#he was very quick w this interview i wonder if he was eager to get to bed

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Las Vegas Grand Prix - Qualifiying - Fernando Alonso

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (9/?)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The oval stretched out in front of him, much wider than his range of vision but Levi felt no need to look around him and take in the whole view. It was the largest oval in his city and having been one of the more active high jumpers the past five years, he had been there enough to memorize it inside and out.

That particular day, instead of being out there in the field doing warm up jumps like he had been for the past decade of his life, he was on the bleachers, a few seats away from the front. He was merely a part of the audience, an oddly surreal experience. For years, Levi had never given the audience a passing thought after all. His world during those few hours on the track had consisted of the bar he had to jump over, the jumper before him, his coach and teammates on the bench and maybe some the interviewers who would flock to him after the medal ceremony.

Although he had gone to that track so many times before, somehow it felt like he was experiencing it for the first time.

He was unprepared as well. Levi found himself pushing his hands farther into his hoodie huddling for whatever warmth it could afford him. Possibly it was the long days he had spent indoors that had made him unready for how cold mid autumn could actually be.

The past two weeks leading up to that particular night, Levi had not left the comforts of Hange's apartment much aside from for the occasional check up or regular therapy session. When he wasn't writing or making sense of new dreams, he spent most of his days catching up with schoolwork or trying to help around her apartment even with his injury.

With the long hours he had spent indoors, he was almost sedentary in comparison to the twice a day training and it was a drastic change. As he watched the other athletes warm up on the track, he was unable to fathom how he had survived long ago in light athletic wear. He started to wonder how much he had changed. If his knee wasn’t casted or buckling at the slightest weight, if he had a perfectly good knee just like a few weeks ago, would he have still been able to jump.

Was that sudden sensitivity to the cold he was feeling a product of his psyche or did his body just suddenly get weaker due to his long stint indoors?

To think I used to actually win these events. With the disbelief that came with that passing thought, Levi suddenly remembered why he had hesitated to join them in the first place. Everything from the atmosphere, to the warm up jumps found a way to hurt him. The few whispers he could hear from his place on the bleachers about the Ackerman kid, who had achieved a college record less than a year ago suddenly sidelined for life, were reminding him why exactly he had cooped himself up in the first place.

At first, he had attributed a huge chunk of that to the healing process, the writing process and the general lack of necessity to go out. At that moment, he was watching athletes do the jumps he knew how to perfectly execute yet was sure he would never be capable of doing again. At the same time, he was listening to whispers that could have been very much about him with the smatters of conversations on knee injuries and wasted talent.

He had looked towards Hange for comfort, an almost instinctive movement. Ironically, that movement had him rubbing more salt on his already reopened wounds. He had ended up watching Hange fall so easily to a state of a daydream and Levi did not need to look back at the oval to know why. She was watching the athletes go through the motions of the jumps.

He recognized that same look to be the one she had given Elijah and those athletes on her instagram feed. He would have given a lot to be able to go back to the Levi of a few weeks ago, the Levi who had been the subject of her hyper fixations. The inevitability of time had him hating himself a little more.

Levi cleared his throat in an attempt to swallow the lump that had settled there and willed himself to look back at the field. The temptation to space out was strong.

He had decided on watching the high jump event for a reason though and he was determined to make it worth it.

                               A Tale of Two Slaves

"Mike and Nanaba?” Levi repeated. The names flowed out of his mouth so smoothly so easily as if he had said those names many times before. Of course, he knew them. They were the subject of Hange’s case study years ago, the one he had read in preparation for meeting Hange.

“Mike Zacharius and Nanaba Briete,” Hange repeated. “Two friends from high school. They’re both participating in the high jump event so I thought of watching."

Mike and Nanaba. As Levi soon found out though the names weren’t cold to his tongue. They didn’t feel as stiff or professional despite their clear origins from an academic paper. It was almost second nature for Levi to attach faces to both of their names.

And that had been a breakthrough at that moment. For the past few days, he had been struggling to dream something different. Ever since Hange had given him a dream catcher, the dreams with Erwin and Hange had surprisingly been clearer and those scenes he had pictured had so easily flown from mind to paper, particularly his dreams to see the outside wall, his drive for atonement, his heroic sacrifice. It had also made him familiar with more subtle things like the long hours he had spent in the office, the amount of time he had spent joined to Erwin’s hip as his right hand man, and the trust he had put on him all the way until the end of his life.

He had squeezed what he had taken out of every memory and every dream and suddenly one day, he woke up to find himself completely intimate with that dream Erwin. Yet the story wasn’t complete, he just had to find inspiration elsewhere.

In an attempt to support him, Hange had been doing her part too to invite him out when she could.

She had suggested movies, shopping or dinner out. Levi could see behind it though and knew Hange would have preferred hiking, park hopping or working out. Not wanting to settle for bland ideas, they probably would have both slogged through, Levi declined all of them despite Hange’s insistence.

Ironically, her mention of plans to watch his college track and field event of all things had been an exception. "I'll come with you," Levi said without thinking.

Hange frowned in concern. “You sure?”

“Why? You don’t want me to come?”

Hange shook her head. “It’s not that…. I’m just surprised that you seemed a little too eager. I talk watching something like that might be torture for you.”

“I haven’t gone out in so long. I’m fine with anything at this rate.”

“We could start with a trip to the mall? Or we could go out for dinner?” Hange lightly suggested.

“I wanna get to know your friends too,” Levi said.

Hange raised one eyebrow at him as she eyed him a little too suspiciously. “You never seemed like the type to actually enjoy meeting new people.”

Levi avoided her gaze. If it were any other friends, he probably wouldn’t have cared enough to leave the comforts of Hange’s apartment. In fact, meeting his classmates and having face-to-face classes were a burden he was happy to avoid. Those names which Hange had mentioned, the faces that suddenly clicked in his brain, which were further confirmed by a quick google search had him all the more invested. “Nanaba and Mike seem like interesting people,” Levi finally admitted.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. Levi found himself practically jumping out of his seat in shock at the explosion of laughter that came out of your mouth. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

Eventually, her laughter did die down but Levi wasn’t counting the seconds until it did. He had been too busy enjoying the way her eyes crinkled and her nose wrinkled as she smiled. “Wait ‘til Nanaba and Mike hear this. The quiet antisocial guy who beat them out of first place every single fucking time is actually interested in getting to know them

“Wait. I went against them?”

“Aaaaand you don’t even remember.” Hange flailed her hands up exaggeratedly. “I should have known.” She shook her head. Her voice still had the remnants of the loud laughter of a while ago and she didn’t look like she would be getting rid of that playful demeanor anytime soon.

“And now you’re just making fun of me.

Hange wiped a tear from the side of her eye. “I’m sorry. I probably look so weird right now. I know I shouldn’t be acting like this.” As she put her hand down, she looked back up at him, her smile visibly wider than it was a second ago. “It just never dawned on me till now how weird it just feels. If I told my past self I’d be sharing an apartment with jumper extraordinaire Levi Ackerman, past Hange would have tried to slap some sense into me.”

Jumper extraordinaire Levi Ackerman. Somehow, Levi was recalling the way she had held his hands and stared at him, the first time he had laid eyes on her. I heard you’re the best one in the team… I’d love to see you in action. The glimmer in eyes and the excited tone in her voice that fluctuated between highs and lows with every syllable, it was the same as it had been then when she first called out to him.

Hange took a deep breath. “The tournaments were the only times Nanabe and Mike would visit this part of town so they’d invite me to watch every year…”

“And you watched it every year…” Levi didn’t need to confirm anything. It was all in her eyes.

As if she knew she had given it all away through her eyes, Hange quickly looked away. She had done nothing though to hide the pink in her cheeks. She probably couldn’t have done anything to hide it anyway. “When the super rookie Levi Ackerman scored an almost record breaking upset win…” Hange recounted so mechanically as if she were reading a headline. “I was in the crowd. And I never stopped following him since.”

And I never stopped following him since. The moment Hange said it, she dropped her shoulders to the side, so quickly and so eagerly, Levi wondered what kind of baggage she had been holding for her to look so free as she said those last words. His mind shifted elsewhere before he could ponder it any longer.

It was a long shot but Levi still found himself looking back, scrambling to recall his first every competition through lasting sensations from the cold breeze, the blinding lights and the cacophony of cheers mixed with announcers’ commentaries.

As if by some miracle, he remembered it. He remembered it as he mentally prepared for the most crucial jump. The bar was a good two meters up in the air. His legs were aching, his heartbeat was getting wilder. Before he jumped, he had glanced at the bleachers as the murmurs and cheers got stronger and consequently more difficult to ignore. On the bleachers, more specifically on the fifth row from the front, sat Hange. Her hair still as brown and untamed as always, her eyes held the same wonder it always had. And maybe a little surprise? That had been his first tournament after all.

He had only given her a passing glance then. Within a split second, she had blended with the scenery as he ran towards the bar. The jump that came quickly after was strong and exhilarating.

And as Levi landed on the cushion on the other side of the bar, welcoming explosions of gasps and wild cheers as he did, he couldn’t help but reflect on it.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup with record breaking height.

That first tournament jump had been life changing, inspiring. Possibly it was the jump that had paved the way to the years of victory that followed.

No sane athlete would have memorized the faces in the crowd. For him though, it felt criminal that he had only noticed it then as she admitted it to him herself.

She had been a part of that experience too.

                            A Tale of Two Slaves

Eventually, Levi did get tired of torturing himself. He knew the way to the barely used locker rooms in the building next to the oval and he seeked solace there. Somehow, he found it worth it to make a slight scene as he struggled to keep his balance and he maneuvered his crutches down the bleachers.

When he got to the empty locker room, with only the dark ceiling above him and silence, that made even the dripping of water deafening, he was able to forget the embarrassing and frustrating journey there. And within a few more minutes, he did forget the onslaught of emotion that had culminated into a wave of incomprehensible emotions, manifesting as demons in his head.

With a lack of stimuli to remind him of his reality, he was once again numb. And numbness tended to lead to dreaming. The old locker room was no place to fall asleep though and Levi found himself trying to focus on whatever faint stimuli could reach him as to stay rooted in his reality.

Faint cheers made their way into the dark room. Levi had watched more than enough jumps to know the cheers flowed with the movements, always at their loudest when the athlete is at their highest. Oddly enough, he had managed to drown out the cheers more easily when he was in the middle of them.

Although they were faint, they were still much louder and more rattling than Levi had ever experienced them to be. And the cheers did rattle him to the bone. His body shook every time the cheers reached their crescendo and he wondered if Hange was watching too. Was she screaming? He could imagine her cheers so easily and he found himself trying to pick it out among what could have been hundreds of other voices.

Her voice was unique, nostalgic, memorable. It should have been easy. But the cheers were too faint. Even in the silence, he found it difficult to split them into individual voices, let alone isolate one out of hundreds. He leaned back on the cold wall, slipped onto the floor and closed his eyes.

“Levi?”

Levi had assumed it to have been a dream at first. The voice he had been raring to pick out among the crowd was right next to him. He willed himself not to open his eyes for fear that the voice might just disappear.

That small voice had opened up to sounds of steps then the brush of cloth on tiles. He felt a warm hand behind him, pulling him gently away from the wall and the warmth of something around him. Levi let out a cough, only then, when the cold was replace by warmth, did he realize how chilly the room actually was.

“You can really sleep anywhere huh?" Her voice had been too near, right next to his ear. Her breath tickled his ear and brushed past his neck. Even before he realized it, he had opened his eyes, Levi was already returning the subtle smile Hange had given him.

“What were you dreaming about?” It had become routine for Hange to ask that question. Levi couldn’t blame her. When he was at his worst, sometimes that was the only thing he was willing to talk about.

“Nothing. I wasn’t sleeping. I was just thinking,” Levi answered. “How are the results?”

Hange shrugged. “You saw it yourself. Elijah grabbed gold in the vertical jump. Mike silver…” She paused for a second.

“So none of the other jumpers after them got higher scores?”

“They still didn’t beat your record from last season.”

“I don’t need that reassurance,” Levi said. “This would have been my last season anyway. I’m gonna graduate, find a job, forget this sport then find out some other kid beat my record in a few years.”

“Why did you leave after Elijah cleared the 2.3 meter bar then?” Hange didn’t at all sound like she had wanted to provoke him. Levi was certain all she had wanted were answers.

“Why were you staring at Elijah like that when he jumped?” As he thought back to the final straw that had made him stand up and brave the stairs and the whispers from the crowd just so he could leave the field mid tournament, he realized exactly why. Hange hadn’t even noticed the way her eyes lit up at him. Somehow, that was enough to have Levi shaking as he saw the confusion in her eyes.

“Staring like what?”

“Your mouth was wide open and your eyes were stuck on him.”

“I just got a little excited I guess. When I see jumps that high, sometimes I feel like I’m flying myself,” Hange said. “Or I dunno, I’ve never flown before but it’s just so easy to get lost in it sometimes.”

“Did you feel that same way? When I jumped?” Used to jump. Regret weighed on him. As the seconds ticked as he waited for her answer, that regret gradually took over and pushed at his chest, making it more difficult to breath. It had been that one movement after all, that impulsive and reckless decision that had him there in that dark unused locker room instead of outside in the tournament.

It was his last season anyway. He had consoled himself so many times before. But it wasn’t the season and the career-ending injury that had him heavy hearted at that moment. Impending retirement in sports loomed for most college athletes, especially in their senior year. Levi had prepared himself for it already.

At first, it had been the loss of that one unique sensation, the blue sky above him, and the his body detached from the earth for that split second, the loss of that memorable and unique experience of having both air and gravity as his enemy as he flew through the air with the wind blowing through his face as if executing their own plans to stop him. When the dreams returned and when he had started to write them out, eventually the weight in his chest lightened, replaced by another one.

As he spent more time observing Hange and talking to her in between her thesis writing and his own writing, he noticed it fester slowly. Only when his chest lightened, set free from that other weight, did it start to make itself known.

Hange never stopped watching jumps, turns, tumbles, runs and spins. Sometimes, she would turn on the tv in the living room to some athletic meet. Sometimes, she’d just be scrolling through her timeline, liking whatever inhumane stunts an athlete was showing her at that moment. She had those same raised eyebrows, that same gaping mouth, those same dilated pupils and that same glimmer in the eyes that he wished was just the glare of the screen.

And I never stopped following him since. Had she looked at him with that same expression? That same exact expression she had given Elijah? Would there ever be away to look back at those moments, zoom into her and look for everything from the raised eyebrows, gaping mouth, dilated pupils and that glimmer in her eyes?

Did you look at me that same way? That was all he had wanted to ask. Hange wouldn’t have known though.

“Of course I did.” Hange answered. Levi could only wish it were true. Without seeing that same expression, he would never know.

“But I’ll never jump like that again. So I don’t think you’ll get that from me anymore.”

I can get it elsewhere. Levi had prepared his heart for that reply. He was at least ready enough not to lash out.

“Because you offer other things,” Hange said. “These stories about Captain Levi and Hange Zoe… Commander Erwin Smith? When we’re up late at night and you start talking about those contraptions that get us flying through the air like birds? I don’t know if it’s the way you describe it or if it’s the passion in your eyes but… it’s like I could have been flying too.”

“You were flying.” And Levi held on to the image so tightly, that the words flowed too naturally out of his mouth. If he hadn’t been staring at the blank ceiling above him, recalling easily how she had tumbled and turned so freely in the air, he probably would have been conscious about how much of a madman he had sounded like.

Hange didn’t seem to mind though. “Even if just in my own dreams, it would be nice.”

The dim room only made the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness a little easier. The coat over his shoulders and the warmth that it kept close to him didn’t help keep him awake either. His dim surroundings blurred into nothingness, the last two sensations he made out was the arm around his shoulder and the faint discomfort as he dropped his head onto what could have been a bony shoulder.

You were flying.

It was as if his dreams had heard the conversation of a while ago. Squad Leader Zoe, Commander Hange Zoe. Dreams of her came in snapshots, in crumbs that indulged all his five senses. The whizzing of cables, the explosion of gas, familiar yet distant screams of excitement, week old sweat.

Her greasy hair on his hands. Then Levi found himself on horseback, his and Hange’s faces were a little too close for comfort. It didn’t take much to remember why though.

She had said something about wanting to meet an abnormal titan and he was in the mood for jokes.

                                A Tale of Two Slaves

“Of all the years and tournaments you could have ditched, it had to be the tournament with my first ever golden medal performance.”

“Nanaba, I’ll make it up to you promise…”

“To think you’re the one who roped me into this sport in the first place…”

They had the whole taxi ride to start an argument. Levi was grateful at least the conversation only reached that topic when they were already in the elevator on the way to Hange’s apartment. Hange had prepared some hard drinks, some soft drinks, some chasers and a lot of water. He was sure that the argument with devolve into something a little less coherent and might actually fizzle out within an hour or so with the right cocktail mix.

He had gone through that same bout of adventure with his own teammates after all. Nanaba continued to talk her ear off while Mike and Hange cleared out the dining table. Levi sat on one of the chairs, making himself useful by opening up the bottles handed to him by Moblit.

“I’m gonna need something hard first. Imagining being awarded that gold medal then looking in the crowd for the person who inspired me to try high jumping in the first place.” Nanaba sat to Levi’s left pouring what could be a nauseating amount of gin into the cup and emptied it within seconds. “And lo and behold, it looks like you were hiding out with wonderboy here in one of the old locker rooms.” She turned to Levi. “So… What were you guys doing there?”

Oddly enough, Levi didn’t understand the question at first glance. It could have been interpreted as an innocent question. When he wasn’t taking into account the cat-like grin, the raised eyebrows and the wide-eyed gaze.

It was Moblit who confirmed her intention. He turned to Hange. “There isn’t anything between you and Levi though right?”

“No one needs to be in a relationship to do anything.” Mike added, begrudgingly wise words from the most quiet one in the room.

“Nothing really…” Hange sat next to Nanaba and poured her own glass of gin, mixing it with some soft drinks. “I just kept him company. And he fell asleep next to me.”

Nanaba turned to Levi, her cheeks much redder than they were a second ago. “You sure?” She cupped her hands over her mouth and whispered in a still very audible volume. “Blink twice if you need help.”

“I don’t remember much, I fell asleep.”

Everyone in the room jumped as Nanaba abruptly slammed her hand on the table. “And you just let your biggest fangirl get away with doing whatever she wanted with you huh?”

“Biggest… fangirl?” Levi asked.

Nanaba turned to Hange. “Don’t you have a folder of pictures of him on your phone?” She dove under the table. From where Levi sat he could only hear the frazzled protests of Hange.

“The pictures aren’t on my phone anymore!” Hange screamed.

“What pictures?” Levi asked, trying his best to ignore the slams and the sounds of struggle from below.

“We did go to all of your competitions.” Mike admitted. “They went for personal reasons… I went for my own research.”

Levi noted that Mike and Elijah tended to alternate second and third place between the both of them. According to Hange that is. He never looked beyond his own experiences and his own injury had made him all the more hesitant to research high jumping stats.

“That sounds reasonable.” Levi managed to say. Small talk had never been his forte. Especially when his conversation partner wasn’t leaving much opening to continue.

For a while they were both silent. “It’s a shame. You made the competition interesting. If this didn’t happen, you could have pushed the sport to new levels.”

“Accidents happen. Someone else will show up and do it,” Levi kept his voice toneless as if he were just rattling off a list of inevitable events. That probably was going to happen anyway. His current inebriated state just convinced him that it wasn’t worth pondering at that moment.

“Moblit! Keep my phone and Nanaba, just go the fuck to sleep already.” Hange’s tone and her face then that managed to be both cold and furious at the same time was terrifying. Maybe, because it was the first time he had ever seen her so angry.

“You’re one of my closest friends Hange…. Be happy…” Nanaba slurred.

Happy. Hange always seemed happy, barring that one sleepless night he did see her cry. At that moment though, Levi instinctively looked towards her, his brain somehow expecting to see a smile on her face.

Of course, with what happened just a while ago she wasn’t smiling. She pressed her phone onto Moblit’s hand and whispered something to him. She returned back and sat next to Levi, taking Nanaba’s seat of a while ago. “Well, I had pictures to be honest but just for a few months I guess? I mean I really liked your jumps and I wanted to keep them...”

“No. It’s nice to know I had a secret admirer.” No actually, Levi probably would have found it odd if it were anyone else. He was doing the equivalent of writing fanfiction about her and somehow, keeping a secret folder of photos of him seemed mild. Although she had mentioned deleting it, Levi found himself clinging to the hope that she might still have kept a few.

“Hange, Let me make it up to you,” A voice and a pair of arms came up from behind Hange and wrapped around both of their shoulders. Levi could smell the strong alcohol in them.

“Nanaba, I think you should go to sleep now…” Moblit said. He stood up and started to prepare one of the mattresses Hange had laid out on the side of the room.

“Make it up to me by going to sleep…” Hange mumbled visibly uncomfortable.

Nanaba ignored her. “Levi, could I ask you one favor?”

“What is it?” Levi asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the still half fall glass of tequila in front of him. He had only been taking only small and cautious sips after all.

“Could you kiss Hange?” Nanaba asked “At least, just a peck on the cheek?”

“Kiss?”

“Nanaba! Go. to sleep.”

Levi could hear the rattle of her chair and from his peripherals he could see Hange moving to stand up but before he could have even processed anything else, he felt a hand on his head, a slight push.

And within a split second, he felt wet lips, he tasted alcohol, he saw scenes and he heard voices.

Within another split second they were all gone.

Hange had gone red, he could see it in her cheekbones. She had her hand cupped to her mouth, her eyes wide with what could have been shock or embarrassment. As Levi felt the blood run through his cheeks and his incapacity to do anything but stare, he started to wonder what he had looked like.

“Weren’t you wondering how his lips tasted? During that one tournament?”

“That was a joke…” Hange said. She swallowed a lump on her throat and as she narrowed her eyes, Levi could see the beginnings of what could have been tears. Was it really a joke?

“Nanaba. Let’s get you to bed.” Mike appeared from behind Nanaba and guided her back to the mattress Moblit had prepared. He started whispering to Nanaba so slowly and gently, Levi almost admired him for his patience.

That exchange between Nanaba and Mike had only lasted a second. By the time Levi did look beside him, Hange was already gone and he could hear the door slam behind him.

Levi took a quick glance at both Moblit and Mike who were still trying to subdue an overly excited Nanaba before he stood up. Not bothering to even grab his crutches from the other side of the wall, he hobbled the few meter distance toward the door of her room.

“Hange?” Levi opened the door just wide enough to see it. She hadn’t locked the door at least.

“I still have the pictures on my phone.” She sounded apologetic. She sat at the foot of her bed, her face towards the ground. Levi could tell by the crack on her voice that she was in no mood to look up.

“The pictures of me?”

“I can delete them if you want. I know it’s creepy. I shouldn’t have taken so many during tournaments.”

“And you wanted to kiss me?”

Hange fell limply on the bed and looked up at the blank ceiling. She had looked like she was avoiding his gaze. “It was a weird passing thought. I mean, I know a lot of girls have those types of things but I guess it really is creepy when the person isn’t as big of a celebrity as boy groups or actors. But I’ve wanted to be an athlete since before I could remember. I wanted to jump, to see how it feels like flying through the air. And when I saw you jump, I swear you could have had wings on your back with how well you were able to control yourself up there. You made me feel like I could fly too and I guess I got a little obsessed and ended up thinking a lot of creepy shit. I know it’s weird and I sound like a stalker…”

“No it’s not. I still have the stories about you. I’m just as weird,” Levi looked towards the wall, a gesture of respect for Hange who looked like she was in no mood to look at him.

“But, you only started writing them after we met.”

“But the stories are so detailed, it’s embarrassing,” Levi said. “if I made you feel so strongly about this, you felt obsessed enough to sneak pictures. Just remember, you made me feel things too. And these things I felt, ended up making me write. And I’ve never written in my life.”

“How did I make you feel?”

“Like I could fly too.” His dreams could attest to the fact that he wasn’t lying. Levi chose that moment to look at her and their eyes locked even before he consciously tried to follow her gaze. She had lain on the bed, looking more relaxed than a second ago.

Hange scooched over. Levi noticed then with the slight movement that his right knee was starting to ache, having taken the load of all his body weight as he hobbled.

Her scooching over could have been a subtle movement more than anything but with his aching legs, Levi decided the risk was probably worth it. He approached the bed on the side Hange had opened up. “I thought of stuff I wanted to write... Nanaba and Mike were in those dreams too. For a time we would go out for drinks after a long day of training. Meat was hard to come by but sometimes, we would have the budget to blow on a plate of meat and we’d share it. Erwin would be there too. And sometimes, they would joke that we bickered like a married couple.”

“You really built your whole world huh? What inspired you to think that up this time? The alcohol? Meeting Mike and Nanaba? Having our heads bashed together?

The kiss? The visions of the split second chose to remind Levi of their existence at that particular moment. “The kiss?” The words rolled off his tongue so easily and so fluidly.

“You don’t have to call it a kiss if you don’t want to.” We didn’t decide to do it. So technically it isn’t right?”

Levi had wanted to argue. Hange’s denial of that kiss only made his memories clearer and the emotions tied to them much stronger.

That peck had been satisfying, euphoric. It was a cathartic release of pent up emotions. Yet at the same time it had only lasted a split second. In that silent room, on the bed next to Hange, he had enough of a breather to reflect and maybe articulate that particular gesture. His feelings were strong enough to at least convince him to keep it as is. “It’s a kiss,” he said.

The silence stretched for what could have been eternity. “It’s a kiss then,” Hange said. “Did it make you feel anything?”

