be sure, and I am too distracted by his state of undress and then by the awful ripping sounds as he uses the knife to cut a length of silk from his neck cloth. Setting aside the knife, he once more takes my hand in his and uses the strip of silk to bandage my hand.

“We have bandages inside,” I croak. He pauses in his work and I shake my head. “No, I do not know if Aunt Effie keeps any. My mother does, at home.”

He finishes his task while I stare at the scars that are normally hidden beneath his collar and that disappear beneath his shirt. How far down his body do they extend, I wonder, and does he already know of mine? The garden is unbearably warm this afternoon.

“There,” he says and then says my name like a plea, but I shake my head and return to the rose bushes.

“I do not wish to be miserable in matrimony either, Mr. Mellark. Dishonesty is something I cannot abide.”

“I have not lied to you.”

“Either you were deceiving me several nights ago at the masquerade or you are deceiving me now.” I turn back to judge his reaction. He clenches his jaw and turns one direction then another.

“It is more complicated than that. My only excuse for the masquerade is that I meant to protect my brother and I… became distracted.”

“How convenient, sir.”

“I cannot convince you?”

“No.”

“Shall I return tomorrow then? Perhaps you might enjoy a ride in the park, beneath the trees.”

I squint at him and shake my head. “A good attempt, sir, but that will not work. Robert could have told you everything that passed between us.”

“Not everything.”

My cheeks heat as he steps closer. Close enough for me to feel the heat shifting in the air around us, the currents I felt the other night reborn and charged with animosity rather than desire this time. No, it is a trick. I am feeling things that are not there, influenced by his deception.

I cannot stand the feelings and turn away from him to snip off a few more blooms without paying much attention to their quality and lay them in my basket to take inside.

“I want no deception between us as well, Miss Everdeen. The simple truth is that Robert was long gone when I found your note to him about the ball. Realising that you would be expecting him and questions on his whereabouts might be raised before Ethan could reach him, I was sent to…distract you.“

"Who sent you? Your charming father? It’s preposterous and you really expect me to believe that?”

“If you cannot believe me, then I shall refrain from speaking of it again, but it is the truth.”

“Then you’re off?” I say, unable to account for the sinking feeling inside me.

“Not yet. There is one more matter I wish to discuss with you before I leave you be.” I pause in my flower gathering long enough for him to take it as approval to continue. “I imagine you are anxious to return home to see to your father, your mother and sister, as well as the needs of your home. If you wish, I would join you at Everdeen in a week’s time. A small wedding at your home where your family could be present might suit best. If not, you can return here once you’ve seen to your responsibilities, and we can be wed at that time.”

“You are giving me a choice?” I turn slightly to face him.

“I leave it solely in your hands.”

I flounder for words, stunned by the gesture of handing me control, however little it may be.

“You do not need to choose now. Think on it and let me know.” He hands me a folded piece of paper, bows, and then departs, still limping slightly.

It takes several minutes after he has left for me to brave looking at the paper. He has written a fully addressed letter, sealed and all, and in the corner is his direction, so that I might write him my answer.

I stuff the letter in my pocket without reading it and hurry inside, deciding what flowers I have already cut will suffice. I will need to begin packing immediately and speak to Madge, Uncle Haymitch, and any number of servants if we are to leave for Everdeen first thing on the marrow.

I am going home.

************************

To be continued…

[silverdune]

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note: most of my work is non-romance. i write reader on a case by case basis (all readers are gender neutral). i don't take requests. i write whenever i have the motivation to. please heed warnings on individual works. any requests regarding headcanons/imagines/main fics will be deleted.

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[ncfan-1]

Once Fictober is over and I’ve finished the multi-chapter I’m working on now, something I want to write is the “Dimitri turns into a Demonic Beast during the timeskip and can’t change back until he learns to let go of his rage and his hate enough that it isn’t consuming him anymore” AU (or something to that effect, eheh). Here’s an excerpt, something that will hopefully be stronger when it’s got an actual fic around it, but oh, well:

[CN/TW: self harm]

“We leave for Ailell on the morrow.” The air around her mouth glittered silver as she adjusted her scarf for what must have been the fifth time since she had appeared at the doorway. “Early.” Melusine’s jaw tightened. “Likely, I won’t be able to come here again before then.”

Dimitri watched her from his spot backed up against the far wall from the door, burrowed in his nest of dead leaves and blankets Annette and Mercedes had insisted upon and kept insisting upon even as he’d snapped and growled low in his throat at their approach. He did not feel the cold, he wished to say. It was a wasted effort, he wished to say. If he could not leave this place, he wished for them to not—

That wouldn’t have borne saying, even if he could say anything at all. He had no voice with which to tell any of them any of what he wanted to say. He could snap and growl and roar, and not speak. Never speak. They knew he couldn’t speak; it had been well over a month since they were all reunited, and they all still insisted on speaking to him as though he was a man, why—

He could not tell her to go away. He turned his head away from her instead, letting her see the blind side of his face and willing that to do the talking for him.

It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Would that he could close his ears the way he turned his face away.

Not only could he not close his ears, his hearing was sharper now than it had ever been when he was still a man, so that he could hear all the faint tremors in her voice and pitches in her inflection that he’d never noticed before she’d vanished into the abyss. Or maybe she had changed, as he had changed, but somehow, he doubted it. She was as fixed and as ageless as the tower to which he was now confined.

“I remember Ailell from the time that merchant tried to kidnap Ingrid.” Melusine sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t look forward to returning now, but we have no choice. If we want to avoid an ambush and get back to the monastery quickly with reinforcements, it’s the best location to rendezvous with Lord Rodrigue.”

Dimitri had heard Ingrid detail this plan nearly a week ago. The mention of Rodrigue’s name still made him flinch.

If Melusine noticed it, she gave no sign. “I—“ Her voice turned faint suddenly, and Dimitri wasn’t certain if the quaver dominated her voice, or if it was just his own hearing amplifying the effect beyond what a man would have ever noticed. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell him. We’ve told him you’re alive, but no more—this isn’t something we could risk putting to paper. I’m sure he’ll want to know why you’re not with us. Felix says he told him what happened to Miklan all those years ago, but still…” She laughed, a sound like the wind blowing through a hollowed-out gourd. He thought it was the first time he’d ever heard her laugh. “He’d be forgiven for thinking me a liar, or else, mad.”

Her footsteps carried to the ceiling of the Goddess Tower with an echo just as hollow as her laugh. “We’re all going,” she murmured. “The knights will stay, and hold the monastery against any further attempt at invasion.” Her voice grew harder as she went on, “You must not attempt to leave this tower again. I cannot guarantee your safety if you do. No one can.”

He didn’t look at her. He remembered the last time he had left; it was not in him ever to forget. No words to express his shame (she was still noticeably ginger with her left arm), no words to express his fury at confinement, no words to express the cold wave that had washed over him when he was reminded again, his flesh was still mortal flesh, for all that he was a thing of rage and claws and teeth, stronger than any man, he could be cut down like a man all the same.

He did not look at her, and she did not attempt to force herself into his sight. “We will return,” she said simply, “as soon as our fortune allows us. Wait for us, Dimitri.”

And still, he did not turn to watch her leave. If they did not wish him to fight, they ought to have let him go. If a beast was all he could be, now, he ought to at least be allowed to live like one. (He deserved no better.)

-0-0-0-

Six times the sun rose and fell over the horizon of the mountains, and not a single sign came to Dimitri that the party that set out for Ailell had returned. The guards talked, of course; he could smell their fear as thickly as the smoke that had burned at the close of the Guardian Moon, but this could not, by itself, stay their tongues. If the party that had left this place had returned, he would have heard tell of it.

On the seventh day, bright white clouds cut fickle paths across the sky, unable to decide whether or not they wished to hide the face of the sun. Dimitri’s side ached with new wounds, the pain a balm to an itching agony that dwelled too deep for claws to reach. He had turned his head to the window, that sliver of a world that could not, for now, be his, watching the sky.

New voices drifted to his ears, and he sat up a little, listening.

“—kept him confined.”

Melusine. So they had returned, at last.

“Professor—“ A second voice, taut with agitation. A man’s. “I don’t understand.” It sounded like… “Why—“

No.

No no no no no

Dimitri tried to back away from the light into the dark of the far side of the tower (not him not him please not him), but the wounds that had been a balm just a moment prior served to hinder him now, and he fell heavily on his side, the force of the impact sending dust floating down from the ceiling in a flurry like new snowfall. (Not him I can’t please I can’t) Claws scrabbled uselessly at the unyielding stone of the floor beneath him, tail lashed wildly at a wall that would not give to such force, Dimitri left excruciatingly slow to regain his bearings as the footsteps on the stairs drew ever nearer, the voices now gone.

Two figures appeared at the top of the stairs, and all Dimitri could do was stare at them as they drew closer, and then stopped just outside of the light.

“Please,” Melusine said, in the tone of someone trying to convince of something she knew anyone would believe utterly fantastical (but look what a world they lived in, now; look what had happened to him), “I know it much to ask that you believe me, but I swear to you—“

“No,” Rodrigue replied to her, so shakily that for a moment his voice was almost unrecognizable, and Dimitri could almost convince himself that it was not really him who stood there, but no, he was not that fortunate, never that fortunate. “I believe you.” He took a step forward, into the light. His eyes were riveted on Dimitri’s face. He appeared utterly stricken. “It’s him.”

For a moment, the world froze, holding its breath. Dimitri drank in the sight of he who stood before him with the sort of longing he hadn’t known he could still feel for anything but the feeling of Edelgard’s bones crushed betwixt his jaws—he was helpless to do anything else.

Rodrigue was older, now, his dark hair touched with frost at the temples, the lines that had already been etched on his face five years ago etched now so deep that they looked like someone had taken a blunt knife to his face and carved. But more than that, Dimitri looked at him out of the eye of something larger than any man, and oh, when he was a boy, even after he’d shot past him in height, Rodrigue had always seemed to Dimitri so tall and so steadfast, but now, oh, now, how small he seemed.

Then, the world moved again, and Rodrigue stepped towards him, and Dimitri found his legs again and scrambled back.

Five years ago, if Rodrigue had found him out in the wilds after he escaped Fhirdiad, Dimitri would have fallen sobbing into his arms. He had wanted him as desperately as he’d wanted his father, his stepmother, Glenn, Dedue, all of them. Even a year and a half ago, he suspected he would have, long after his rage had calcified into a shell around his heart. Now, that heart beat a harsh, staccato tattoo against his ribs as Dimitri backed further away from him.

Don’t come near me, he wanted to say. Don’t touch me, he wanted to plead. Don’t touch me, I’ll hurt you, don’t touch me, don’t look at me.

All that would come out of his misshapen mouth was a high-pitched whine.

Dimitri’s back struck the far wall, and still Rodrigue came nearer and nearer, his harsh, gasping breaths filling the air. Dimitri shrank back and down, pressing as tight against the wall as he could force himself to, claws scrabbling again against the floor. He flinched away from Rodrigue’s outstretched hands, and Rodrigue simply fell to his knees in front of him. His cradled Dimitri’s face in his shaking hands, so gently that all he could do was shake.

“My boy,” Rodrigue choked out. “My poor boy.”

And then, he just repeated those words, over and over, each iteration more broken than the last.

Dimitri only became aware of Melusine’s having drawn near when he heard her suck in a sharp breath, and realized that she was looking at his side. “Those are fresh,” she muttered, dropping to one knee, her hand (still just her right; would she ever be healed from what he had done to her?) glowing with magic as she turned her attention to his rent, bloodless flesh.

Rodrigue tore his gaze away from Dimitri’s face long enough to look to where Melusine was even now starting to ply healing magic. He made a garbled noise in the back of his throat that Dimitri hadn’t heard him make since he was nine years old, and Felix had hit his head falling out of a tree. Dimitri and his father had been visiting in Fraldarius territory, and the two men had been somewhere behind the house when it had happened. Felix wouldn’t wake, and Glenn had carried him back inside, screaming for a healer. That screaming had sent their fathers running back towards the house, and when Rodrigue had appeared in the doorway, and his eyes had lit on Felix, pale and bloody and unmoving in his brother’s arms, the noise that had escaped his mouth had not been a cry, not been loud enough even to qualify as a whimper, but Dimitri had never heard a more terrible noise, and he had never heard something so terrible again. Until now.

[pendragonshoard]

Riley’s Davekat Fic Rec Masterpost

Long post under the cut...

Davekat, Pre Retcon: 

Paint the Roses Red - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck highschool AU

You can't love someone else, and you can't expect someone else to love you. Not when you can't love yourself. It takes a special kind of person to make you understand what that means, though, and an even more special person to help you embrace yourself. Sometimes, if you're very, very lucky, this person will find you all on their own, and they will never really know about the spell that they cast on you because you were too busy working your own accidental magic on them. 

The Morning Dew Betwixt Thine Thighs - NSFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

You had thought he’d been so adamant about you coming over after school today to ask you out. And instead he gives you a fucking dick in a box and you tell him to take off his pants. Fucking great. Wow you suck.

Two Characters Encounter Alternate Versions of Themselves Doing Things and Then Proceed to Build up Amounts of UST Before Getting Over Themselves and Getting Their Acts Together. - NSFW - Meteor Fic - Multichapter - Complete

Instead of taking the bait, you store your sickles in your specibus and punch him instead. He catches that too, and forces you back against the table, knocking your book clean off the top, and pressing you into it fiercely. His sword is away too. Fucking how is this your life?

The next thing you know, his knee is between your thighs, pressing against your sheathe and nook, and you have a mouthful of Strider, pulling your hair. Your bulge tries to wriggle out, but the pressure over the sheathe is too much, and it's nearly painful but a humiliating pain and it's so perfect you moan and chitter into Dave's mouth, and he bites your lip

Lousy Stupid Goddamn Pretty Troll Boy - NSFW - Oneshot

John introduces his best human friend to his best troll friend. Maybe the three of them sit down to watch romcoms, maybe they're just hanging around a lab in the veil, but whatever the circumstance, Dave has trouble paying attention to the conversation at hand. Karkat is good looking and distracting and it's just not fair. Naturally, he begins distracting Karkat while John's talking. Little touches, lip licks, etc. Karkat gets flustered, Dave is thrilled, John is oblivious. It turns into a competition to see who can flirt the most without alerting John to their UST-fueled game. 

Improvidence - NSFW - Series - Complete - Meteor Fic - Post Game Speculation

Oh, I Miss the Kiss of Treachery - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you would be damned if you were going to miss the Grimdark concert because of a cold.

In which Dave is the lead singer of a band, and Karkat has front row tickets.

Gray and Red - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Soulmates AU - Humanstuck

The flower—the flower, it's . . . it's delicacy and strength. There's an imperceptible fragility to the boldness of the color. It looks loud, out there and brave, it looks like passion and heat, but a cooler, more human kind of heat. It's striped with a paler version of itself that emanates an ethereal kind of refreshing springtime feeling. It is, to put it in a nutshell, fucking beautiful. In which you only see color once you meet your soulmate, and the first color you see is the same as your soulmate's eyes.

Finally Out -  SFW - Oneshot - Post Game Speculation

The beta kids are released from the juju after a long time. Dave wants to see Karkat and is worried about him. After being gone so long.

Midnight on the Demon Patrol - NSFW - Multichapter - Updating - Demon Summoner AU

Fighting fire with fire is okay in theory but Detective-Summoner Dave L. Strider figures trying to summon corporeal demons to the mortal plane to fight other demons is likely to backfire spectacularly. Sadly for him his inner Knight gets the vapors at the thought of letting anyone else play guinea pig.

Yup, he is totally hogging the demon. What could go wrong? (Oh no, Dave, why did you have to think that.)

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures - NSFW - Oneshot - Heatfic

Karkat starts his heat cycle and Dave becomes more culturally aware. Best bros or not, desperate times call for desperate measures. Screwing your best friend? That's definitely a desperate measure.

Wherein our resident ornery troll spends about a bilunar perigee doing almost nothing but examine the specifics of his relationship with our favorite coolkid (the krabby 2 dope remix) - NSFW - Oneshot - Sequel to “Lousy Stupid Goddamn Pretty Troll Boy” - Karkat POV

You are Karkat Vantas, and you’re pretty sure a certain human is burning up your lifetime supply of chill. Not that it was a substantial amount to begin with.

Not Friends - NSFW - Oneshot - Sequel to “Lousy Stupid Goddamn Pretty Troll Boy” - Dave POV

You're still Dave Strider, and you're pretty sure a certain troll is burning up your lifetime supply of chill.

Dave has convinced himself that the thing he has with Karkat is about lust and only lust -- yet when the curiosity of his his closest friends forces him to examine it in more detail, he's acutely uncomfortable with what he finds.

Closeted - NSFW - Oneshot - John POV - John sits in the closet while they fuck basically - Onesided johndave

PWP AU Where John Is A Prankster But His Prank Lands Him In VoyeurLand.

I Don't Know What I Want - NSFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

It's two AM and you aren't sleeping.

Dave Strider's Stupid Fucking Jawline - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

“So Karkat has a crush on Dave,” Jade says.

You and John both choke on your ice cream. “Where the fuck did you hear that load of garbage?” you demand.

---

Generic high school AU. Dave's jawline is really distracting and Karkat does NOT have a crush on him (shut up, Kanaya).

I Just Wanted You To Marry Me - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

It's Dave and Karkat's 4th year anniversary of dating, and Dave knows he's ready to take the next step.

Curiosity Killed the Cat - NSFW (in the second part) - Series - Complete - No SBURB AU

Paper Hearts - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

This Valentine's Day just might be worse than all of the previous ones, because someone had been leaving you a paper heart every day for two weeks, and you STILL had no idea who it might be.

Status is Green, Captain Vantas. All Thrusters Go. - NSFW - Oneshot - Meteorfic

The first time you'd ever tried to fool around with Karkat, you'd gotten your hands onto his hips and then stopped because he'd started doing that thing where he breathes too fast then feels sick and gets dizzy and has to hide in his room because suddenly being around people makes him feel trapped. The second time it was you who'd backed off, wondering if he'd think you were some disgusting scrawny alien with too many scars and not enough wits to avoid earning them. He'd just pulled you against his broad chest and fallen asleep curled almost protectively around you. You couldn't look at him for a week. This time, so far both of you are still a green for go.

Post Retcon: 

Your Interpersonal, Intergalactic Relationship: A Beginner's Guide - SFW - Oneshot - Meteorfic

A beginner's guide to playing hopscotch, overcoming internalized homophobia, and falling in love with your alien best friend.

Disclaimer: results may take up to three (3) years to appear.

Albinos, Deaf Baristas, and Nosy Friends - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

Your name is Karkat Vantas, you're deaf, and you work at a coffee shop with your best friend, Eridan. Also, some asshole named Dave is way too attractive for words and you can't seem to get your shit together enough to ask him out.