“I liked it.” Levi kept it to those three words. If he gave his mouth and his emotions free reign, he might just say something he would regret.

“Did you see anything? Did it inspire you to write something else about Captain Levi and Commander Zoe?” It was just like Hange to pull those words out of his mouth anyway.

“If they weren’t constantly fighting for their lives, they might have ended up kissing.”

“And you’re not going to write a kissing scene?”

“They didn’t kiss.” Of course, they wouldn’t kiss during the war. They were fellow soldiers, subordinate and superior, it wouldn’t have been professional in the battlefield.

“Maybe after their relationship develops then.”

“It won’t develop.” The words came out automatically.

“Why not? What about after the war?” Hange suggested. Words like why always bring up more questions than answers and Levi found himself racking his brain for it.

The dreams and the memories or as Hange liked to call it, bouts of inspiration, came in images and scenes and sometimes pieces of information. From what he could tell, Hange and Levi had a strong bond and it would have only been natural that they had stayed close long after the war ended.

And a kiss probably wouldn’t have been too far off. But why didn’t they kiss? Why didn’t their relationship develop? Levi asked himself, as his mind caught up to the words he said.

Maybe because the war hadn't ended yet. But after that there should be potential to develop.

With time, Levi had started to realize a pattern to the dreams though. The answers to the questions came gradually. They came in meetings, conversations and dreams. If he waited patiently, if he just opened up, those questions would be answered right?

Before Levi even noticed it, he had settled on the bed next to her and had fallen asleep to those questions. His brain chose those moments in between the sleeping and waking world to go through the voices and visions that went through him in that split second kiss.

One day in the barracks, he had overheard three of his squad members talking.

“You know I’ve been working with the commander closely right?”

“Yeah?”

“After the meetings, Levi always stays in the room with her and every time I see them together. I can’t help but think, there might be something between them.”

“Maybe you’re just overanalyzing it. You do analyze a lot

“Hey, he was right about the titan shifters and their locations back in Shiganshina."

“We’re talking about romance here, not military intelligence. Besides, can you even imagine the captain and commander kissing?”

“Just because you can’t get a girl with your horse face.”

[star-birthmark]

Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader

Finally... FINALLY IT IS DONE! This is infernal ask that has been in my inbox for so long!!! Thank you to @stardustbrosaders for the request all those months ago lol. This was the request: “Heya! Would it be possible to write a P4! Jotaro x Female! Reader where the reader gets her stand under stress from a battle? The group almost gets defeated but the reader’s stand appears and she beats the enemy, saving everyone? For the readers stand type could it be close range like SP and CD?”

I also drew the reader’s stand for this fic. You can find a link to the stand info here. 

This is a long ass fic btw. It’s literally 11 THOUSAND WORDS. I don’t know what compelled me to make the fic this long. I really don’t. But I did and here we are. I hope you like it, no matter how long it is!

Quick content warnings: General violence and angst, strangulation, murder (duh)

Without further ado: Silent Saviors: 4taro x Fem Reader (11k words)

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but it had just been a long day, and no progress had been made to capture that force. The team’s morale was low. The exhausted high school students stumbled home to catch a good night’s rest, thoughts of ongoing danger in their small town looming over their heads. The young manga artist Rohan Kishibe grumbled to himself about his failures, wondering how a genius like him could not decipher this mystery like he had last time. You felt a heavy air of unrest lay over the town as you awkwardly shifted in your seat on the ride to the Grand Hotel, looking over at your travel mate as he silently ran over the facts in his head. He shook his head in frustration. None of this made any sense. All the victims had been killed in the same way, so it must be a stand, one that didn’t leave behind any evidence, one potentially even more dangerous than Kira. 

A dark force was afoot in the town of Morioh once more, but you didn’t know anything about the first monstrous event that had occurred. The small town’s silent saviors all agreed with one another to seal their lips and tell no one what had really happened. Not that anyone would have believed them. 

But you would have. Your travel partner didn’t know anything yet, but the more time you two spent in this strange town, the crazier you felt you were becoming. You were seeing objects levitate in the air, you were seeing arms stick out from these bizarre teenagers. At this point, you’d believe anything just to make it all stop. You stumbled inside from the taxi, convinced this small town was driving you insane. 

Your partner turned to you in front of your hotel room, his own room right next door, and placed his large hands on your shoulders. 

“Are you alright (y/n)? If any of this investigation gets to be too much for you, just tell me and I’ll send you on the next flight back home.” 

You snort tiredly. “Too much for me? Jotaro you look exhausted… You haven’t been taking breaks from the case at all…  You’re always so anxious. Do you promise you’ll actually go to bed this time?” 

Jotaro looked down at you and moved his hands from you, sighing heavily. “Yeah… I promise…” 

You give him a shy smile before shrugging. “Besides… you need me, don’t you? Weren’t you the one that said I’m the only one that calms you down?” 

Jotaro gulped and broke eye contact with you, his own silent way of admitting that you were right. You chuckled and opened the door to your hotel room, giving him one last look and goodnight before you left to go to bed. You would wake up about two hours later from the sound of your partner’s shuffling about in his room next door. You slipped on a thick crew neck over your thin tank top and shorts and open to the door connecting to the two rooms. 

You peaked your head past the door to find a familiar sight before you. Pictures were tacked onto a corkscrew board, red thread connecting the dots to draw the group one step closer to solving the crimes. Files were splayed out over the desk, a map of the small Japanese town resting on the nearby bed, etched with red Xs displaying the sites where several young men and women met their demise. Amongst the mess, you found the broad shoulders of a tired Jotaro Kujo hunched over the desk, the young man still looking at the mountains of documents, eager to find the path to justice. It was hidden in those pages, he was sure of it. It had been your third night together in that hotel, and it was evident that you two would be there for much longer.  

---

“Miss (L/N) it says here that you have received your degree in zoology and graduated at the top of your major.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it says here that you recently led an academic study of marine biology that went very well back home.”

“Yes sir, and it would be an honor to join this esteemed team of scientists here at SPW.”

It was the year 1998, and you were interviewing to work at the Speedwagon Foundation. You had graduated atop your class, and had a passion for your work that few possessed, as well success that few could show for. You prayed that this interview was going well. The Foundation was the utmost important center of scientific research in the world and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to work there. You watched the smile on your interviewer’s face as he reviewed your credentials before setting the paper down. 

“Miss (L/N) I’d like to welcome you aboard our team. I believe you will contribute much to our efforts.”

Your face lit up in excitement and you rushed to shake his hand. “Thank you so much sir, I won’t let you down! If I could ask what position you’re hiring me for?”  

“You see we have an opening for an assistant with the Kujo lab. Since you’re just starting off here- you’ll be assisting him in meetings and in bench work-”

“Excuse me... the Kujo lab? As in Jotaro Kujo? Isn’t he my age?” You interrupt nervously. 

“Why yes miss… is there an issue?”

“Well no sir it’s just… I thought perhaps I’d be working under an esteemed professor… I didn’t think someone fresh out of grad school would already have a lab to himself… Not to sound ungrateful of course, I just didn’t realize I would be working under one of my contemporaries…” 

A sigh came to the man and leaned back in his chair, thinking about how to explain the situation. 

“Miss (y/n), the reason I’m placing you in Kujo’s lab is that I feel the two of you would work well together, given your similar backgrounds and parallel personalities…” You furrow your brow, unsure what the supervisor meant until you were face to face with Jotaro Kujo himself a few days later. 

You still remembered the day well. You hung your coat up on a nearby hook and looked about the lab. Documents were piled over every available surface with no particular organization. A large fish tank stood in the far corner, a wild variety of fish encased within. Anatomical posters of aquatic life were all over the walls, and right by the window sat Jotaro. He hadn’t looked up when you came in. Approaching his desk, you stared down at the mass of black hair on the top of his head. Soon clearing your throat, the young doctoral student’s head shot up to look at you blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, taken aback by his unemotional expression, nervously turning to a notebook you had on hand.

“Uh… um… My name is (y/n) (l/n), your new coworker. I would like to thank you for allowing me into your lab. I had been going over your most recent papers on the social patterns of starfish on the eastern-most coast of Japan and I was just wondering if-”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

You looked up from your notes and into the young man’s deep blue eyes, your breath catching in your throat. You struggled to form a sentence under the intense gaze, your breath shuttering out from your lips, and you looked back down at your notes. 

“I’m (y/n) (l/n)... your new coworker.” 

Jotaro nodded slowly, considering what you had just said. You watched as he removed his large white overcoat and leaned back in his chair, donned in a fitted black t-shirt. 

“Why did they hire you?” You lean forward confused, your ear facing him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Why did they hire you?” 

You look away for a moment, considering his now nervous expression, his nervous tick of chewing on his lip, his small twitches of the eye, his clenching and unclenching of his jaw. You looked down, finding his leg bouncing anxiously against the floor. A small, sweet smile came to you, and you opened your mouth to speak, alerting his attention. 

“You and I apparently have parallel personalities… according to them.”

You watched as Jotaro’s lips curved into a shy smile and he got up from his seat, grabbing a notepad from a nearby drawer. He then turned to you and extended his arm out, pointing. You followed the direction of his hand and saw a separate desk facing his at the other end of the office. You turned back and quickly nodded, rushing to set your things down and then turning to face him once more. 

Jotaro nodded courteously at you. “Have you read my most recent work?” 

“Yes, I just told you that I did that-”

“Good. Come to the meeting with me then.”

You followed after him into a nearby boardroom, unsure of the situation about to befall you. The meeting began. Executives discussed their most recent funding prospects, deciding whether or not to continue their spending, depending on how successful the trials had been. You sat patiently in your chair, listening to the others argue frankly amongst themselves. A steady, fast tapping upon the table commanded your attention and you turned over to see Jotaro staring off into the distance, his fingers rapidly tapping on the desk, his whole form shaking with sensory overload. 

“Mr. Kujo? And you?” You watched as Jotaro’s head shot up and he looked around the room. He hadn’t been listening, his mind had been too overcome with anxieties. 

“I um… I uh… W-what were-” 

You watched nervously as this man came undone at his seams. You cleared your throat and tapped the table next to his notepad. Getting the message, Jotaro grabbed the notepad quickly and anxiously flipped through its pages. 

“Um… sorry about that. I would like to further my research- wait no this is on the wrong page. Wait no it’s not… wait-” 

You looked around as the listeners began to get frustrated, looking at each other in jest of one of their top researchers. You chewed nervously on your finger, hoping Jotaro would pull himself together. It was your first day working with him, and it was already troublesome.

“I would like to further the research done in my penultimate paper. Or was it my most recent...”

“Mr. Kujo, we would have liked for you to have prepared for this meeting…” 

“No no… I did. I did. Wait-”

With a quick motion, you reached over and placed a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder, calmly taking the notepad from him and then turning to the group. Jotaro looked away, still visibly shaken. 

“Mr. Kujo clearly states in his most recent paper that he plans to continue his research, at a different coastal region, comparing more behaviors there to make sure that this past successful trial wasn’t any sort of spontaneous fluke. He writes in his goals of perhaps inspecting the regional colonies of starfish around S-Town… Following that, he plans to remain in contact with the genomic department and track genetic similarities between human and aquatic life that may explain the similar social patterns between the two.” 

You explain to them all, having memorized the paper. Turning to the notepad, you saw what Jotaro had written in preparation for the meeting. You then turned back to the investors.

“Mr. Kujo kindly asks that you aid him in his funding so that mankind as a whole may find a better understanding of the natural world… That’s all he wanted to say. He just couldn’t find the right page. Sir.”

You reached back and placed the notepad back near Jotaro’s shaking hand. You returned your hand back to the other’s shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure the scientist that he was alright. The young man turned to you in a bit of surprise, not expecting your presence to calm him oh so much. The executives all took in your words and the head of the meeting slowly nodded. 

“Well… thank you for your assistance, miss…?” 

“(l/n).”

“Right well thank you… We will consider Mr. Kujo’s work for a second trial.”

“Thank you. He appreciates it.” With that, you let go of Jotaro’s shoulder.

The meeting soon adjourned, You got up to leave your seat when you felt Jotaro’s hand grab your shoulder. You turned around to see him slowly stand up from his chair. 

“Thank you. I’m not a big fan of speaking to them…”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…  of course…”

From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Having experienced the horrific acts done to him and to those he loved back in his teenage years, Jotaro was convinced that you were the only one who could calm his constant nerves and anxieties. You became his most powerful tool against the outside world. You understood his work perfectly, understood his mannerisms perfectly, and respected his need for silence in the office. You knew how to say things the way he would himself, and you had no fear discussing them to other people. The two of you became much closer over the months of your working. Jotaro became much less of an enigma in your eyes. It would be a few months until Jotaro would unwillingly reveal his more “secret” projects. 

The first time you saw the arrow, Jotaro did not want you to see it. But still, what happened that day would forever change your relationship with the young scientist. You had arrived early, hoping to surprise him with a hot breakfast and a smile. You turn the corner to walk into the lab, yet when you go to open the door, you find it locked. Strange. Looking inside the room, you find Jotaro hunched over his desk in focus, in the same clothes as the day before, having not yet unlocked the door. Even more strange. You knocked on the door, only for him to leave the room with another door in a hurry, ignoring your pleas. With a grumble, you dug for your keys, figuring his weird behavior was just fatigue, and that he probably slept over at work again.  When you finally get into the lab, you place your things down, and that's when you see it lingering underneath his desk in a rushed hiding spot. 

Encased within a thickly walled wooden box, an arrow remained, barely hidden from your gaze, as Jotaro had had no time to hide it from you. The latch was undone, another sign that Jotaro had run away from the scene.

Jerk. Didn’t he trust you enough to show you something like this? It’s just a bow and arrow! Why was he hiding it? You called out for him to return to the room and explain what the bow and arrow was for. Hearing no response, you turned back to the wooden box, reaching your hand in to inspect the bow and arrow. 

It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye. 

There were no in-between movements. One moment you had pricked your finger on the razor sharp tip of the arrow, the next moment you were standing up, the box had been tightly locked, and Jotaro stood right in front of you, chest to chest, intensely staring you down. Your breath became ragged as you maintained eye contact with him. What just happened? You didn’t even hear him come in. The box was right before your very eyes, and you didn’t even see that it was locked. How did he even turn you around without you knowing?! A chill went down your spine as you hesitated to speak even a word to the man before you. 

“Do you see what was in there?”

 Jotaro asked you calmly. You felt a cold sweat form on your forehead. Jotaro, ever the impatient man, grabbed your jacket collar, shaking you out of your scared daze. 

“I’m asking you now (y/n)! Did you see what was in there?!” 

“No, I didn’t see anything! I don’t know what just happened! I swear! I saw you run away from the room and went to see what was in there and the next thing I knew you had come back and it was all so fast and I don’t understand and I-... Jotaro… you’re scaring me.” 

Your body convulsed at his rough contact, your hands reaching up to push him away, but his tight grip on your jacket remained steadfast. Pure instinct had compelled you to lie to him about seeing the content of the box, but the terror and confusion you had displayed was genuine. You still didn’t understand how he was able to move that fast, or affect you with you even knowing. Just who was this man?

Jotaro stared down at you for a moment longer, before releasing you from his grip and taking a few steps back. You stumbled back, grabbing the edge of his desk to stabilize your fall. Your heart continued to race in your chest as you heaved, still struggling to make sense of what just happened. 

Jotaro silently called out Star Platinum, having his stand hover right in front of you as you kept staring at him in confusion. Your expression didn’t change once he called out his stand. So you were telling the truth. You really hadn’t seen the arrow. Or at least, hadn’t touched it.

Jotaro sighed, rubbing the side of his head with a groan. He hadn’t stopped time in so long, but it seemed he was worried over nothing. “I’m sorry to frighten you, (y/n).” 

You finally straightened yourself out, gulping. “Who the hell are you? Really?!” 

“...I’m Jotaro Kujo. That is all.” 

Another chill ran down up your spine, but you played it off. If he wanted to continue things as per usual, you’d have to do the same. 

“Right… I brought breakfast. And there’s a morning meeting in half an hour so freshen up.” 

You walked past him to retrieve the food you had bought for them. Looking down to pick it up, you noticed a red blood stain on your jacket. It must have been from your bleeding finger when you’d pricked it on the arrow. However, when you turned to look at the finger itself, you found that it was fully healed, not even scarred, even after such a precise and direct cut. Jotaro politely asked you for the food, claiming hunger, and you rushed to take your coat off and hide it away. You got the sense that he’d question further if he saw the fresh blood stain. 

After that fateful morning, things continued on as per usual. You still had your questions, but after a few weeks had passed without another incident, you resolved that whatever that bow and arrow were must have been top secret for the Speedwagon Foundation. You figured no company could be as powerful as they were without keeping a few secrets. And this was one of them. 

So you resolved to ask no questions about that one day. The same way you didn’t put up much of a fight when, in the summer of 1999, after months of you two planning to stay there together, Jotaro told you that he would be going to Morioh alone to research for his PhD, without you. You were furious, enraged how the two of you could become so close since you began working there, yet he still didn’t trust you to go with him. You argued with him the night before he was set to leave, but his resolve never crumbled. You weren’t going to Morioh, that was final. 

In the three months that he was gone, Jotaro regularly sent you his findings, and you sorted them back at Speedwagon Headquarters. When he finally came back, more visibly shaken than he was before, you could only wonder what the coworker you had grown so attached to had experienced in Morioh in the summer of 1999. 

Circling back to the present day, it was the winter of 2000, and there was yet again a dark force afoot in the town of Morioh. Only this time, Jotaro would not go alone. 

“You have to let me come with you this time.” 

“Explain why. Explain why I have to let you come with me this time. I did just fine on my own before.” 

You gritted your teeth at the other’s stubbornness. “Will you please just listen to me? Jotaro when you came back from Morioh, you were even harder to deal with than before! Any sound in the office set you on edge and you screamed when someone set off fireworks near our building! And you still haven’t explained to me what happened there! Now let me come with you! I can help!”

Jotaro turned his attention away from his work, finally looking at you for the first time in that conversation. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become, how much you meant to him. You were his ticket into communicating with the world to his fullest, and after recalling several confusing conversations with Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi, Jotaro realized he actually needed you in order to articulate himself to the others without getting too anxious or angry. 

“Alright fine. We’re leaving tomorrow at 2. You better be ready.” 

But nothing could have prepared you for the horrors you were about to encounter in that small town. To your shock and disgust, you learned that aside from his research, Jotaro was investigating a murderer. And then you met Josuke and the others. That was when you first felt that you were going crazy. When you saw glimpses of third arms extend out from these teenagers, saw one of them heal a broken leg with ease, saw another erase space itself. People all over this small town were vanishing in thin air, and the incidents were happening more and more frequently. It didn’t make any sense, but no one was commenting on it, so you felt you were just imagining things. The same way you must have imagined Jotaro moving at lightspeed that morning you pricked your finger on the arrow. 

Finally, we return to the current scene of Jotaro hunched over his desk, his room in the Morioh Grand Hotel littered with documents, the board nearby covered in photos and string, the bedside clock reading 2:33 am.  You approached him carefully in the tense silence, knowing not to startle him whenever he was in deep thought. 

“...Jotaro-”

“Dammit dammit dammit! I’m sick of it! Where the hell is he?!” 

Jotaro slammed his fist down on the desk, his chest heaving in frustration. Why did this keep happening to him?! He just wanted to live a normal life, and he thought after Kira, he could. But like so many times before, Jotaro Kujo was wrong. Perhaps it was his destiny to be unfortunate. Perhaps there would always be another person stabbed by the arrow that would have it out for him and the others. Perhaps he was always destined to have a target on his back. Jotaro turned around to see you there, your form shaken from his sudden outburst. You’d never seen him that angry before. He met your gaze, unaware that you were sensing a vague presence of a being just above the man’s shoulder. 

He sighed, walking over to you. “I’m sorry to scare you (y/n). I’m just getting frustrated by all this.”

You hesitated to speak for a moment, flinching when Jotaro placed his hand on your shoulder. You look up at him with a glare.  “Tell what you haven’t been telling me.” 

“You’ve been with me in Morioh this whole time (y/n). We both know the same things about this case I-”

You shoved Jotaro back, the surprised scientist bumping into his desk. “Don’t play dumb with me Jotaro! There’s something you’re not telling me! Do you think I’m an idiot?! Do you think I can’t handle it?! Tell me why you and a bunch of fucking kids have to be the ones taking down a killer?! Why can’t you just leave it to the police like a normal person?! Just say it! I…  I can help you!” 

But Jotaro couldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand his world and the horrifying stands contained within it. He had to keep you safe. The moment you find out anything more will be the moment you die. 

“No… I can’t tell you (y/n).” 

“But that’s not fair I-”

“(y/n), I’m sorry, but if you ask me again, I’ll be forced to send you back home and have you fired from my lab. Try to understand me, I’m doing this for your own safety, but I can’t have you be near me if you don’t cooperate.” 

You stood there in shock. Would he really do that? Didn’t he know how much working for him at the Foundation meant to you? How much care that you put in for him and his work? And he’d throw all that away just to protect some stupid secret!? Who did he think he was?!

Your whole body began to quiver in rage at the other’s behavior. Just when you thought there was something between the two of you, something more than just a young professor and his assistant, he makes it clear that you mean nothing to him, and you never have. You watched the man before you, turn away from your gaze to focus back to his work. With a huff, you reach for the door to leave, your hand touching the handle. 

Then, it all went white. 

Your hand touched the handle, feeling the metal scalding to the touch. Before you could flinch back and yelp at the pain, a hand circled around your neck and another crept around your waist, the grip keeping you flush against another body. You look around the room, watching the color and furniture dissolve from your view until all you could see for miles was a white void. The only thing you could feel was the man with a locked grip on your neck, blocking your airway. You kicked to set yourself free, until you felt a ghostly presence cling onto your legs to hold them together. That same feeling washed over your wrists to bind them as well. The man holding onto you within the void leaned down to bring his mouth to your ear.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

Your whole body shuddered at the deep growl in his throat. “W-who are you?! What do you wan-”

“I’m the one talking (y/n)!”

With that, his hold on your neck tightened ever more. How could he have known your name? You all had made a point to only use names in private in case the murderer was lurking around. So that means… A pang of realization hit you. He’d been hiding in this hotel room, listening to you and Jotaro was however long. Black spots appeared before you in your line of sight, your head was feeling lighter and lighter. You were becoming weightless. 

“In the split second that a human being first feels pain, that is when they are at their most isolated. At the first sign of pain, it’s every man for himself. When a man is shot, in the first moment he feels pain, he isn’t thinking of the man next to him that got shot in the brain. He’s thinking only of himself. The fight or flight response is activated, all other surroundings become useless. That selfishness, that hunger to be healed, that desire for self preservation, is what fuels Foreigner’s God, my stand!” 

Your eyes shot open at the last word. “A...stand?” You choked out.

“My stand, Foreigner's God, extends that initial moment of selfishness that comes with pain. No longer are there distractions that can bring someone back to care for others. No longer are there healers that can take that pain away. Your hand is still burnt from the handle that I heated up, so…”

He turned you both around and you saw through your hazy view, a body appear in the white void. It was Jotaro, the man frantically calling out your name and rushing between his room and yours in a search for you. At one moment, the two of you even seemingly made eye contact, and you saw the absolute fear in his eyes at the realization that he might have just lost you. Your mouth quirked up in a smile, and tears began to form in your eyes. 

Jotaro took a step closer, maintaining your gaze, and you felt relief in your heart that he could really see you. Until suddenly, he rushed to the night stand, fazing right through you and your assailant, not even noticing your presence in the room. You struggled to shout under the choking pressure as you saw him panic, reaching to the phone to call Josuke.

“Wait! Jotaro! I’m right here ah-”

“Didn’t I tell you (y/n)! At that critical moment of pain, it’s every man for himself! It’s just you and me in here! You’re in my world now, sweetheart. I allowed you to see Jotaro’s image, but he cannot see or hear you!” 

The killer turned your head to the side, ready to snap. But he had to wait, for his stand would deactivate the moment you were killed, and then he’d be left vulnerable to a furious Jotaro in that hotel room. He needed information about his opponents’ abilities, and Jotaro was playing right into his hands by calling his friend. 

“That’s it… That’s it Kujo! Call Josuke Higashikata! Call him! CALL HIM!”

You trembled under the rough grip, struggling to call out for Jotaro, hoping he wouldn’t call anyone and reveal any secrets. 

And then amidst the silence, the click of Jotaro hanging up the phone filled your ears. You watched the look of reflection on his face. Somehow, maybe it was because of years of battle with monsters just like this man, but Jotaro Kujo realized that you hadn’t run away. Someone was keeping you from him. And he was now more alert than ever. 

“Shit! He’s smarter than I thought! He must suspect there’s a stand attack going on.” 

The murderer grumbled before dropping you to the ground. He couldn’t kill you, not without proper info on how to defeat Jotaro and the others. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. With a sharp kick to the back, the assailant managed to knock you away, breaking bones in your spine and leaving you immobile. Recalling his stand ability, the murderer managed to escape out a window without a trace, figuring you would lose consciousness. With a gentle thud, you toppled to the ground, right next to the open window. 

“(y/n)!” 

Jotaro rushed to the sound, seeing you lay there, gasping for breath. He turned to the open window seeing no one around. He had disappeared. And right under his nose too. How long had the man been in the room with them?! How dumb could he have been?! Reaching up to Jotaro, you muttered that the man had broken a few bones in your back and that you couldn’t move. 

“I’m sorry Jotaro. I didn’t get a good look at his face…” 

“Don’t worry about that! I’ll get help right away!” 