Ambigram - NSFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

His lips are soft and sweet. They taste like mint and wax and you find it kind of funny that you can separate the taste of his chapstick from the taste of his mouth. With him hovering over you for a change, he’s quick to take charge, tongue dipping down between your lips. You have yet to figure out if he’s naturally a total top or if he’s trying to compensate, but either way it’s adorable; you love it.

You love him.

Damn.

(Sequel to The Morning Dew Betwix Thine Thighs)

To Defy Gods and Devils - SFW - Oneshot 

You're a demon, and he's an angel, and you suppose it was always bound to end like this, ironic or not.

Sugar and Spice - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck

You remember the first time you really realized you were fucked up.

You were five. First year of kindergarten, miserable as all fuck. The teacher told the boys to line up on one side of the room and the girls on the other. You don't even remember why. You just remember the result.

Within, Without - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

Dave just wants to be left alone. What's the point of anything when what's broken can never be completely fixed?

This is the story of Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas, on the longest journey of their lives.

Transstuck Davekats - NSFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

[Davekat have a sleepover]

I'll Write On Your Cup (Until You Ask Him Out) - SFW - Oneshot - No SBURB AU

"Yeah, well, that means your bestie over here has been writing pick-up lines on my cups for a month, acting like it was you."

---

The one where Karkat and Dave are oblivious idiots and you have to be the one to set them up. Obviously.

Sxyvaan - NSFW - Series - Complete - No SBURB AU

Karkat is a singer with a gorgeous voice and an affinity for simplicity. He’s got a gift for words, a love of classic things (like his ancient VW Beetle), and a truly magnificent temper, and he’s fluent in eighteen foreign languages. Dave is an ace at literally any instrument under the sun, with a master's degree in classical composition. He’s got a stupid-ass poker face, an unbelievably tiny apartment (which he rarely lives in anyways), and a truly magnificent collection of stringed instruments, and he’s a ridiculous idiot. How the fuck they ended up starting a rock band is a mystery to all.

How they made it to number one, on the other hand, is a mystery to no one.

Don't Forget the Sun - SFW - Multichapter - Discontinued but honestly still a very good read

Karkat Vantas always accepted the fact that he was not going to live past nine sweeps. It was just a certainty of his sad, miserable life. At least, that was until his friends found out and decided to hatch a plan to get him out of the Alternian empire. A plan that actually worked.

Now, he was stranded on an alien planet, at the mercy of some strange creature that was either trying to help him or going about some freaky ritual of flirting with your food before you eat it.

Also, aliens have sunglasses.

He was better off dying on Alternia, wasn't he?

The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater - SFW - Oneshot - Meteorfic

Knitting, it seems, is one of the most dangerous skills that one can acquire. You lose sleep, your fingers bleed, your relationships crumble, you have to fight every iteration of Sollux Captor for the right to--

Why are you laughing? What, you think I'm kidding?

Of Heaven and Earth - SFW - Multichapter - Discontinued but again still a very good read

Dave Strider is part of an organization that eradicates evil creatures that kill humans for food. No one knows where these spirits come from, only that the sooner they are destroyed the better. That is his mission right now, to hunt down a weak new spirit before it can kill anyone and grow stronger.

Karkat Vantas is fucking dead, and if that wasn't horrible enough, now he's being hunted by some sword wielding maniac. At least there seems to be others like him in this world to help him adjust to this mindfuckery.

I spy - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Part 1 of a series - No SBURB AU - Rosemary in the sequel

You're just trying to get home, have a peaceful trip, stay as calm as a troll like you can until you get back to your moirail. All that shit. You didn't expect to make any lasting connections on the train, especially ones that live in your area. You definitely didn't expect to meet anyone quite like Dave Strider. Apparently the universe likes to prove you wrong.

Somehow after that train ride, he fuses himself into your life. Another stubborn fucking barnacle with an uncanny ability to inconvenience you at every possible moment. Even while sleeping. But somehow, despite all the trouble, you still feel like he has the potential to make your life infuriatingly better. And you definitely can't act on it or let him know. Definitely.

Perspective - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

ORIGINALLY TITLED: In which Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas are Bored as Hell and Eventually Grow Close to Each Other in Multiple Ways

Karkat wants nothing more then to be entertained, Dave can supply that entertainment.

A story of friendship turned crush between my favorite dorks.

Act one: complete Intermission one: complete Act two: complete Intermission two: complete Act three: complete

We Could Be Wonderful Together - NSFW - Multichapter - Updating - Humanstuck

There comes a point in every man's life when he must ponder the merits of marrying his best bro and roommate of ten years. Or maybe that's just you. Yeah, actually, it's probably just you.

Don't Tap On The Glass - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic - bonus smutty sequel

When Dave makes two terrible mistakes in the space of 24 hours, he finds himself dealing with them in a body that's not his own.

Astronomy in Reverse - SFW - Multichapter - Updating - No SBURB AU

Dave and Karkat are intergalactic pen pals, originally paired together for an extra credit school outreach project. Now, three years of correspondence later, they're best friends... and Karkat is finally immigrating to Earth.

how...did you tell your friends - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Earth C

Unfortunately, you don't fancy your brother's suggestion on how to break the news to John... There's no other way out of it, you're going to have to just tell him.

Thirteen And A Half Mixtapes - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck

"What is it? What is it?" Nepeta presses right up against his shoulder to get a better look. "It's a cassette." Karkat is dumbfounded, "Where the shit do you even get a cassette?"

"Is there a note?"

"No, nothing." He checks the packaging one last time. There's not even a return address.

"Any idea who would send you a cassette?"

"Fuck if I know." Karkat says, "Definitely not John or Jade, though I guess Jade might have access to one. But she would have covered it in stickers or something, not just left it blank. Sollux would have sent a disk, if anything. He'd probably have just emailed me a file instead of going to all this trouble anyway."

"Well, whoever it is, they really don't want you to know that it's from them." Nepeta is inspecting the tape, "This is crazy. This is like..." Suddenly, her big, brown eyes seem to light up, "This is just like a rom-com! A mysterious tape... From a lover!"

tank time - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck - Part 1 of a series

>User: Karkat Vantas Objective: Sabotage any and all customer attempts to purchase a live pet from the undermanaged retail hell you call a job.

>User: Dave Strider Objective: Obtain a cat before your sister's birthday next month.

Match: begin.

In Name and In Deed - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Dragon Rider AU - Part 1 of a series

“Two brothers face off for the year title in the relay division, against the infamous Scourge sisters all the way from ALTERNIAAAA! Watch these athletes defy the ODDS and the WIND as Ruby and Gold stand up to Turquoise and Aquamarine in a STUNNING show on the beach at mid-afternoon!” Or so the poster had advertised. Yeah right.

OR:

The story of the recovery of one Karkat Vantas, Colonel of Her Majesty's forces, after losing close to a fifth of himself in the war.

So It's Going - SFW - Series - Complete - Retconned No SBURB AU

The kids wake up on earth with a couple very... unique issues. Oh, and eventually there are trolls

Hard To Stay And Watch You Walk Away - SFW - Oneshot - Meteorfic

I thought too hard about scenes that happened in the GO timeline that we never saw the retcon version of and then this came out. The "will we still be able to be best bros" conversation re-imagined for post-retcon. Somehow Karkat is even more insecure. Also I always wanted Rose and Karkat to talk in canon so hey have a bunch of them too, thanks.

Dave Mutters to Self and is Gay - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

"Alright, bite the bullet here Strider, admit it to yourself. The first step to healing is acceptance. Or at least the last step of grief. Maybe? Why does everything gotta be an AA program, handing out steps left and right. Except instead of all admitting that we're middle aged men with an addiction to getting sloshed and beating our wives it's more 'Step 1: have homolust thoughts. Step 2: freak out. Step 3: who the fuck knows. Step 4: acceptance."

What.

“Hey wait shit is someone here?”

Fuck you said that out loud.

Red Ties - SFW - Oneshot - Soulmate AU - Humanstuck

Dave Strider's eyes never turned the color of his soulmates. With his rare eye-color, there's next to no chance they simply share an eye color.

One day he meets Karkat Vantas.

The Eurydice Suite - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - No SBURB AU

Dream-sharing. A highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. And the Strider-Lalondes are the best in the business.

Until Dirk Strider gets his fool ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, it's going to take a team of the world's most talented dreamers to save him.

Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the l8est and gr8est agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind, it's going to take a miracle to pull this one off.

Oh Orpheus, sing to me all night...

You're So Fucked - NSFW - Series - Complete - Humanstuck - first part of series SFW 

[Dave and Karkat reunite at a DnD campaign due to mutual friends. Shenanigains ensue]

For Who Could Ever Learn to Love a Beast? - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Beauty and the Beast AU

Karkat is just having an awful birthday. It's raining, cold, and he has finals tomorrow. Literally the only thing that could make it worse would be if some witch from six hundred years ago decided to come cast a curse on him that would make him into some ugly horned monster until he could find true love. If true love is even a thing.

Helter Skelter - NSFW - Oneshot - Post Canon - 2 Daves 1 Karkat - exactly what you think

Dave gets a visit from Future Dave, and between the two of them, they give Karkat the night of his life. Over and over again.

A Bump in the Road - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck - this will give you a toothache

After earning his Master's degree in education, Karkat can't find a teaching job, so Kanaya gets him a job as a toddler teacher at a daycare, much to his chagrin. Dirk is his quietest and most behaved student; in fact, Karkat has never heard him speak, and he's curious. What kind of person could raise such a child? And just how long will Karkat's patience last in a room full of two year olds?

Here We Pokemon Go Again - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck - Part 1 of series

Karkat and Dave meet at a Pokestop while playing Pokemon Go.

Karkat is a 25 year old teacher on summer break who really likes Scythers. Dave is a 23 year old (not so) secretly nerdy DJ who really likes Karkat.

OR Wherein Karkat and Dave meet, catch Pokemon, and maybe fall in love.

Coming To Terms - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

Your name is Dave Strider, and you have skeletons in your closet. Literal skeletons and a metaphorical closet. There's a lot to come to terms with.

In Which Dave has Abs, Karkat has a Nice Ass, Jake Wears a Binder, Dirk Has to Socialize, and John Wields the Power of Balloons - SFW - Series - Updating - Humanstuck - Multiple Other Ships

Also known as "When the fuck does John Egbert find time to fill balloons with shaving cream?"

Also also known as "Despite the title there's going to be a fuck ton more characters."

All I Can Taste Is The Sugar In Your Hair - NSFW - Oneshot - Post Game

Trickster Dave is a god damn treasure and no one can tell me otherwise.

Some scenes from the Rosemary wedding, but really, this is about Dave being high on cherub candy and really, really, really wanting his boyfriend to fuck him. (Not intended to be dubcon, but if you have issues with altered mental states or pushy partners in the context of an established relationship it might be not great for you! Take care.)

In Contrast - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - No SBURB AU

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are a mutant, a freak of nature with red blood, which is frowned upon. You have been safe for many sweeps, but now your eyes have betrayed your blood color and you have beem practically exiled onto an alien planet. It's a suicidal mission that only your superiors know about, and not one of your friends do.

You are captured and taken into captivity, where you are tortured for information and studied like a caged animal because your species is alien to these...To these humans. These awful humans with their needles and weapons of torture, trying to hear you scream and decipher a language out of it, to see how you react to blood of animals.

Eventually one of your friends hears of your capture and gathers a rescue team, but you have fallen for one of the humans there.

Now your friends don't trust you either. You have affiliated yourself with the humans who have tortured you, and they don't know if you are a friend or an enemy. Everything is so mixed up and screwed that you feel like vomiting your own blood.

Midnight's Son - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - No SBURB AU

Dave Strider's father, a prominent detective, is tasked with infiltrating the Midnight Crew. Dave, worried about his father's safety, decides to do a little undercover work of his own and tries to befriend the boss's son, Karkat Vantas.

If I Lose Everything In The Fire - SFW but its not finished yet so - Multichapter - Updating - Pacific Rim AU

The Kaiju - or Horrorterrors, as the trolls call them - first invaded Earth through a transdimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Serving the Condesce in her quest to add Earth to the Alternian Empire, these monsters have terrorized humanity for twelve years. With the help of rebel troll factions and the adaptation of Alternian mind integration technology - The Drift - the Interspecies Defense Program has fought back as the last line of defense between the Kaiju and Earth.

Karkat Vantas was a Jaeger pilot, fought for freedom in the Assault on the Breach that brought trolls to Earth. The loss of his co-pilot left him bitter and full of rage, but desperate times have lead to him being recruited to join the fray once more.

Dave Strider is the best and brightest the Interspec program has to offer. Jaeger Restoration Project Head, highest simulation score on record, and younger brother of the Deputy Marshal - except he's not allowed in a Jaeger.

Nobody expects them to be Drift Compatible.

If I lose everything in the fire, I'm sending all my love to you...

Flight Recorder From Viking 7 - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - No SBURB AU

Dave Strider is a way-too-lonely transport pilot assigned to a high-pay low-stakes mission over the Christmas holiday. He's got a blistering hangover, a conscience full of nightmares, and an angry copilot. All he needs now is a nice bout of feeling worthless and-- well would ya look at that, he's got that, too. Time for takeoff, Houston, the water's just fine.

Or: In which Dave Strider discovers a modicum of self worth while stuck on a trip through foreign space, with a short, irritable, and annoyingly attractive troll as his only conversational partner for the next two weeks.

i'm at the combination dunkin donuts & urgent care - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

Karkat Vantas is convinced beyond a doubt that his neighbor is some variety of murderer, until they actually meet in person. Highlights include blood at the laundromat, Dave's weird obsession with candles, and a box of shitty swords.

I Love Cheap Thrills - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Part 1 of series

You’ve been trading memes with an international pop sensation, and your drunk ass had no idea.

Classic.

Disengage - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

In which Dave attempts to confess his feelings to Karkat through a mirror and ends up enlisting the aid of the Mayor upon realizing that mirrors do not, in fact, talk back

IN WHICH TWO SETS OF HUMAN BROTHERLY BONDS ARE ESTABLISHED, SEVERAL CORRUPT INSTITUTIONS OF MORALITY ARE IDEOLOGICALLY DEMOLISHED, A DOG WITCH USES GOD POWERS TO MESS WITH EXQUISITELY CAREFULLY PLANNED INFRASTRUCTURE PLANS FOR SOME TREES LIKE A JACKASS,-- SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Post Game - This one is just as much dirkjake as davekat

--APPROXIMATELY A BILLION FUCKING CONSORTS AND CHESS PEOPLE, ALONG WITH A LOT OF USELESS GOD MODED LAYABOUTS ARE LEAD TO SUCCESSFUL COLONIZATION AND ESTABLISHMENT BY A SUCCESSFUL AND COMPASSIONATE LEADER, AND LONG-SUNDERED SOULMATES TORN APART BY FEAR AND DEVASTATING, MIND-BOGGLING STUPIDITY ARE REUNITED AT LAST BY A WISE, COMPASSIONATE BOSS / GUIDANCE FIGURE AND HIS LOYAL, EFFICIENT RIGHT-HAND MAN. THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE CRYING SCENES, TWO KISSES, AND OVER TEN TOTAL MINUTES OF REAL-TIME DESCRIPTION OF LONGING GAZES AND TENDER HUGS. 2 RESOUNDING ENDORSEMENTS OF BELOVED MUNICIPAL OFFICIALS. PRIMERS ON HUMAN/TROLL INTERSPECIES ROMANCE.

THIS TEXT IS SUGGESTED SCHOOLFEEDING MATERIAL FOR ALL REASONABLY GROWN HATCHLINGS GAZING OUT ON THE BLIGHTED WASTELAND OF THEIR PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS, WISHING THEY WERE DEAD, AND DESPERATELY YEARNING SOMEONE WOULD CLUE THEM IN ON JUST WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

RATED 8(17)+ AND UP.

You Do Not Disappoint. - NSFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck

He's still staring at you, his milky red eyes are eerie, red in a different way to yours, yours are so brown they look a bit ruddy in some lights. They suit him, and there's so many ways you want to worship his body that he'll sneer at you for. This is just sex Vantas. Get your head in the game. And then when he's riding you he'll smirk down at you and say 'Wildcats' as you finish, and ruin it. You can't have nice things, because Dave isn't inherently nice. He's enough for you though.

It's not so bad. - SFW - Oneshot - Humanstuck - this one is just so sweet ok

A simple 'good morning' can turn into 'we'll get through this together'.

M.C. Escher that's my favourite MC - SFW - Multichapter - Updating - Part 1 of a series - Soulmate AU

Dirk has a plan, when he's 18 he's going to take Dave and get him the fuck out of their terrible lives and start over. Until then being the barrier between Dave and Bro is his only job, his soulmate is just going to have to wait goddamnit. Dave has a plan, it involves getting internet famous and not going gay, easy right? Karkat also has a plan, to repeatedly track down his dumb as rocks soulmate and get him to actually talk to him for fuck's sake.

Ever After - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Mind the tags - Humanstuck - Royalty AU

The job will be nearly impossible. Karkat Vantas - as skilled an assassin as he may be - has never been assigned such a high risk target. But the pay drives him to accept. He will kill the heir to the Dersite throne, and live like a king for the rest of his life. It should have been straightforward and emotionless. When he meets a peasant on the street and gets attached, however, he begins to question whether or not the risk is worth it when all he needs is Dave.

Who Are These Douchebags? - SFW - Series - Updating - Meteorfic - Post Game

Linked stories about douchebags being douchebags.

  Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents - SFW - Multichapter - Updating - Humanstuck

One minute you get a mysterious message from a man who types all in white like a jackass, and then the next thing you know you're being whisked away to a mystical school for kids with superpowers. If you weren't Dave fucking Strider, this sort of thing might bother you.

A Stunning Tour De Force - NSFW - Oneshot - Earth C

"A triumph." -Dave Strider, about getting his dick sucked for the first time

They're definitely dating - SFW - Oneshot - Meteorfic

She realizes that Dave and she had been holding hands during their entire conversation with the trolls, and idly wonders what they thought about that. Probably just that they were clingy siblings.

Time Displacement: Side A - SFW - Multichapter - Updating - Post Game - Part 1 of a series

After the events of the game, Dave wakes up in a universe that is familiarly unfamiliar. Sburb didn't happen, all their guardians are alive, and Bro is...different.

Knight of Blood (finally) - SFW - Oneshot - Post Game

Ascending? Post-game? It's more likely than you think.

The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You've Known - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Part 1 of a series

There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Slow burn, shifting perspectives; romance really isn't the focus here but it'll still play a significant part; extra content warnings will be posted with each relevant chapter.

two for mirth - NSFW - Multichapter - Updating - No SBURB AU - Part 1 of a series

“Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.”

“What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.”

The good news is that it's not sextoys

The bad news is that it's a person.