You looked up with hazy eyes as Jotaro rushed to the phone to call Josuke. After everything between the two of you, after everything he’s said to you, it was surprising to see just how much he truly cared about you. Holding the phone to his ear, Jotaro frantically told Josuke your condition and for him to get over here as soon as possible. Glancing down at your arm, Jotaro’s eyes shot open at the black ink that painted your skin just a few centimeters beneath your wrist. In all caps, as if the murderer was playing with you all, the ink wrote, 

“Foreigner’s God - AS.”  

- - - - - 

“Honestly Mr. Joestar, where does that grandson of yours get off running me and the others ragged like this? He sees one person with the initials A.S. in a phonebook and he sends me out across down to read them with Heaven’s Door.” 

Rohan Kishibe sat drinking his tea, absently working on Pink Dark Boy, waiting for Jotaro’s next move. His companion, Joseph Joestar, took a sip of his drink at Rohan’s rude accusation. 

“Hush now Rohan. We all put Jotaro in charge of his operation, given his connection to our main victim. All he’s doing is using your stand to its full capabilities.” 

The old man raised an eyebrow and Rohan got the hint. Mr. Joestar was the only one of the group that the snarky artist fully respected, so he would follow the seasoned stand user’s lead. 

A heavy set of footsteps entered the room, followed by a more uneven pair lingering behind. The two stand users looked up to see you and Jotaro enter. You were looking better since the attack. Josuke had healed your back of the broken bones, but the bruises and intense pain of walking remained. Moving with crutches, you slowly stepped out from behind Jotaro as the two of you entered the room. Jotaro, his face darkened in a mixture of unhealthy fatigue and intense bloodlust, approached Rohan’s table and slammed down a stack of papers. 

“Names, addresses, ages, and criminal histories. All here. I want you done with it within the next two days.” 

Rohan grumbled, standing up. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that Jotaro. Not even a hello, not even an acknowledgment of your grandfather. He’s the only reason I’m letting you push me around like this you-” 

Jotaro took one step closer to Rohan, staring the smaller man down in silence. A chill went down the artist’s spine. Shown plainly in the scientist’s eyes was a haze of dark intent, of evil desires. He wanted this person dead, and for them to suffer. Joseph flicked his gaze up at his grandson, recognizing the expression from the other’s climactic fight with DIO. A tinge of worry filled the old soul. 

They needed to catch him, and catch him soon. 

“Jotaro, come on. We told Josuke and the others we would give them an update soon.” 

At the sound of your voice, raspy still from the attack, Jotaro’s face softened into its usual composure. He turned around to face you, and you gave him a tired smile. 

“Right, let’s go. Rohan. Two days, please. I’m counting on you.” 

Tipping his hat over his eyes, Jotaro held out an arm for you as you both walked to the rendez-vous point to meet with Josuke. 

Rohan still felt lost in the other’s murderous expression. It had been three days since your run in with Foreigner’s God, and Heaven’s Door’s user was one of the first to arrive at the scene in order to search for clues. He remembered reading a page drawn from your unconscious body; you had blacked out soon after Jotaro made the call for help. Josuke was working on your spine, and there was a tense silence about the room. A silence soon interrupted by the crash of wood hitting the floor. Everyone looked up, seeing Jotaro standing deathly still in his spot, meanwhile Star Platinum had escaped and had thrown the table over and smashed it into the floor. The rampaging stand turned to the board and knocked it over with a fierce punch, wood scraps and documents flying everywhere. 

“Hey Jotaro stop it! We need those!” 

Josuke yelled, drawing out Crazy diamond to hold Star back. In his blinded rage, the stand took a mindless swing, punching Crazy Diamond in the jaw and sending both him and Josuke flying into the opposite wall. 

“Josuke!” 

Koichi and Okuyasu rushed to their friend. He wasn’t injured too badly, surprisingly no bones broken; nothing a bandage or two couldn’t fix. The four of them, the three teenagers and the artist all turned to Jotaro in shock, who by this point had absorbed Star Platinum into his being. Turning back to face them all, they all got a look at it. 

The truly furious face of Jotaro Kujo. 

The calm and collected scientist now wore the face of violence, a face he hadn’t worn since Egypt. His eyes shone bright with a horrifying lust for vengeance. Those eyes looked away from the frightened stand users, towards your unconscious body. Without a word, Jotaro left the room, and the others let out a shaky breath in the tense air. Those eyes. It had been three days and those eyes were still ever present. Rohan shook away his discomfort and waved goodbye to Mr. Joestar, understanding now. 

Jotaro was not in this for justice. If Kira had hurt only you those months ago, Jotaro would have worn the same face. You were the key to Jotaro’s psyche and wellbeing. That was a fundamental truth about Jotaro Kujo. It was that day that Rohan Kishibe learned another fundamental truth. 

Sometimes, the universe places an answer in your hands when you need an answer the most. 

Half an hour later, it happened. It was in the middle of a secluded street, inhabited by only three people at that moment. A man. A woman. And the young artist, who had been so enraptured by his goal of locating the first name of his list that he barely had the time to react when it happened. And when it did, it only took an instant. 

The man in front of him quickly drew out a pocket knife from his jacket, driving its blade into the woman’s shoulder, unaware Rohan was behind him seeing the act in its entirety. Before the woman had any time to scream in pain, the pair vanished into thin air before the artist’s very eyes, and into the man’s stand realm. Rohan held his breath, frightened at the pair’s sudden disappearance. A stand user. It must have been. Was this him? Reaching quickly into his bag, Rohan Kishibe phoned his first line of defense.

You had been sitting with Jotaro and all of the Morioh teenagers when Jotaro received his call from Rohan.  

“What is it?” 

“I found someone. It’s either him or another one Jotaro.” 

Jotaro shot up from his chair, eyes blown out in stress. “Are you sure?! How do you know?!” 

Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi all grew the same expression of fighting spirit on their faces and you were sure danger was ahead for you all. 

Rohan tried to remain calm. “I’m not sure… Come over here with the others. We have a better chance of taking down whoever this is together. I’m by Owsen, two streets over…” 

Inside Foreigner’s God’s realm, the man  grabbed on tighter to the struggling woman’s neck as she gasped for air. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! Please don’t k-kill me!” 

But the man was hardly paying attention to her cries. He had brought a vision of Rohan into the void and was watching the artist’s movement’s while still strangling the woman as she writhed in pain. 

He didn’t like what he was hearing. With a grunt, the man turned the woman around to face Rohan’s vision, his hand still tight around her neck. 

She whimpered at the sudden motion, tears streaming down her face, meanwhile he stared boredly at Rohan talking on the phone with Jotaro and the others. 

“Hey bitch, who is that?” 

The woman just kept crying.  “Please don’t kill me!” 

Gritting his teeth, the man smacked her upside the head and tightened his grip around her neck. “Tell me who that is!” 

Her vision hazy, the woman took a good look at the eccentrically dressed man. “I-I think th-that’s Rohan Kishibe. A famous manga artist…”  She sputtered out. 

The man’s eyes widened. Rohan Kishibe. He was at the scene of Kira’s death. Could he be another of them? 

A fit of laughter took over him and he cackled, his jubilation mixing uncomfortably with the woman’s struggle for her life. Continuing to holler, the man dropped the woman to the ground and she remained there, coughing to catch her breath. 

“Oh that’s great! I’ve heard he’s good too! You ever read any of his stuff?!” 

She looked up at him confused, watching his face twist in excitement as he realized that he, a lowly stand user, was about to kill a man that helped take down the mighty Yoshikage Kira. Staring down at the ground, she shuddered at the sound of the maniac’s voice.

“Hey.”

A chill went down the woman’s spine. Suddenly, the man wasn’t laughing anymore. She turned her head to find a way to escape, seeing nothing but white everywhere. Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing to her?! The man on the street with them, Rohan, why wasn’t he stepping in? It’s like they weren’t the real world at that moment. 

“...I asked you a question.” 

Tears filled her eyes again as she met his bored gaze. “W-what?” 

Drawing closer to her weak form, and kneeling down on the ground, the man before her grabbed a fistful of her hair and she screamed at the sudden jerking pain.

“I’m asking if you’ve ever read any of his stuff!” 

The woman felt a crushing pain in her chest, as if a mysterious force was stepping on her. 

“N-no! I haven’t! But please don’t k-”

“Hmph.” 

In a split second, the stand’s hands came around the woman’s neck and snapped it, and Foreigner’s God’s ability ceased. The man quickly his himself out of sight, seeing Rohan standing alone in the street. 

Rohan turned around at the thud of a body hitting the ground behind him. He looked over to see the dead woman, her eyes blown out and a thick ring of bruises around her neck. Just like what you had gone through. And there it was, the same tag that had been on your body after your attack.

 “Foreigner’s God. - AS. ” 

Bringing his phone shakily to his ear, Rohan muttered, “It’s him Jotaro. He’s just killed someone else. Get over here now!” 

Jotaro felt the same dark intent sweep over him as he heard Rohan speak those words. “Do you see him?” 

“No. He hid himself somehow. He’s nearby I bet. Waiting to get me… Come soon. I’m hanging up.” With that, the artist turned his phone off, staying on guard for any attackers. 

Jotaro hung up the phone call with Rohan and turned to the others to come with him. You stood up as well to head to the scene when you felt Jotaro’s hand roughly shove you down into your seat. 

“No.” He ordered plainly. 

“No?! You expect me to be useless again?! I’m the one he attacked first! I wanna see him go down and I wanna help do it!”

“I’m not having you go over there! You can’t get hurt again!” 

You stared up at him, shocked at the concern plastered all over his face. But still, you were stubborn. That’s one of the things he loved about you. 

“What about you?! What makes you sure you won’t get hurt?! Or even die Jotaro?!” 

“I’d rather that than you die (y/n)! The world needs you more than it will ever need me! And I can’t watch someone I love get hurt right in front of me again!” 

You stood there frozen, your legs feeling like they were about to give out at those word.

“...What?” 

Jotaro felt a hand grip his shoulder, turning to see Josuke motion for him to get going. They needed to catch this guy. And fast. Giving a quick glance to your shaken form, he knew you understood why you needed to stay behind. 

You did, of course, know him and his words better than anyone else on Earth. 

Jotaro began running with the others towards the scene and when he was a few feet away, you heard Koichi ask your beloved lab partner if he had any idea what kind of stand they were dealing with. 

Your mind flooded back to the words that man had spoken to you. A stand. That was the word he kept using. A stand. AS. Those were the initials of the man that nearly strangled you to death. Foreigner’s God. He said that was the name of his stand. A stand. Stand.

Your mind kept repeating that same word over and over again in your head as you stood there in the crowded Morioh street. All of these people. The people you had come to love. Josuke and the others. The strange lives they lived. Jotaro. The strange life he had drawn you into. They were all working to save the thousands of people that lived in this small Japanese town. 

You thought back on all they had said, all that you had overheard over the course of the investigation. Things you didn’t understand now flooded your mind. They spoke about the first trip, the killer. Killer. A man named Kira. Killer Queen. Killer Queen must have been his stand. A stand. Is that why you think you’ve been going crazy? Are those third arms stands? ...Did Jotaro have one? 

“Gimme… gimme… gimme… GIMME!”

Your whole form awoke from your deep train of thought at the sound of someone calling out to you.  You turned around, looking at all the people that were walking nearby. No one was even looking at you. You sighed. You supposed this town really was driving you crazy. You reached for your crutches and took one step forward- 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!”

The loud voice rang violently in your head and you fell to your knees from the shock. Covering your ears, you foolishly tried to block out the sound. Your whole body began to feel weak, your whole being heating up. It felt like your blood was boiling, your muscles were tensing, an unwanted rage consuming every cell in your form. 

“What’s going on?! What’s happening to m-”

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Who are you?! What’s going on?!” You thought to yourself, panicking. What was this voice?!

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” You muttered under your breath as you knelt on the pavement.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“Go away…” Your voice subconsciously raised, drawing others’ attention. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME!”

“GO AWAY!”  You let a shrill yell, grabbing violently at your hair in terror, causing a crowd of people to form around you. 

And then the voice stopped, a quiet renewing in your head. You sat there, gasping for air, your throat still burning from the attack days before, and your screaming had not helped it. You looked up at everyone staring up at you in shocked worry. In a calm daze, you stood up, grabbing your crutches and began to walk away from the others. 

Jotaro. Jotaro would know what it means. What that voice was. 

- - - - - 

Arata Sone had been Yoshikage Kira’s only friend as long as the killer had been alive. He was the only person in the world that Kira confided in. He remembered the night he met the blond murderer. One evening, the normal man came home from a very late night at work to a silent home, his wife sleeping upstairs. With a heavy sigh, Sone was about to enter his bedroom when he heard his wife let out a sudden shriek, before the sound immediately ceased into a renewed silence. Panicked, the man swung the door open to find another man about his age, standing in the middle of the room, a dismembered hand in his grasp. The hand was dripping blood onto the carpet, and Sone’s wife was nowhere to be found. Putting two and two together, the man felt a chill slither up his whole body. He remained stuck in his spot as he watched the blond man draw closer to him. Then something strange happened. Arata Sone knew that he should be afraid, knew that he should be begging for his life, knew that the proper thing to do was flee. But what he did shocked both himself and the murderer before him. 

Arata Sone laughed harder than he ever had before. 

Cackling loudly to an unsettling degree, he even managed to throw the calm and collected Yoshikage Kira off guard. After several minutes, the laughter died down and the man looked at the other before him with a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you.” 

For the first time in a long time, Kira felt a shudder rush through his body. 

“Thank you?” 

“I was waiting for a good moment to kill her myself.” 

In that moment, both men felt one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure that can only come from being shunned for one’s desires for so long, and then to finally have that desire recognized by another being. The two men called out their stands and both fell into fits of laughter and joy at their shared murderous trait. A new friendship had been born.

A few years later, Arata Sone saw on the news the gruesome image of his beloved friend’s face crushed beneath an ambulance. Seeing what he could only guess were other stand users at the scene, his ever present lust for murder grew within him to a boiling point. Foreigner’s God’s user made a promise to himself. To kill those who had killed his friend. 

And today was the day to make that happen. The killer watched from his hiding spot as Jotaro and the others ran to the scene to see a very shaken Rohan Kishibe, who was wondering why the killer had yet to show himself. What none of them knew, was that their attacker had grown as a stand user. He was about to apply what his dear friend Kira had once taught him, and was merely hiding to get them all in one place. 

Sone waited for the group to get within his stand’s range.

You slowly made your way on your crutches towards the scene. You needed to know these answers. 

“Just a little farther…” He thought as he waited for Jotaro and the others to be within his grasp. 

“Just a little farther…” You muttered to yourself as you turned the corner, two streets away from Owsen. An ominous feeling crept over you, making you feel sick to your stomach. 

Finally, they were all together within his stand’s range. Arata Sone waited for the right moment, a sick smile on his face.

Jotaro went to speak. “Any sign of h-”

And then the attack was sent into motion. In that split second, each of Morioh’s fighters looked down to see a small mass of white matter form around their ankle. With the snap of his fingers, the matter exploded, taking a chunk off each person’s leg with it. Jotaro, Josuke, Koichi, Okuyasu and Rohan all collapsed to the ground as the street became consumed in a white void the moment they all felt that same sting of pain.

“No human on Earth is unable to feel pain.”

They all looked up from writhing in pain as the man they had been hunting down showed himself, the twisted smile on his face more present than before. 

“When a man feels he is at his most cornered, that is often when the most opportunities arise for him. My st-”

In a flash, Jotaro lunged forward, landing a punch to Sone’s face. The smile went away.

“I suppose I’ll take your hand next.” He grunted, grabbing Jotaro’s arm and slamming his whole body to the ground. The moment his hand made contact with the ground, another white mass formed around Jotaro’s finger and exploded, and Star Platinum’s user once again hollered in pain.

“Jotaro!” 

The other Morioh fighters called out to their injured friend and all of them got up to attack their enemy together. The moment they took another step, white matter formed once more around their feet and exploded again. The five of them were squirming on the ground in pain once again. 

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Jotaro Kujo. My stand feeds on that first moment of selfish pain and extends it, trapping others in a blank void without distraction from their pain. It’s a terrifying ability when used properly, though I will admit, back when I attacked your little friend, I wouldn’t have been able to take you all on at once, and that’s the only reason I spared her life…” 

He looked down to see Jotaro’s face overcome with rage at your mention. It was a fruitless effort, but Jotaro lunged at his enemy again, only to be knocked on his back. The moment his body touched the ground, several bubbles of the same white substance engulfed the scientist’s back and exploded, leaving bleeding indents all over the tall man’s frame and causing him to gasp at the pain. 

“But you see. I have grown as a stand user. You may remember from the tag on your beloved friend’s arm the words Foreigner’s God. Well that my friends, is the name of my stand. Or no… this is something different. A new ability that I’ve learned. A swan song to my dear friend, Yoshikage Kira!” 

Their eyes shot open at the mention of that hardly forgotten name. “Kira?” Josuke muttered. 

“Oh right… an old friend of mine. I figured when I would be taking revenge for his death, I would use some of that explosive power of his that I loved so much. You see everyone, normally I would only be able to keep one person at a time in my realm. You can only hurt some many in one instance after all!” 

It was in that moment, Foreigner’s God revealed itself in its humanoid form right beside its user. Lunging forward, the stand attacked the stationary fighters, knocking them all to the ground. At the very second their bodies touched the ground, the same miniature explosions went off, extending their pain and keeping them in the dangerous realm. 

“Gimme gimme gimme…” 

You placed a hand against your ear trying to block out that annoying voice that was seemingly coming out of nowhere. You weren’t far from the scene, your mind still running wild, asking a thousand questions as to what a stand even was, what that voice just then was, who were the others really dealing with, what was this man capable of. You weren’t sure of what you would be able to do, but something within you drew your body closer and closer to the street where your friends were currently writhing in agony. You didn’t care about what Jotaro wasn’t telling you. You didn’t care that there were still questions that needed answered. You just wanted to help, anyway you could figure out how.

Staring down at their battered and bleeding bodies, Arata Sone let out another burst of jubilation amidst the void. 

“I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before! If you haven’t already noticed, my once empty void has now been combined with its own type of landmines. You cannot move without a new one setting off, and extending that pain further. You’re going to be stuck in here until you bleed out, with no one to hear you or see you! That is it the secret to my new ability, Arsonist’s Lullaby!” 

With that cry, the stand stormed through the five of them once more, knocking them to the ground once more, causing new land mines to set off, all to the tune of its user’s laugh-filled joy. It was then that white walls of the void were beginning to fade, and the scenery of that Morioh street was starting to fade back into view. 

“Hmm… it appears this ability takes up more of my energy than I thought. I suppose I can’t kill all five of you at once and remain invisible at the same time. No matter, I can’t sense any other stand users around, just the six of us. I don’t care who sees this! I’ll just kill the witnesses after I kill you!” 

It was then that Arata Sone made a fatal mistake, and just like his friend Yoshikage Kira, let his hubris take over. Removing the hiding nature of his stand, but doubling the landmines, the man watched as the five powerful stand users struggled to even get close enough to him to land in a hit. New landmines keep going off, new injuries created. 

They were dangerously close to bleeding out, all in plain sight of another stand user. You. 

You turned the corner to see the carnage ahead of you, finding your whole group in the enemy’s grasp. You couldn’t even tell what you were seeing. The moment one of your friends moved, they would immediately flinch back in agony. Drawing your attention to the man standing over them, a familiar chill went through you. That was the same man that had attacked you days before. And seeing what he was capable of doing to the people you had grown so close to, you were now more scared than ever of him. 

But you noticed something. Amidst the pleasure that this monster was reveling in, there was a distinct look of concentration plastered all over his face. You watched his expression twitch with each time an attack went off on one of your friends. He must be doing something with his mind to attack them. He was focusing. His focus. You needed to capture his focus. 

Steeling yourself for what was to come, you dropped your crutches and took a deep breath in, something in you knowing the dangers you were about to face, and the rest of you stupidly seeming not to care. 

With a small ounce of bravery, you shouted at the top of your lungs. “Stop it! I won’t let you hurt them!” 

Sone turned around at the sudden distraction, surprised that someone was taking notice. His eyebrow raised in intrigue. That could only mean one thing. You were another one. 

Jotaro recognized that voice. No… no no no. Looking up, he saw your frightened body shaking and staring straight into the enemy’s eyes without a way to defend yourself.

“No! (y/n) get out of here! You can’t be here! He’ll kill-” 

The killer turned back around and punched Jotaro straight in the gut with his stand, sending him flying back into a tree. 

“Jotaro!” 

You shrieked. All five of them were dying right in front of you, so close to bleeding out. And now his focus was on you, and it had taken all your courage to simply call out and distract him from the others. You watched as the man drew closer, ready to kill another. The same giant smile came over his face again. 

“(y/n) huh? And here I thought you were a smart person. Smart enough not to beg for me to hurt you again. But sorry, there’s no escape this time!” 

“(y/n) no! Run away! Get out of here!” 

You didn’t have time to register whose voice had called out to you before you saw the attacker lunge right at you. You put your arms up over your face as your body collapsed to its knees, your eyes shut in fear, and a horrified scream uncontrollably left your lungs. 

“Now die!” 

And then, you felt weightless.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

As you felt a massive weight being lifted from your body, your eyes shot open to find someone new standing over you. Actually, you weren’t sure if it was someone new, or something new. This new thing, it didn’t seem real.

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME” 

Your face lit up in shock. Attached to this new thing was the same voice that you had been hearing in your head before. You watched as its fists fired off in a flurry of punches, all hitting their marks on the man��s body. You were mesmerized by its appearance. Its body, about the same size as yours, looked as if it were made of glass. Swirling around within that glass was a pool of different colors. Different blues, purples, oranges and pinks flowed together seamlessly, all encased within the glass structure as it pummeled the enemy before you. 

“GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME… A MAN!” 

With one last, hard punch to the enemy’s chest, the glass figure stopped its attack and turned around to face you. You shuffled back on the ground, your chest heaving in fear from what had just happened. The figure before you, without speaking a word, drew its arm forward to point at Sone, who was now frozen in his spot before you. Then, everyone watched as small ripples began to form over the man’s whole body. All over his arms, legs, and chest, it looks as if the flesh was moving, as if someone had dropped a pebble into a lake. Then the ripples began to glow brightly, the full spectrum of colors radiating out, and tearing their way from the inside of his body outward. The enemy let out a painful shriek as the searing pain overtook him, more and more light spilling out of his body as the flesh around it became torn and melted. Finally, less than a second later, an explosion of white light burst out of the man’s body. And once that flash was gone, so was he. Foreigner’s God had been defeated. And this thing that you could tell was a part of you, it had been the thing to kill him. 

Shakily, you stood up, holding on tightly to your crutches, keeping your gaze on this figure that had erupted out of you. 

“...ABBA?” 

Still confused, all you knew was that something in your body told you to say that name. The figure turned around to face you and gave you a shy smile before coming closer and embracing your shaking form in a hug. Surprised you could even touch it, you wrapped your arms around ABBA as well, finding to your disbelief that the glass like material felt soft and warm to the touch. You looked down its back, eyeing the pattern of jagged lines all over its body, as well as the swirling colors within. You felt your eyes well up with tears. Something about holding onto this being, one not entirely separate from you, felt so right. It felt like it had been welling up inside you for so long, and you couldn’t help but love it now that it was out. 

“A stand…” You muttered. It was all so clear now. Your stand.

After a few moments, ABBA stood up and nodded towards the group of your injured friends. Holding you up, both you and your stand rushed over to Josuke. The teenager’s eyes opened with a pained groan, looking up at you and seeing ABBA at your side. His face lit up in surprise and he tried to sit up before the crushing pain forced him back down onto the ground. He muttered weakly for you to see if Rohan was alright, and you did. 

Suddenly, a small white figure burst out of the artist’s body and punched Josuke in the arm. You watched, intrigued as a section of the teen’s arm unfolded like a book. The white figure leaned in, writing in Josuke’s arm the words, “I currently do not have any injuries.” 

You watched in awe as the bleeding wounds all over Josuke’s body slowly began to close. Within a few minutes, Josuke was up and mobile as ever. He had several questions to ask you, but first, he had some healing to do. You watched as a pink and blue being, you assumed Josuke’s stand, flew out of his body and hovered over all of the other injured, healing them nearly immediately. They all stood up, groaning from the shadows of pain still left behind from the attacks. One by one, each of them looked up at you, each of their faces growing an expression of surprise and adoration. You felt small under their gazes, looking up at your stand standing next to you. As small as you felt, there was something about ABBA that made you feel powerful. Especially considering what it had just done to defeat the enemy. 

“(y/n)... is that your stand…?” 

You looked over at Koichi before quickly nodding. “Yeah… I guess it must be right?” 

You tried to shrug it off with a nervous laugh, but even you were still in awe of this new ability. Finally, you turned to Jotaro, watching his face for a reaction. The gentle giant stood frozen at a loss of words, unsure of what to say. His gaze turned to ABBA, a melancholy look of admiration and love spread over his features. 

“Come on Jotaro… say something. Don’t worry. I’ll understand-” 

You muttered softly before Jotaro rushed forward and cut you off with a tight hug. You rested your smaller body against him, tears of relief streaming down your face, grateful that everyone was still alive. You looked up to gaze into Jotaro’s blue eyes, seeing that he had begun to tear up as well. Then something caught your eye. Looking over the tall man’s shoulder, you saw a purple skinned spirit faze out of your partner’s body and float over to ABBA, starting deeply into your stand’s face. ABBA, who had before been so calm and collected, now shrunk back a little bit with a childish giggle at the sight of the handsome stand before her. As ABBA held her face in her hands, you felt your cheeks flush bright red. Your eyes widened and you pushed Jotaro away from you, turning to your stand. 