Off Court - SFW - Multichapter - Updating - No SBURB AU

Your name is Dave Strider, and a hospital wasn’t the setting you had imagined when you thought of seeing your twin again.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and having Terezi drag you around her weird human legislacerator training probably wasn’t the worst way you could spend the rest of your sweeps.

And then you meet him.

A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas, Featuring A Multitude Of Illustrations By Your Esteemed Authors, As Well As Tips For The Aforementioned Wooing - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Meteorfic

Kanaya, because she's a saint, makes you a list.

The list is entitled "A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas" and features a multitude of illustrations in purple pen.

"So we're doing this," you say. Your mouth threatens to twitch into something dangerously smile-shaped.

"Yes," says Kanaya. "We are making this happen."

"Hell yes."

Just A Thing We Do - NSFW - Oneshot - Post Game

“Apparently, you inspired him to try initiating amorous… activities… over these stupid devices!” Karkat waved his phone at him, punctuating the accusation. “Do you actually just casually proposition Dirk while he’s busy with other people?!”

Jake shot him a wide-eyed look, freezing halfway through shoveling a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He slowly lowered his hand, blinking rapidly, eyebrows furrowing behind his glasses. “I -- well, what’s that to any of you, exactly?”

(Or, as I have been calling it, The DaveKat Sexting Fic. ENJOY)

Turnt Heck Godhead - NSFW - Multichapter - Complete - Part 1 of a series - Post Game

Dave Strider is feeling different. Really, everyone is. Steps seem to carry more weight, voices seem to echo more, bodies seem thicker and more full of life and comfort. Something is changing here, on this new planet, in this new universe. The cans of the town seem more real than the buildings of society ever did. And sometimes if you close your eyes and listen there is something like a chorus, or an echo, from a place where things are different--but not by much.

All at once, the feeling becomes too much to ignore, and Dave needs to find out what's happening. But doing so means coming face to face with his old sprite, now become something totally unbearable and unfathomably graceful and self-assured. And now it seems Dave's curiosity may awaken in this new being a hunger...

A hunger for the illest beats ever dropped in the history of paradox space. Beats that could change Dave, and all of his friends, in ways they could never have expected.

Welcome to Davepeta and Jasprose's grand venue: Good drinks, dim halls, chill beats and comfy bean bags The Turnt Heck Godhead is open for business as long as you're open to the feelings it can cause.

Meditation - SFW - Oneshot - Teen Titans AU

"Order is good. It’s balanced. Don’t think on the fly. Don’t try anything funny. You’re not that thing anymore. Not that person you mean. Can’t afford to freestyle. This isn’t a spotlight solo on stage. Don’t start swinging when you can’t afford it. Don’t you dare start swinging.

Focus. Zone in. Zoom in. Focus."

In which Dave attempts to meditate and things end badly.

Book Covers - SFW - Multichapter - Complete - Humanstuck - Part 1 of a series

Karkat has had a shitty life and has had to bust his ass for everything he has. He has no patience for spoiled, delusional, lazy people and this is exactly what he thinks Dave Strider is. They get paired up together for a project in their college English class and when Karkat accidently learns that Dave is fighting to keep custody of his younger brother Dirk, he learns that he may have been completely wrong about Dave and shouldn't have judged a book by it's cover. A story of two damaged boys coming to each others rescue and growing as people. <3

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Chain Of Command

Anonymous said: I️ really miss your COC and The Getaway fics. Will you be writing soon? I️ am also loving your art. You must be an amazing person.

Thank you, Anon. You’re way too kind to me. Have some CoC <3 MBD

Strapping wee Fergus to her chest, Claire made sure that he could suckle should he want to under the cover of the sling she’d mocked up. Jamie had been up and away quite early, leaving Claire to find her own amusement and she’d decided that she wanted to get back to work. Tired of being stuck upstairs on bedrest she was ready to escape.

Sneaking downstairs, Claire’s sweat drenched hands clung to the banister as she descended. If she ran into either Jenny or Ellen she was finished. But luck was on her side. The big house was seemingly empty on the main floor, the fire lit in the sitting room seemed simply to be there to warm the dogs more than the household. Bran, the largest of Lallybroch’s canines, had curled himself tightly on the hearth and it didn’t seem like he’d be moving anytime soon. Claire smiled as she strode passed the hairy beast. He was supposed to be the guardian of the house, but he was the softest creature she’d ever met.

Curling close to her breast, Fergus scrunched his eyes closed and nuzzled Claire’s warm skin. He liked the motion of her movement, she could tell by the way his breath came in short sharp pants, fanning across her chest. It soothed her to know that he was comfortable enough swaddled as he was.

Opening the door to the upper kitchens, Claire walked with purpose passed the few staff that were busy cooking lunch. None of them would question her, but she didn’t stop to find out, instead she continued her journey downstairs stopping only when she reached the end of the largest preparation areas. Grabbing an armful of potatoes, she started peeling, using the small knife that Jamie had gifted to her directly after their wedding instead of one of the kitchen knives.

Glancing over at her, Mrs Crook gave Claire the once over but kept her mouth shut.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Claire whispered, sensing familiar eyes on her, “but I don’t want to be isolated anymore. It’s lonely up there by myself.”

“Alright,” Mama Crook answered, her tone purposefully light as she continued to hand pick the ripe vegetables from the basket for the evenings stew. She knew better than to argue with Claire but she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before a familiar Fraser came in search of his wife.

--

Claire had nearly finished peeling the enormous pile of potatoes before footsteps echoed from the small concealed staircase. She ignored the pounding of her heart as she began to chop the spuds into smaller pieces. Claire had been honest when she’d spoken those few words to Mama Crook. She was lonesome upstairs in her rooms. With this in mind, she pursed her lips and rocked Fergus as close as she could get him. Knowing Jamie would likely be more that a little put out at her dissent, Claire rolled her shoulders and prepared herself for a tongue lashing.

As predicted Jamie came storming into the kitchen, his cheeks stained red, his hair standing on end with stray pieces of straw sticking out of the side of his muddied shirt.

“Claire,” he began, hovering over her with a quirk to his eyebrow. Sliding one finger beneath her chin, he lifted her head so that she was forced to make eye contact. “I ken ye wanna work, lass, but ye’ve no’ long had the lad. Come, please?” He pleaded with no malice in his tone.

Taken aback by his immediate softness, Claire wiped her knife and placed it back in her sock before taking his hand, bowing her head in defeat and following him back up to their quarters.

Just as when she’d arrived earlier, none of the other lassies spoke or addresed her and before she knew it, Claire was back in their rooms surrounded by the warmth of the relit fire. Licking her lips she adjusted herself so that Fergus could feed once more, her arm cradling him to her breast as he suckled audibly.

“This isn’t forever, you know, Claire…” Jamie began, an air of apology to his words, “only whilst Fergus is wee.” “You don’t understand, Jamie,” Claire returned, her patience wearing a little thin now she was cocooned upstairs once more. It felt claustrophobic. The heat of the fire spread around her as her arms came up to wrap around her tiny son who’d neatly fallen asleep, her nipple still on his mouth as he suckled on and off in his sleep. It was shocking that he was still so dinky considering the amount that he fed.

Jamie watched, his eyes focused solely on Claire as he watched her shoulders sink as her hands came to cocoon Fergus. She was the perfect mother; nurturing and kind but brave and steadfast with it. He could attempt to make decisions for her and she’d bow to him eventually, but she’d resent him for it too.

“No,” he acquiesced “I dinna think I do…”

Claire stood stunned. She knew she was right though she hadn’t expected him to agree with her so easily. Jamie was nothing if not stubborn.

But he loved her and he saw her for who she truly was. Claire had been raised primarily between Mrs Crook and Ellen, his own mother. She was a product of a completely female upbringing and had been expected to forge her own path once she was old enough to see over the preparation tables in the kitchen. Having fallen hard and fast for Jamie, she had carried the burden of her feelings alone for so long. Independence was her armour, a shield she wore with pride and he would be foolish to try and erase that part of her.

Jamie had fallen in love with Claire; with her intelligence, with her energy, with her life and with her free spirited attitude - curtailing those would only dampen the spark that burned so brightly betwixt them.

“I’m lonely without you, without anyone - up here I’m isolated,” she began, seeing Jamie so ready to connect with her now. He was listening, so she would speak honestly. “I had to before, shield myself from everyone - even from you. But now we’re married I don’t have to, Jamie, don’t you see?” Jamie cocked his head to one side, his eyes soft in the dim daylight that streamed through the frosted glass of their windowpanes.

“I don’t want to be locked away in some ivory tower, Jamie. Swaddled tighter than wee Fergus because you think that’s the best way to protect us both. *You*,” she said, her passion rising as she rocked Fergus to and fro, “get to go outside. You can talk to your da...to Ian Murray and the other lads who work the fields with you. Aren’t I allowed the same freedom?”

“Aye,” Jamie whispered, nodding his head in time with his words. “Ye are, Claire. I could-”

“No,” Claire cut in, certain of what he was about to say next. “It isn’t just about company. It’s about being busy, too. I need something to keep my mind active, to keep my hands engaged.”

Pointing to the sling wrapped carefully around her, Jamie replied; “Ye made that yourself then? To help ye wi’ your chores?”

“Yes,” Claire said, her chin raising as she swayed on her heels, “I made it. Knowing he can’t be away from me, I wanted something that meant I could have my hands free whilst keeping him close and this solves that issue. He can feed too, come and look?” Beckoning him forwards, she moved some of the thick reams of cloth away so that Jamie, his tip-toed movements bringing him closer to Claire and Fergus, could see his dozing son clearly.

“...and he’s safe?”

“Of course,” Claire scoffed, “safe and warm...and *fed*,” she added with great mirth. “It’s like he’s back inside me, see…” she was pointing to the way he lay, his body twisted around hers, on his side but flat against her belly as if curled back in the womb. “He likes that, liked to think he’s enveloped within me once more. He doesn’t stir at all, only to feed and even then he’s quiet as a dormouse.”

Brushing his cheek with the back of his hand, Jamie ran a thick but clean finger over his son’s warm skin before leaning across to kiss Claire gently. “Would ye like to come out with me one day, mo nighean donn?” He asked softly, his voice a whisper as he breathed in the scent of her. “You can work and have my company. I dinna think I like sharing ye with the staff - no’ when I have to spend my time away from you and I dinna truly have to.”

Claire laughed as she wrapped her arm around Jamie’s waist bringing him flush against her. With Fergus sleeping between them she listened out for all three of their combined heartbeats before replying. “Yes, Jamie,” she returned in a sigh, her finger tapping against the hollow of Jamie’s back in time with each thrum, “I would absolutely love to.”

[agentdagonet]

Could Have Seen It Coming

Find it here on AO3

Fic Summary: True relationships, love, required a leap of faith. Taking a chance, despite the possible consequences, was essential to a relationship being an honest one. At least, as honest as a Kingsman agent could manage- which was pretty damn honest, when the other people involved were also a part of Kingsman, he thought.

But Merlin had apparently overestimated things, and the pill was a bitter one to swallow.

warnings: angst, poly-v breakup,

Maybe, if he'd been less of a man and more of a handler, he'd have seen it coming. Made fewer compromises, demanded answers instead of waiting for them. But that's not a way to live a life, on guard 24/7, looking for the flaws and probabilities of failure from the get go. True relationships, love, required a leap of faith. Taking a chance, despite the possible consequences, was essential to a relationship being an honest one. At least, as honest as a Kingsman agent could manage- which was pretty damn honest, when the other people involved were also a part of Kingsman, he thought.

But Merlin had apparently overestimated things, and the pill was a bitter one to swallow. '... Could you repeat that?'          'I'm sorry, Merlin, I know I should have said-' 'Could. You. Repeat. That.' Deep breaths. In. Out. Repeat. Package the emotion for later, answers first. Kingsman 101.          '... I've fallen out of love with you.' It's whispered, but may well have been shouted for how easily it echoes through Merlin's brain. Harry's at home, in the mews, glasses steadfastly displaying the floor and his shaking hands.

In. Out. No time for emotion. '...When? For how long?' When it's done, then you may shed a tear in private. He's known that lesson since he was in his late teens- there's no place for connection in Kingsman.          'I- I don't rightfully know. It isn't as if I simply woke up one morning and decided I no longer held romantic affections for you-' 'Before or after we talked about Eggsy?' Merlin cut Harry off, unable to listen to the babble. Harry had never been one for straightforward answers, but nothing else would suffice in a situation such as this.          'I-' 'Were your burgeoning affections for the lad simply your moving on, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell me the truth? Has this whole relationship betwixt the three of us been based on falsehoods?'          'I don't have a proper answer to that, Merlin. I don't know. It wasn't like it happened all at once, but we changed as people and-' 'No, Harry- you changed; you got a new lease on life, you got a new perspective on what made it worth living versus simply surviving as most agents do. I've been the same as I have been, since getting to Kingsman all those years ago. I stagnated in my personal life, while trying to keep Kingsman as up-to-date as possible. Trying to keep you alive was more important than psychoanalysing your every action. Perhaps that's the cause of all this.' The tone was bland, as average as Merlin could manage, and somehow he knew that Harry wasn't at all able to hear the hurt underneath. When had that happened?          'I don't want to lose you, Merlin. I find that my life is a better one with you in it, in all ways.' 'Perhaps you should have thought to be honest before things got to this point then, Harry. How long have I been in love with a man who couldn't say the same about me? How long have you let me believe that this pile of detritus was still a functioning relationship?' When had he allowed himself to be so blind?          'I didn't want to add anything more to your already overflowing plate- I thought-' 'Doesn't really matter what you thought- hypotheticals aren't a part of this reality. I'll leave explaining it to Eggsy to you- I expect you at HQ in two days time, Galahad.' He cut the feed, barely managing to hold himself together that long. This was as private as it gets, anyway.

[scott--free]

((UPDATE))

((Long Post Ahead, go ahead and ask if you have any questions about what’s going on! This is just a short story about what just happened with Scott. Feel free to provide feedback!))

((This fic is aptly called “Scott Gets Into a Pissfight With Things Beyond His Control And That Really Heckin’ Ticks Him Off”))

The nights were now unbearable.

Scott flipped on the dusty office light and coughed, his bloodshot eyes blinking wearily from the months of unrest. He'd normally be used to not sleeping, but the night terrors had gotten so intense it began to affect his energy directly. The Chief ended up resorting to staying in an old abandoned office further down in the lesser known floors of the Bureau, since the few moments he had to sleep ended with him crying out in fear. 

There is no way they can know. 

...was what he kept telling himself, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince his subordinates, especially those closest to him. 

Especially Drul.

Apparently the demon had been in this sleepless position before, so as soon as Scott started showing signs of fatigue he immediately intervened. It took a lot of persuasion to prove that he was in proper condition to continue his duty, but he noticed from then on he'd have to work a bit harder at keeping his status on the down-low.

Kate, the demon who found herself to be more than capable of taking over, was only more persistent in proving herself to him. It helped, though it was a tad annoying as she continued to take his meetings and calls upon herself to complete. Scott never complained. 

He blinked, and a wave of violent chills passed through his body as he recalled the visitors in his horrific nightmare. It wasn't the writhing, dark masses of endless screams and howls that got to him, no. It was the fact that he knew who they were.

Anyone who had these dreams never lasted long. If he couldn't figure out how to find these eldritch beasts in his dreams then they would consume him and he'd be driven senselessly mad. 

Scott sat up with a slight tremor in his knees. The experiments with Eclipse had helped take his mind off of things, but now there was no more denying that he had to take care of business.

Bringing his wrist up to his line of sight, he pressed a button that started a call with his secretary. A few moments of slight beeping and soon he was patched through.

"Yes, Free. What is it?" 

A cold but professional voice sounded from the other side. Kate Qomunie. 

"I'm taking the day off. An important matter has surfaced... It's an emergency."

A pause. The rustling of papers crinkled in the speaker, and then the noise of a pen scribbling something down.

"Mm-hm. I'll take care of things while you're gone. Don't have too much fun." 

She made a dry laugh, then hung up. He exhaled, his breath erratic, and put a hand to his head while his mind raced with his options. What he was about to do had only been attempted twice before, and neither from him. He only knew what to do through the wisdom of the oldest worker here, Monty. Monty was the only demon he felt he could explain his problem with (which was more of Monty guessing and forcing Scott to confess), and with him being one of the oldest demons there, gave some solid advice.

I have to sleep. 

Except instead of the petty dozing he had tried so hard to maintain, on the verge between awake and REM to avoid heavy sleep, he was going to go as deep as he could. He was to be overwhelmingly intentional with his rest, only then would he get answers...

Scott had never attempted such a thing before. Luckily, it felt as though it'd be easier than normal considering his current state. He closed his eyes, repeating the mantra of 'Sleep fast, get it done' in his head until the phrase and all other thoughts blended together, and slowly drifted into unconsciousness. 

     A distant roar shook the very particles around him. Scott opened his eyes and looked around (or.. up and down? He couldn't tell which way was up) but saw nothing but a dark void with a soft mist settled around him. He realized there wasn't a floor beneath his feet, either. Suspended in space the demon tried to move, but found it difficult. He never was good at traversing the more spiritual side of his existence.

The howl grew closer, much louder this time. Even though the space he occupied seemed endless and void, he could feel a rumbling as if the noise bounced off walls around him.

  F̗̫̼̺ ̞̺̖̯R ̧͕E͕̠̗̤̞͎̞͜ ̸͔̺̙E̹̦̲̝̬̱.

He suddenly felt very, very scared. The noise that formed itself to sound like his name... Like a thousand voices exhaling, murmuring in tortured unison. A familiar icy grip clutched at his chest, the feeling of terror as his body seized up against him. 

It was then where he noticed himself moving.

 He couldn't see anything passing him by, but by the slight drag of his limbs he could tell there was something pulling him deeper against his useless strain. Was this really what he wanted? He had been putting off the consequences for so long... It'd never hurt to wake up now, and continue to stall.      

No, it's better to take care of things now. They deserve better. She deserves better.

 The drifting continued until he could see a dim hue of purple glowing far away from him. The spot slowly grew and grew as the feeling of dread circled through his numb body. When the tips of his fingers reflected the haze, he felt a shuddering jolt of something suddenly yanking him closer into the light. There was zero resistance. How could there be? 

It was then made apparant that he wasn't being pulled any more. A shift in the air made him realize he was falling. Hard. There was a breeze, though warm and stifling, that began to whip into his face and hair. 

How long will this go on?! 

No sooner had he thought that when the purple light now beneath him grew exponentially towards him. 

The ground.

 He was headed straight for the ground, full force. Scott winced and braced for the oncoming impact.

Except, there was none. Time passed, and while the breeze stopped, he felt no collision. It was only when he opened one eye amidst the purple darkness that he realized he was once again suspended, right above the deep purple floor. 