“H-hey wait a minute! ABBA, it’s not like that!”

“Gimme?” 

ABBA asked innocently as she grabbed Star Platinum’s hand tightly in her own. Jotaro now felt his face heat up and turn bright red. With a heavy sigh, he watched as his stand wrapped yours in its arms, chuckling a bit at your embarrassment. 

“Sorry about all this. His name’s Star Platinum, and he’s definitely more… emotional than I am.” 

Your eyes widened at what that could possibly mean. Wait… did they think that you and Jotaro were… 

“W-wait it’s not like that! He and I are just… “

“Gimme?” 

“No! W-well I mean I care about him but I-”

“(y/n).”

You turned around to face Jotaro as he calmly took his hat off, revealing the jet black hair that you loved seeing. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay (y/n).” 

Your heart swelled at his words and you slowly turned around to see ABBA and Star Platinum holding each other lovingly, a warmth erupting throughout your whole body at the sight. The feeling of Jotaro grabbing your hand caught your attention and met his gaze once more. 

“He’s the personification of my thoughts and well… it seems like your stand, ABBA right? It seems like she’s the personification of yours.” 

The two of you watched as your stands talk to one another in their own little language, each enamored by the other’s presence. You turned back to Jotaro, seeing that his face had drawn closer. 

“Yeah… I guess... you’re… right.” 

As you breathed out that last word, Jotaro closed the gap between the two of you, your lips connecting in a sweet, long awaited kiss. You wrapped your arms around the fellow scientist’s, and now fellow stand user’s, neck, giggling slightly as he lifted your body off the ground to hold you tightly in his arms. When you two broke for air, Jotaro quickly kissed you again, holding you up like his life depended on it. 

When he finally set you down, Jotaro Kujo placed a hand to the side of your face and wiped away your tears. With a small laugh, he turned over to your stand.

“Hey ABBA, what took you so long huh?” 

“...Gimme.” ABBA shrugged a little bit and pointed at you. 

You smiled, wiping your tears away. “She said she wouldn’t appear until I was either ready for it, or I really needed her.” 

Jotaro rolled his eyes at your stand. “Well you really waited for the exact moment that she needed you huh-Ow!” 

Jotaro grumbled a bit as Star punched him in the arm, annoyed that his user was making fun of this new pretty stand. ABBA grinned mischievously before looking around at the rest of the group, and seeing all of the other stands. 

A feeling of happiness swelled within the stand’s heart. Ever since you had pricked your finger on the arrow, for so long she had been growing, becoming more and more trapped within you. It had been lonely seeing you struggle without her help. It had been upsetting to see you not yet be ready for her to show herself. But now, eyeing all the others, Heaven’s Door, Echoes, the Hand, Crazy Diamond, and especially Star Platinum, ABBA really didn’t feel alone anymore. And seeing now how the other stand users of Morioh rushed over to hug you and vocalize their shock at you having a stand, ABBA could tell that you didn’t really feel alone anymore either. With a sigh of content, your stand fazed back into your body as you followed the rest of the group away from the scene and back to the hotel to get some much needed rest. 

You leaned against Jotaro’s frame as he wrapped as a strong arm around you. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat everyone! Tonio’s, my treat!” He said with a bright smile. 

Josuke and Okuyasu cheered, “and (y/n) can meet Tonio’s stand!” 

You turned back to the teens in shock as you all walked ahead. “Tonio has a stand?!” 

Koichi gave a firm nod. “Yeah. So does Hazamada.” 

“That weird kid?!” 

“My girlfriend Yukako too.” 

“Damn… I had no idea…” 

You all shared a laugh as you left to enjoy a well deserved victory, the sun setting over the beautiful town of Morioh, another dark force defeated by the town's newest savior.

[golchaworld]

I’m Just Too Scared to Lose (And I Know You Are Too) | C. YJ

➳ pairing: campus player!yeonjun x female reader

➳ genre: college!au, angst

➳ word count: ~5.2k

➳ warnings: non-descriptive depictions of sex, cursing, bi!yeonjun (not a warning but just in case), partially set in a nursing home

➳ summary: you hate that your mind stays wrapped around a lover who doesn’t love you.

A/N: And we’re back w this fic! I’m actually super excited to have this finished. I hope y’all enjoy pt. 2 as much as you enjoyed pt. 1! Title once again is from “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by KYLE. As always feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. My ask box is always open :)

Part One

Yeonjun’s hand presses firmly into your thigh, keeping it hitched around his waist.  His other arm is propped near your head, caging you in between him and the bed.  His bicep bulges with the effort of keeping himself up, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

A warm forehead is pressed against yours, the sweat from both of your bodies mingling on your faces.  At this point there’s no more kisses, just bites and whines crossing the small space in between your bodies.

Yeonjun releases a groan, his hips stuttering against yours when you clench around him.  He sneaks a hand between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your sex that have your eyes rolling back.  After this much time together, he knows exactly how to bring you to your release, every single time.

You tip over the edge with a shout of Yeonjun’s name, subsequently bringing him over the edge as well. He groans deeply into your mouth, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. He doesn’t pull away until you’ve both come down from your highs. 

Instead of pulling out, Yeonjun stills inside you, forehead still pressed against yours. He’s searching your gaze, his own eyes glassy. The hand that rested on your core traces a path up the side of your body, smoothing over your every curve. 

“I’m going to miss this,” he whispers, as if afraid to scare you off.  I love you.

Your heart crumbles to dust inside your rib cage. 

“I’m going to miss this too.”  You can’t help the slight crack in your voice.  I love you too.

It’s then that Yeonjun pulls out, going through the motions of cleaning you both up as much as possible. When he finally settles back into bed with you, your eyes are drifting shut. Yeonjun just chuckles, pulling you into his chest and placing a sickeningly tender kiss on your temple. 

.        .        .

That was the last time you saw Choi Yeonjun before winter break, and you tell yourself it’s for the better. 

You had told yourself that you were just going over to his dorm to say goodbye, maybe give him a hug. But like always, Yeonjun was irresistible. All he had to do was flash the smirk and you were putty in his hands. 

Just the way he liked it. 

Now you just stare at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom, wondering how Yeonjun has managed to plague your thoughts even now. He lingers around your thoughts like a morning fog, unable to be cleared up, no matter the amount of sunshine. 

It scares you. But more than that, it hurts. It hurts that you won’t see him for a whole month.  It hurts that your mind is so wrapped around someone who isn’t even sparing you a single thought. It hurts that your mind is wrapped around a lover who doesn’t love you.  

Before you had met Yeonjun, you were looking forward to winter break. You were looking forward to being with your family and celebrating the winter holidays. You loved the cold weather contrasted by the warmth of the fireplace and family laughter. 

Now that Yeonjun’s in the picture, everything feels too warm and all too cold at the same time. You want nothing more to get back to campus and be in his dorm again. Your sheets feel like sandpaper on your skin where his sheets feel like silk. Your comforter doesn’t smell like him. Your ceiling doesn’t have those hairline cracks like his does. 

God, he’s not even your boyfriend. 

You try whispering the word out into the emptiness of your bedroom. Boyfriend. It dies on your tongue. Boyfriend. It tastes too bitter. Boyfriend. It doesn’t feel real. 

Because it isn’t real. You hate that you have to keep reminding yourself of it, but at the very least it keeps you humble. Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend, you guess. He’s someone who you work with and see around on campus and have sex with sometimes. Bile rises in your throat, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth. 

You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, seeing as your dad’s voice rings out throughout the house. He’s calling you for dinner, but you’re not hungry. As much as you want to stay in bed, though, you force yourself to your feet. 

If you can’t be with the one you want to be with, you might as well drown yourself in family. Hopefully, it will make you forget. 

But of course, it doesn’t.

The days pass excruciatingly slowly, no matter how packed they are.  Every family dinner begins to blend together in a whirlwind of too much food and forced laughter.  You feel bad, because your family deserves more from you, but you just can’t bring yourself to move past the ache in the center of your chest.

You ring in the New Year staring at your phone, hoping for a text, a snapchat, something.  It’s pitiful.  Your family counts down with the Ball dropping, yelling and cheering as the New Year arrives.  You just sigh before cheering along with your family.  By the end of the night, you have a headache.

Yeonjun posts on instagram on January 5th, a week before you return back to campus.  It’s a selfie, with him and another boy, both smiling too widely at the camera.  The boy is gorgeous, you have to admit, with round eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips.  But what takes you by surprise is how happy Yeonjun looks.

‘Missed my bb Gyu,’ the caption reads.

Your phone ends up on the floor while you end up face down in your bed, groaning deeply.  Even with your eyes closed, you see green.  Of course Yeonjun is doing fine.  Why wouldn’t he be?

Why aren’t you?

.        .        .

It takes all of your reserve not to go straight to Yeonjun’s dorm when you arrive back on campus.  Instead you calmly return to your own, taking your time unpacking as a means of distracting yourself.  It’s still over all too quickly, and you find yourself checking your phone nervously.  You only have one unread message, but it makes your stomach drop anyways.

‘You back on campus?’

Within a minute, you have your coat and shoes on, checking if you have your dorm key before heading out the door.

Yeonjun’s room is just like how you left it, and you don’t know why you expected it to change in the month you’ve been gone.  You don’t have much time to register any differences before Yeonjun is sweeping you into a deep kiss, pressing your back into the door.  You can’t help but smile at Yeonjun’s eagerness, relieved that you’ve been wanted, at least in some way, over the past month.

Almost no words are exchanged as the two of you go through the motions.  You speak with your bodies instead.  You dig your nails into his back, hard.  I missed you.  Yeonjun bruises your hips with the force of his grip.  I missed you, too.

Your climax has you seeing white, static filling your ears.  Yeonjun seems to go through the same, clutching your body close, nothing but heavy pants leaving his mouth.  It’s not until afterwards, when you’re pulling your clothes back on, when Yeonjun decides to speak.

“It was weird,” he begins.  “Not seeing you for so long.”

You chuckle bitterly.  “I’m sure you had plenty of opportunities to get your dick wet while you were home.”

“I did.”  And there goes the smirk.  “But that’s not what I meant.”

You just roll your eyes, sure that he’s unable to see you.  You try to tie your shoes quickly, needing to leave, but not really knowing why.  The coat you had on when you came in is lost somewhere on the other side of the room, and you rush to look for it.

“Dude, why are you in such a rush?”  Yeonjun questions from his position on the bed.

“You did not just call me ‘dude’ after we just fucked.”

There’s your coat.  You pull it over your shoulders, not caring about how hot it suddenly makes you.

“I’m sorry,”  Yeonjun’s eyebrows hold a deep furrow.  “It’s just...you’re being weird.  You’re normally not so quick to leave.  Plus, I haven’t seen you in forever.  Don’t you want to stay?”

You just shake your head, hand already on the door handle.  “No, it’s okay.  I just have an early class tomorrow.  But I’ll see you at work, okay?”

Yeonjun nods slowly, but you don’t stay long enough to see it.  He sighs when you practically slam the door behind you.  Then it hits him, like a bullet through his right lung.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

.        .        .

One thing you’re actually excited about is getting back to your research position.  You missed the warmth of the nursing home, the busy days, your patients.  As annoying as you found the job in the beginning, you have grown to love it.  You just resent the fact that so much of that has to do with Yeonjun.

Soobin is the first to greet you on the Monday afternoon of your return.  He pulls you into a bear hug, almost knocking you over with his weight.  Hyunjin does the same, albeit much more gently, before asking you a slew of questions about your winter break.  Both of them listen intensely as you tell white lies about the amount of fun you had.

Hyunjin brags about the amount of choreography he made over the break, while Soobin recounts all of the interesting places he napped.  You just roll your eyes, perplexed about how these two could ever be friends.

Before you know it, it’s 10 minutes to your first interview of the day, and you’re quickly excusing yourself.  You scramble to the breakroom, aiming to put the snack that you brought into the refrigerator.  The breakroom is more lively than usual, filled with volunteers catching up with each other before their official shifts start at 1pm.  The sheer amount of mint scrubs in one place is enough to have you uneasy, but when you catch a pair of familiar eyes, your stomach flutters.  

Yeonjun shoots you a soft smile, accompanied with a wave.  His hair is shaggy and soft, ears void of any piercings, and no colored contacts to alter his appearance.  He looks so incredibly soft, and you hate him for it.  You hate how effortly beautiful he is.  You hate how it’s his effortless beauty that made you fall for him.

You wave back, placing your lunchbox in the refrigerator.  Yeonjun’s eyes follow you around the room until you leave, headed to your office.  Once you leave the room, he sighs, turning back to Yeji and Changbin to listen to their stories.

Inside your office, your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.  Every surface is tainted with memories of Yeonjun.  It’s not suffocating, but still omnipresent.  The remnants of him linger like an itch under your skin, a constant reminder of your biggest problem at the moment.

You’re able to disregard it, though, once you begin your actual work.  The interviews fly by in a flurry of misunderstandings and patients dozing off, but by the time it’s all over, you have a smile on your face.  Seeing the residents of the home is easily your favorite part of the job, making you never want to leave when you’re supposed to.

At around 6:30, however, you choose to head back to your dorm, needing to complete some homework for your classes the following day.  You gather up your belongings in your office before heading out.  You stop in your tracks, however, when you see a figure leaning against the wall adjacent to your office door.

“Yeonjun?”

The boy looks disheveled, like he always does after a shift.  His hair is now a tad frizzy, name tag askew.  You would chuckle, if not for the look in his eyes.

“Do you have a moment?”  He questions.  “I think we should talk a little.”

For a moment, you’re quiet, not knowing if you’re ready to have whatever conversation that Yeonjun has planned.  But you eventually nod, opening your office door further to let the boy in.

He makes himself comfortable on one of the small armchairs in the corner of the room, leaving you no choice but to sit opposite him.  While you slip off your coat, he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees before sighing deeply.  He’s nervous.  The realization alone has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“Are we, like,”  Yeonjun swallows thickly.  “Are we okay?  Ever since break, you’ve been weird.”

You scoff.  “You’ve only seen me once since break.  How would you know I’ve been weird?”

“Only seeing you once in a week and a half is weird.  Did something happen?”

Yeonjun’s eyes are clouded over when he looks at you, a contrast to the sharp, piercing gaze he normally has on you.  You hate that he looks so closed, especially here.  He is always soft and open in the nursing home, and you hate that you have ruined that for him.

“Nothing happened, Yeonjun.  I’ve just been busy.”

“But this is your first day back at work!”  

You can tell Yeonjun doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but it escapes him anyways.  As soon as he realizes, he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan.  Your heart swoops at the way a few strands of hair stick out at odd angles. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.  “I didn’t come here to yell at you.  I’m just...worried, I guess.  It almost feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I clearly haven’t been avoiding you if we had sex the day we both got back to campus.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes.  “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

You simultaneously cross your arms across your chest as you cross your legs.  “I don’t know, Yeonjun.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  We started all of this to just have fun.  Are you saying you’re not having fun anymore?”

Yeonjun’s jaw drops in disbelief.  “Is that seriously what this still is to you?  Just having fun?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what the boy across from you is getting at.  It doesn’t sound like the Yeonjun you know.  The Yeonjun you know would run the opposite way of something more.  He wouldn’t complain about not seeing a hook up after a while.  He would just move on to the next one.

So you’re confused why this Yeonjun sounds so hung up.  Why is this Yeonjun so hurt?

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You find yourself reaching to take back the words the minute they leave your mouth, but your efforts are futile.  Yeonjun just stares at you.  While his eyes were once clouded over, now they are icy.  His stare holds an astounding clarity, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

“You’re right,”  Yeonjun bites out.  “It shouldn’t be anything more.  Let’s just stick to having fun.  That’s what we do best, right?”

You don’t get a chance to redeem yourself before the boy is standing, swiftly exiting your office, and shutting the door harshly behind himself.  Instantly, you deflate.

What the hell just happened?

.        .        .

The next time you see Yeonjun, he’s littered with hickies.  None of them were left by you.

Yeonjun leaves the first party of the semester with a busty girl named Eunha, not even sparing you a glance on his way out.

You see Yeonjun flirting with a boy in the library a few days later.  He never meets your eyes, even when he catches you staring.

Yeonjun barely greets you when he sees you in the nursing home.  He just gives you a small nod, one that passes for cordiality, but you know he’s being stiff.

Yeonjun never comes to remind you that your shift is over, or that you haven’t eaten.  You find yourself routinely missing dinner as a result.

.        .        .

Three weeks after your last conversation with Yeonjun, the nursing home is decorated with warm shades of red and pink to commemorate the upcoming Valentine’s Day.  It’s a little overkill, the way they ask you to put up a string of origami hearts on your office door.  Even the volunteers have begun to put heart stickers on their nametags.

Mint green and red is a terrible color combination.

Honestly, the whole ordeal makes you a bit queasy.  There’s something so off-putting about having to celebrate a holiday when you feel like utter shit.  It’s even worse to celebrate a holiday of love when your feelings are a mess--an unfixable mess, at that.

When you check out at the end of your shift on an odd Wednesday, Soobin cocks his head cutely, making the heart headband he wears shift slightly.

“You’re leaving pretty early today,” he comments.  “Everything alright?”

You sigh, not even knowing where to begin.  “I’m just really tired.”

Soobin nods, eyes flickering between you and the computer screen in front of him.  The checkout process is always more complicated than it needs to be, and you find yourself leaning against the front desk in the meantime.

Soobin begins to say something, but is cut off when a figure sidles up next to you.  A quick glance in your peripheral vision has you knowing exactly who it is, and you resent the fact that Hyunjin went home early.  

“Hey Yeonjun,”  Soobin beams.  “Do you need to be checked out too?”

“I can wait.  You can finish up with Y/N first.”

Yeonjun’s voice sounds smaller than usual.  It has a soft rasp to it, a result of evident exhaustion.  Even though you don’t let yourself look, you know Yeonjun’s hair is frizzy.  You wonder if his name tag is upside down like it usually is at this time.

It’s impossible not to be hyper aware of his presence.  The slight heat he radiates from his body is comforting, felt every time his shoulder ever-so-slightly brushes against yours.  It would be so easy for him to slide an arm around your waist.  It would be easy for him to touch you ever so slightly.  It would be easy for him to whisper in your ear and tell you that he misses you.

But he doesn’t.

You want to initiate it, to be the first to look, touch, talk, but something holds you back.  It’s evident that you’re the last of Yeonjun’s concerns, so maybe you should just let it go.  Maybe you should just hold your head up high and try your hardest not to cross paths with him again.  But something is wrong with that.  Something feels so wrong about letting go.

“Alright, Y/N,”  Soobin’s voice rings out.  “You’re all set.  See you tomorrow.”

You smile, albeit a little forced, while waving to the boy behind the desk.  You don’t spare a glance to the figure on your right before exiting the nursing home.

It’s only when you feel the cold air on your face do you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.  You find yourself breathing deeply, attempting to calm yourself, but it’s no use.  Tears quickly form in your eyes, welling up until they overflow with the slight breath of wind.

You keep moving, though, walking to the bus stop with tears flowing down your cheeks.  You know that you must look like a mess, hyperventilating as you walk, with trails of makeup sliding down your face.  But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You can’t even think, let alone bring yourself to wipe at your eyes.  You just feel.  You feel the harsh air on your face, feel your lungs working at maximum capacity, feel your heart clench in pain.

It takes 142 seconds for the bus to come (you count).  You don’t hesitate to get on, breathing having slowed down.  The tears keep coming, though, seemingly unwilling to stop.  When you see your reflection in the bus window, you let out a bitter chuckle.  You look awful.

You settle into your seat, taking a chance to lean your head against the adjacent window.  The glass is cool on your face, a contrast to your heated cheeks.  Taking a deep breath, you let your shoulders sag, ridding your body of the tension it carried while crying.

It feels so unlike you to cry without warning.  You’ve never really allowed yourself to break down like that in public, and as much as you’d like to pretend you don’t know why, you know Yeonjun has something to do with it.

The short bus ride to campus is spent with you looking out of the window, trying to find a way to calm your tears.  Eventually, they cease, but the ache in your core is still there.  Hurt pulses throughout your abdomen, rising up your throat and spreading throughout your head.  You need an Advil.

When you finally make it to your dorm, you sigh, feeling blessed that you have a single, and no roommate there to bother you.  You toe off your work heels at the door, hanging your coat on a hook next to the light switch.  Your bag drops from your hand with a small thud, its contents rattling with the force of its fall.

With your dress still on, makeup trails covering your face, and your phone in your hand, you flop down face first on the bed.  You’re content to fall asleep like this, not caring about the possible acne you’ll have when you wake up in the morning or the discomfort of your dress.  Even if your phone is dead in the morning, it doesn’t matter, because you feel as though if you don’t go to sleep, you’re going to lose your mind.

Just as you feel the tendrils of sleep wrap around your body, your phone buzzes in your hand.  You groan into the mattress, kicking at it like a toddler throwing a tantrum.  When you finally turn to look at the text message, your heart skips a beat.

‘I saw you crying,’ Yeonjun’s text reads.

You scoff, not even wanting to reply.  Just as you’re about to turn the phone back over, though, it buzzes again.  Yeonjun’s second text forces a shuddering breath out of you.

‘Let’s talk.  My dorm after work on Friday?’

You don’t answer.

.        .        .

Yeonjun looks surprised when you show up at his door on Friday night.  He’s still in his scrubs, hair unkempt.  His pouty lips form a small ‘o’ that reflects his emotions perfectly.  In all honesty, you’re just as surprised.

“I didn’t think you would come,” Yeonjun breathes out.

You nod, side stepping the boy to enter the small dorm room.  “Neither did I.”

Yeonjun closes the door behind you, watching you trek further into his room.  Making yourself comfortable on his desk chair, you look at him expectedly.  It takes all of your resolve not to outwardly coo at the furrow in between his eyebrows.

“So, um, how have you been?”

You scoff, baffled at his question. “You called me all the way here to ask me how I’ve been?”

“Is it such a sin to care about how you’ve been doing?” Yeonjun looks at you with equal amounts of disbelief. 

“I just don’t understand why. Why do you care?”

Yeonjun’s mind screams at him to just spit it out, to confess. He wants nothing more than to tell you how he feels, but something’s wrong. Something about you feels wrong, and it’s the first time Yeonjun has ever found himself admitting that. 

Eventually, the boy sighs, dropping down to sit on his bed. “Can you just answer the question? Have you been alright? Soobin told me your hours have been really irregular.”

Your gaze drops down to the hands you have folded in your lap. “I’ve just been having trouble keeping track of time recently.”

The way Yeonjun looks at you has your stomach churning.  It’s evident that he’s pondering something, tripping over words in his head to arrive at a question that he can’t ask.  His eyes are clear and sharp, but not exactly icy.  He’s uncomfortable, but your presence isn’t unwanted.

It’s not long before Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair.  “Y/N, what the hell are we doing?”

You instantly deflate at the question.  “I don’t know.”

And truly, you don’t know.  You don’t know how you and Yeonjun have gone from being strangers to friends to lovers and back to strangers in the span of six months.  You don’t know why you can’t move on.  You don’t know why you didn’t just keep your distance like you promised yourself to do freshman year.

Yeonjun’s face melts into a subtle frown, pouty lips turning downwards as silence lingers between you two.  The clarity in his eyes is momentarily clouded over, but it returns just as quickly as it left.  He shifts on the bed, pulling his knees into his chest.

“Honestly, Yeojun,” you start, voice surprisingly strong.  “I don’t even know what went wrong.  Things were fine, and then we left for break.  When we came back, everything was different.”

Yeonjun’s eyes glimmer with something wet.  Fear?  Hope?  “What was different?”  He asks softly.

“That’s what I don’t know.”  You sigh frustratedly.  “You kept trying to talk and I just kept wondering what there was to talk about.”

“Things felt different, but you didn’t have anything to say?”

Yeonjun’s voice has an annoyed lilt to it that takes you aback.  It wasn’t often that Yeonjun got angry, and it was almost never at you.  You can see now that maybe he has had reason to be.  Maybe Yeonjun is angry with you.  The thought alone scares you.

“Are you saying that it’s my fault for wanting to communicate?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief.  “I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, Yeonjun.  I’m just saying it was a lot and it was confusing and I didn’t understand.  Why are you getting mad?”

“I’m not mad!”  Yeonjun all but yells.  “I just spent so long thinking that I was crazy for thinking that things were different, but you noticed it too.  Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Anger bubbles up within your core, flushing your cheeks.  There’s heat behind Yeonjun’s gaze, leaving you no choice but to match it with your own.

“I didn’t say anything because I was confused!  I just fucking said that.”  And then it hits you.  “Wait, you thought things were different too?”

Color instantly rises to Yeonjun’s cheeks, and you recognize it as embarrassment rather than anger.  He raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Of course I did.”

And then there’s silence.  You can hear the sounds of chatter from the hallways.  Somewhere from down the hall, someone flushes a toilet.  A bed creaks next door.  Yeonjun isn’t looking at you, but you’re looking right at him.

You laugh.  You can’t help the rising feeling, and eventually you let full-bellied laughter bubble out of your throat.  It’s too loud for the room, jarring in fact.  Yeonjun’s gaze snaps directly to you, a strong furrow taking hold in between his eyebrows.

“Is that funny to you?”  Even though there’s heat behind Yeonjun’s words, it’s evident that he’s more confused than anything.