M̜͙͉̖̱̲̮̞̱͜R̡̞͈̯̖͙̘͍͖͟.̭͈̱̫̬͎͘͝ ̢͍̰S̶͓̺C͈̦̦Ò̲͎͕͚̻̫T̡̛͎͕͟T̼̙̣̱͢͜ ̭͎̙́F̶̨̭̰̝̙͖R͈̤͠E̞̻͙̬̟̗̕͝͠E͝͏͔̥͓̜͖.̷͇͉̤̫͇̪ͅ

Whatever volume he thought was loud before was immediately put to shame.  Scott threw his hands to his ears to try and save his hearing but the bellowing of the thousands of voices shook the walls of his mind, rumbled deep throughout his being. He would have fallen to his knees if he was stable. 

"WHAT?!" Scott lashed out, trying and failing to hear himself over the constant growling and screeching in the background. The noise surrounded him. He,was surrounded. By who or what was up to his own imagination, but then again, he already knew.

The explosions of noise ceased, starting from behind him and traveling to the sides, then finally quieting at the front. He still could see nothing; the light underneath him kept his eyes from adjusting to the darkness that laid just behind the purple. A soft fluttering and jostling of beings sounded to his right; whispering and murmuring until a large THUNK fell swiftly at the front, silencing the group.

The jury.

Ỵ̷͇O̷̳̻̮̻͎U̧̺̤̦̻͕ͅR͠ ͙ͅH͎͕͎͙̱A̵̟Ṋ̪͙͎͘D͉̕S͈̞͜ ̰̼͚̘̫A̫͔͓̩R̺̱͓̯ͅE̫͍ͅ ̢̟͔̯̪B̡̗͖̝̹̮̹O͔̞̻̗͈̮͠U͍N͔̻D̫̥͎͔̺͖̭͞.͉̤̙̺̕

Suddenly a massive pain burst from his wrists, and a force not his seized his ability to move any parts of his arms and hands. Scott clenched his teeth and bit back any sort of cry that threatened to escape his being. Whatever kind of fighting he was planning on doing was essentially pointless now, both physically and mentally. He was turning himself in.

Scott stayed silent, head lowered while the shuffling sounds of something to his left settled in. His defense? No... It was much too late for that.

The prosecution. 

These were his bosses. Every being in this room, demon or not, held a place much higher than his, whether it could be proven with a file or simply by ferocity. Beings that did not exist in any physical realm, any kind of meeting with them had to be held in the mindscape. However, the manifestations of the Superiors were felt strongest in the deepest pits of the Bureau. That's where he was now-- sleeping, albeit-- but his body remained in one of the lower-most floors in that realm. Scott wasn't the one who founded the Bureau, after all. It had been around much longer than he even existed. There must have been a kind of sacred area in the pits where older members of the IBOJ interacted with the Superiors on a frequent basis.

Not that they would want to. Out of the two times Scott had experienced the Superiors (including this one) it was always unpleasant. They are not ones to be trifled with, and it is incredibly easy to misstep. 

He was at their mercy now. 

The room once again fell quiet as the one (or two... four?) who sat far in front of him pounded on whatever hard surface was before them. 

T̨̜̠H̺͚͔̤̝͘E҉̺̱̳̮̝̗ ̰̖̝͇̜̦̞C̫̦̯̞̝̘͎͝Ơ̤̻̝͓̮U̷͔͚̬R̷T̪͚͟ ̤̪͇̀ÌS̪̭͎͓̪ ͖̤͟N͎̺͢O̲͓̣͇͝W͎̫͚͍̟̖ͅ ̴̥͍̞̹͎I̖͝N ҉̪S̛͍̮̹E͓S̰͝S̛̭̜I̫͍O̯̩N̶̘̼.̧̘͍̯̯͖̰

Scott closed his eyes, dreading the inevitable as the trial commenced.

W̕E ,̀ ̵TH҉E͘ SU͞PERI̧O̕R ̢ONES ̷O̧F̵ T̢H̸E ̴IN͠TERDI̵MEŅSĮONAL ̛C̕O̧U̶N̶CI̡L̢, CAL͡L̸ T͡O͡ O͝R͢D̀EŔ ̵C̷HI͠E͟F DI̸R̶ECT̶OR S͝C̷OTT ̀FREE͠ ON T̛HE ̧SEV̴ER̷A͘L̨ CǪUNT͜S̵ ̸OF ̴C̕RÌMI̢N͠AL̵ A͡C̢T͠S T̴ḨA̧T̵ HA҉VE҉ ͏BÈEN ҉C͘OM͠MIT̛T̴ED W͢I̵THIN͞ ҉T͘H͝È L̨E͠N͟G̴T̡H OF̵ ́H̷I͢S͡ LIFEŞPA͢N.

WE ̨HA͞V̸Ę ̕B͢EĘN̛ ͡M͠E͝ŖCIFUL IN A͢LL͡OWI͡N͡G̶ ̧HI͢S̨ ÀCTÌO̕N̷S ͠P̕ÈRMISS̢I̶B̧L̡É,̀ ͢BU̢T ͞DU̕E TO T͘HÈ ͏RE͘C͟E͘NT̵ ̶DO̡ING̢ ̨O̷F ͝I͞LL̢EGA̵L ́FU͝SÌNG ̨O̴F͢ ȨNE͠R͞G̶IES B̛E̵T͢W͜EE̶N A͜Ņ EX͘-͠C̕ONV̸I͜CT ̧AND̀ H͟IM̛S̷E͏L̵F, W̸E̡ DEE̕M I̢T N͠E͝C͝E͏SSA̶RY ̵T̷O͝ ̀TAKE̕ L̷E̢GAL̀ ̛ACT͜I͠ON̵.

A different voice spoke every time. Scott could feel very distinctly a spark of irritation betwixt the terror and dread; they 'allowed' his actions? He couldn't think of a single time where what he was doing was for anything but good. Upon hearing that the fusing with Eclipse was the final straw his irritation only grew.

That was a private and perfectly safe experiment! The only ones who would've gotten hurt would be myself and that bastard criminal! I made sure nobody else got involved! 

CH̷IEF̕ D͢I̵R̴ECT̀O̕R̡ ͘ŚCƠTT͘ ͞FŔĘE̛, ̛YOU͘ A͝ŖE̸ ͟H͡EŔE ̕O̡N͟ THÉ ͜FO̵L̵LO̵WING͝ C̷O͞UNTS̨;͡

҉EXPL̶I̛CIT͢ ABU̸S͝E OF ̨PǪWÈR͠

́IĻL̨EG̀A͏L̷ ĘXṔERIMEN̵T͟A̷T̕IO̵N

̛I͠LĻEG͏A̡L͘ ̀UNR̨E͢PÓR̛TE͏D ANḐ I͘N͟ŢE͜N͟TI͜ON̷AL ͏M͜IS̕FI͜LIN͏GS͝

͘M͞I̕S͏U̸SE͢ O̴F ̢FUN͘DS̀ A̸N͏D PROV̸ÌS͠I͞ONS OF̸ ́E̵N̷ER̕G̡Y

̧T̷RE̢A҉S͟ON ƠF͟ ̕BUR͝EA͢U͝ ̡ETHICS͡

U҉NREGIS̡TE̸RE̵D̀ ̡DI͟S͠MI͡S͟SA͞L͘ ̡

ƯNA̡U͜TH̛ƠRIZ̀ED͜ ͏RE̶MO͠V͜AL͢ O͜F B͜AC̢K̢GR͘OU̵ND̵ C̵H̢EC͟K͘S

̶IǸTENT͘I̵O҉NAL MI̡S̀L̛EA̵DING҉ ҉T̶O ͠SU̸BOR̡D̕INA͢TES

ĆR̷U͏EL ̛AN̸D ̷UN͡U̡SU̧A̡L͘ INT̨ER͞R̡OGA͜TIONS

̶ƯN̴D̷OCUME̡NTED͏ ҉TIM̢E ́OFF

A͜ND͢

R͈̩̹͔̩̠͜͠͡E̫̠̭͕̦̤͕̕͟Ș̴͉͙͎Ị͔͇͉͙S̴̬̺͕̦̬̻̯͘̕T̻̤̭̱̙͚̙͜͞A҉̢̯̮̪͞Ń͔̻͎̮̩̹̗C҉̸̨͙̪̮̘̖̻͙ͅE҉̮̝̦̦̥ ̸̴̛̤̩͎̳̤̻̘O̪̥̯̼F̴̮̖͚̹̭̀ ̶̝̜͕̣̠͎͙À̠͖R̩͇̠͚͘͟R̜̪̮̟͘͘͜ͅE̷͔̱̖̗̻͈͝S̷̛̼̳̟͈̥̘̀T̷͍̜͕̤̕͝

With every count against him, Scott could feel all hope draining out of him. Each one gave him a flashback to every single thing he did that verified the things said.

Shit, they were holding on to everything I did before I was even in charge.

 Back as a scientist... The fight with his partner... The experimentation, the gem, his running away... each and every thing was accounted for. Why didn't he know? Everything he did was for a reason, dammit. He did each and every one of those things with no ill will, no intention of being a criminal.

Except... I knew exactly what I was doing. These things won't listen to situational justification. It still happened, and now I'm paying the price.

He wanted to list excuse after excuse to the judges, but he knew it would only hinder his case. 

A moment passed while the counts were soaked in by the rest of the surrounding beings. There were lots of "tchs" and hissing, grumbling and sucking air through what he hoped was teeth.

Why do these things even care right now? They all knew before this trial even happened...

Unless...

It dawned on him. The jury, the prosecution, all the others, hell, even the judge. This wasn't a trial, they already knew what would happen.

They already knew! 