“This is hilarious.”  You continue to laugh, forcing out your words between breaths.  “Yeonjun, we’re both idiots.”

“What do you mean?” “If you felt like things were different, and I felt like things were different, then things were different!”

Yeonjun looks at you like you sprouted another head.  “What does that even mean?”

Eventually your laughter subsides, allowing you to look at Yeonjun clearly.  He’s still confused, made obvious by the furrow he still holds between his brows.  His pout is deep, and you want to kiss him so badly, but you stay glued to your seat.

“If I’m not mistaken, it means that neither of us wanted to ‘just have fun’ anymore, right?”

Yeonjun shakes his head ‘no’ adorably.

“Then the only thing we have to figure out is what we want.”  You take a breath.  “It’s okay that you don’t want more from me.  We can call this whole thing off, if you want.  I know you don’t do ‘feelings’ or commitment, and you have plenty of people lined up behind me.  I don’t want to get in the way of you pursuing other people.  I won’t take it personally that you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Yeonjun’s jaw drops in disbelief.  “You think I don’t want to do this anymore?”

You nod understandingly.  “I get it.  Maybe you think I got too attached or something, but it’s okay.  We can stop and you can keep doing whatever you want.”

“Y/N, that’s not--”

“It’s okay.”  You cut the boy off, leaving him floundering for words.  “You don’t have to explain.  I don’t want to damage your reputation by assuming some sort of exclusivity or anything.  What started out as ‘just having fun’ got too complicated.  That’s fine.  Let’s just stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

Yeonjun’s response takes you by surprise.  His eyes are clear and hard set in your direction, the furrow between his brows gone.  His arms are crossed over his chest in a way that’s meant to be assertive, but comes off as insecure.  Yeonjun cocks his head slightly.

“What if the reason I don’t want to have fun is because I want something more?  What if I want exclusivity?”

Your eyes go wide as Yeonjun stands from the bed. 

“Why are you assuming you know that I don’t want this?  That I don’t want you?”

Once again you laugh, this time managing no more than a nervous chuckle.  “Yeonjun, that’s not funny.”

Yeonjun squats in front of you, lowering himself so that you have to look down to meet his eyes.  “I’m not joking.”

“But you don’t--you’re not--you don’t do relationships!”

And it’s true.  The Yeonjun you know doesn’t waste time on exclusivity.  You remember at the end of freshman year when a boy in your economics class, Wooyoung, was crying in the campus Starbucks for four hours straight.  You later heard it was because he and Yeonjun had been sleeping together for some time, but when Wooyoung asked for more, Yeonjun broke his heart.

Clearly, this isn’t that Yeonjun.  You can tell by the way he looks at you.  It’s something akin to  him in the nursing home.  There’s a certain level of fear in his gaze, but there’s also warmth.  There’s care.  Yeonjun cares.  He cares.

It surprises you when Yeonjun’s lips turn up into a small smile.  “Trust me, I also thought I didn’t do relationships.”  He grabs one of your hands, cradling it in between both of his.  “But I think I want to try.  With you.  If that’s what you want too.”

You find yourself unable to do nothing but nod dumbly, still trying to process the boy’s words.  Yeonjun chuckles, standing up from his squat, still cradling your hand gently.

“Is that a yes?”

You let yourself meet his gaze, craning your neck to look up at him.  It’s all openness, eyes a clear and warm brown, slightly glossy at the corners.  You take inventory of his messy hair, his askew name tag that’s decorated with red and pink hearts, and you know.  You know.

“Yes.”

[amarosnastycorner]

The monster write up

Connie the half bull

Warnings: Digestion, Teasing, Oral Vore, weight gain, belching, Furries.

Connie Eay the half-bull is a predatory bull creature standing at around 5"3, and weighing 168 pounds. He is 22 years old. He is stocky and muscular, due to his years of hard labour on his cattle farm. He has short white horns that protrude straight up and hooven feet, a dark brown fur covering him from the hips down. His bullish features are mostly contained to his lower half, though he does have a long flat snout. Connie excels at his work, winning several livestock awards for the quality of his cattle. He cites his own bull heritage as a source of his success. When asked about his personal relationship to his cows, Connie scowled at our reporter and asked them their personal relationship to apes. We'd like to formally apologize to Mr.Eay here, as we did not realize how such a question would come off. Thankfully, Mr. Eay still agreed to do a up close and pred-sonal segment.

Up close and Pred-sonal

"So Mr. Eay-" Connie rolled his eyes and grabbed the little reporter by their ankle, dangling them above his maw and breathing heavily. He grinned at their fidgeting, glasses fogging up from his hot breath. Slowly he lowered them in, swallowing their head in one fell swoop. His throat swelled, the horrified expression of his prey super-imposed through his stretched skin. Another swallow sent their legs sliding into the dark recesses of his stomach. Connie grinned as his belly expanded to accomdate it's treat, struggling prey sending ripples through his flesh. He paused for a moment the let out a large burp, blushing red and giving his tender tummy a rub. A second reporter appeared and began talking, but Connie cut them off by shoving their head in his mouth. They were quickly swallowed whole. Connie let out another belch before giggling. "Um, are you full now sir?" A third reporter mumbled.

"No." Connie said, licking his lips and eyeing up the young adult. "Now get over here. If you run, I can certainly catch you." The reporter sighed and walked over, Connie grabbing their hips and guiding them in, groaning as they added to his already overworked gut. "One more, and then I'm done." The newspaper crew looked at each other nervously. "I read that contract you sent me. You agreed to feed me till I was full. One more please!" Connie slapped his heavy stomach, which looked to be making quick work of the other three, struggles barely noticeable now. "Dont make me get up and come over there." He growled. A camera man was shoved forward, crossing over to the half-bull. Connie leaned back and opened his maw, beckoning for them to let themselves in. The camera man shuddered and placed his arms in, feeling Connie's throat muscles grab and pull at him. Soon his head sunk into the dark cavern, a consdcening finger pushing on his ass. A hand quickly replaced it, shoving them in. Connie slurped up their legs and shifted, happy to have wiggly prey in his gut again. He groaned and teased him, pressing back at his squirming and belching out as much air as he could. "Aw, stop it. It's not like any of you are getting out. Stupid little prey. That's it, digest! Turn into my pudge, snu-snu." Connie giggled. A final reporter came over, sitting down besides him.

"I take it you're full now sir?" They joked.

"Very. Six is my max, but I didnt exactly feel like pushing myself quite that much."

"Well I'm glad. I'd hate to be on the losing side of your stomach."

"I'd love it if you were." Connie teased, poking the reporter's chubby middle. "I'll be having you after this interview is over. It'll be a great segment."

"I'm sure you will Mr. Eay. Now, that was one of the best predator feedings I've ever witnessed." Connie waved a dismissive hand. "I'm serious. You swallowed them easily and quickly and didn't waste any time getting them to exactly where you wanted them. May I feel?"

"Of course." His hand carressed the other's stomach, rolling his knuckles over the already softened prey. His stomach gurgled ominously in return.

"Already soft! Your stomach is very efficant sir. And this fat is just wonderful. Your other meals?"

"Yes, any trespassers caught in my fields are sent straight to my gullet. Digesting anything is nice, but digesting those bastards always gives me a nice bit of pleasure, knowing that their ultimate fate was to become just another fat roll."

"Mhm, I bet it is. I'm sure you'll have lots of trespassers and even more fat rolls after this interview comes out."

"Let them come. If they wanna be nothing more than bull thighs, whose to stop them? Just fatten yourself up beforehand, okay? No twigs!" Connie laughed, a burp escaping as he patted his belly. "Oof. Looks like they're about done in there."

"Wow, your acids are top notch. Now, you've more than demonstrated your oral prospects, but do you dabble in other fates for your violaters?"

"Hm, a few years back I took some college boys into my cock for harrasing one of my heffers, but that just left me so bloated ya know?" The reporter nodded sympathetically. "So for the most part not really."

"Well, thank you so much for taking time out your day to come visit us. We've just been delighted."

"Absolutly." Connie stumbled to his feet, and shook the reporters hand. "I assume you'll be heading in now?"

"Of course Mr. Eay." The reporter hooked up a Mic to their ear and let Connie lift them by the hips, playfully pressing against his bulging gut. Connie pushed them in head first. "Wow, it is damp in here. Though you have very good dental health Mr. Eay." Connie just snorted. "Hm, very soft flesh here, and oh jeez, I'm already almost completly covered in salvia. His tongue seems to be pushing me in, I guess there's no turning back." The throat in front of him opened wide, eager for another visitor. "I'm now entering his throat. Mr. Eay has already swallowed me up to my hips, and I can feel his muscles pulling me down. Every second I grow closer to his stomach, and let me tell you, I can't wait." Connie giggled, and gripped the others ankles. "I believe I am entering his stomach. Thr only part of me outside right now is my feet, as I'm sure you'll see in the picture in the paper." And with one last gulp, the reporter's feet were sent sinking into Connie's throat, and his mouth snapped shut. Any hope of escape at this point was gone. "This is a powerful gut, I can already tell. His entire stomach has constricted around me, pushing and working his acids into my body. And I'm happy to let them folks. Its quite the honor to be food for such a relentless pred." Connie blushed. He gave his belly two hard slaps, then drew two mic operators near.

"Belly rub?" He asked, belching. The two obliged, not seeing what else they could do.

"I think my co-workers are giving Mr. Eay a belly rub. How sweet of them. I'm beginning to soften, and I can't truly tell where Mr. Eay ends and I begin! I'm beginning to feel rather woozy, so I'm going to leave this segment here. This was Up close and Pred-sonal, and I'm lunch." Connie's face scrunched, and out came a disgusting belch, hot and heavy, the only remains of their former reporters. Holding onto another as he waddled to the door, he turned just before exiting.

"Thank you all lots." He giggled, before walking right out the door.

"God..." Connie mumbled, the tired half-bull giving a hot burp as his stomach gurgled angerily at him. How dare he eat five people in an hour! Outrage! Disgrace! Utterly delicous, but not important! He'd had tummy trouble the entire way home, and as his ranch came into view he sighed, relivied. He parked his car and stepped out, wanting nothing more than to take a tum and collapse on his bed. "Drauius!" He called. His brother came bounding over the field, distended tummy bouncing with every step. "Are the cows inside?"

"Yep!" Drauius chirped. "Took them in an hour ago."

"I see you helped yourself to some of my fans?"

"Yeah," Drauius said, flushing madly. "They were tasty." Connie just laughed and beckoned him inside.

[centavrvs]

⧼   saoirse ronan, cis female, she/her   /   kitchen fork by jack conte + & once you were the wildfire, eager to devour, leaping from branch to bush, but then the rainstorm came and now, now you are the cold, abandoned hearth, empty flames snapping at those who get to close, afraid they’ll realise what isn’t there, & the click of the door as it shuts behind you is the only greeting you receive as you wonder how anyone ever knows what to call “home”, & as you sit in your old patchwork armchair, perpetually cold fingers clutched too tightly around a slightly chipped mug of tea you can’t help but think maybe only you are the answer to the question you have been asking your whole life – where do I belong?   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that HEATHER PETTIGREW? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY THREE year old half blood WITCH is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR AND PART-TIME FLOURISH AND BLOTTS ASSISTANT. i’ve heard they can be quite INGENIOUS & PUNCTILIOUS, but i don’t know… they came off very CALLOUS & MERCURIAL in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?

 [ PERSONALITY ]

heather is not a very open person. she tends to keep to herself and hold everyone at an arms length

to anyone who knew her at hogwarts - this is a complete switch around from how she acted back then. she used to be loud and in your face, refusing to be ignored

if heather has retained one trait from her childhood it is her penchant for unintentional cruelty. her distancing can come off as cold and her social self-defense mechanism tends to aim at hurting others before they can hurt her

speaking of a social self-defense system, heather, despite outward appearances, has a tendency to snap without warning when under emotional duress or when others try to get closer than she wants them too. a proximity alarm if you will

but if you manage to make it past this, you will find heather is actually very clingy and a very loyal friend (almost gryffindor-ish)

she loves puzzles and solving problems (hence, private investigator) and strives to become extremely successful at her investigation job but people do tend to think twice before hiring her (being a pettigrew and ex-death eater and all)

books! reading is one of her favourite pastimes and that has nothing to do with the sense of relief escaping into a fictional world brings

the friend you can sit in companionable silence with but also the friend who will talk to you for hours about an obscure concept she stumbled across and also the friend who will whisper slightly mean jokes in your ear so you laugh and get all the weird looks while she escapes unscathed

doesn’t buy into the blood purity bullshit and if she’s being honest with herself, she never did

crippling fear of abandonment / never finding a place to “belong”

tl;dr: not coping with what happened during the war

[ THE LOVERS ]

The year was 1996 and Peter Pettigrew was a traitor, a cheat and a liar. In the midst of the first wizarding world war, he had betrayed his friends and switched sides. He would eventually go on to be the catalyst for the death of countless friends of his, the orphaning of a child and the rebirth of the dark lord, however, in the moment such misdeeds were merely shadows of the future. Right now in fact, Peter was simply at a bar. A muggle bar. Talking to a muggle girl. And her name was Angela Coates.

And such is the story of how Heather’s parents met. It was never a relationship, per say, more of a friends-with-benefits, minus the “friends” part. For Peter, this was a break from the wizarding world and its war, and it posed no risk of awkward questions concerning allegiance. For Angela, it was a way to blow off some steam. No strings and certainly no commitments. That is, until January of 1997 and Angela found herself knocking on Peter’s door with, sick to her stomach with nerves. The door opened and after a relatively quick argument, it shut again. Peter had made it clear – he didn’t want a child and he refused to play any part in the baby’s life. Angela was all of 20 years old, single and pregnant.

[ THE EMPRESS ] 

TW – MENTIONS OF DRUGS, AND ALLUDES TO NEGLECT

On the 27th of October of that very year, Heather Debbie Pettigrew was born. Heather because Angela had read the name in a magazine and like the sound of it, Debbie after the lead singer of Blondie, Angela’s favourite band and Pettigrew because Angela thought in some odd way this was making Heather a part of Peter’s life, something he clearly didn’t want. A revenge move that only ever served to hurt Heather, but Angela was not to know this.

Circumstances aside, Angela was not cut out to be a mother. She was the quintessential twenty-year-old, living life hard and fast and Heather was an unexpected speed bump that didn’t do much to slow her down. As soon as Heather was old enough, she was sent off to daycare, while her mother worked full-time to put money in the bank and the pockets of local drug dealers. Angela wasn’t entirely incompetent. She knew to keep most of her illicit activities hidden from her child (as far as Angela knew, Heather had no idea – Heather would tell you otherwise). The longest time Heather would spend with her mother was while sat on the couch watching television, her mother out cold beside her. Desperate for the attention of others, Heather was by no means a well-behaved child. This, combined with the assortment of strange incidents and accidents that Heather seemed to get herself into that had no plausible explanation was too much for Angela. When Heather was eight years old, Angela realised she couldn’t keep living the life she was living and care for Heather. And so Heather was dropped on the steps of a foster home, with a note that gave a few details about her and she never saw Angela again.

TW OVER

[ THE MAGICIAN ]

By the time Heather joined her first foster family, she had long since accepted that Mummy didn’t want her and, despite what she had said – she wasn’t coming back. The adults had told her that she didn’t need to lash out all the time and that she should try sit quite, behave properly, but none of them understood. When she said she didn’t know how Emilia’s doll had ended up in pieces, she meant she hadn’t even touched it! Heather tried to fit in with these people, she really did, but this was a muggle family fostering a magical child. After a particular incident involving a broken window and a trip to the hospital (magic was, ironically, not involved in this), the family decided that Heather just wasn’t for them. Feeling left behind once more, Heather was quickly matched with another couple eager to foster. But the branch had already been burnt and she was not to be reaching out to these people any time soon. A welcome reprieve soon came in the form of a lady wearing robes and a pointy hat knocking on the door of the couple’s flat in Birmingham. The explanation for previously unexplainable scenarios calmed the couple considerably and Heather felt a small flame of hope spark in her chest. A magical world? It all made sense now. Of course, she didn’t belong here, she was a witch.

Heather’s first step into Diagon Alley will forever hold a place in her most cherished memories. The sounds, the sights, the smells – everything felt right. She was whisked through the usual first year trip around stores, buying robes and cauldrons and books and a wand! Hogwarts couldn’t come quick enough. And the sorting ceremony? It all sounded fascinating. Personally, Heather was hoping for Ravenclaw, but she knew not to have any solid expectations.

Which was lucky, for although the hat certainly considered the blue and the bronze, in the end it decided that silver and green would suit Miss Heather more. A choice that Heather would later come to question. For in Slytherin house Heather came face to face with her first taste of blood purity. And she didn’t like it one bit. Who were these older students, to question her “blood status”? And how was she to know? Determined to uncover any knowledge of her family, Heather poured over the student records in the library until – there. Peter Pettigrew, graduated 1978. It fit! Heather was more than a little relieved. At least one magical parent. She had been worried she would be one of those, what did that older boy call them? Oh yes, mudbloods.

But the discovery of her father’s name opened another can of worms – where was he? Ever the independent child, Heather was determined to find out on her own. And she did, stumbling upon an old article in the Daily Prophet. He was dead. Murdered. By his own best friend. She truly had no proper family left ( her mother stopped counting long ago). Hogwarts, while a chance to be in the world she belonged to, did not help build a strong relationship with her foster family. Heather rarely saw them, choosing to spend her days in summer exploring wizarding London or, when she was older, spending the nights with the muggle teenagers who partied too loudly down the street. Home was simply a stop-over. She belonged at Hogwarts now.

In her second year, Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer and the man who killed her father escaped from Azkaban. Heather was terrified. And angry. But mostly terrified. She hated that man, hated seeing his stupid face in the Daily Prophet, hated hearing his awful name whispered in the halls. How dare he rip the only family member who would have loved her away from her, how dare he rob her of the chance of a proper home? For surely, if her father had survived that horrific attack, he would have raised her, her would have taken her in. Instead, she was left alone and Black now roamed free, free after escaping Azkaban and free after slipping through the ministry’s fingers once more.

And the very next year, Cedric died. It was the first of many darker stains on Heather’s memories of Hogwarts. Despite what the Ministry said, what everyone seemed to say, she could sense a tense current winding its way through the halls of her school. Voldemort or not, something dark had returned from that graveyard.

[ THE EMPEROR ] 

Heather was 16 years old when she discovered her father was in fact, alive. Standing in the Slytherin common room at the start of her fifth year, the murmured conversation of two older students reaching her ears. Heather was 16 years old when she discovered her father was alive and he was a Death Eater. The force of such a revelation left Heather reeling. She couldn’t pay attention in class, she couldn’t finish her meals, she couldn’t sleep. He had been alive this entire time. Did he not wan- no. No of course he would have wanted her he, he just must not have known! Yes, he was unaware of Heathers existence and it would be up to her to go to him. Heather grabbed all her doubts and questions about her father’s secret (lie?) and shoved into a deep, dark corner of her mind where she could hopefully ignore them. She had a purpose now. She needed to see her father. And to do that – she would join the Death Eaters. The stories Heather spun to convince herself were many and varied. This was a chance to belong to something bigger than just Hogwarts, she needed to pick the right side in this war anyway, this would keep her safe. But above all – this would make her father proud. Never mind the bitter weight in her chest that burned with something suspiciously like guilt, never mind the whisper-quite voice in the back of her mind that pleaded with her to do better, be better. This was the right choice. (Spoiler: it wasn’t).

[ THE TOWER ]

Heather was 17 when she killed a muggle. She was 17, shaking hands barely holding onto her wand at her side as her body went cold along with the one on the floor in front of her. It wasn’t meant to end like this, it had been a simple enough task, capture a muggle for the Dark Lord, something she could, she should have been able to undertake on her winter break. But then he had a knife and objects were being thrown and...and now someone was dead. The mark flared to life, the burning a welcome reprieve from the numbness that had spread from her hand, across her whole body. She was to meet the Dark Lord himself.

Heather was 17 when she first saw her father. The Dark Lord was speaking, addressing those before him but Heather heard none of it.  All she could see was that thing, all but crouched at the feet of the man in front of him. He was a starving dog begging for scraps. And he never even looked at her. Not when she entered the room, not when Voldemort started to speak and not when she was called by her name. The world Heather had painstakingly built in her mind, each brick filled with another lie to get her out of bed in the morning, was crashing down around her head. Peter Pettigrew didn’t want her.

Heather was left with nought but the rubble of her life and the mark chaining her to all she hated splashed across her arm. She drifted through her sixth year, hoping and praying for the first time in her life to be left alone. And then came the Battle of Hogwarts.

Watching your school turn into a battleground, watching your peers lie dead in the hallways, watching children fighting for their lives – Heather didn’t feel like a child anymore. She felt like a soldier, reluctantly shoved into a fight she didn’t start. But it was amongst the chaos and the death that Heather could finally attempt at what her conscience had been screaming for her to do. Disguised by rubble and school robes, Heather fired spell after spell at the very Death Eaters she could have been standing beside. And then Voldemort lost.

[ THE PRESENT ]

The war and everything leading up to it doused the fire that used to roar in Heather’s chest. She was pardoned, for fighting for the “right side”, (and no one ever knew about the muggle) but it doesn’t feel like it. Some days it feels like she is hated more for her last name than the dark mark on her arm, especially after the truth about Sirius Black came to light. She feels torn in two - on one hand it feels like a worthy punishment for her misdeeds, on the other - she just wants to live her life and she can assure you no one hates Peter Pettigrew more than she does. But Heather is tired of fighting. So she simply does whatever job someone will hire a PI with two social strikes against their name for and she works part-time shifts at Flourish and Blotts and when she comes home to an apartment emptier and colder than her bones feel, she does. not. cry. 

[my-yuujin]

Ryusoulger Solo Interview from Mynavi: Kishida Tatsuya

Ryusoulger has been running for four months since the start of its broadcast in March 2019. How you are feeling about it?

When the Sixth Ranger Kanaro (Hyoudou Katsumi) finally appeared in episode 14, I thought, “Ah, we have come this far. Time sure flies.” Even so, the feeling that I’ve played my role as well as grasped that distance we’ve gotten through between every episode up until now, is still very strong.

- Banba used to have a harsh view such as “In order to save many human beings, (Minusaur’s host) one’s sacrifice is unavoidable.” But he met Kou and the others, and little by little was exposed to their kindness. So, there are a lot of episodes dedicated to this process. Surely for Kishida-san,  those episodes’ impressions are strong, aren’t they?

I’m now sticking to the part that “Banba’s atmosphere is different from everyone else”. At this stage, he doesn’t have any intention to become friends with Kou, so I’m always aware of the subtle sense of distance, such as standing alone even though everyone else is gathering.

-From now on, surely, we’re expecting that Banba will fully communicate with Kou and become friends.

I once had the opportunity to talk with the screenwriter Yamaoka (Junpei) and the producers, and at that time he said “Banba is the closest when it comes to human emotion.” You see, when humans have aged long enough, they won’t change easily in a year. That’s how I think about it. “Yesterday,he was gentle, but today, he is back to being grumpy again?” We discussed whether or not it was a good thing to have such character like that.

-In episode 8 “ Singing Voice of Miracle”, Ryusoulger successfully fools the enemy. After Kou and Towa happily do a high-five to each other, Banba only bumps fists with Kou, while his face facing the other side. Such a wonderful “Tsundere”. He’s not planning to get along, but he lets himself join their rhythm. That’s what makes Banba stand out. Am I right?

Actually, we were being let to do ad-libs at that time. I never thought it would be used (laughs). After the episode was broadcasted, I was surprised to hear a lot of feedback about that on Twitter. It was a casual scene and I played it without much thought. Because of the slow motion, I was shown moving in various ways, even though it was a quick filming. At first, I thought I didn’t have to do anything, but Kou and the others were so eager to do high-five with Banba. So in the end, I just did it without seeing his eyes.

-Even for the children who watches the TV series, Banba is strong but a little “scary”. That is the impression they may get from him.

I also think so. Like I said earlier, “Banba will not change”, but by meeting Kou and others, a slight change is unavoidable. At first, he called Kou “Omae” (T/N: means “You” but harsh), but he started to call him by his name. Although he consciously can’t forgive it, there is still a part in his heart where the intention to be friends is growing.

-It may be rude for me to say this but, Banba is unexpectedly quite popular among children. Kishida-san, is there any experience, like when you finally realized the popularity of Banba?

The thing that I feel grateful about is, I get talked to more often than usual when I walk outside. Originally, I thought Banba was intended to give appeal to the mothers and older Tokusatsu fans, but unexpectedly, I heard some young children said “I like Banba”. I was really happy about that. Not to mention that Banba also has some fans among girls. I once looked at Instagram, and found a kid wearing Banba’s costume that their mother likely has made by herself, and I thought, “Oh, it ’s pretty cool” (laughs).

- Banba dan Ryusoul Black’s costumes are based on the color black, thus giving very cool atmosphere. I can understand those children’s feeling who want to cosplay as him.

Wearing this outfit, you may feel a little restrained around your waist and look slim. On the other hand, as soon as you get a little fat, it would be very much noticeable, so I always pay attention to maintaining my body shape.

-Then, if there is a scene where Banba has to eat something delicious, it would be difficult, wouldn’t it?

The food that appeared in the show up until now, in the end, they were all eaten by everyone. Asuna (Osaki Ichika) is always shown eating something, after all (laughs). Banba is never shown to eat anything in the show, but the staffs always prepare delicious-looking food and make the studio filled with yummy smell. That’s why, even though I don’t want to, I always find myself want to eat. When the filming is over, I end up eating up a lot too (laughs).

- Who do you think has grown up the most, comparing to when you first met them?

That’s definitely Obara-kun. He is 17 years old now and it is his moments of growing up as a person. When I look at him by my side, I think “He’s doing amazing!” I’m impressed by how refined his expression now. We sometimes make pacts among ourselves, such as to arrive 10 minutes before meetings, and Obara-kun is the best when it comes to follow the rules. We have been together for a long time as brothers, and I would be very happy if Obara-kun could feel various things from me, and myself also could give him some good influence.

-Kishida-san, you seem to have so much fun being an elder brother who is proud of his little brother. I begin to think that you two are really like real brothers.

Well, aren’t we real brothers, though?(laughs) Looking closely at Obara-kun’s growth, makes me think I can’t lose to him. So, it feels like I’m being encouraged too.

Looking at Kishida-san’s Twitter, we can find two-shot photos with some actors who have appeared in the “Kamen Rider” and “Super Sentai”. Surely, these photos show us wonderful friendship between heroes, aren’t they?

Isomura Hayato and I have once appeared in “Kyou kara ore wa!”, but at that time I didn’t know that he also appeared in “Kamen Rider Ghost” (Kamen Rider Necrom/ Alan). When I was decided to appear in “Ryusoulger”, I looked up to various things about the past “Super Sentai”, and found out that I was acquainted with such amazing Kamen Rider and Tokusatsu heroes. “I should take pictures when I meet them next time,” so I thought (laughs). I get along with Inaba Yuu-kun (Kamen Rider Mach/Shijima Gou from “Kamen Rider Drive” ) , Tozuka Junki-kun (Nara Shunpei from “Kamen Rider Wizard”), and Suda Masaki-kun (Philip from “Kamen Rider W”). I took photos with them, hoping that it could make Tokusatsu fans happy.

-But now, you have joined those heroes whom the children look up to. What kind of feeling do you have when you strike your “transformation” pose that is unique to you as a hero?

It’s exciting, really. I myself used to be a child who played and imitated those heroes’ transformation poses, up to their details. I feel excited to think that there would be some children who imitate my transformation pose this time.

-Who is Tokusatsu hero Kishida-san admired as a child?

“Choriki Sentai Ohranger” (1995) and “Gekisou Sentai Carranger” (1996) were the oldest heroes in my memory. But the one that I felt most addicted was “Seijuu Sentai Gingaman” (1998). In fact, the memories of playing with Gingaman’s toys still remain vivid. Among the five warriors, red and blue rangers have different ways of transforming, and I was a child who cared for those trivial things like that. Therefore, as Banba, I’m strongly aware of things like, the movements that only Banba would do. Even in the ending Que Bom Dance, the dance actually shows the individuality of each Ryusoulger.

-Action scenes are also frequently shown, especially in the episodes when director Sakamoto Koichi was in charge, like in episode 7, 8 and 15, 16. Some scenes, such as doing Ryusoul Change while fighting against Drunn soldiers were really outstanding.

I originally love action, and Director Sakamoto is the person in charge who has spent time in various action scenes, so I feel we are very compatible. Episode 15 and 16 are more challenging than episode 7 and 8. I want to challenge more actions in the future.

-Even at press conferences and photo sessions, Kishida-san’s “commitment”, such as not showing “smile” at all as Banba, is very wonderful, in my opinion.

I always think that images are important for heroes, so I want to do my role firmly. However, it is troubling me when people greet me as Banba. Banba’s personality makes me seem to be a very cold person. Of course, I myself am different from Banba, so when I naturally tried to act gentle, the mothers reacted like “Huh? Is Banba actually such a person?” It made me rethink that he really is such difficult role! (Laughs) However, they also pointed out those as the “unexpected” sides of Banba, so it still settles me much or less when creating a solid image of Banba. I myself like children, so I want to give them a gentle approach, but about how I should do it … I just can’t find the answer. I think I have to ask those who are already seniors at being heroes.

–Banba had never smiled until now, but at the end of the episode “The Prisoned Mosa”, he cracked a little smile, and it had positive reception on Twitter. I guess, it’s enough to make more children come to Banba deliberately now.

Until now, the children never come to me by themselves. Therefore, I myself try to go closer when I have eye contacts with children.

-In the 13th episode “The Prime Minister is Ryusoul tribe!?”, the existence of Banba and Towa’s master was implied. But Kishida-san and Obara-san, were you two actually aware of such story development and the mysteries behind it?

-To be honest, until we get our new script, we’ve been acting without knowing what will happen next. There were times when I acted while thinking “So, it was actually this kind of story!?” It is my first experience to act under such condition, so it’s very difficult (laughs). As an actor, playing without knowing the future is anxious, but fun. However, I don’t want to regret, saying such things like “I should have done it like this” when looking back at the past after I find out about the mysterious part. For now, acting while deciding what is the best to do in various subtle situations, becomes a great lesson for me as an actor.

-Ryusoulger cast give a very good impression as a team. Do you think that good relationship with them as friends affects your acting as Banba?

Looking at these recent scene photos, it seems Banba’s expressions are somewhat gentler than at the start of filming. This also happens to everyone else, and I guess it is because of the length of time we’ve spent together. I want to be an actor who rather than becomes the source, I prefer to be “the receiver” of those plays from various people. And I think my expressions get mellowed due to having received those feelings. It is now a completely different atmosphere compared to the beginning. If I was let to say one thing, it would end up divided into 5 or 6, as we actually share the same feelings among ourselves.

-Kishida-san, as the oldest member, you also have longer experience as an actor, to the extent that everyone else admires you as their “big brother”.

-Whenever there is something they don’t understand, it’s nice to hear them calling me out “Tatsu-nii! Tatsu-nii!”. I feel to be in a position that has to warn them if they do something sloppy. But rather than saying it directly, it’d be better if I act in advance and put myself as an example. They are all honest and nice guys, and the new member Hyoudou (Katsumi)-kun is also very polite when playing baseball. He’s such a pleasant man to be involved with.

-As we know, the long-awaited movie “Kishiryu Sentai Ryusoulger THE MOVIE Time Slip! Dinosaur Panic!!” has been released on July 26. Is there any experience that particularly impressed you when shooting this movie?

I still remember, after shooting all day long, there was a time when I couldn’t do (acting) at all. After episode 17, Banba’s attitude to his friends has much or less changed, but according to the script, the episode has not happened yet in the movie. So I had to enter the movie setting while being aware of that. Up until now, the change of Banba’s emotion has accumulated according to the order of TV episodes. I had to act while throwing away some parts of those changes that shouldn’t have happened in the movie. It’s quite difficult.

There was also things like when I was troubled during the shooting, it suddenly went raining. I’d heard that weather in the location might change easily…, but because of raining, I became impatient to fix and catch up … Things that I thought world be worked out…, the confidence just immediately flew away from my head. That’s why, I would be happy if you can check on the theater, those changes in Banba’s expressions that have troubled me so much.

-In episode 1 and 2, Banba and Towa have not yet appeared, so Kishida-san and Obara-san met Director Kamihoriuchi for the first time in the movie version. Kamihoriuchi-san once said in an interview that he always acted strictly towards all the actors, but how exactly does Kishida-san see Kamihoriuchi-san as a person?

When a scene isn’t played well, he will immediately go “Cut!”, and make us repeat it until it is good enough to be used. Rather than strictness, I think that it is more like Kamihoriuchi-san’s “kindness”. Because in order to meet the expectations of the directors, we indeed must continue to improve ourselves as actors.

-Please tell us about the highlights of Banba that are unique to this movie.

In this movie, because Kou has to move alone, there are many scenes where Melto, Asuna, Towa and Banba are working together. Melto and Asuna whom Kou usually works together with, are trying their best until Kou returns. Their growth and how they build their bond are presented intriguingly in this movie. I myself dedicatedly played Banba as the one who supports and watches over them. Though, Banba only gets a little chance to act between intervals (laughs). I realized the hard feeling when my role is not supposed to stand out, instead of being at front and doing something. Sentai usually consists 5 warriors. With Kanaro, we become 6 members. Naturally, it’s not good to make only one person speak lines while the others are only watching from behind. Even though I still don’t know how, I want to make everyone comment on a silent scene, that “It should be Banba who speaks there.” From now on too, I always look forward to your support for Banba and Ryusoulger!

Source: https://news.mynavi.jp/article/20190729-ryusoul/

[shawnsorangeglasses]

For Aesthetic Purposes

1k words

I just took a literal crash course in eyebrow threading, so please read this. I legit knew nothing past tweezers, I’m so educated now.

Pairing: Shawn x Reader

Warnings: swear swears, a cheeky straddle, nothing crazy

Based on a imagine post by @matchamendes , where you’re an esthetician and finally convince Shawn to let you do his eyebrows.

——————

You sat curled up on the sofa staring at Shawn across the room. He was sat in the day window strumming a new ditty on his guitar, minding his own business. One leg was tucked under his thigh while the other swung back and forth on the plush window seat. A purple and pink sky back him and soften the light in the living room. The whole picture in itself was a renaissance painting.

As beautiful as it all was, you couldn’t help but zone in on his eyebrows. His fuzzy, fuzzy eyebrows.

You loved those little caterpillars on his forehead, and they were damn near perfect, especially compared to yours when untrimmed. It’s not like he really needed his eyebrows done. And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder what they might look like if he just let you sharpen those edges a little. Just a little.

“What (Y/N)?,” Shawn asks, not even bothering to pause his musical exercise. “You’ve been staring at me for ten minutes like I have two heads.”

The words refuse to leave your throat. You were more impressed that he noticed you were ogling him. Truly it was your own fault for thinking you were being inconspicuous behind your latest copy of Better Homes and Gardens. You didn’t even subscribe to Better Homes. You didn’t even have a garden. It was an impulse buy from a street vendor earlier today.

“I-I’m not s-staring,” you stammer.

“You are and you look pissed. Did I forget something again?”

“No no, I’m not pissed at you, I just-” You words fall short of the truth, getting caught in a lip bite. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. I’m just being weird.”

You hide behind the magazine in your hands. Shawn stands up, setting guitar down against the wall beside him. He walks over to your spot on the couch and stretches across it so that his head falls your lap. He turns up to look at you, peeking at you from underneath the pages.

“Why’re you staring at me, (Y/N)?”

Even laying down on your lap, he could pull that cotton-laced tone out of nowhere and make your toes tingle.

You toss the magazine on the coffee table. Then you turn your focus back to your boyfriend’s face. He’s still expecting an answer. You push his tuft of curls back with both hands, settling your thumbs on either brow and brushing them straight. You look him directly in those big brown eyes.

“Just let me do your eyebrows,” you whisper.

Shawn inhales sharply, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He sits up only to fall slack against the back of the couch. “(Y/N), what is with you and my eyebrows? I’ve already said no a million times.”

“I know, I know, I know, but like for real,” you sit up on your knees, cupping his jaw in your grasp. “I just want to see what you’d look like. This one time, please? Pretty please?”

He takes hold of your wrists. “You’ve told me it hurts, why would I torture myself like that?”

You scrunch your nose up. “Torture is a bit of a reach, Shawn.”

He rub his face in exasperation. “I don’t even get why people pay real money to have this done.”

“Well for a bunch of reasons. For me, it’s cathartic. And to look like a bad bitch.”

“A bad bitch, eh?”

“And for the small price of a little pain,” you flash some finger guns, “you can be a bad bitch too.”

Shawn glares at you, biting down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. You nod excitedly, feeling an agreement coming on. You had him. He stands up to pace the rug for a moment. He looks at your eager face again, lips in between his teeth.

“This is a one time thing, (Y/N),” he says firmly.

You spring from the couch in excitement and take his hand to lead him to the bedroom where you kept all your supplies.

“Okay, go wash your face real quick. And put a headband on.”

Shawn shuffles into the bathroom with a shake of his head. You skip over to your dresser to grab your kit. The sink water starts running as you lay out his options. You sanitize and set everything up on the duvet.

He returns to the room, headband on and face clean.

“Lay down here,” you pat a spot on the bed, trying to make him feel welcome. He did not.

“Normally I’d be more than happy to join you in bed,” he says as he occupies the space. “This is bullshit though.”

“Stop bitching and lay down. I’ll be quick.”

You pick up the wax and spool of thread then turn around to face Shawn. His eyes are shut and his hands are folded on his chest. “Which one do you want to do?”

He sits up on his elbows. His eyes bounce between the products in your hands. “W-Which one hurts the least?”

“They all kinda hurt, bub. I’m pulling hair out of the thin skin on your face.” You examine the items in your hand. “The wax has to be heated up though.”

He sighs and flops back on the bed, “Fine. Do the strings.”

You pick up your mini kit and sit next to his head. Shawn lifts his head onto your lap again, remembering this is how you would do it with your sister whenever she visited. You take one of your round brushes and just start straightening out the hairs, exposing the unruly ones. Then you start tying and twisting some thread together.

“Okay, you ready?”

“Wait,” he says, “can you at least straddle me and do it?”

“I don’t normally straddle my customers,” you say coyly. “It’s very inappropriate.”

“(Y/N), please?”

“Would it make you feel better?”

He nods. You oblige him and start working. Unfortunately you can only get about three hairs before he’s wriggling and writhing between your thighs.

“Ouch!” Shawn looks at you like you just slapped him. He taps his face to look at his fingers multiple times, searching for blood.

“You are not bleeding,” you deadpan.

“Jesus Christ, I have to do this twice?!”

“Yep and you already said yes, no backsies.”

He lays back down again, visibly trying to relax. You make a second attempt, only for it to fail. You both apologize to each other at the same time.

“You gotta distract me,” he insists. “Talk to me.”

“What were you playing on the guitar earlier?” You go back to work again, this time faster. He twitches with every tug.

“I don’t know— ow — it might be a new, uhm, a new song but— ow, shit— but it’s still kind of— ouch, FUCK— s-still up in the air.”

“I’m almost done with the bottom,” you promise with a giggle. “That’s the hardest part.”

Shawn handles the second brow better, probably after adjusting to the pain. His hands took residence on your hips, fingers anxiously tugging at the hem of your short shorts whenever you pull a more stubborn row of hairs. He starts saying funny little things like, “Am I supposed to feel sleepy?,” or “At least make ‘em look like Dua Lipa’s.” You’re starting to think you broke him.

In a few minutes, the worst is over you’re doing the finishing touches with a pair of detail scissors.

“Alright,” you murmur as you wipe away the excess. Just so it doesn’t bother him later, you apply some aloe gel to soothe his skin. His eyes are still closed so you just barely plant a kiss on his nose, and they flutter open.

“You’re all snatched and done, baby. Wanna see?”

Shawn sits up, pushing you further back on his lap. He brings two fingers to the now tender part of his face, careful not to mess up your work. You swipe a magnified pocket mirror from your kit and present it to him. He blinks at his reflection in awe.

“Whoa,” he coos, turning his head side to side. “So this is what it feels like to be a bad bitch.”

His smile was a mile wide, which felt like a good sign. At least he wasn’t upset with the end result. Although, now you were kind of missing those rough edges that greeted you every morning. 

“How do you like it?”

“I don’t know. It’s, like, it’s different but it’s not? I look like an Instagram filter.” He pulls a face in the mirror, wiggling his eyebrows like he just figured out how to use them. You try not to gush all over him. “Do you think anyone will notice?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, “You didn’t make it easy.”

“I have a live interview tomorrow too.”

You pat his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Shawn wraps his arms around your waist again. He puckers his lips a little, beckoning yours. You softly lay a little love on them, just long enough to feel the brief exhale from his nose. 

“We should do this again sometime,” you purr.

“Fuck no,” he says quickly. The both you burst into a laughing fit.

[queakenstein]

Queaken ! Could I request some Goku & Chichi on a double date with Zegeta & Bulma ? I need the fluff.

Hey! :) Sure! I can whip up some fluff!! (Small hints of nsfw but like only hints)

After so many years of marriage between them, Goku knew that Chi-Chi’s expectations for their every-so-odd Date Night was ‘don’t hit anyone’ ‘don’t blow anything up’ and ‘for Kami’s sake us a damn napkin’. So, when she mentioned that Bulma had invited them to a little get together, he thought it was going to be more or less the same thing.

She tsked at him from where he lounged on their bed. “Where did your dress shirts go?” Chi-Chi’s hands continued to shuffle through the assorted clothing hanging in her closet before she seemed to give up. Goku watched her bottom plop onto the bed. “Oh…, that’s right… we donated them.”

He laughs in his goofy gentle way and moves to hold her. “Can’t I just wear my gi?”

“No.” She scowls, pulling the towel off of her wet hair and tossing it into their hamper. “I’ve told you, Goku. This isn’t a barbecue. It’s a formal dinner.” She taps his arms which had come to encircle her and he releases her. “You are definitely not allowed that old thing.”

He pouts and falls back against the bed with his arms folded. He heard ‘normal’ dinner. Not formal. “But those clothes are so…” He scrunches his nose in thought. “Uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a child.” She’s already moved to their bathroom. He hears a towel drop to the floor. “Why don’t you pop over to Yamcha’s to see if he has clothes you could borrow?” The sound of her hairdryer irritates him and he makes out something about her getting ready. He’s gone before his wife peaks her head out of the door to make sure he’s gone. 

He appears in front of the three story home and startles his old friend. “Yo, Goku. You could’ve called first, ya know!” He doesn’t take long to recover. One gets used to surprises when dealing with Earth’s Strongest. “I was just about to leave. Everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, everything’s fine.” Goku laughs. “Does it always have to mean bad things when I visit?”

A pause while Yamcha mulls that train of thought over. “Eh, not always. Juuust mostly.” He smiles and motions for his friend to follow him. “I’ve got a few minutes if you want a quick tour? Did some renovations.”

“Oh, yeah?” Deciding it would be rude to just stop by and demand things, Goku enters. The home is well decorated. Not lavish but definitely upscale. The Saiyan even notices some hints of Bulma’s particular decorating style. He comments on this only when he notices some of Capsule Corps’ furniture. “Bulma send that to you?”

“Yeah.” Yamcha rolls his eyes. “They wanted me to advertise for ‘em. Not really my style but, hey, free stuff.”

“You can’t afford a couch?”

The other man stammers but laughs. “N-Now, that’s not what I said.” He grins. “I just like knowing it bothers Steamers so bad.”

Goku makes a face. “Steamers? Who’s that?”

“Uh… Puar and me… We call him ‘steamers’… cause–” Yamcha snorts, realizing how silly the explanation sounds aloud. “Uh, cause his name is close to Vegetable and w-when they get hot… they steam. Like.” He rolls his eyes. “Those steamer things.”

“HAH!” Goku grins and grins wide. “Better not let Vegeta hear you say that!” They speak some more and catch up on what the other has been doing for the past few months since they last saw each other. After about ten minutes, Goku remembers why he came in the first place. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot!” He ignores the voice in his head warning what may have happened to him had he returned home without dress clothes. “Chi-Chi has some sort of dinner thing with Bulma. I need fancy clothes. Got any you could spare?”

“Uh, yeah.” Yamcha smirks. “We’re about the same size… even if you could pound me into the dirt.”

“You’ve gotten stronger though.”Goku taps his head and smirks. “I can sense it.” He grins. “Maybe me, you, and Krillin can get together for an old spar session.”

“Nah,” The other man shakes his head and tosses a few articles of clothing at his friend, “I like my bones not broken. But, if you promise not to go Super Saiyan or anything… it could be fun.”

“Cool.” Goku glances at the shirt in his hand and frowns. “So. This won’t disappoint Chi, will it?”

He shrugs. “Dunno, she’s a funny one. You should look fine though.” He glances at his watch. One of those nice and shiny ones that Bulma gifted Gohan when he graduated high school. “Anyway, you can keep those. Apparently, you need ‘em.” They slap each other on the back and exchange good-byes with promises to make plans to reach out later.

“Hon, I’m back!”

She’s holding onto the doorway and pulling on a heel as she orders him to hurry. “Gohan is already on his way over to get Goten. We need to leave soon!”

“Fine, fine! Yeesh.” Goku does as asked and quickly gets dressed in the clothes his friend gave him. Dark colors aren’t normally his thing but he supposes it works. Black blazer jacket, grey shirt, and black slacks. All uncomfortable but Chi-Chi’s eyes glitter and that makes it worth it. 

“Shoes!” She exclaims and her husband ignores the curse she whispers as she drops down to look in the bottom of their closet. Their doorbell rings and he can’t ignore the clear. “Shit.”

“It’s probably Gohan, I’ll go let him in.” He does so and let’s his eldest know that Goten is already in bed. “He’s sleeps pretty heavy but…” There’s a small sound of sadness. “I guess you know that.”

Gohan shrugs and straightens his father’s jacket then produces a pair of shoes. “Mom might’ve forgot that she sent these with me when I moved out.” He smiles. “Try and have fun tonight, okay, Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll try, son.” He puts on the shoes and sighs. “Least your mom is happy.” He ruffles Gohan’s hair and steps into the master bedroom. “Gohan brought shoes.”

Chi-Chi sighes with relief. “That wonderful boy.” She’s up on her feet in a second and Goku remarks how impressive that is in the heeled shoes she wears. She’s wearing the dress that 18 helped her pick out last time she let herself have a ‘girls day’. A dark, almost black, cocktail dress with long sleeves that are sheer. Goku can easily admit she looks lovely. Then again, there’s few times if any that he thought she looked awful. Awfully scary, sure. But not ugly. “Okay, let’s go!”

They had agreed to drive despite Goku’s initial suggestion of Nimbus. Instant Transmission was also a no-go. She hated it. So, he piles into the driver seat and begins the two hour drive to the restaurant. Bulma had rented the space for two hours along with the entire kitchen staff so that the Saiyans would be able to eat their fill and not overwhelm anyone. The thought of food finally elicits excitement. 

“Think they’ll have steak, Chi?”

She hums. “Most likely. I didn’t even think to look at their menu…” She shrugs and rests her chin in her palm with the elbow propped on the window. “We should’ve got a picture before we left.”

“Why?”

“We haven’t been this dressed up since that interview for Gohan’s school… and even then it was to look more professional.”

He smirks. “No, I meant more like… why when I won’t ever forget it.” He grins when she startles and looks at him with a blush.

“Goku!” She tries to hide her smile behind her hand and flicks his arm. “I forget how sweet you can be sometimes.” Instead of leaning away, she drops her head against his arm and a look of contentment cross her face. He tries to remember to tell her nice things. To try to be romantic. She’s deserving of such things… but sometimes his Saiyan brain makes it hard.

“Ya know, Chi. I may hate these clothes but I think this is going to be fun.” The urge to speed consumes him but the weight of her head keeps him calm.

“I’m really glad you’re looking forward to this.” She looks up into his face and he chances a glance into her beautiful dark eyes. “I truly missed you while you were gone… cried for nights.”

“I know.” His voice is soft. Sad. He regrets not thinking what his absence would do… but he’s here now. Buu is defeated and Frieza too. Peace is a foreign concept to him. He’s always looked for the next fight but he finds himself content with dwelling in the now. With her. With his family. “I missed you too.”

“Can you promise me something, Goku?”

“Depends, Chi.”

She sighs, sadly. “I just wants us to grow old together… that’s all… I know–” She straightens up and holds her hands together. “I know, that you’re Earth’s strongest defender… but… I would really like to grow old with you. So, next time–” She turns to look at him. “Next time you fight someone… make sure you fight for that promise. Okay?”

“I’ll try.” He excludes the part where his eagerness for a challenge might override that. But, one day, he thinks it might be nice to hand the reigns over to his sons. Let them be Earth’s Greatest Hero. So, he leans over and kisses her forehead. “I will try.”

Chi-Chi nods. “I’ll take it.” There’s a small pause as lights from the city begins to twinkle far in the distance. “Also, please, remember that this isn’t a eating contest between you and Vegeta.”

He laughs. “Fine. Me and you then.”

The look for horror that spreads over his face makes him almost double over. “I would die and you would starve!”

“Admitting defeat, eh, Chi-Chi?”

And there. The spark that made him fall in love with her. She smirks and levels him with a challenging gaze. “Fine.” She holds up a finger. “I bet I can clear my plate before you can yours.”

“What do I get when you lose?”

She blushes. “Whatever you would like.”

“And if I lose?”

She blushes harder. “I-I’m sure you can imagine…”

He grins so hard his cheeks hurt. “My imagination is terrible, Chi. What is it? Can’t you tell your husband?”

“Roshi is a terrible influence on you!” She scolds but adds, very quietly. “That thing… you do… with your mouth.”

He laughs. “Fair. I like those terms. You gotta deal, Chi-Chi!”

To his surprise, he loses. No sooner does he start to dig into his plate, she dumps the entirety of hers onto his with a satisfied expression that quickly dissolves into a childish one when she sticks her tongue out at him. Bulma looks a little shocked at the events but is filled in on the little contest. Vegeta actually chuckles and makes a snide comment on how Kakarot let a Earthling overcome him. The glares he receives from both women doesn’t make him retract the statement but he refrains from anymore for the rest of the night.

Goku finds himself grinning and makes sure that Bulma helps get a picture of him with his lovely wife. After all, who can forget the night that one defeats Earth’s strongest warrior?

[skulduggerypleasant]

Q&A w/ Skulduggery (2008)

With a bunch of website revamps in recent years, I noticed a lot of old content was also going missing, so I’m posting certain things on my blog for archival purposes. This is an interview that was available on the old HarperCollins website, just before the release of Playing With Fire. [x]

Hello Skulduggery! Or do you prefer Mr Pleasant?