This was just them being coy. Like a feline toying with it's meal before it's consumed. He couldn't suppress the wicked, furious smile that crept over his face. The Superiors noticed it too.

T̢͡͝ḨÈ́͘SE̸ ̡C͏̛O̕U̴̕NT̸̛͠S͢͠͡ W̵̡I͏̡́LL͟ ҉̛͘P͟R̴O҉̸VI͟D͝E͠҉͡ ̧̧A̢̛͏ ̶̵̧J̸͟Ú͟S̨̛T̛́͠ ͢A̵ND͘ ̴̶T͟H̶͟OŖ̡OU͢͜G͡H̵ ́̕͜S͢͠È͜͞N̢͢T͡E̵N̶͠͞C̷̴͝E ͘͡FO҉R̡̀͞ ͠Y҉OU̵R̵ ͡C̷̡͘R̵͟IM̨͟E͜͞͝S͜͠.҉҉͝ ͜W͝͠H͞A̛T ̢͏Ḑ̴O ͏Y͞O̶U͢ H̷ĄV͜͏̸È̀ ͢T̷O͏͘ ̴SĄ̶́Y̵̨ ̀F̡͜͡O̷͞R̶ ̵YO̷ŲR̛͜S̛E̢̕͏L̡͟F͏͟?҉

He clicked his tongue behind his teeth, having just now figured it out. 

May as well make 'em wait. 

A pause.

F̧̀҉̣̙̻͎̲̻̦̜͖̥͞R͡͏̦̟̞͈͕̦͕͘͞͠E̴̼͙̞̠͈̮̮̫̖̘̤̱̱̞E͚̩̱͈͓̱͓̰̪͍̦͕͈͠͡͡ͅ?̸̢̘̼̜͚̱̯̫͙͇̟̼̟͘͟͠ͅ

"What do I have to say for myself?" He laughed. "What do you all have to say for YOURselves?!" 

That stirred them up a bit. A few surprised squawks, a large number of angry hissing, confused at the turn of events. Scott continued.

"You all drag me down here, after months of hounding me with sleepless nights and relentless calls, just to throw me into a FUCKING FAKE TRIAL?!" As his volume rose, the current pain in his wrists increased with a stinging stab. He didn't care. "Everyone here is just in it for the laughs! A set up fake jury, fake persecution, fake everything. You all have already made up your mind about what you're gonna do with me, you might as well just say it and get it over with! I don't see why--"

Ȩ̴̝͈͖̥̠̺̤̱͇̽ͭͫ͞Ņ̗̰͓̮̞͔̭̙̭̯̼̘̯͕̼̮͕̣͛͒͛̇ͧ̽̈̏̿̕͢͝O̵̷̸̻̰̼̙̫̭̲̩̗̯̱͚̗̻͈͉̓ͪ͛͌͒̓̍͛ͨͥ̈̑́͛͛͞U̡̢͚̩̖̝̺̺͕͉̲͉̝͎̐̓̆ͤ̋̄̄ͨͭͯ͝͠͠G̴̢̧̖̖̩̳̳͓͍ͪ̃̃̓̏̓̔̔ͭ́̿ͤͦ͐ͯ͂́̽̚Ḩ̷̤̖̻̳̅̍̈́ͮ͂͋̉ͩ̾̅͂͂ͧ̔ͧ͌́́̚.̦͙͈̳̫̳ͩͫͥ̑̆̊̅̈́̅̓͑̓̆͞͝

Scott promptly shut up. Bastards.

The Superiors leading the trial didn't even have to use the heavy THUNK from earlier. The malice in the voice(s?) was enough to thrust the whole room into a new kind of silence. 

S͢INCE̵ ͡YO̶U͝ RE̴FUSE TO҉ ̧ĆÓOPERA͏T͜E ́W͡IT͏H ̷T̕H̴I͘S ̷MOCK̛ TR̕IAL, ͟WE ͟S̴EN̡TE̛N̡CE ͜YÓU,́ C͡HI͢E͠F͏ ̧DIRE͘CTO̸R ́S̶ĆOTT FR̷EE, ͞TO͡ T͢HE͜ F͟OL̷L͝OWĮN̸G͝ P͟U͡ǸI̕S͢HM̴EŃT̴S͘.͘

Instead of speaking them aloud, a small rolled paper appeared before Scott. It slowly unraveled to reveal a list of different things. He read them, all with an incredulous look on his face and dissipating anger that replaced itself with a sick, chilled terror.

Continued leadership of the IBoJ (heavily monitored)

Restriction of energy provision

Energy-gathering handicap 

Probation (every month)

Zero access to floors B2-LB146

Required supervision during work hours

Quarantine to main floor off hours

THESE WILL BECOME ACTIVE WHEN DEEMED NECESSARY

Scott's hands trembled. No...  "All of this?! Are you SHITTING me?!" He yelled, throwing the paper down. It didn't fall too far, as with the anger flaring up on both sides, the purple haze flashed sluggishly and incinerated the paper, also providing the briefest of glimpses at what Scott assumed were the Superiors. Thousands, no-- HUNDREDS of thousands of twisted bodies, giant talons, broken teeth, both humanoid and non humanoid creatures all viciously tearing into each other in a rampage. It was horrifying, and not just because of what he was looking at. His life was in the hands of these creatures. How can these eldritch monstrosities rule against one life if they cannot stand to dwell among each other? The Superiors growled and gnashed their teeth and scraped their claws against whatever surface they were on, making a cacophony of furious noises. 

THWACK.

 Quiet. The violent, violet flooring faded back to how it was. Scott wished he grabbed sight of the one in charge, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the rising feeling he felt in his chest.

I'm... ascending? 

A͞L͟L TH̡IS͞ WILL̢ ͝TA̵K̛E P̕L̶ACE ̵I̢N͏ IT̡'̧S T͠I͝M͢E̶. THINK ÓN͏ Y͢OU̡R̷ A̕CT̵ÍON̸S̸.̀ D̀O̕ ͡N҉O͘T L͏E̷T ̴YOUR̷ ̕WA͏NŢS͞ ̛G̴O BEFORĘ YOU̸R͝ N̢E̴E͢DS ҉A̧ND ̕D̕UT͟I͠ES,͜ CHI͢EF͢ DIR̷E͞CTOR SC̢OT̨T͢ F̨REE͜. ҉ỲO͏U͢R PÚN̡IŚHM͜EN͡T ̀WILL҉ LAST͢ O̷N͞L͢Y͝ A̴S͢ LO͞N̕G̨ A͜S ̸WE͝ DEȨM̧ ̢IT ͏N͟ECE̢SS͡A̴RY.

As long as they want...Scott exhaled in exasperation. Damn bosses. 

The trip back was a hell of a lot shorter than the trip to the place. Instead of being pulled, it was as if an enormous force was pushing him straight back into consciousness. 

He gasped, breathing for the first time since he fell asleep. I hate it when they do that. With a stretch, Scott got up and cricked his back into place before heading up the long winding stairs back to his office. He looked at his watch.An entire day went by...Ugh. Scott pressed same button as before on his watch. Good thing I called off for that. 

"Kate?"

"That's my name."

"I'll be in my office. Go ahead and forward me any missed appointments and I'll get them taken care of." Punishment... Pff. He's never seen anyone who got reprimanded by the Superiors with any visible effects.They sure as hell can fake a trial, I don't see why the whole thing just wasn't a scam in the first place.

"Director Free?"

"Uh! Yes?" His thought process was interrupted. Dammit, just stop thinking about it. 

"Nothing. I'll get on it." Bzt, the call ended.

Something seemed to be bothering her. Did he really want to ask, though? She hated him. I'll leave it be.

 Besides, he had more pressing matters at hand. 

A few minutes later of stair-stepping and he reached one of the Quartered Portals, which were one of four placed in strategic points on the stairway of the Bureau that lead either up or down. By going into this one he would end up right at the main floor.

As he headed back into his office he passed by Drul's own office, tucked away and unnoticeable. He moved himself to a discreet area after last year's incident. The purple demon was leaned back in his chair, dozing off.

So he should.

He never said it, but Scott was always concerned for the status of his work partner. This past year was especially rough for him.

You made it so, though. 

Rounding a corner, Scott finally reached the door to his office. He went in, closed and locked it (always, to ensure no unwanted guests) and sighed. It's been a wild few months... But the ringing in his head was gone, and for once in a long time he felt glad to be tired. 

However, as soon as he turned to go towards his desk, the ringing returned. a high-pitched whine, relentless and unforgiving. Scott clutched his ears, gritting his teeth as he felt blood pool where his hands were cupped. 

Where was it coming from?! 

Then came the pain. The horrendous, spine-crushing pain. It started at his lower back, then traveled upwards and spread throughout his body. It felt like everything inside him was being strained through a colander. His knees buckled underneath him and he grunted from the weight of his fall, his head hitting the floor with a sickening

crack.

About two hours passed. Scott opened his eyes and winced, feeling the effect of the concussion taking place.

Injury check.

Head, hurt like hell. Eyes, okay but sensitive. throat, chest. arms, legs... all fine.

Wait.

He tried moving his legs. They didn't hurt, but they also didn't move. Scott felt a jolt of panic rise through him as he tried time after time, but there was no response. He attempted to climb up on a chair by his desk, but fell clumsily and hard back onto his shoulder.

What the hell was wrong?!

The sentence. 

Energy-gathering handicap. Restrictions to power. Limitations.

He tried to ignite his dark blue fire, desperate to see some kind of familiar presence of what he knew was stolen. Nothing happened. They took his energy. They took his ability to make deals. They took his

ability to walk. 

His sentence was now being served.