Skulduggery is fine, and hello to you, too. I don't do many interviews, if I'm to be honest, but I am going to try my best to be humble. I have an associate who keeps telling me I'm egotistical, but she falls over a lot, so I don't really listen to her.

How are you? What have you been up to today?

Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure. Part of my job is dealing with unruly types, troublemakers and the like, so the only stories I have to tell involve lots of hitting, screaming, and my associate falling over in an amusing fashion.

Are you enjoying your new found fame as the star of your own book series?

It is an interesting experience, I have to admit. I stay out of the limelight as much as possible, but my associate is loving it. She is always on the Internet, checking what people are saying about her. I swear to you, if they knew how much she fell over, they wouldn't think she was quite so cool.

Playing With Fire is the new book, out on 31st March. Can you tell us a bit about it?

There's a new villain and a new threat, but the overall evil scheme is still in place. Basically, the bad guys want their dark old gods to return, and we're doing our best to stop that from happening. It gives me something to get out of bed for, you know? (If I had a bed.)

Is the villain in the new book as full-on-scary as Serpine from book one?

Let's just say I am not the biggest fan of Baron Vengeous. The man has NO sense of humour. At least Serpine laughed occasionally, even if it was a laugh of the maniacal sort. But Vengeous... Vengeous is just MEAN.

Are you still crime-solving with Stephanie in the new book?

Oh, yes—that is what I do, after all. Stephanie, or Valkyrie as my associate is now called, has a lot to learn when it comes to deductive reasoning. She's all too eager to leap into the fray or say something at the wrong time or just generally annoy me, but I have a lot to teach her about being a detective.

I suppose she's a quick study, though, but don't tell her I said that.

Have you always wanted to become a detective?

I was born for this job. I'm quite brilliant, you know.

What would you be if you weren't a magical crime-solving skeleton?

I'd be a magical skeleton who collected stamps, or pictures of butterflies, or pebbles. 

Do you enjoy spooking and scaring people?

There is a common misconception that I am a scary person. Just because I happen to be a skeleton, that doesn’t make me scary. I think I'm rather cuddly, in fact. And I'm always smiling. How can that be scary?

Are there any advantages to being a skeleton in the living world?

I never have a bad hair day, I don't get sunburnt, and I look good in suits.

You're an Elemental—what does that mean?

Elementals have the ability to manipulate the four elements—air, fire, water and earth. I've been an Elemental since I started learning magic, when I was just a boy. I've got quite good at it.

What's the best magic trick you've ever done?

“Trick”? "TRICK"? I don't do tricks, my friend. I am not onstage, pulling rabbits out of a hat. I don't pluck coins from behind people's ears (although I can). I do magic. It's fierce and frightening and it would make ordinary people quake in their shoes. It's fun being me.

You're a bit of a comedian. Does that come naturally to you?

When you're killed and come back as a living skeleton, you can either wallow in self-pity and brood for the next few hundred years, or you can develop a razor-sharp wit to use every bit as effectively as any weapon.

I happen to be a very funny person. I'm always telling people that.

It's acknowledged that you are, indeed, a super-slick detective (if you don't mind me saying!). Who do you think would crack the case first if you went head-to-head against a spy like Alex Rider on a mystery solving adventure?

From what I know, young Rider is an extremely gifted spy and adventurer, and I have nothing but respect for him. That said, I am, let's be honest, me. I'm a few hundred years older and wiser, I dress better, I'm infinitely more charming, and I can throw fire.

I am the best there is.

You're a snazzy dresser. Do you get your suits made especially for you?

So glad you noticed! Yes indeed, a friend of mine makes my suits. He has to, you see, because as a skeleton, I can't wear just any clothes. Ghastly Bespoke has made all of my suits, designing them around a frame to make it look like I'm a tad heavier-set than I actually am.

He makes the clothes, I make the clothes look good. It's a team effort.

I loved reading about your adventures. Do you like to read in your spare time?

Oh, I adore reading. I have always been an avid reader. My favourite book is "How To Make Your Own Fireplace,” by C.H. Davenport. Wonderful book. Simply wonderful.

What do you like to do when you're not solving crime?

You mean, in my time off? Oh. Oh well, I... That is, I like to, to... Time off? I don't really do the whole “time off” thing. If people like me, and my associate, took time off from saving the world, then there'd be no one to save the world. We couldn't have that, now could we? 

What's your most favourite thing?

My car.

What's your most hated thing?

People trying to kill me. It grows wearisome.

How do you get on with Derek Landy, who writes your stories down and turns them into books?

Mr. Landy is an interesting gentleman who lets his imagination run away with him from time to time. It's my job to reign him in, to refocus his attention on the story at hand. He's not too bright, which is a shame, and when he was a child his head was shaped like a potato. He got over it.

Will there be more books available for us to read about you?

Oh, indeed, yes. Valkyrie and I have many more adventures to embark on, and many more stories to tell. Over the course of the series, I'm sure you will see her grow up, get stronger, learn more magic, and face bigger and badder bad guys. Rest assured, I will be my usual hilarious self the whole way through.

Is there anything else you'd like to tell us in this interview that we've not covered?

I have a wonderful singing voice, yet I hate to sing.

Thanks for speaking to us! What are you going to be doing with the rest of your day?

Rescue Valkyrie. She just called. Apparently she's in a spot of trouble. Her friend Tanith is with her, but as usual they need me to swoop in and save the day. It's not easy being me, you know. It's fun, yes, but not easy.

But sometimes fun is enough.

[quinzelade]

By No Constraint: Epilogue

SS x Danse

Chapter List

Thanks to my amazing beta, @waiting4morning, for her wonderful work!

Tumblr has apparently changed its linking rules, meaning I can no longer externally link my FFnet or Ao3 accounts if I want my story to show up in the tag search on tumblr. If you want update alerts, please search ‘quinzelade’ on either of these sites and follow me there.

I released chapter 72 on the 8th. Since I’ve posted this so close to the last chapter, I felt it was only fair to let you guys know there’s a chapter before this one that you might want to read. Check the chapter list above for the link.

Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.

--

Peaceful Futures

 --

“So what makes you think you’re suitable for this position?” Danse said, scribbling down a few sentences on his form. It was uncomfortably hot in his office, and Danse was tempted to close the interview now. He already knew the outcome. But he’d be damned if he put minor discomfort before proper procedure.

By the book. Always by the book.

“As I said, sir, my dad is the best shot in Sanctuary.”

Danse looked up from his notes and raised his eyebrow. “I’ve known Robert almost twenty years now, and he is a brilliant shot. But you aren’t your father. Tell me about you, Duncan. Why should I be putting Sanctuary’s safety in your hands?”

Duncan went scarlet. Danse almost relented there and then, but MacCready had been very specific with his instructions.

“Dunc’s more than capable, but he’s had it easy. Ridden on my reputation. One day I won’t be here, and then what? Make him work for it, Danse. It’ll do him some good.”

Danse stayed silent and waited.

“W-well,” Duncan managed eventually, fidgeting under Danse’s desk. “I, uh…”

“Do you have a tutor?” Danse said, deciding to offer some kindness. “Have you won any competitions or been in any combat?”

“Oh yeah!” Duncan said at once, seizing the opportunity. “My dad taught me! Ever since I was a kid I could shoot! And I’ve every shooting competition in the settlement in the last five years! And—”

Danse let Duncan rattle off his many achievements, holding back a smile. He’d always intended to give this job to Duncan, had been leaning on MacCready for years to let his son leave his cleaning post and move onto the security team. But MacCready was adamant Duncan worked his way up first.

“We all had to do it. It’s the only way he’ll learn.”

Duncan paused to take in a breath, and Danse held up his hand. Duncan stopped, looking worried.

“I’ve heard enough,” Danse said, straightening up his papers and keeping a straight face. He leaned back in his chair and met Duncan’s eye. He hesitated, then said, “You’ve got the job.”

Duncan made a noise of shock, and a wide grin split across his face. “Really?”

Danse nodded, leaned forward, and held out his hand. As Duncan shook it vigorously, Danse said, “I want you at the barracks 5am sharp tomorrow so we can fit you up in a uniform.”

“Yes, sir,” Duncan said, getting to his feet as Danse did, still grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much! My dad’s gonna be so impressed!”

“Best go tell him quick then,” Danse replied, and smiled as Duncan nodded and hurried from the room. As soon as the office door shut behind Duncan, Danse walked over to the window shutter and cranked it open. Cool air seeped in, and he gave a sigh of relief. He didn’t like having it open when he was interviewing people. Everything in his office was a private affair.

Some affairs more private than others, a mischievous voice said in his head, and he glanced at his desk with a guilty grin, thinking of Quinn’s last visit here. The memories made his heart beat faster, and suddenly he was eager to go home. Danse opened a button in his collar as he walked down the stairs, still lost in his thoughts. He wondered if Quinn would finish early today, but as he reached the door leading out of the building—mumbling some response or other to the guards acknowledging his departure—he remembered they were due to have dinner with Josh and Emily tonight, on top of everything else he still needed to prepare for work tomorrow. Weariness hit him like a ton of bricks.

I’m not as young as I used to be.

If it wasn’t his back twinging every time he tried to lift something heavy, it was his knees aching during his morning run. He was still in top shape, and proud of that fact, but pride couldn’t stop the effects of age. At least he was aging, though, unlike other synths. A blessing compared to Sturges, who only discovered the truth when it became apparent how young he still looked next to Preston.

Not that Preston cared. He helped Sturges through his identity crisis the same way Quinn helped Danse through his, so many years ago.

“Hey boss,” rasped Mordecai, a tough old ghoul who was a permanent fixture in the security team, “so am I fitting up body armour for the kid tomorrow or not?” Danse nodded, and Mordecai grinned. “You were always gonna—”

“Keep your voice down,” Danse said quietly, glancing around. “I don’t want to knock his confidence.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Mordecai motioned zipping his mouth shut.

Danse nodded, glad his friend had some tact. It was for this reason—and also because Mordecai could swing a bat like nobody’s business—he was Danse’s right hand man.

Danse walked on, responding to countless greetings that always accompanied his evening walk home. As head of security, he’d personally assessed each and every one of them before they’d been given a place in the city—ghoul, synth, and human alike. The result was that everyone knew his face.

It was a nice feeling, being known and respected, although it did add an extra half hour onto his journey wherever he was going.

He walked past the Sanctuary branch of the Valentine Detective Agency, the red, glowing sign just as tacky as Nick’s head office over in Diamond city. Danse squinted at the neon sign and grinned. Piper always complained about it whenever she visited, loudly grumbling to the homeless ghouls she often escorted to the city.

People from all walks of life flocked to Sanctuary these days. People wanting to make a fresh start. People who were outcast from their own settlements for not being ‘human’ enough, or for sympathising with the ‘others.’ People who were simply curious about the settlement open to everybody, and decided to stay.

Quinn had been careful, so careful from the beginning. All were welcome, but that would make Sanctuary a target. And yet, aside from a short-lived conflict with Diamond City, no one ever bothered them. Even the Brotherhood kept away, though Danse couldn’t understand why. After a few years, he stopped questioning it, but always kept himself and his men on guard.

The medical clinic came into view, conveniently down the road from Josh’s home. Josh’s tendency to abandon dinner or run out in the middle of the night sometimes caused bickering in his household, but nothing serious. Emily knew what Josh was like.

So did Danse—Josh was as stubborn as Vivian and Quinn combined, something Quinn seemed almost proud of, despite it causing numerous arguments throughout Josh’s childhood. When both Josh and Charlie had dug their heels in together, it was like a bomb being dropped on the house. Although Danse missed the boys when they eventually moved out, he did love the peace and quiet that came with their absence.

Finally, Danse reached his destination. He paused, listening to the muted voices inside, and then knocked on the front door. The voices stopped at once, and footsteps drew near. The door flew open, and a bear of a man stood in the doorway, with long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, and kind, crinkled eyes.

“Danse!” Josh exclaimed, dragging Danse into a tight hug. Danse hugged him back, smiling to himself. Josh had never called Quinn and Danse ‘Mom and Dad,’ and they had never pushed him.

Danse grinned up at his son as they broke apart, and turned to see Emily standing next to her husband. She smiled at Danse and kissed his cheek, before beckoning him into the house.

It was clean and tidy, as always. Emily’s work—any surface Josh went near inevitably ended up an explosion of doctor’s tools and patient notes, much to Quinn’s horror. Quinn herself was sitting in the antique armchair near the back wall, directly under the display plaque that held Vivian’s old rifle. Seeing the rifle always gave Danse a twinge of comfort and regret.

Brotherhood through and through.

Quinn got to her feet as he approached and kissed him, resting her hand on the back of his neck. “How was your day? And how did Duncan do?”

“Fine,” Danse replied, dropping himself down onto the sofa in the centre of the room. “On both counts. He starts tomorrow.”

“Like there was gonna be any other outcome.” Charlie walked into the room carrying an armful of Nuka-Colas and wearing a smirk. He moved the bottles around and held one out to Danse. “Here, Dad. Glad to see Mom’s not working you too hard.”

Quinn settled down next to Danse with a roll of her eyes as he took the bottle, and accepted a drink of her own from Charlie. “Always the smartass.”

“Of course,” chipped in Josh before Charlie could answer. “Look who raised us—ow!” Josh was interrupted as Emily whacked him across the arm.

“Don’t speak to your mom like that!” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching as she gave him a forced glare.

“Thanks, Em,” Quinn said, not bothering to hide her smirk.

“No problem.” Emily turned back to Josh and pointed to the kitchen. “Go get dinner, Darling.”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, pretending to be annoyed, before kissing her on the nose and smiling. He left the room as everyone made their way over to the table.

Emily was a fantastic cook—better than Quinn, though Danse would never tell her. Not that she’d disagree, but some things were better left unsaid. Danse ate his stew while everyone else chatted away. He didn’t really talk at meals, preferring to listen to the conversations of the others and join in only when he had something to say. It was a quirk his family accepted, and when they were at the dinner table, it was rare for someone to speak to Danse first.

Quinn and Emily discussed recipes, while Josh and Charlie went over the plans for the clinic. Thanks to Sturges’ tutelage, Charlie was a fine handyman in his own right, and often filled in for Sturges when he was busy. It meant Josh could get almost any addition he wanted for his building, turning the clinic into a place capable of housing a good chunk of the city all at once. With Quinn’s blessing, Josh employed more staff to help him run it, and eventually hired Emily.

Danse glanced at Emily and smiled. Young love. He remembered being that age, and finding the right person. His eyes trailed over to Quinn and he watched her for a little while. Age hadn’t dampened her fire, and she still looked as beautiful as ever. Aside from the wrinkles, the only real difference was the streaks of grey in her hair. Maybe she had changed more than that, but Danse knew he’d never see her any differently.

When everyone finished, Charlie and Josh cleared the plates away, Josh flapping down Emily’s help and insisting she stay seated. Danse raised an eyebrow at this. Normally Emily bit Josh’s head off at being told to sit down and be waited on, but instead, Emily sat. He caught Quinn’s eye, and she mirrored his surprised expression.

Josh came back into the room and handed out drinks to everyone. But instead of sitting down, Josh rocked back and forth on his heels, playing with the label of his bottle. Emily nudged him with her elbow, and he said, “Uh, I have an announcement to make.”

He stood there for a few seconds, getting redder with every passing moment, until Emily rolled her eyes and said, “I’m—”

“Emily’s pregnant!” Josh blurted out.

Stunned silence. Then Quinn jumped to her feet and shrieked, “Oh congratulations!” She hugged Emily and peppered Josh with kisses, while Charlie leaned over the table and shook his hand. Danse did the same as Charlie walked over to Emily and kissed her on the cheek.

Josh still looked nervous, though. He coughed awkwardly and said, “I know I’ve never called you my parents, but…”

The room went quiet again. Charlie glanced from Josh to Quinn and Danse uncertainly, and Emily took hold of Josh’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Josh nodded, took a deep breath and said, “Well...you’re the closest thing I have to parents. And I’d love for you to be my baby’s grandparents, if...if you don’t mind.”

Danse blinked. “Josh,” he said incredulously, “you don’t even have to ask. It would be an honour.”

“‘If you don’t mind,’” Quinn said with a snort, and hugged Josh tight. Danse saw Josh give Emily a look of relief over Quinn’s shoulder. Emily smiled back.

“Does this mean I get to be the cool uncle?” Charlie piped up, grinning.

“Only if you promise not to teach my kid how to make a gun from scratch,” Josh retorted, shaking his head.

“Well that’s boring.”

“I still remember what happened the first time you made a rifle.”

“I kept all my fingers, didn’t I?”

“Any names?” Danse asked loudly.

“Yes,” Emily said quickly, shooting Danse a grateful look. “Cade if they’re a boy, Yara if they’re a girl.”

“Not gonna name them after your mom or dad?” Charlie asked. Everyone looked from Josh to him, and both men went red. Charlie quickly said, “Sorry, I didn't think—you don't have to answer that.”

“It’s alright,” Josh said with a shrug, not looking at Quinn or Danse. “I just...it didn’t feel right.”

“I’m guessing ‘Cade’ after the Knight-Captain?” Danse said, trying to move the subject on. Josh had always been conflicted when it came to his parents and Quinn and Danse.

“Yeah.” Josh stared at his feet. “You know why.”

Danse did know why. He’d always thought that Josh would follow in Vivian’s footsteps, become a soldier or a security guard. Instead, as he hit his teenage years, he began studying medicine instead. One day, Danse asked why.

“I remember what Cade did for my dad. And my mom. I'll never forget that.”

Danse never forgot it either. He shook son’s hand again, gripping a little tighter this time “You’ll be a fantastic father. You’ll make your parents proud.”

“Thanks,” Josh said with a small smile, finally meeting his eye again.

“But more importantly,” Quinn said, eyeing Charlie shrewdly, “when are you bringing home a nice girl for me to meet?”

Charlie went from red to beetroot. “Mom, I’ve been busy. Sanctuary isn’t going to build itself.”

“Sturges can pick up some of the slack.”

“I have different projects than Sturges. Haven’t worked with him for years.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “You know that.”

“Don’t you raise your eyebrows to heaven at me!”

Josh snickered. “Busted.”

Charlie punched him playfully in the arm. Danse smiled at his sons. Josh was a talented doctor, but none of Quinn’s ambitious plans for the city would have been possible without Charlie. Despite being grounded repeatedly as a child, mini-structures kept appearing in the living room, or Danse’s guns suddenly had new, mysterious ‘modifications.’ Finally, when Charlie tried to upgrade Danse’s X-01 helmet and broke it, Quinn shouted herself hoarse at her son, and then asked Sturges to train him and find a new outlet for his uncontrollable tinkering. The result was Sanctuary’s progress jumping ahead of schedule.

Now Charlie ran his own workshop, and spent most of his time designing new buildings and finding new ways to make every resource count. Sturges still did a majority of the repairs, but the two of them shared ideas, problems, and staff regularly, combining their strengths to keep the city going.

The laughter and talk continued, Josh bringing out a bottle of whisky to celebrate the occasion. Only he and Charlie drank, Emily looking on wistfully with a hand on her stomach while Quinn and Danse politely declined. Quinn drank one shot of Bowmore a year from her now dwindling bottle, around the date she first came into the Commonwealth. Other than that, both she and Danse stayed away from drink.

Finally, Charlie staggered out for some fresh air, and when he didn’t come back, Danse offered to check on him.

The night was balmy, the day’s heat still clinging to the air. The road was lit by the streetlights, but still dark enough that Danse had to squint. He spotted a figure sitting hunched over in the doorway to the school, and went over to investigate. It was Charlie, sitting with his head in his knees.

Had he passed out? As a family, they didn’t drink much—alcohol had been banned in their house until the boys reached twenty-one. Danse crouched down and gave Charlie’s shoulder a little shake, and he immediately looked up, his eyes unfocused.

Danse grinned. “Had enough?”

Charlie blinked up at Danse, and then stared at his hands in his lap. Danse felt the grin slip off his face. Something was wrong.

Ignoring the clicking of his joints and the pain in his back, Danse sat himself down next to Charlie. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Charlie swayed slightly where he sat, and then said in a slurred voice, “No, not nothing. Everything’s fucked up.”

It was rare for Charlie to swear, but Danse didn’t comment on it. Instead, he waited for Charlie to speak again.

Charlie glanced at his father, and then back to his hands. “I guess...I’m just wondering what I’m doing with my life. I’m nearly thirty, and I have nothing to show for it.”

Danse raised his eyebrows. “Nothing to show for it?” He gestured to the pre-war street lights Charlie had personally set up only two years ago, to the school he and Sturges constructed together. “What do you call all of this?”

Charlie shrugged. “That’s just work.”

“Important work.”

Charlie shrugged again in response.

Danse shifted in his seat and frowned. This wasn’t right. Charlie had always been happy and invested in his job, and took Quinn’s teasing about being single in his stride. Danse opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words. “I don’t...you always—”

“Josh has a wife and a kid on the way. I have no one.”

Ah.

“I know I can’t have kids. I’ve accepted that. But still…” Charlie bowed his head, shutting his eyes.

Danse glanced over to the house. With any luck, the others would stay inside. He turned back to his son and clamped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You can’t rush these things. Some people find the right person early on. Others, it takes years. A relationship isn’t the be-all and end-all, and it won’t always bring you happiness.”

Charlie didn’t reply.

God damn it. Quinn is better at this than me, Danse thought. He tried again. “When I found your mother, I thought I was well into my thirties. She thinks she was at least twenty-nine. Just because Josh managed to convince his poor, unfortunate wife to marry him doesn’t mean you’re falling behind.”

This earned a laugh from Charlie, so Danse pressed on.

“And we were friends first. We both went through hell and back before we finally realised we were right for each other. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t want to rush me.” Danse gave Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You might have already met the right person, and you just don’t know it yet. Give it time. When you find them, you won’t care how long it took.” He paused. “As for children...I think we’re proof synths can raise a family just fine.”

Charlie looked up sharply, staring at Danse. Danse smiled at him. After a few seconds, Charlie’s gave a lopsided grin back. “Thanks, Dad.”

Danse nodded. “No problem.” Slowly, he got to his feet, wincing as his limbs clicked and ached again. He held his hand out to Charlie and pulled him to his feet.

Charlie staggered, nearly knocking them both over, and leaned on the school wall. “I think I should go lie down.”

“I think you should,” Danse replied, biting back a laugh. “Stay here. I’ll just tell your mother I’m taking you home.”

“I can walk—”

“Stay here.”

Charlie grumbled, but nodded, so Danse quickly ran across the road and stuck his head through Josh’s front door. Josh was snoring on the sofa, while Emily and Quinn were now talking about babies and pregnancy. Emily seemed nervous about the thought of mood swings and cravings. Danse quickly let them know where he was going, and returned to Charlie.

The journey was difficult, not helped by Charlie’s inability to walk straight, and also being half a head taller than Danse. Eventually, though, Danse managed to deposit Charlie through his front door. Charlie mumbled a thanks, and fell face first on his bed. Seconds later, he was asleep.

By the time Danse left the house, Quinn was waiting for him outside. He considered telling her about Charlie’s worries, but then decided against it. The conversation felt private, something Charlie might even be ashamed of. He could confide in his mother later, if he wanted to. Instead, Danse took Quinn’s hand, and they walked through the silent, deserted streets of Sanctuary all the way home.

When they reached it, they both stopped dead, staring at the front yard. Outside the house was a huge mound of dirt, the back end of a brahmin corpse sticking out of it.

“Oh for the love of…” Danse glared at Quinn. “That’s the third time this week! I’m not cleaning this up!”

He knew damn well he would be the one cleaning this up.

Quinn frowned and investigated the dirt pile, before shaking her head. “I think I need to do some more training with Spuds.”

“You think?”

Quinn kissed him on the cheek. “We can worry about it tomorrow.”

Danse eyed the half-buried brahmin corpse with apprehension, wondering how long it would take for it to smell, and then followed Quinn inside.

“I can’t believe Josh and Emily are going to have a baby! I’m so happy for them,” Quinn said when they reached their bedroom. “And I’m going to be a grandmother. Good god.”

Danse nodded, but the night’s good news was driven from his head as she turned her back on him and removed her pants. His eyes trailed to her lips, her neck, where she loved to be kissed. The curves of her waist and hips, only half hidden by her loose shirt.

She began to talk about work and her plans for the settlement, but Danse was barely listening. He was supposed to be preparing for his own work tomorrow, too. He still had to arrange things for Duncan, sort out the change in the shift pattern, let Mordecai know about...

Danse walked over to Quinn as she continued to talk about her duties, and stood behind her. “Work can wait,” he said, and started slowly kissing her neck. Quinn stopped talking at once, tilting her head to the side as he nipped gently at her skin, his hands sliding up the front of her shirt. She leaned back against him and ran her hand along his thigh, but not venturing any further.

“Tease,” Danse murmured, lifting her shirt up and pulling it carefully over her head. Quinn shivered, and then whipped around, pushing him back. He cried out in surprise, his legs hitting the edge of the bed so that he toppled backwards onto it. Before he could ready himself, Quinn was upon him, straddling him and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling impatiently at his belt buckle until he moved her hands aside and tried to do it himself. This proved difficult, as she began massaging his crotch. She laughed when he gave up, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes.

Quinn undid the damn belt, but then took her time undressing Danse, pushing him back down when he tried to sit up and help. The look in her eyes said ‘wait,’ so he obeyed, trying to control his cravings.

She took him into her hands, moving up and down, her tongue trailing after her fingers. All Danse could do was hold onto her hair, wanting to give something in return, but not wanting her to stop. Eventually, though, she did stop, and Danse took the opportunity to drag her onto the bed, pulling off her underwear and slipping his hand between her legs.

Work could wait, Danse thought idly as Quinn’s breath grew heavy in his ear. For one night, it could all wait.

--

Danse stirred from his sleep. He blinked a few times, staring up into the darkness, and then reached out to Quinn. His hand fell into an empty space, the bed sheets still faintly warm. Danse frowned and propped himself up, squinting. No sign of her. He glanced down to the floor and saw her clothes and shoes were gone. Danse hesitated, wondering if he should just go back to sleep. She’d return. But something didn’t feel right, so he slipped out of bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs. As he suspected, she wasn’t there, and the front door wasn’t locked. There were a few places she might visit without telling him, but only one at this time of night. Biting his lip, Danse picked up his keys, locking the front door as he left, and striding off towards the graveyard.

Since the restructuring of Sanctuary, the pre-war buildings been demolished, including Quinn’s old house. The city’s graveyard stood on the foundations of her destroyed home. Quinn never really said anything about it and avoided the area, except when she went to visit Nate.

The air felt heavy in the graveyard, betraying Danse’s every move. He walked slowly and carefully, weaving in and out of the graves of all those who fell in the battle against Sanctuary. It was pitch black, and the ground was pitted and uneven—one bad step and he could break his ankle. No one would likely find him until morning. With this sombering thought in his mind, he took extra care, heading to the back of the graveyard, where Nate lay.

And Marguerie.

Danse hesitated and shivered. He hadn’t thought about her in over a decade. Old feelings erupted up in his chest, the shame of his failure gripping at his heart. He’d searched for Sarah for months. Years. Went as far as the Glowing Sea and the edges of the Commonwealth, before Quinn finally put her foot down.

“Arlen Glass is no combatant,” she’d said, “and Sarah is a child. If they’ve gone that far, they’re already dead.”

As much as he hated it, Danse agreed with Quinn. And so he’d stopped.

Failure.

He’d promised Marguerie and let her down. Danse visited her grave when he gave up and tried to explain, but it sounded like nothing but weak excuses to his ears. Quinn insisted if Rachel was alive, she’d understand he tried his best. Danse thought if Marguerie was alive, she’d tried to kill him. He kept her holotags and journal, though. Just in case.

Danse shook his head and moved on. Now was not the time to be lamenting over the past. He had to find Quinn. He stumbled and groped his way through the darkness, until he heard the sound of lapping water. He was close. “Quinn?”

“Danse?” she sounded surprised, and he followed her voice until her hand was in his.

“Everything okay?” he asked, squeezing her fingers. Now he was close to her, he could just make out her face.

“Yeah, I just…” She bit her lip and looked down at Nate’s grave. “I had a nightmare about Nate and Shaun, and I just...Shaun never had children. Nate never became a grandfather. And I��” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to visit him. It’s been a while.”

Danse glanced at the grave and back to her. “Do you need to be alone?”

“No.” She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him, still looking at the grave. “Stay. Please.”

He stayed.

They stood in silence for some time, Quinn sniffing a little in the dark. Then she squeezed his hand and they carefully picked their way back to the graveyard entrance together. She turned and hugged him, resting her head against his chest. He held her tight, the shaking of her shoulders telling him he should wait. When she pulled away, the street lamps showed the wet streaks on her cheeks. Danse wiped them away with his thumb and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home. I’ll make you a drink and we—”

In the distance, an alarm sounded.

Quinn and Danse looked at each other. Then, without another word, both of them sprinted to the guard tower. Danse forged ahead, leaving her behind, and raced up the stairs to where MacCready was sat, rifle in hand, Mordecai next to him and peering at a nearby terminal.

“Brotherhood,” Mordecai said before Danse could speak. “They signalled ahead to let us know they were in the area. They’re asking for permission to approach.”

“Permission?” Danse asked, feeling sick to his stomach. Had they been discovered after all these years? The Brotherhood could wipe them off the map without lifting a finger, without batting an eyelid. “It’s odd they’d give away their location to ask us for permission.”

“Permission?” Quinn said as she burst into the room. “Who’s asking for permission?”

“Brotherhood,” said MacCready darkly, returning to peering through his rifle.

Quinn’s face drained of colour. “Brotherhood?”

“They haven’t attacked,” Danse said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “They’re asking to approach. They wouldn’t do that if they wanted to kill us.”

“Well maybe their tactics have changed, Danse!” Quinn snapped, her voice edging towards hysterical. “It’s been nearly two decades since you were with them!”

Danse agreed with her, but he needed to keep his cool. He turned to Mordecai. “How many?”

“Just the one vertibird that we can see,” Mordecai replied.

“Give them permission to land. Let’s see why the Brotherhood wants to visit our city.” Danse picked up a rifle from the gun cupboard, a visored helmet, and made for the door leading to the city entrance. A few seconds later, Quinn was at his side, a pistol and holster in her hands.

Danse glanced at her as he wedged the helmet on, the darkened visor making it difficult to see in the low light.

“I’m their sentinel, remember?” she said, answering his unspoken worries. Quinn put on the holster and slipped the gun into it. “Who better to talk them down than me?”

She was right of course, but that didn’t soothe Danse’s nerves. Once she’d set her mind to something, though, there was no point dissuading her. He lifted the visor up, leaned forward, and kissed her. “Be careful.”

Quinn smiled. “If they try to force their way into our city, we’re going to throw them out on their fucking asses.”

--

The distant buzz of the vertibird grew louder with every passing second. Quinn stood at the gates of Sanctuary, Danse next to her, her nerves cutting into him like broken glass. She remembered the day the Prydwen left the Commonwealth, and how she’d stood hand in hand with Danse on a bridge into the Boston ruins, watching it go. He’d said very little at the time, and even less afterwards, but Quinn knew what he’d been thinking. His first real home was flying away without him. He had been abandoned. The recovery after that blow had taken some time, even though Danse expected it.

Now the Brotherhood were back, and once again the old pains were returning to Danse’s handsome, weathered face. Quinn stared out into the darkness, hating the Brotherhood. Hating that they could drag up the past with just their mere presence. Danse had worked so hard over the years to get to where he was now, and they could undo it all in just a second. He didn’t deserve this shit.

Finally, the vertibird came into view, dazzling lights scanning the horizon, before settling in a neat spot some way from Sanctuary. Quinn felt herself tense. A figure in power armour got out, landed with a heavy ‘thud,’ and began to walk over, their hands raised in the air. Quinn and Danse glanced at each other. They’d never seen a Brotherhood soldier with their arms held up in surrender before.

As the soldier approached, Quinn recognised the paint work as a paladin’s, which made their behaviour even more peculiar. They slowly put their hands to their head, making sure Quinn and Danse knew exactly what they were doing, and carefully took their helmet off. Underneath was a dark skinned man with a scarred face and a big, bushy beard.

“Sir,” the man said, nodding to Danse. He looked at Quinn with a serious expression. “Ma’am.”

Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “Carson?”

Carson broke into a wide smile and began laughing. “Thank fuck you’re quick on the uptake. I couldn’t keep a straight face for much long—” He broke off as Quinn shoved her pistol into her holster and ran to him, jumping into a hug. He flinched, and then very gently hugged her back, compensating for his armour. “Hi,” he mumbled into her ear.

They broke apart and beamed at each other.

“You look like shit,” she said, tugging at his beard. “Forget how to shave or something?”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tom says the same. I think it makes me look manly. Besides—” he carefully flicked at her hair, “—at least I’m not going grey.”

“Tom?” Quinn said, ignoring his jibe. “You’re still with Kapraski?”

“You sound surprised, ma’am!” came a voice from the vertibird. A tall, stocky man stuck his bald head out from the cockpit and waved enthusiastically.

Quinn waved back, feeling like she was in some sort of dream, but then frowned at Carson. “You brought Kapraski with you? But what about Danse?”

Carson shrugged. “Tom’s known about Paladin Danse the whole time. I told him what happened a few days after you left the Brotherhood.”

“You told him?” Quinn hissed, suddenly angry. “What if it had gone wrong? What if you and Kapraski fell out? What if—?”

“You told Elder Maxson about Rachel,” Carson said coolly. “You told him I knew about Paladin Danse. That could have gotten me and Kapraski killed, or worse. I decided if you could trust Elder Maxson, I wasn’t going to lie to Tom about Rachel. I won’t lie to him. Not even for you, Quinn.”

Quinn stared up at her old friend. Time had given him a backbone. He would never have been so decisive when they’d been on the Prydwen together. She smiled. “It seems being an officer suits you.”

Carson grinned back at her, and the tension passed. “Yeah, I think so too. Damn near shit myself when Maxson brought me into his confidence, but I reckon he only did that so he could keep an eye on me and make sure I wasn’t going to spill his dirty secret on Paladin Danse. Except we both realised I was actually competent when left to my own devices, instead of under someone else’s command. He made me a paladin shortly before he left the Citadel.”

“He left the Citadel?” Danse said, his tone full of shock.

Carson glanced over at Danse and nodded. “Yes, sir. Disappeared for a good while, too. Asked me to help keep things in order during his absence, because he said he would return. He just wanted to make sure power struggles were kept to a minimum, and no radical redirecting of the Brotherhood’s agenda.” Carson pulled a face. “Good thing he thinks ahead. Second he left, all sorts of opportunists came crawling out of the woodworks.” He paused, tilting his head. “Not Kells, though, oddly enough. He didn’t care who was in power, just so long as he could keep flying the Prydwen.”

Carson looked back at Danse—who was still wearing his helmet—and said, “There’s no one else in the area, sir, I promise. You’re safe. We made a solo trip.”

“You would need to refuel,” Danse said, taking off his helmet anyway and scowling suspiciously at Carson.

Carson shook his head. “Doctor Li’s been doing wonders with alternative fuelling methods for the vertibirds and the Prydwen, with the help of the integrated scientists you made Maxson rescue from the Institute. Some nuclear shit I don’t understand, no matter how many times Li explains it to me.”

Quinn blinked, trying to take it all in. Carson was a paladin. Li was still with the Brotherhood, and more importantly, so were the Institute scientists. Kapraski was flying again. Maxson left the Prydwen. Did he really take her advice on board all those years ago?

“I think we need a proper catch-up,” Quinn said, motioning for her guards to stand down. “Come on. We’ll go to my office.”

They waited for Kapraski to wriggle his way out of the vertibird and stump over to them. Quinn saw he had a mechanised prosthetic leg, and once again marvel swept over her as he walked freely to them. His pace was a little unsteady, the weight of his new leg obviously making things unbalanced, but he reached them just fine and grinned.

“Would you mind if some of your men just keep an eye on my ‘bird, please, ma’am?” He looked over his shoulder at the vertibird the same way a father would look at his newborn child. “Don’t want anything happening to her. She’s valuable equipment and our only way home.”

“Sure. Danse, would you…?”

Danse nodded and signalled up for two of the guards to come down to the gates. Carson rolled his eyes. “Everyone used to ask if we were ever gonna adopt one of the squires that lost their parents, but the way I see it, we already have a child in the family.” He looked from the vertibird to Kapraski, and the two of them chuckled.

Quinn smiled, remembering how nervous Carson used to be around Kapraski.

Once the vertibird was secured, the four of them made their way to the mayoral office, Danse keeping unusually close to Quinn and glaring at the two soldiers whenever he thought she couldn’t see him. As they went inside the building, she put her hand on his arm and gave it a small squeeze.

“Relax,” she whispered.

“I’ll relax when they’re gone,” Danse muttered back. If Carson and Kapraski heard him, they didn’t comment, following Quinn and Danse in silence upstairs. Carson got out of his power armour, and they all settled into chairs in her office, while Quinn handed out drinks.

“So what happened with everyone?” she asked as she sat down opposite Carson. “How is Casey?”

“Head of the scribes. Proctor Shingler now,” Carson said, leaning back in his chair. He raised his eyebrow at Quinn’s shocked expression. “What, you never suspected she was a high flyer?”

“Well no, I knew she was smart but…” Quinn shrugged. “The last time I saw her she was barely alive. Even when she woke up I wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same again.”

“She’s kicking ass at her job. Quinlan was right to pick her as his protégée.”

“Is Quinlan still helping her adjust?”

“No. He died about—” Carson paused, his brow furrowing. “—seven years ago. Suspected heart attack.”

“Oh.” Quinn blinked. She hadn’t particularly liked or disliked Quinlan, but the news wasn’t welcomed all the same. “I’m sorry to hear it. What about the other proctors? Are they okay?”

“Let’s see…” Carson began counting them off on his fingers, one by one. “Ingram’s the same, scary as ever. Working closely with Doctor Li, even after Liberty Prime went bust and no one could fix it again. Kells is still running day to day stuff on the ship, but he’s under Maxson’s thumb now rather than the other way around, and Teagan…” Carson trailed off, biting his lip. “Teagan started drinking when we got back to the Citadel. Died a few years later. He was one of Cade’s last patients.”

The news of Teagan stung a bit more than Quinlan’s, but the mention of Cade took priority. Quinn had been fond of the Knight-Captain. “Cade’s last…?”

“Oh, he’s not hurt!” Carson said quickly, flapping his hands, his eyes wide. “I think after Teagan went, Cade just had enough. Stepped down from his position and began training Field-Scribe Haylen to take his place. She pretty much runs the sick bay now, but Cade advises her from time to time, when she needs him.”

Danse sat up straighter in his seat at the mention of Haylen. “How is she doing? Is she well?”

Carson smiled and nodded. “Yeah, she’s doing fine. You couldn’t ask for a kinder doctor. Knight-Captain Cade seems fond of her—very protective, like she’s his daughter or something. He was with her when she got married ten years ago.”

“Married to who?”

“Knight-Sergeant Karl Hewer. We all still call her Haylen, though.”

The name felt familiar to Quinn, though she couldn’t place why. She looked at Danse, who seemed surprised at this revelation. She saw his lips silently form the word ‘Rhys?’ before he gave a little shrug and sat back in his chair again.

“But things have been really moving forward in terms of technology,” Carson said, swigging from his bottle and grinning lazily. “We’re managing to keep all the dangerous tech under wraps, and the tech that can help improve people’s lives—including our own—is being constantly developed. The Institute scientists have been a great help.”

“How on earth did you manage to keep them?” Quinn asked, still not able to wrap her head around this. “And Li, too? She made it clear the Brotherhood pissed her off.”

Carson simply said, “Maxson.” There was a moment of silence, and Carson went on. “He put his foot down and made sure they stayed. Didn’t make them or anything, but basically persuaded them it was safer working with the Brotherhood than roaming alone in the wasteland. Most of them had never survived in the open before, so they were just grateful for a place to live. Doctor Li and Doctor Virgil took them into their care, closely monitored, and began working on approved projects.”

“Bet the others didn’t like that.”

“Oh god no. They had to have trusted guards assigned to them for their own protection in the end. But over time, things changed. Maxson is a force to be reckoned with, and when the scientists began working wonders for the Citadel and the Capital Wasteland, the mood changed pretty quickly.”

“But you said Maxson disappeared,” Danse interjected, looking interested again. “That he left. What happened to the scientists then?”

“They became my responsibility,” Carson replied. “I made sure they stayed safe, just like I was asked. And to be honest, people were more concerned with Maxson’s absence and the power vacuum left behind than a small group of eggheads. He didn’t tell anyone beforehand. Just sent out some scheduled messages saying he was going to do some private work somewhere, and gave a list of people to run the show while he was gone. I was on that list, along with a few others. But people fought amongst themselves, of course.” Carson grinned. “Lucky for you, really. Everyone was so focused on finding a leader, they disregarded the reports of a potential synth settlement in the Commonwealth.”

Quinn went cold. The Brotherhood knew about Sanctuary?

“Are we at risk of an attack?” Danse said sharply.

Carson shook his head. “If you were, an attack would have happened years ago. But when Maxson came back, he was...different.”

“Different?” Danse leaned forward and frowned.

“I can’t explain it, sir. Just...different. He looked lighter. Like some weight had been pulled off his shoulders. And the first thing he did was drag us all away from hunting down synths and treating civilised ghouls like shit. So, naturally, a mini civil war broke out amongst the ranks. All the hardcore Brotherhood traditionalists claiming Maxson was leading us down a dark path.”

“Like when Owyn Lyons decided to help the common wastelanders?” Danse asked, raising his eyebrows.

Carson nodded. “Yeah, like that. Except Maxson has the power of persuasion that Owyn didn’t. Used the Maxson name and influence to his benefit, and pointed out the codex doesn’t say we have to distance ourselves from ghouls and synths. He said he destroyed the Institute, and that the synths were free of being controlled. They could live their lives like normal humans. Without orders, they were no longer technology being used for experiments and weaponry, just people trying to get by.”

“Did that work?”

“It shut a few of the traditionalists up, but more importantly, the neutral majority were convinced, and they kept the more radical people in line. Maxson was careful after that. He went over plans with me, and across the years we’ve been slowly changing things to match Owyn Lyons’ way of thinking—helping out wastelanders and building good relationships with them, y’know? People grumbled, but Elder Maxson convinced them mutual aid were worth the hassle. We protect them, they supply us with food and other things we can’t get ourselves.”

“It didn’t work when Elder Lyons tried,” Danse said, frowning. “Why would now be any different?”

“The change was so gradual, no one really noticed at first,” Carson replied with a shrug. “And when they did, most didn’t care because they were used to it. The ones who protested, Elder Maxson accused of being no better than raiders, stealing from the helpless. He said the Brotherhood were above that: an organisation with a noble cause. But if they wanted to be common raiders, they were welcome to leave.”

Quinn snorted. Carson grinned at her. “Yeah, it’s a load of shit, but sometimes using the right rhetoric works wonders. Our chapter didn’t splinter like Owyn’s, and even the naysayers eventually came around. The only real concern we have left now are the elders in the west.”

“They’ve always been a concern,” Danse said, looking annoyed. “Interfering where they weren’t wanted or needed, causing more turmoil than any other threat in the wasteland.”

Carson nodded. “They’re still an issue, but for the moment aren’t actively working against us. They’re unwilling to openly stand against the last descendent of Maxson, so Elder Maxson is pressing hard on that point to keep things in his favour.”

The news was troubling, but in all honesty, it wasn’t Quinn’s problem. Maxson wasn’t a young man anymore, and the strife within the Brotherhood was his responsibility. The very concept felt liberating.

“And speaking of Maxson,” Carson said, standing up and walking over to his power armour. “He wanted me to give you this, sir.” Carson removed a package and an envelope from the armour, strode towards Danse, and held the package out to him. Danse took it warily, never taking his eyes off Carson. He opened it with great care, and then drew in a sharp breath.

Quinn straightened up and saw a red book and a set of tarnished holotags in Danse’s lap. He picked up the tags, grief rippling through his expression as he held them up to the light. Then his fingers closed around them, and he clutched them tight to his chest, bowing his head. An old memory surfaced in Quinn’s mind like a shipwreck dragged from the depths of a murky lake.

“He kept it?”

Elder Maxson ran his fingers over the deep red book, embossed with peeling silver letters. He picked it up and tucked it carefully under his arm, his expression pained for a second, before a forced blankness took over. Then he took hold of the holotags, glaring at Quinn as she begged to keep them.

“Tags go to the next of kin. These should never have been kept.”

Quinn snapped back to the present as Danse opened the book, the silver embossed letters catching in the low light just long enough for Quinn to read ‘The Tales of King Arthur.’

Danse scanned the page, eyebrows knotted together in concentration as his free hand slowly slid down the open page. Then the his face lit up with something Quinn couldn’t place, and he gave a low laugh before looking up at Carson. For the first time that night, Danse smiled at the Brotherhood soldiers. He closed the book and said, “Tell Elder Maxson thank you, and…” he hesitated, that strange look crossing his features again. “Tell him I have reconsidered. He will know what I mean.”

Carson appeared as confused as Quinn felt, but he nodded and agreed to pass on the message. Then he turned to Quinn. “The Elder has something for you as well.” He held out the envelope to her.

She took it, her confusion mounting, and opened the envelope. Inside were detailed blueprints, far beyond her understanding. She wouldn’t have been able to deduce them at all, if it wasn’t for the fact ‘WATER PURIFIER’ was written across the top in big, bold letters. Quinn blinked, holding them aloft, and looked back to Carson. “I don’t understand. We have plenty of industrial purifiers.”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. This is the mother of all purifiers, decades worth of research from Doctor Li, built upon the back of the original purifier in D.C. This baby is efficient, powerful, and most of all, has low fuel consumption for its size. Elder Maxson thought it might help your thriving community stay self sufficient, and benefit the rest of the Commonwealth in the process.”

Quinn stared at Carson, and then at the blueprints. Her chest felt tight, but it wasn’t with fear or anxiety. She remembered Maxson as he was, an angry, sheltered young man with too much grief and burden on his back, oblivious to his own ignorance. She glanced up at Carson and said, “How long has Elder Maxson known about Sanctuary and the people who live here?”

Carson smiled. “Years.”

Quinn and Danse looked at each other, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Quinn put the blueprints back in their envelope.

Sanctuary was safe.

--

Paladin Carson and Knight-Lancer Kapraski left not long afterwards. Quinn argued with them, trying to get them to stay longer, but they both insisted they needed to return back to base. Eventually, she relented, hugging them both and telling them to stay in contact. That they were welcome any time.

Danse agreed. He even shook their hands.

Danse stood with Quinn and watched the vertibird leave, their fingers entwined, like the day the Prydwen departed the Commonwealth. Back then, it felt as if a knife had been run through his chest. Now, the wound had finally healed.

When the light of the vertibird disappeared into the darkness, they walked back through the streets of Sanctuary, ignoring the curious faces silhouetted in the windows. The lights went out one by one, and soon the city was asleep again.

Danse turned over Cutler’s holotags in his hands. The book was a treasure, but the tags? After twenty years, he had been reunited with Cutler. The gratitude Danse felt was inexplicable. He had Cutler back.

He had Cutler back.

Quinn stayed quiet the whole way home. She understood. He needed this moment for himself.

When they reached their bedroom, however, she looked at him and said, “I don’t get what you said to Carson. About reconsidering. What does that mean?”

Danse grinned, amused. “Maxson added a personal note inside the cover. Here.” He passed the precious book to Quinn. She hesitated, and then accepted it, opening the book and reading the note aloud.

“Twenty years have passed since we last spoke. Two decades to think over mistakes and regrets, and what could have been. Apologies that were never uttered. Wrongs that were never righted.

In that time, I hope your stance over Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere has been reconsidered.

May the rest of your days be peaceful.

Arthur.”

Quinn looked up at Danse and frowned. “I don’t get it. Is he apologising to you?”

“As best he can,” Danse said. When Quinn still looked puzzled, he laughed, taking the book from her and shutting it. “An old joke between distant friends. Don’t worry about it.”

Quinn shrugged and began getting ready for bed for the second time that night, while Danse strode over to the shelf opposite him, where Marguerie’s journal lay. He looked at the old, battered book for a moment, her holotags and Zippo lighter neatly placed atop the worn leather. With the greatest care, Danse set ‘The Tales of King Arthur’ down next to the journal, and put Cutler’s tags down onto the red cover.

Some things didn’t work out. And some things did. Danse hoped wherever Sarah was now, she was happy.

Danse changed for bed and settled down with Quinn, his mind buzzing with the night’s events. He heard her say something about how Hancock was arriving first thing in the morning with his newest bodyguard, but Danse couldn’t focus on the words. He mumbled a response, still wrapped up in Maxson’s gesture, and put his arm around Quinn as she snuggled up to him.

Danse gazed at the ceiling, only faintly aware of the orange shafts of light creeping through their room. His thoughts were a tired, blissful haze. The absence of guilt, it seemed, was a hell of a sedative.

A small, snuffling snort drew his attention back to Quinn. He glanced down to see she had fallen asleep, her breath fluttering softly against his chest. Danse smiled to himself.

“May the rest of your days be peaceful.”

Somehow, he suspected they would.

--

A/N: And that, as they say...is that.

As I’ve said often, I only ever intended for this story to be ten chapters long. Then it took on a life of its own, and suddenly here we are, a year and eight months later, finally at the end. Some might say I took too long, but I honestly don’t care. I set out to rewrite the narrative of Fallout 4, and I’m damned please with the result, and surprised I managed to actually stick to it.

Thank you to all my readers, especially those who left comments. Without you, I probably would have stopped early on. It’s hard to stay invested and motivated without any feedback.

Thank you to one particular reviewer, who helped me fine tune my research on PTSD. You were extremely helpful.

Thank you to all the people who helped me with other research, such as Spanish translations, American police stories and habits, and general betaing.

But the biggest thank you goes to my consistent beta, @waiting4morning. This story would not have taken the directions it did or be of any good quality without her.

And let’s say a congratulations to one of my reviewers, ‘Dodo,’ who recently had a cute lil’ baby girl called Yara! ;)

And finally, if you’re sad about the end of BNC, then fear not. I have other fanfics in the works set in the BNC universe. They won’t be centred around Quinn and Danse, as their story is now over. But Quinn and Danse will crop up and be alluded to. Just not as main characters.

One fic is going to be based around Nuka World and Gage. The other will be based around Hancock himself. I will be writing these fics slightly differently to BNC, in that I’m going to write out the entire fic first and then update on a weekly basis. This will prevent inconsistent updates and save me a great deal of stress. I will be posting the first chapter of my next fic so that you can ‘follow’ it for updates, and then I will begin updating it when I finish writing it.

I deliberately left a few loose ends in BNC to allow me to explore certain characters without revealing what happened to them.

So without further ado, I present...

Making One’s Bones

Read on...